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vivianweasley · 3 years

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Pride and Prejudice (Chapter 5)

Summary: Your father is Lucius Malfoy’s cousin, and after the war, it was really difficult for you to find a job because of your last name. So your mother and Mrs. Weasley came up with a crazy idea. A fake marriage between you and Fred Weasley.

In this chapter: It’s already the last month of your fake marriage. Is all of this really going to end?

Pairing: Fred Weasley X Malfoy!Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, misunderstanding, insecurity, mean relatives, reader being jealous?

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I apologize for not updating for so long cuz I was feeling burnt out. And I apologize in advance for this chapter, but since it’s Pride and Prejudice themed, I had to include a part like this afghjldfk Also, I may or may not named one of the characters after a Pride and Prejudice character:)

Pictures are from Pinterest. Credit goes to the original owners.

Please do NOT repost or translate my work on any platform! Thank you! Reblogs and comments are always welcome:)

Pride and Prejudice Series Masterlist

Sometimes you would wonder what would it be like if you and Fred were friends when you were still in Hogwarts. And as your mind wandered through these imaginary scenarios, you would also daydream about what would it be like if you went to the Yule Ball with him. But regardless, just being in this moment, dancing with him to your favorite love song, was magical enough.

You were invited to Fred’s cousin’s wedding, along with the other Weasleys. Playing the character of Fred’s wife for almost eleven months now made you a regular guest to all kinds of the Weasley family gatherings.

As the music played and the guests joining the bride and groom on the dance floor, you and Fred decided to join, too.

“I’m definitely playing this song at my own wedding!” you were excited when your favorite love song started playing.

“And I’m definitely play something livelier,” Fred smiled as he commented.

“Glad we’re not having the same wedding then,” you glared at him, trying hard not to step on his foot. “I have a feeling our idea of an ideal wedding would be completely different.”

“So what is your ideal wedding?” Fred asked. You looked up at him and realized he looked sincere.

“I haven’t really thought about it, but a small wedding with my close family and friends would be nice,” you answered. You left out one detail. All you could think of now was what would it be like if you could really marry Fred. But of course, you wouldn’t tell him that, “I’m assuming yours would be something more exciting.”

“Of course!” If you paid attention, you would notice the blush climbing up on Fred’s cheeks, but you were too flustered by your own daydreams.

“Let me guess, someone would probably turn into a canary.”

“Very likely,” he replied while twirling you around with the music, “and that someone is probably you!”

You laughed as you twirled. You weren’t paying close attention to your steps, and your right foot tripped your left foot. But you landed in Fred’s arm.

You looked up at him as your heartbeat started to pick up. Your lips were only inches away now that you could already feel his breath brushing lightly against your lips.

You didn’t know how long has passed as you two both froze on the spot. Just a little bit closer and your lips would be pressing together. You never knew you wanted this kiss so desperately until now, and the fact that this was already the last month of your one-year marriage contract made it worse. You would be lying if you say you have never fantasized about Fred reciprocating your feelings, and this fake marriage could turn into a real one by the end of the year.

“Fred?” A voice interrupted this moment and your daydream.

Fred pulled away awkwardly with the blush still tainting his cheeks. “Mrs. Collins? Maureen?” You turned and saw the owner of the voice was an older woman and beside her was a beautiful younger woman, who’s about your age.

“Freddie! I haven’t seen you in ages!” Mrs. Collins pulled Fred into a hug, and when she finally let go of him, her eyes turned to look at you.

“Oh, Mrs. Collins, this is Y/N.”

You put on a polite smile and held out your hand, “Hi, I’m Y/N-”

“Malfoy!” she cut you off, without acknowledging your hand, “I’ve heard that Freddie married a Malfoy. How interesting! How did you two meet?”

The way she said “Malfoy” and her question stung you. From past experiences, you knew this conversation is probably not going to end well. “Our parents are actually old friends, so we met when we were still little,” you answered, hands fidgeting and not looking at Mrs. Collins.

“What a coincidence! Cause Maureen and Fred have also known each other since they were kids, isn’t that right, Freddie?”

“Yea,” Fred smiled, not noticing how your expression froze in an awkward state, “Oh, Y/N, this is Maureen. We used to be friends when we were kids until she transferred to Beauxbatons.”

“Hey, it wasn’t like I had a choice!” She slapped on Fred’s arm, causing Fred to laugh while pretending to be hurt.

Watching them interact so naturally, you suddenly felt like you were interrupting something. A horrible feeling crept up in your mind. What if there’s already someone in Fred’s life, yet you still forced him to sign this stupid marriage contract?

“And Maureen’s an interior designer now! So if your little shop needs a makeover, I’m sure Maureen’s willing to help,” Mrs. Collins suggested. Her tone and expression all reminded you of your mum when she tried to set you and Fred up.

“Oh right! Fred,” Mrs. Collins continued, “come say hi to the rest of the family! I’m sure they all missed you a lot.”

“I would love to, but Y/N...” Fred looked at you. You couldn’t figure out what his expression meant? Was this an excuse because he didn’t want to go? Or did he want to go?

You didn’t know why insecurity started to cloud your brain. Growing up, you always thought you’re proud most of the time, but this was not the case when it comes to your last name. You knew you shouldn’t feel ashamed of it. The history and crime this name carried have nothing to do with you. And you knew feeling ashamed of it gives it power over you, but all you could do was retreating to your shell whenever someone brought up your last name.

So your final decision was, “It’s okay, you can go. I’ll go find Ginny.”

“Great!” Mrs. Collins started dragging Fred to her family’s table. Fred was still looking at you, but then you heard Mrs. Collins say, “Don’t worry about Y/N! I know she probably wouldn’t want anything to do with our sort of people, anyway.”

Your stomach sank. What did she mean by “our sort of people”? And more importantly, what did being your sort of people imply?

A few months ago, you thought changing your last name by marriage could solve everything. But the cruel fact was that it changed nothing.

And maybe it was your insecurity talking, but how could Fred not say anything when Mrs. Collins made such a comment? Did he not understand what she meant? Or did he...agree with her?

After they disappeared in the crowd, you immediately apparate back to the apartment like you were fleeing a monster from your nightmare. That was the only logical move you could think of at that time.

“Fred,” you kicked off your heels after you got back to the apartment from work and began rambling on about your day, “you won’t believe what happened today. I-” But the words choked in your throat when you saw another person in the kitchen. You recognized it was Maureen Collins from the wedding a week ago.

You thought you already forgot about what Mrs. Collins said to you at the wedding, but those words immediately rushed back when you saw Maureen again.

“Oh, Y/N, you’re back!” Fred exclaimed, and he noticed the box in your hand, “Is that my favorite pie!”

“Yea, I didn’t know...” It was supposed to be a surprise, but now it just felt extra when it seemed like they were already cooking a meal.

“Oh, Y/N, I’m sorry we didn’t tell you earlier. This was really last-minute,” Maureen explained.

“Yea, Maureen was here to help with the makeover of the shop, and it’s almost dinner time when we were done, so we thought-”

“No worries,” you cut Fred off before he could finish with the explanation. You didn’t like the way he sounded. It almost made you feel like you were a party pooper.

“We can just eat the pie tomorrow!” You tried to put on a smile when you shoved the pie into the fridge.

“Brilliant! All sorted now! Y/N, come help! Dinner would be ready faster if we had three people cooking.”

“Yea,” Maureen chuckled, “Fred was just talking about the first time you two tried to cook together. It must be difficult having to cook with an absolute idiot, let alone being forced to live with him for one year.”

Your heart sank. Fred told her that the marriage is fake? According to your contract, he shouldn’t have told anyone, unless...

Watching Maureen cooking and laughing with Fred, your mind just couldn’t shake off the images of her living here and being his real wife. You had to admit that you didn’t like these images, but why should you care if someone else is going to live here instead of you. Your mum forced you to live here anyway, and now you could finally go home.

Home. You sighed as the image of home appeared in your mind. And you finally admitted that for the past few months, you also considered this apartment your home.

But you put on the contract yourself stating that you both could date whoever you like during this fake marriage, and you had no business in interfering with Fred and Maureen’s relationship now.

So you picked up your jacket again, “Actually, I’m having dinner with my friend tonight-”

“But I thought you were planning to eat at home,” Fred pointed at the fridge, referring to the pie.

“Oh, that’s for tomorrow,” you lied, even though you knew your excuses didn’t match with what you just said a few minutes ago. You panicked, so you proceeded to say something that you never thought you would say, “Plus, I need to give you two space.” You even said it with a wink, covering for the fact that you panicked, and you just rushed out the door before anyone could say anything.

You went back to your parents’ house for the night and only returned to the apartment the next morning. Knowing the exact time when Fred would usually go downstairs to the joke shop, you successfully apparated into the apartment without bumping into anyone. You just wanted to avoid seeing him.

You decided to start packing up. There are only less than two weeks left, and you didn’t want to occupy other people’s home for longer than you needed. Your pride demanded a graceful exit.

You knew it would be much easier and quicker if you used magic. Just by a flick of your wand, everything would be packed. It would be so clean like you’ve never been here before, but somehow, you just wanted to take your time with it.

And it was until you started packing when you realized how attached you were to this little apartment. One year wasn’t that long, just like what you said at the beginning of all this, but every corner of this apartment had trails of you living here and your memories.

It was just a contract, you tried to convince yourself, and now the time’s up. But it still pained you to remove your every trail. You realized you were not only removing your existence from this apartment but also Fred Weasley’s life.

“Y/N?” You were so busy going down memory lane that you didn’t notice the series of footsteps coming upstairs. You turned and saw Fred, who looked very confused now as he glanced around and saw the packed boxes. “What are you doing?”

“Just packing up,” you tried to say it as indifferently as possible, “there are only two weeks left, so I thought I should probably start moving my stuff away.”

“Oh,” Fred paused for a moment before the corners of his mouth twitched into an awkward smile, “guess you’re finally free.”

“Yea, and so are you,” you tried to force a laugh, maybe he’s always waiting for this moment, the moment that he’s finally free, “I’ll move back to my parents’ house this week so that the divorce would look more realistic.”

His mouth opened, and you could tell that he was trying to say something. And for a second, you thought maybe he’s trying to think of a way to stop you. To say that he didn’t want you to leave.

But all he said was, “Okay.”

It was only around 6:30 am when you woke up. There were too many things on your mind that you couldn’t even enjoy staying asleep at ease. It was your last night here, after all.

Fred was still asleep with both his arm and leg on top of you. He’s an obnoxious sleeper, but you didn’t mind.

You snuggled closer to him as your mind went through the nights that he comforted you when you couldn’t sleep, the sleepless nights that you would chat and laugh with so much ease, and the mornings when you woke with your limbs tangled together. It all felt like a dream, and maybe now it’s time to wake up.

But before you do that, before you had to exit from his life, you just wanted to stay in this moment and stay in his arms for a little longer. You closed your eyes as you took in that familiar cinnamon scent and his cologne. Let’s just dream for a little longer.

Fred woke up with the other side of the bed empty. In a haze of sleepiness, he thought you just went to the bathroom. You would always come back to bed and try to squeeze in a few minutes of sleep before finally getting up and getting ready. But you didn’t come back today.

In fact, the apartment was awfully quiet today. He couldn't hear your footsteps rushing in and out of the bedroom to get ready for work. And he didn't hear you yelling things like "Did you see my keys?" or "FRED! Where did my apple juice go??"

Fred got up and tried to search for you in the living room, only to realize that most of your stuff was already gone. He collapsed on the nearby couch, not sure if he was still tired or feeling empty that you were gone.

How could you just walk away so easily? How could you just pull away from all of this almost like nothing ever happened? More importantly, how could you tease him about Maureen like it didn’t matter at all to you? And here he thought you two had great chemistry.

But without that and the contract of being fake husband and wife, Fred was confident that he could say you became friends. Even if you didn’t, at least you were roommates for a year, and that should induce some sort of emotion too.

But no, you just walked away, and all he could do was just getting used to not having you in his life anymore.

(to be continued.)

series taglist: @ifilosemyselfagain @theweasleytwinsgirl @bookworm06 @unabashedbookscollector @txtdreamss @sagittarius-flowerchild @rsheridan @ovrwd @anywherebuthere @allaroundaddict @jeminila @secretsofageek @magical-spit @freddieweasleyswife @lilypad-55449 @hufflepuffzutara @honey-honey-5644 @kyloren-peterparker @treblebeth @kyloren-peterparker @fred-sux @rodrickmalfoy @liliputbahn @its-yasbxtch @daydreamgirl8 @305weasley @awritingtree (message me if you want to be added or removed!)

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#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #weasley twins #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fic #fred weasley series #fred weasley x malfoy!reader #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction

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star-killer-md · 3 years

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Actus Reus, Mens Rea

@contesa-lui-alucard asked:

Hey hey happy sleepover my friend!! If it’s alright with you, I have two prompts from the Smut list that I’d love to see you combine for... mob Kylo and lawyer reader! Oh snap!! 15 & 37, if you please. If not, no worries, I still hope you have an awesome sleepover 😁 (“Make it hurt, baby.” + “Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch.”)

Anon asked:

hello, may i request clingy/possessive kylo,, thank you

Thank you lovlies for your requests and sorry from the bottom of my depressed ass heart that it took me so fucking long. Anyway here ya go, hope you enjoy some mobster Kylo deliciousness. I’m so excited you liked him Contesa, and I hope you’re into it as well too nonny! Sorry it got long, I truly have no control over that.

And thank you so much to @sacklersdoll for reading over this for me!

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Angst (its me), Smut (its me), mentions of predator/prey dynamic (mostly as metaphor), possessive Kylo Ren, semi-public sex, no pronouns for the reader by they are afab, dominant Kylo Ren, some brat vibes, Kylo Ren is not nice, allusions to guns, some sorta stalking behavior

Ship: Mob Boss!Kylo Ren x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: You’ve started to take on some pro bono clients as a favor to a friend and Kylo Ren is Not A Fan™ of all the attention this guy has been paying you. After a few months of consulting on the side, you’re beginning to wonder if life working for a mob boss is something you’re really cut out for. Though you quickly learn that you very well may have passed the point of no return when Kylo shows up at your office to remind you just who exactly you work for.

“I really can’t thank you enough.”

You shook the woman’s hands and returned her smile. Her son stayed quiet, looking at the ground, but mumbled his thanks as well. He was a good kid. Just pissed off the wrong neighbor. One of those ‘get off my lawn,’ ‘good ole American dream’ types who thought welfare was a sign of the devil, and had it out for everyone in the lower tax brackets.

“Really, it’s no problem,” you walked them to the door, leaving her your business card. “I’ll see you both at the courthouse on Monday.”

Evan was waiting in your office when you returned. His patent leather shoes rested precariously on the corner of your desk and you knocked them off with a huff.

“See you’ve made yourself at home,” you said, crossing your arms and staring down at him in your chair.

He shrugged and stood under your scrutiny, moving around to take the seat across from you. Evan Goodman was an old friend from undergrad. You often got the impression he was still that same cocky frat boy in the head. Still flashed the ‘my daddy has more money than you’ smile on occasion when he really wanted to get under your skin. With his slicked back hair, unnervingly straight teeth, and his annoying prosperity despite never putting in much effort it was somewhat shocking the two still spoke. He was simply not the type of person who had ever needed to try. Success came naturally to him, and much to your dismay.

“What can I say? You’re a very gracious host,” he mused and leaned forward on the desk. “So, how did it go?”

You sighed, “They’ll be alright, might get saddled with a fine but the charges aren’t that serious.”

“Good, Rosa’s an old friend. I would have helped her out myself, but not really my deal ya know?”

“Yeah, Mr. Tax Attorney, I get it.”

Evan was kind of a dick, but he was also the kind of friend who would sit on the bathroom floor with you, hold your hair back and sing horrendous parody versions of ABBA no matter who heard. So you couldn’t hate him entirely. That also meant that when he came to you with cases like this, a favor for a friend or whatever the situation may be, you had a hard time refusing.

It was also a convenient front for you not-so-legal legal work you’d been invested in for the past few months.

“Seriously, I know I’ve been asking a lot of you recently,” he flashed you that god awful grin and kicked his feet up again. “You can tell me to fuck off if it’s too much.”

He had been coming to you for pro bono work with increasing frequency, especially over the past month or so, but again, you didn’t wholly mind it. You went into this kind of work for a reason. Though, you were starting to get the feeling that a certain, brooding, less than lawfully abiding businessman did not feel the same.

Kylo Ren dealt frequently with the shady, black market underbelly of capitalist society, but you were less accustomed to his world and not completely ready to throw yourself to the hounds just yet.

You had already missed more than a few meetings and canceled on dinner tonight to meet with Rosa. To be fair, it wasn’t as if he’d made any indication this ill-defined whatever-it-was going on between the two of you was anything serious. And you were only his consultant, for now, so this took precedent anyway. At least that��s what you tried to convince yourself of. Definitely not a way to avoid thinking about fucking your boss who also happened to be in with the mob.

Definitely not.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to help if I couldn’t manage it,” you yawned softly and stood to collect your things.

It was late and you were beginning to fantasize about how soft and warm your sheets would be. If you got back in time you could pop them in the dryer and get in an episode or two before bed.

“Hey, let me at least buy you dinner or something since I kept you out so late,” Evan parked his skinny frame in your path to the doorway.

“You’re going to apologize for keeping me out late, by keeping me out even later?”

“Do you want free food or not?”

Pursing your lips, you stared at him for a few moments. He really did know all your weaknesses. You had skipped out on meeting with Mr. Ren—or Kylo or sir or whatever the hell you were supposed to call him now—already tonight, however, Evan was sure to take you somewhere nice and it wouldn’t be so morally repugnant if it was just as a ‘thank you….’

“Okay, fine,” you conceded and let him lead you out to the parking garage, locking the office up behind you.

***

The next morning you stumbled past reception in a haze. Both from lack of sleep, and the bitingly cold winds battering your building despite the neighboring high rises blocking the brunt of the gale. The young woman at the desk informed you tersely that a Mr. Goodman was already waiting for you in your office and that you should really get here on time if you were expecting clients this early.

You agreed that, yes you probably should but, you know, “trains and all that mess,” and tried not to judge her too harshly. After all, she was the barrier between you and the hundreds of calls this place received daily.

Before slipping through the door with your name plate, you hung your coat on the rack and switched your phone on. It’d died on you last night amidst the allure of fancy, late night dinner and your sleep deprivation riddled brain had not cared enough to plug it in before bed. Fuck Amazon, but thank god for its speedy delivery of portable charges.

You chewed your lip as the lock screen came to life. One missed call and a text. Both, of course from the most anxiety inducing sender, Kylo Ren. Because why would it be anyone else? His name menacing even typed out in standard black font.

The text read:

Meet me at 8am.

It was very much like him—a command with punctuation and absolutely no details. The message receipt showed it was sent two hours ago, and it was already half past eight. Shit. Your fingers shook as you pulled up his contact and called. Every interaction left you coursing with adrenaline. Even now, miles away listening to the dial tone was nerve-wracking. Your heart pounded, hands slick in their grip on your phone. Maybe it was because you were never sure where you stood with him. Maybe it was because he was handsome and he knew it. Strong and he knew it. Intimidating and mysterious and closer in some ways to a Greek god than a man. He was all encompassing, and filled every available space in any room he occupied.

Sometimes you thought you might choke on his presence.

It rang once, twice, three times before cutting out completely. You stared down at the blank screen, biting your lip and shooting off a quick text. You were sorry, something important had come up, you would meet him the second it was convenient.

Evan slapped you heartily on the back when you came into the room. He was holding a bouquet of flowers, evergreen with small white blossoms.

“So, how many hours did you manage last night?” he asked, smiling his shit eating smile and seemingly unaffected despite the fact that he had to be running on just as little sleep as you.

“I’m not even sure at this point,” you groaned as you tossed your bags down behind the little metal desk. “Time ceases to exist when you take trains past midnight.”

“Fair enough. Hey look,” Evan waved the greenery in your face, “courtesy of Rosa’s shop. She insisted I bring you something as thanks. I figured you could put them out in the front or something to brighten things up.”

“They’re lovely. Please tell me you’re only here as a glorified delivery boy.”

His shoulders slumped at your lack of amusement, but before he could quip back the landline in your office rang. You answered, holding a finger towards Evan and leaning against the edge of the desk. It was the receptionist, Jess was her name? Maybe? You could never remember, someone else always addressed the holiday gift cards anyway.

“There’s someone here to see you at the front desk,” she clipped, almost more exasperated than before.

You told her you’d be right there and hung up. Evan grabbed his coat as you headed out, holding the door for you and following into the hall.

“I’ll leave you to it if you’re busy, but give me a call after Monday and tell me how it goes,” he continued rambling as you came out into the front.

You had a smart comeback prepared, something about how simple the case was, he should have more faith in you, he was the reason you were busy in the first place, etc…but every word turned to ashes on your tongue when you saw him.

Kylo Ren, standing right there at the desk and glaring at your receptionist. His suit was dark blue and ironed to perfection. Each leg was creased perfectly down the front and the jacket sat flawlessly on his wide set shoulders. He was a wall of unimaginably expensive fabric and what looked concerning like barely contained rage. You could see it in the twitch of his eye, the set of his jaw, and in the way his gaze landed on you the second you walked in.

The way a predator immediately hones in on its prey.

You froze just feet from him in the lobby, floundering like a fish on a hook.

Evan, for his part, seemed not to notice the tension at all and continued to say his long winded goodbyes, placing the flowers in your hands and completely unaware of the slow, measured tightening of Kylo’s massive hands into fists at his side.

“I’m free on Monday evening so we should—”

“She’ll be busy.”

Evan frowned, turning to face the man standing before him, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Kylo’s voice was a dark thing, low and rumbling, “She will be otherwise occupied.”

His words were punctuated by a step towards you, one paw of a hand easily gripping your entire jaw. Lucky he did too, otherwise it would have dropped straight to the floor when he shot one last cobra strike glare in Evan’s direction, and pressed his mouth to yours. Right there. In the lobby. For everyone to see.

The absolute bastard.

His lips were pillow plump and softer than the silk lining of his suit—and even through the surge of shock and embarrassment and more than a touch of anger—you felt your heart throb at the way he licked into your mouth.

The flowers tumbled from your hands onto the floor as everything in you went limp under his touch. This was nowhere near the first time you’d tasted him, but it was like this every time. Like drinking ambrosia. An otherworldly experience.

But that didn’t stop the sharp pain of his crushing grip on your arm, the way he nearly lifted your feet off the floor when he pulled away to drag along behind him. You could hear Evan spluttering in the hall behind you, the receptionist going back to clacking at her keyboard as if nothing had happened.

When Kylo opened your office door he just about threw you inside. You tripped as he tipped you in, stumbling and catching yourself on the edge of your desk. The power behind his hand alone was undeniable. You shuddered at the thought of the array of purple fingerprints he would leave behind. It made your mouth dry and your heart sink. Confusing and delicious.

And left you seething nonetheless.

“What the fuck was that?!” you were not calm, so you didn’t attempt any semblance of it.

“You didn’t answer me,” he said, level as he always was.

The quiet before the storm and all that.

“About the meeting? I tried to call, my phone died—”

“Because you were out catching trains at all hours of the night, I’m aware.”

You paused, glaring at the wall of muscle between you and the door, “How did you know that?”

“So you’re not denying it?”

Kylo stalked towards you like a beast in his tailored suit and polished leather shoes like talons. You could hear your heartbeat, hear the blood rushing in your ears. Just like a rabbit in the sightline of a hawk, you were clearly being hunted.

“Why would I deny something I’m not trying to hide?” your voice came out horse as he caged you between the desk and his chest, arms on either side to block any route of escape.

“No you are certainly not adept at subtlety,” he said and you couldn’t take your eyes off the way his tongue moved behind his teeth. “This is the fifth time that idiot in the hall has distracted you from work.”

“That’s not an answer,” you tried to spit the words but his eyes were boring into you. The honey of them spilled down your spine and made you shiver. “How did you know? You are not entitled to any information pertaining to my personal life, regardless.”

“Watch your mouth,” he growled. “Entitlement has no part in this.”

You were entering dangerous territory, though stopping curiously did not occur to you.

“I don’t think you have the right to be throwing out commands right now, not after that display.”

“Have you forgotten who you work for?” Kylo hissed at you, hands wrapped around the metal of your desk so hard you thought it might warp under his fingers.

“Of course not,” you desperately tried to keep your voice down lest anyone get even more a spectacle.

“Then what is this?” one hand left the desk and pulled a phone from inside his jacket.

The screen lit up, and you looked in horror at pictures of yourself. Pictures of yourself from last night. Pictures of yourself from last night at dinner with Evan, interspersed with shots of you crossing the street, waiting on the train platform, and stumbling back into your apartment. Each was clearer than you’d expected, presumably from some insanely expensive surveillance equipment. You had been out for hours, and you had been watched the whole time.

You narrowed your eyes, flicking back and forth between Kylo’s face—the graceful bridge of his nose pointed down at you—and gaped.

“You had me followed…” you breathed the words into the slowly shrinking space between your bodies.

He simply nodded, as if, somehow, you were foolish for not having considered this before. Perhaps you were. Perhaps you had no idea what you had gotten yourself into. Perhaps you had signed on for much more than a paycheck when you agreed to work for Kylo Ren.

“I can’t have my employees getting distracted.”

Kylo slowly drifted ever closer, shoulders bent so he was eye level with you. He pressed further into the desk, pinning you between his body and the hard surface that bit into your ass. Something long and thick and hard nudged your thigh.

“I don’t know why you though having me followed was necessary—”

“You’re an arrogant little slut who needs to be reminded of your priorities,” his hand snatched your leg and wrenched it open so he could stand between them, “ I am not something you do on the side.”

You could hear the way his teeth grit out the words, the way they formed as a growl deep in his beast’s throat. The hand still settled on the desk, skimmed up your hip and chest, his fingers

biting into your jaw.

“Do you understand me?”

Your lips were shut tight in a thin line, eyes wide and staring up like the prey you were. The silence only provoked him more. Snarling, two thick fingers wrenched your mouth open, pressing hard on your tongue and making you gag around them.

“Answer.”

Kylo Ren almost always spoke in commands. Having power did that to people, and rarely did it ever compel you, but his words sunk deep into your bones. Dredged up some dark, instinctual need to obey. To submit to this show of control.

“Yes,” you mumbled around his fingers in your mouth, drool slipping past your lips when they moved.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

You watched him suck his teeth, grabbing your face tighter and dragging you close so he could spit directly into your open mouth. He slammed your jaw shut, nearly taking off the tip of your tongue and hissed into your ear.

“Swallow.”

Again, you did without a thought. And it was disgusting, but invigorating, sent off some spark in your stomach with how easily he bent your body to his will. There was no man like him, you decided. And maybe this was simply because Kylo Ren was not a man. That term alone would never do him justice.

In one shockingly smooth motion, you found yourself flat on your back, ass hanging off the edge of the desk with his hands on your hips. He ground himself against you, the throbbing of his cock evident even through the layers of clothing. That feeling on its own had you soaked through, thighs sticking with liquid excitement.

“Remember who you work for,” he growled into your neck, licking a long stripe up your throat and sucking at the exposed skin.

But it was very clear to you what he really meant.

Remember who you belong to.

You slapped a hand over your mouth as he bit down on the skin just above your shoulder, laving his tongue over the stinging flesh. Kylo pulled back, frowning down at you and yanking the hand away from your face. One held both your wrists in a vice lock while the other ripped your panties straight down your legs and left the dripping fabric discarded on the carpet.

“No, they’re going to hear you,” he grunted, and pulled one of your hands down, pressing it to your slit and running your fingers through your slick. “Go on, touch your fucking pussy and let them know what a little whore you are for me.”

It was something about his voice. Something in the way it left him, its timbre, its wonder, unquestioning. You could never refuse him.

So, with a small nod you parted your folds, head resting on a stack of files as you drew slow circles around your clit with a shaky hand. His eyes never left your cunt, tracing the movement of your finger and the trail of wetness that seeped from you to the desktop. Softly, you gasped as the familiar placement of your fingers made you clench and arch up. Kylo’s rubbed small circles into your inner thighs with his thumbs, kneading the flesh there.

When the spark was there, the lovely pulsing in your nerves alight, you dipped down, teasing and slipping inside, grinding down as best you could on your hand. It wasn’t enough, but nothing ever was since you’d been ripped open on Kylo’s cock.

Evidently he did not find your work sufficient either.

Another finger joined yours, stroking your lips and circling your entrance. His touch made you whine, the promise of hands that were not your own never ceasing to illicit a new gush of pleasure.

“I said,” he murmured, his touch so terribly feather light. “Let them hear you.”

He was like a gunshot, sudden and forceful and almost instantly had you screaming. Kylo slammed his fingers into you, so full and so deep, curling hard against that lovely spot inside.

“Kylo, god, please—” you moaned long and low, your face burning with the knowledge that the walls were barely thick enough to keep your phone calls private, much less the shameful noises he pulled from you.

“What was that?” he panted, adding another finger and pumping them deep into your cunt. “You can do better.”

Your teeth dug so hard into your lip you thought it might bleed, but you couldn’t take much more. The ledge was approaching—Kylo Ren knew it—and he was determined to push you straight into the fire.

You choked when his deliciously thick fingers were ripped from you, walls fluttering around the awful emptiness. Your head lolled back as you listened to him work the buckle of his belt and slacks open, and when you did glance down your mouth watered at the sight. Kylo—impossibly long cock throbbing in his hand—stood between your legs, stroking himself from root to tip. You watched little pearls of precum bead at the head while his thumb swiped across to smear them along his length.

“You are insane,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

Did you need to keep this position? No, technically you would be more than well off on the salary Mr. Ren so graciously provided. However, you could not mentally deal with being terminated for getting dicked in your office during work hours.

Kylo smirked, the edge of his perfect cupid’s bow cocked back and aimed straight at your chest. Without warning, he sunk into you, straight to the hilt and threw his head back as you sobbed with the sharp sting of being split in two on his cock.

“This is what you do,” he growled into your ear, hands on either side of your head as he worked his length back out only to pound into you again. “You work for me and you take my cock and don’t ever fucking forget that.”

Your legs were wound so tightly around his waist that had he been any other man, his ribs would have cracked under the pressure. His hair, falling in black, satin waves, was gorgeous even in the sterile office lighting. You threaded your fingers into it at the roots and held him while your body rocked against the desk. It’s metal surface pinched at your sink and made your back ache, though that was nothing compared to the burn of Kylo’s thrusts, sliding against your walls. You felt him in your throat. You always did. That was simply the way things were with him. He filled you painfully, thoroughly, took over all of your senses until it was just him.

And, strangely, it was the most alive you’d ever felt.

He was unlike anyone you’d ever known.

You couldn’t scream for him, but you could still let him taste the desperation, the willingness in your body to mold against him. So you kissed him, dragged him by the hair to meet your lips and licked past his teeth, gasping and moaning on his tongue as you sucked it hard and cried into his mouth.

And he drank you down, picking up a punishing rhythm and breaking blood vessels where his hands gripped your hips. One drifted lower, thumb pressing down hard on your clit as your cunt clenched around his length. The desk was lifting off the ground with every thrust, the room filled with the wet sounds of your bodies and you were quickly melting under him.

Warmth was spreading, growing, building out from your pussy, igniting in your veins. He was right. This is what you did. This is what he did to you. This toe curling, lip biting, bone shattering kind of pleasure.

Oh you were so royally fucked.

“I—oh shit—Kylo I’m,” you pulled back just enough to pant out a warning before the wave took you.

So hot, it washed over your skin and made your legs shake and your hands leave his hair to dig your nails into his chest through the crisp white button down he wore.

“Feel that?” he grunted as you convulsed and shuddered under him, “Feel how this pussy was made for me.”

You nodded, buried your face in his neck and held on as he worked you through your climax and straight into his own. Once, twice he ground his cock deep in you, feeling how tight you were around him until he was spent and spilling hot, thick ropes of cum that coated your walls and dripped out around his length.

He panted, lazily rolling his hips, fucking you slowly until finally, he came to a halt with his softening cock still sheathed inside you. Seconds past, or maybe hours, you couldn’t tell. Kylo tended to have that effect on you. Time slipped away so easily in his presence, like there was never enough of it.

When he did pull away, you stayed with your back firmly planted amidst the mess of scattered paperwork and manila envelopes. He rose to his full, towering height and tucked himself away, straightening the wrinkles in his suit and eyeing you only once from the side. You admired his profile, you never understood until now what the meaning of the word “regal” truly was.

Under the dictionary definition, his picture surely would be there, staring at you down the bridge of his marble carved nose.

You sat up on your elbows as he stalked towards the door.

“Was that all you came for?”

Kylo paused, broad back still facing you and leaving the room feeling irrevocably empty with just the intention of his absence.

“We’ll reschedule for five tonight,” he said, filling the door frame completely. “Don’t be late.”

The door clicked shut behind him and the sound of it made you collapse back onto the desktop. You laid there for a moment, leaking your combined spend and aching. The throb of him settled in your muscles and festered. But the worst part was the other ache, the pain of being without. And maybe you had been a bit avoidant. Maybe this work really was so you didn’t have to see him. Because if you saw him you’d end up fucking him—which was fine, which was good, which was great actually—but then he would leave. And you couldn’t decide which wanting was worse. The wanting before or the wanting after.

Maybe it didn’t matter.

You had more important things to think about anyway. Like securing the receptionist an incredibly large holiday bonus, assuming you still had a job here at the end of the day.

Maybe that didn’t matter either.

It might be high time you made a commitment to whatever the hell kind of mess you’d stumbled into. Kylo Ren was an enigma in the best kind of way. Maybe you should stop running from it.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren smut #mob!kylo ren #lawyer!reader #dr. b writes #requests #adcu fanfic

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fandom-hoarder · 3 years

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listen I have so many questions about Stanford Sam, like this kid who was raised in the wild, barely aware of acceptable social conduct arrives with his 2 ectoplasm stained t-shirts at his dorm and like ????? is he very aware of it at first? or does he think he's hiding it well? and like moving in with Jessica?????? he doesn't know how to water plants and that you have to pay electricity bills ??? Like obviously he's not stupid, we know that!! But there are certain things about ordinary everyday life that are just impossible to pick up when you're raised like that. And this is just surface-level stuff, like I feel overwhelmed just thinking about how many tiny things I do in a day, just normal life stuff that I've always done, that Sam would be like ???? so weirded out by, or maybe creepily fascinated ??? Would he try and copy everyone around him maybe??? and then all the odd things that he'd probably do !!! like just basic marine survival nonsense he's dad probably taught him applied in mundane life situations that would make him stand out and he wouldn't even notice !!! And he thinks he's doing fine, people seem to accept him, but then suddenly someone mentions like... TRL or something and he's like ??? and then Dean picks him up and it all falls to pieces, because it's so EASY and ingrained and he doesn't have to pretend and it puts it into perspective how not okay he was doing at Stanford even when it felt like he was ?? god I'm just rambling, like I barely even have headcanons, I'm just so overwhelmed by all the possibilities of how this would play out !!!!

Holy crap, first I wanna apologize if this has been sitting here awhile. The Ask notification location in settings instead of notifications on the app is so weird and I get them so rarely I don’t think to check. (and the website shows that I have 4 but this one is the only one it’ll show? How does tumblr work? Oh yeah, it doesn’t lol.)

Anyway, I have so many thoughts on this! But they’re not necessarily cohesive?! Like first we all know Sam is super smart. He’s curious. He’s inquisitive. But he’s also sheltered in weird ways. There are things he’s known about the world that most people would never know about, let alone kids his age at any given time; yet the existence of those things--and the understanding that therefore potentially anything could be real--also lends itself to keeping him childlike--he had an “imaginary friend” at age nine and believed in the Easter bunny through age eleven, which is much later than the average probably???

By middle school, he definitely would’ve been feeling the strains of his otherness around his classmates, even if they weren’t constantly moving around, but of course the nomadic lifestyle just makes it even harder.

I think Sam is a very observant person, though. He figured out something was up with their dad and The Truth at age 8! So people watching is Sam’s saving grace for getting along in the mundane world. He definitely learns to mask his otherness by mimicking mundane people.

And I get sidetracked here because then I start thinking about exactly how their childhood went. We know John used Pastor Jim and Bobby as childcare/parenting support to some degree. I don’t think we really know anything about Caleb, maybe I’m forgetting something, but my headcanon is that Caleb functioned as a “fun younger uncle” type to Sam and Dean: cool, responsible in a pinch, but mostly not given childcare responsibilities because of his wilding tendencies. (they learn swears accidentally from Bobby and John, but Caleb TEACHES them.) Sam and Dean didn’t even know about Missouri until s1, so she’s off the caretaker list. They had that babysitter they met up with in uhh... Swap Meat! But largely we assume that Dean had a lot of the caretaking responsibilities; maybe with temporary babysitters in other places the same as Swap Meat.

And lbh you just can’t expect well-rounded, informed child-rearing from a kid only four years older. There’s a reason I associate a lot of weechester flashbacks with Sammy watching TV like in Something Wicked, because literally little siblings are A LOT and sometimes you just want them to sit still and quiet and leave you alone for a bit omg.(wait, give me a minute, I’m imagining little 6 year old Dean on the phone with Bobby because John ran out for food supplies and isn’t back yet and Sammy is still asleep but Dean’s creeped out in the longterm room they’re staying in because he KNOWS about the supernatural already. but then bobby gets on John’s case about it--and instead of never leaving Dean alone with baby Sam again, Dean learns from John’s belt not to call anyone when he’s left alone unless it’s an ACTUAL EMERGENCY. Or maybe, because marine, John doesn’t use his belt; maybe he uses PT instead and every time Dean thinks about calling Bobby for that reason again, his abs ache from the memory of punishment situps, or his arms get suddenly shaky thinking about doing pushups til he just couldn’t anymore.)

I haven’t read all of John’s Journal, and I know it’s not actually canon, but IIRC the bits that I’ve read from the wiki show John and the boys staying with a family friend in Lawrence for a few weeks, MAYBE a few months before John visits Missouri and everything STARTS. I think if he hadn’t picked up and left with them then, the family friends would’ve been contacting CPS because they’re starting to think John’s grief is making him unhinged. (I really want to read the journal tbh--there are bits I’ve seen that make me fantasize even more about boyking!sam storylines... but I’m getting even more off track.)

So we’ve got this weird/interesting dichotomy of kids that are groomed with these hyperspecialiizations, too weird to really fit in with other kids but sheltered from the actual hunter life also--like the fact that there ARE other hunters, like as a THING, not just their dad’s rando friends that, as kids, they may just assume know about the supernatural because their dad told them! (jfc they’re SO PRIMED to be each other’s entire world omg I’m gonna die)

So like, by being quiet and observant (an imaginative kid, by nature and by nurture as John starts to take Dean out more and leave Sam alone with his own thoughts), Sam would pick up a lot of things. But they’re never anywhere long enough for him to fully grasp everything and he would definitely suffer a bit from the Dunning-Kruger effect--not having enough knowledge about a thing, but having just enough that you don’t realize you don’t.

Let’s say Sam observes and picks up some things about normal residential life by being around a few mundane babysitters. The nature of John’s “work” would mean that, even if they were in a more in-home-daycare-like situation, they’d be likely to be the “after hours” kinds of kids that are still there when everyone else is picked up and the babysitter would normally be doing their normal life stuff: changing clothes, cleaning up from the daycare kids, making dinner, etc (sam and dean would definitely help, either out of kindness or duty or because it’s agreed that if they help out John will get a discount on their care costs--don’t mind me, just projecting my childhood onto the winchesters hahh. I’m NOT going to go off on a tangent about Dean already having so much experience caring for babies cuz of Sam. He definitely doesn’t have all the under-4s following him around begging for attention while he burps one of the three babies their babysitter cares for after a bottle. it DEFINITELY didn’t make Sam (age 4, 5, 6 maybe) jealous enough to repress the memory so that over a decade later he would claim that Dean doesn’t even LIKE kids.)

Uhh... what was I talking about? Oh yeah, Sam. Observing normal life. Anyway so maybe after things settle for the day, sometimes a babysitter will sit at the dining table with the weekly bills and their checkbook and do the bills. And Sam kind of loves things like this: it feels like something important; it feels like playing school before he was old enough to go (quick aside here: John totally enrolled Sam in school early, both because that’s the only way his age works with canon timeline and because it would make life easier if Sam was in school just like Dean--more cost-and-time efficient.) And maybe Sam goes and sits at the table and just. Watches.

And then he asks questions. When he’s curious, he doesn’t keep his questions to himself as a child (unless the subject is expressly forbidden: see Dean’s reaction when Sam brings up Mary). But his age would inevitably limit the scope and understanding of those questions. Adults are generally disinclined to fully explain the adult world to children, especially when it comes to finances, and in the 80s and early 90s?? With most of the adults of that time that I knew, those kinds of questions were considered rude and nosey. He might understand that adults have to pay bills; he may even understand something about utilities; but he wouldn’t necessarily understand all the requirements and frequency.

Though their nomadic lifestyle wasn’t stable by any “normal” definition, one thing to be said about mostly living out of motels is that your power is never cut off, or your water, or your heat. There’s always television, usually with cable. And the only form of payment you see going on is dad handing over cash or plastic at the front desk--one and done. My headcanon usually disallows the idea that they would’ve squatted in empty houses when Sam and Dean were kids (John makes plenty of bad decisions but I just don’t see him staying in a place without power or water with CHILDREN. Teenagers? SURE.) They would learn how to clean house and make proper beds even when it wasn’t always necessary with housekeeping available--both because of John’s military parenting style and because John would be most likely to opt out of daily housekeeping to lower the risk of having people ask questions.

So yeah, there are so many little intricacies of the mundane world that Sam wouldn’t be conditioned to even think about. Even the realization that he doesn’t know enough about regular life, as he grows up and longs more and more for that very thing because he’s never had more than a glimpse of it, wouldn’t necessarily be enough.

Would his natural curiosity lead him to ask those questions? He can’t ask John because he already asked Dean and got a dismissive answer because ‘what does any of that matter, Sam? we’ll never have to worry about that shit.’ and if Dean seems borderline offended by the sheer audacity of the questions in the first place, he knows John will be worse.

In the 90s, life skills were still kind of a thing in most U.S. schools. But in a really inconsistent way. Sometimes it was in health class curriculum; sometimes your math class would actually do a short focus on balancing a checkbook and banking if there was a chapter, but a lot of times those parts get skipped. You never use the whole textbook. Sometimes life skills was only in Home Ec, but H.E. was completely elective in my area when I was in middle school (the same exact years Sam would’ve been in middle school) and I’m assuming the same for most of the U.S. Sam may have taken it, or he may have taken something else instead (wood shop or computer class were the alternatives in my area). Maybe the nature of school hopping meant that he HAD to enroll in Home Ec, because resources for the other electives were finite, but somehow always managed to miss the bills and budgeting portion. Maybe he couldn’t even take Home Ec due to class size or resources and they just put him in a study hall for that period. (Maybe they put him in the computer class, where he mostly does book work until he gets a turn on the PC he has to share with his classmate.)

As an observant person, Sam totally would’ve known about TRL, I think. There’s no way at least one group of kids in the halls or lunchroom wasn’t talking about it every day in high school, especially with the advent of Britney Spears and Eminem and Jesse freakin Camp. Maybe he goes to someone’s house to try to hang out or to study and they turn it on and Sam watches raptly because it’s such a strange phenomenon and he hardly ever gets to hear new music, much less watch the videos. But he can’t actually get into it because the fangirls are annoying and his analytical mind won’t let him suspend his disbelief about how the voting works. (Maybe he tries giving it another shot in their motel room sometimes, but Dean vetoes that bubblegum pop shit IMMEDIATELY--no Sam, look, that shit isn’t REAL music; most of them don’t even play instruments. And it’s really not fair because Dean TOTALLY watched MTV’s The Grind in the early 90s for his fix of suggestively gyrating bodies before he figured out how to access porn without getting caught.)

Sam and Dean actually make a LOT of pop culture references, which always fascinates me. I imagine they did a lot of TV watching and VCR/movie renting in the times they weren’t working on a case with/for their dad (projecting again; my dad’s house was a very boring place on his weekends). The nature of Dean’s idolization of John and disinclination to let Sam have his own separate likes means they have a mix of age-appropriate pop culture knowledge and a lot of Boomer-era TV and movie knowledge--Dean more than Sam, maybe when it comes to things like cowboy movies and TV lol.

Anyway, as the realization that he doesn’t really know how anything works crept in, maybe Sam would try to lowkey create situations where he could ask his friends/his friends’ parents those normal life kind of questions. But maybe after his first few tries, he’s become so uncomfortably aware of how weird he is to even need to ask that he stops asking. Maybe he starts to tap into his specialized skills and starts snooping/creeping around their houses to try to glean knowledge. Maybe he scours the library for books on ‘what you need to know for life’--I have the urge now to do a google search on actual titles of books on this subject that may have existed at the time, but I’ve already spent a lot of time on this without going into research spirals. lol Maybe he can’t find exactly the things that are pertinent--still doesn’t fully realize that, though--and in the meantime his cache of esoteric knowledge continues to build.

So he gets to Stanford and he mostly understands how the financing works; enough to get by with enrollment and stuff. He understands that he’ll need to get a job of some sort to make ends meet because he’s there to be normal and normal people don’t pay for everything with scammed credit cards and billiards money; he knows that much. But he doesn’t really know about wages, minimum wage, freaking payroll taxes, etc. (I feel like Dean would’ve had odd jobs as a teen, some legit some under the table, but that the nature of John (and Dean) wanting to keep Sam home and safe would’ve made the subject of Sam working through high school a banned topic. And anyway, much as I’m not a fan of the characterization in Drag Me Away (From You), what Dean said to Sam about the impossibility of getting into college with the way his academic career would look is accurate. So Sam would’ve probably spent most of his free time on academics so he could get the fuck out, rather than trying to get a job.

Maybe having to buy his textbooks would be a surprise? John probably always qualified for Sam and Dean to be on free lunch/free book programs in public school, not to mention the likelihood of the records being at least partially counterfeit. But at the same time, John was probably very hands off with their school enrollment crap once the boys were old enough to handle it themselves, so Sam would at least have an inkling.

Sam would be a weird mix of no-boundaries and too-secretive, and his first attempts at acting normal would be a bit too put-on. He’s got experience acting per 1x16 (oh, maybe he did drama instead of home ec somewhere lol), but acting on stage is so much different to acting in a more personal setting. On stage you have to exaggerate your movements to project all the way to the back. Early-Stanford Sam, I guess, is a bit like Soulless Sam. He knows there’s something off about him compared to the people around him, and he just does his best to pretend he’s the same as them without calling attention to his differences, which ends up coming off robotic. A little Stepford. A little uncanny valley. He learns to bite his tongue every time he’s about to let something normal only to his family roll off it; learns to be even more vague than he used to be, because now he’s around strangers ALL THE TIME.

At some point, Sam has a little-but-big breakdown about a payment he missed or the fact that he had to steal shampoo because he didn’t even have toiletries in his budget and couldn’t even afford a bottle of White Rain or Suave, so since he was stealing anyway he got the special brand he really likes and then feels too awful to even use it and doesn’t wash his hair for a week. Brady takes pity on the cute but hapless puppy-boy who is a physical and academic behemoth but has obviously been living off-grid on some kind of militia commune for the past forever--at first the rumor was that he was Amish on rumspringa but the amount of times Sam has busted out some supremely random survival knowledge in casual conversation changes that rumor quickly--and has no understanding of the world. And by the time he moves off-campus with Jess, Sam has this masking thing down pretty well; he can almost forget he’s not normal sometimes and Jess only knows about his previous helplessness in a cute, anecdotal kind of way.

And then Dean comes and gets him and Sam’s all “you and Dad still doing credit card scams?” and Dean’s like “well hunting doesn’t pay the bills.”

AND SAM’S LIKE, NEITHER DO YOU DEAN! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT BILLS ARE?! BECAUSE I DIDN’T AND IT WOULD’VE BEEN NICE TO KNOW!

#ask #@princessconsuelapark #stanford era #sam winchester #pre-stanford era #sam n dean #john winchester's a+ parenting #long post

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davidobitch · 4 years

Text

Personal Assistant | Jeff Wittek

this was kinda fun. i love ceo jeff but i also love jeff in general.

“(Y/N), I need those papers back on my desk by the time you leave today,” your boss says as he walks by your desk, dropping a stack of files down in front of you. You let out a deep sigh knowing once again it’ll be a late night for you. There was no way you were going to get all these papers finished in the next 2 hours.

Your fingers tangled in your hair, not even halfway done with your work and you were supposed to be off in 30 minutes.

You watched your coworkers all leave one by one, leaving you the last person in the building along with your boss.

Jeff Wittek is the CEO of the biggest gym chain in L.A. and you were lucky enough to be one of his assistants. Working for him wasn’t too bad except for when he gets in these moods where he makes you do everything only a couple hours before you were supposed to leave. But he paid well, so what he says goes.

“(Y/N), office. Now,” Jeff called from the doorway. He watched your every move as you scrambled to gather the files you still have yet to finish up until you were walking into his office. You could feel his stare burning holes in your body, sending a shiver down your spine.

His hand skimmed over your lower back, letting it linger for a couple seconds as he walked past you.

“Sit, please,” Jeff motions to the chair in front of his desk. Doing as you’re told you set the files and his desk and placed yourself across from him, watching as he leans back in his chair.

Your cheeks burned thinking about how good he looks at this moment. His shirt unbuttoned enough to see his chain cascading down his chest, sleeves rolled up half way his arm. His hair, oh god how much you would love to run your hands through it.

“What do you think?” Jeff asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“I- Sorry, what are we talking about again?” You bit your bottom lip, not even realizing he was having a full on conversation with you while you were fantasizing about him.

A small laugh escaped from Jeff’s lips, “I think you’re supposed to listen to your boss when they call you into their office,” his tongue gliding over his lips before a smirk takes over.

A strand of hair falling in front of your face as you drop your head, hiding your embarrassment, “I know, sorry, I was just thinking, uh, y‘know about the files. I still have more to finish but I’m almost done. I can st-“

Your rambling was cut short as Jeff’s hand cupped your chin, raising it so he can look at you.

You were talking too much to realize he was now standing in front of you, leaning against his desk. As if he couldn’t look more attractive than he did just a couple minutes ago, you were proven wrong.

“You talk a lot when you’re nervous,” Jeff says as he pushes the fallen hair behind your ear, grinning down at you. He removes his hand and shoves them in his pant pocket. You tried your hardest to keep your face from turning red, but by the warmth that was taking over your cheeks, you knew it wasn’t possible.

“So, uh, why- what, um. Sorry, what did you pull me in here for?” You tripped over your words, thoughts of Jeff were controlling your mind, not helping with the fire burning on your face.

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately. You’ve been with the company for-”

“5 years,” you cut Jeff off, accidentally. It was supposed to be a thought but your brain said otherwise, “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to be said. It kind of just-”

“You’re rambling again, (Y/N),” Jeff’s smile growing wider as he spoke, “You apologize a lot, you ever noticed?”

Yes.

“Uh, no. Sorry- Oh! Sorry,” you covered your face with your hands, letting out a little groan. You’ve never been this nervous around your boss before, but something about tonight feels off.

You heard Jeff snicker as he pulled your hands from your face, “As I was saying, (Y/N), you’ve been with me for a while. I’ve watched you grow into an amazing person” His eyes trailed down your body before turning his attention back to you, “I want you to be my assistant,” Jeff says, making you look at him with confusion. But you were already his assistant? Well one of them.

Your mouth opened to say something, but all the words in your brain dissipated when you Jeff leaned forward, gripping your chair’s arm rests, slowly sliding his hands backwards until his face was mere inches away from yours, “My personal assistant,” Jeff’s gaze flickered to your lips, licking his as he looked back at you.

Your breath caught in your throat. Well this is a turn of events. Is he… No. He’s totally not into me. Your eyes raked down the sight in front of you. Pieces of Jeff’s hair fell in front of his face, his chain slipping out of his shirt.

Jeff took your silence as the answer he needed. The second your eyes found his again, his lips collided with yours with so much force you felt like the chair was going to tip over.

Maybe he totally is into me...

You were taken back, at first, but when Jeff ran his tongue across your lip, you melted into his touch. Your hands gripped his biceps as he lifted you off the chair. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he turned around, setting you on this desk. He pushed almost everything off the table, including the files you so neatly organized for him.

He pulled away and glanced down, “They’re not that important anyways,” he mumbles against your neck, searching for your sweet spot. You tilt your head to the side, giving him more space to work with. Jeff smiled against your skin when you accidentally let out a small moan. Your hands made their way into his hair, his fingers trailing up your thigh, pushing your dress up with them.

“Jeff,” you managed to breathe out. His lips hum against you, waiting for your answer, “I- We- What if someone walks in,” your voice was shaky as Jeff continued to bite and suck on every inch of your neck, eventually moving down to your chest.

“Everyone went home,” taking a second to bring his face back to you, his thumb traces your lip, “It’s just you and me, baby,” his voice was barely audible, like he was telling you a secret nobody else could know.

That was all the confirmation you needed before bringing his lips back to yours. Jeff grabbed your hips, pulling you closer to his body. Sitting half way off his desk, he hiked one of your legs up higher giving him better access.

His hand slides in between your thighs, roaming over every bit of skin except where you needed him most. Just like that, his thumb presses down on your clit, causing you to involuntarily buck your hips.

Pulling away from the kiss, your head falls back as Jeff moves your panties to the side, “You’re this wet for me already?” A smirk toying his lips, “I always knew you had the hots for me,” dragging his finger up your folds painfully slow.

“Please, Jeff,” you managed to say without moaning.

“Please what?” His finger circling your clit.

“Please don’t play with me like that.”

As if on queue, his fingers slip inside you, a high pitch moan echoing around the room. His rhythm starts off slow but quickens with every pant you let out.

His fingers curl up, hitting the right spot, “God- Fuck- Jeff- I, oh fuck” And just like that he removes his fingers.

You can’t help but whimper by the sudden loss of contact. “You think I would let you cum that easily?” Jeff’s lips ghosted over yours as he spoke. You drop your legs from his waist and hop off the desk.

“I guess two can play at that game then,” you hand trails down his chest, fidgeting with his belt buckle. You push him back gently, making him fall into the chair you were previously sitting at. Getting his belt and pants button undone, you tug them down with his boxers. Your eyes widen seeing how big Jeff is. You figured he was packing..but not like this.

You tease him the same way he did to you. Your fingers dragging up his thighs. Jeff’s hand wraps around his cock, his thumb running over his tip. “You wanna help me or am I gonna have to help myself?” Jeff growls, starting to pump his hand.

It didn’t take long before you wrapped your lips around his head, swirling your tongue around the tip. You looked up at Jeff, batting your lashes at him. His hand running through his hair, grabbing at the ends. Your cheeks hollow around Jeff’s cock as you bob your head. You removed your mouth, replacing it with your hand instead only for Jeff to grab it, halting your movements.

“You’re gonna have to stop if you want me to last,” Jeff growls through his teeth, not wanting to cum before you do.

In one swift movement, he stands up and bends you over his desk. Jeff bunched your dress up around your waist as he pulled your panties down your legs, tossing them to the side.

The tip of Jeff’s cock slides up between your folds before sliding into you completely. Your body falls onto the desk, overwhelmed with pleasure as Jeff thrusts into you harder each time. As if you didn’t think this feeling could get any better, Jeff lifts one of your legs on the desk and pulls you up to him. His hand wraps around your throat, his lips pressed to your shoulder.

“I- Jeff- I’m close,” you moan out. He removes himself from you to turn you around. Jeff lifts you back onto his desk and without warning, he slams himself back into you. You yelp from the intensity and drop your head against Jeff’s shoulders.

With one hand gripping your hips, he free hand grabs your jaw, bringing your face to his. “Let it go, baby,” Jeff snakes his hand down your stomach to rub your clit.

“Fuck me. Oh! Fuck,” you draw your moans out as your ride out your high only seconds before Jeff does.

“Fuckin’ christ (y/n),” Jeff’s breathing was heavy as he pulls out of you only to drop to his knees. He glides his tongue over your pussy, making you jump from over-sensitivity. “Gotta make sure my girl’s clean,” he says as he stands back up.

“So is this in the job description of being your personal assistant?” You question as you fix your dress. You lean against the desk and watch as Jeff doesn’t bother with buttoning his pants or his belt. God he cannot get any hotter.

His lips pressed to yours softly before pulling away to smirk at you, “This is the job description.”

#jw #jeff wittek #jeff wittek imagine #jeff wittek smut #masterlist #imagine #prompt #the vlog squad #vlog squad imagine

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moonbythecabstan · 3 years

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We're Up Against The Wall (Know I Like It Like That) - Part 1

Rated: M

Pairing: M/M

Fandom: World Wrestling Entertainment

Relationship: The Miz/Dolph Ziggler

Summary: A surprise visit from Mike's good friend takes a surprising turn.

Mike flicked his thumb over the screen, skimming the posts scrolling past with vague interest. He wasn't one for mindless social media perusing, but waiting on his wife usually took quite a while. Especially when she had her girls with her. Their giggles heard every time he peeked into the room to check on how much longer he'd be waiting. Left with nothing else to do, he took to looking through Instagram. Tossing a double tap out here and there, smiling at the many pictures of his friends doing interesting things in their lives.

He glanced at the time at the top of the screen when his restlessness got the better of him, groaning when he found only three minutes passed by. How was it time moved so slow when you desperately wanted things to hurry up? Waiting on your wife and suffering through workouts being the times when you wanted the minutes to fly by. Yet they merely crawled. Dragged.

There was a knock at the door that startled him out of his silent griping. He furrowed his brows at the door like maybe he imagined the sound, but it came again. A rhythmic knocking he recognized with a grin. Pushing up off the couch to greet his friend as he pulled the door open wide.

"Hey, man! Didn't expect you to drop by today." Dolph Ziggler, in classic shades and red Motley Crue shirt (sleeves cut off because of course), nodded to him. Ponytail flicking jauntily back and forth as he shifted weight from the left to the right, a hint of teasing to the 'apologetic' smile he offered.

"Yeah, well. I was in town and... I mean, you know how it is. Better to drop in on a friend than go out to some expensive establishment in town." He paused, head tilted and lips pursed for a moment. "It's cool that I'm here, right?" He leaned over to one side and then the other, seemingly checking behind Mike. Probably wondering if they were going out or if his wife had something planned for them.

After all, Mike was dressed in a casual but still nice outfit. Jeans, blazer, clean white t-shirt. His nicest boots. He figured there was still about twenty minutes before he'd even be close to leaving the house anyway, so he nodded and invited Dolph inside. It was better than sitting bored in the living room, something playing on the television and staring at the wall while his thoughts ran away with him.

Not possible to be bored when Dolph was around. That anyone knew.

"So, judging by your nice clothes and pretty face I assume you're going out soon." Mike dropped back onto the couch, though Dolph remained standing. Glancing from where Mike sat to somewhere down the hall. With a hum, he got into a more comfortable position. Effectively rumpling his shirt and blazer, something he was surely going to be nagged about when it was time to go.

"Yeah we've got some business stuff to attend to. And then dinner at this new steakhouse. I'm just waiting on wifey to be done with her thing so we can go." He checked his watch, grimacing. "Should be in the next twenty minutes."

"Ah. Hence the letting me come in. Better than talking to the wall. Probably anyway." Mike snorted, nearly running a hand through his hair before remembering he'd styled it already. He dropped his hand listlessly into his lap, puffing air out of his mouth up at the ceiling.

"Trust me. It's a much better alternative. What are you doing in town anyway? I thought you'd be up in New York by now?" If he remembered correctly, Dolph had some... thing or other scheduled soon in New York. Of course, he could barely keep up with his schedule, never mind a friend's.

"I do, but that's not for a few days. Well, technically two, but I figured it would be fun to visit my brother for a bit. Except he's apparently busy. Then I thought, 'Hey, Mike probably wouldn't mind a buddy' and here I came." He certainly appreciated it. It had been a little while since they really got to hang out. Usually one of them was busy doing something else or they were hanging out with their group of friends at a party or some formal event.

It wasn't the same as just chilling out. Shooting the shit. Catching up.

"Glad you did. You don't know how long a minute can stretch until you're waiting for someone to get ready to go." Dolph laughed, sunglasses now hanging on his shirt collar and his smile reaching his eyes. Blue as the California sky outside his window.

"Brutal." Then he took a step back, glancing down the hall again and smiling in apology. "Mind if I use the bathroom real quick?"

"Sure. Go ahead. You know where everything is, right?" Dolph nodded, already heading out of the room. Something about him a bit more...highstrung than usual. Mike wasn't sure what it was about him, but he let the musing go in favor of heading for the kitchen. Seeking one of his healthy snacks since it would be a good while before he'd be eating anything.

Not even five minutes later, his phone buzzed on the counter. Curiosity piqued, he set aside the mustard bottle he'd been examining for an expiration date and plucked the device up. Brows furrowing when he found Dolph's message notification there. An amused thought crossed his mind of Dolph stuck in the bathroom without toilet paper or something, though that disintegrated quickly into curiosity when he unlocked his phone and read the actual text.

"Hey, you gotta come check this thing out in your guest room. What is he talking about- guest room?" He tried to think of what in the world Dolph could have found in the guest room, shuddering at the thought of a rat or something being in there. His phone buzzed again, a 'hurry up miz' making him roll his eyes as he pushed away from the counter and walked quickly to where Dolph was waiting for him.

"Alright, what is i- mmph?" The moment he was through the door, it shut quietly behind him. Dolph crowding him up against it. A dangerous and enticing gleam in his eyes. He nearly spoke again, his thoughts shooting off in a hundred directions as he scrambled to understand what was happening, what he'd walked into, but Dolph shushed him. Tilting his head once towards the adjacent wall.

And then he heard it. Talking. It was muffled through the wall, but he recognized the higher frequency of women chattering together. Giggling and speaking in shrill voices that carried into the next room. That being the one he was in currently, Dolph watching him carefully. Heat in his gaze that made Mike swallow. His throat suddenly very dry.

"I believe I remember you once mentioning something about how you've fantasized about this. About us going at it in the room next to the one she's in while getting ready." Oh God. He remembered that? Mike vaguely remembered one of the times they hooked up while out of town, he'd been completely blissed out and barely able to put coherent thoughts together. Rambling on about something while kissing along the throat that tasted of salt and smelled of thick musk. Dolph's fingers trailing along the skin of his back and chest, sending little shivers through his body.

Afterwards, when he had his bearings, he remembered saying something along the lines of what Dolph said to him just now. Cringing in embarrassment and praying Dolph either hadn't heard him or wasn't able to pay attention any better than Mike was. Not that it wasn't truem he was ashamed to say, but he preferred to keep such fantasies to himself. Not wanting anyone, not even Dolph, to know some of the things he really wouldn't mind doing.

Apparently he'd hoped in vain, because the man heard and remembered. Obvious in the smirk he wore as he looked him over.

"Um, I was kind of hoping maybe you didn't hear me when I said any of that." Curiosity sparked in darkened eyes, Dolph humming lightly as he considered him for a moment.

"Why? I mean, it's not the best idea you could have in terms of keeping people from finding out. But apparently that gets you hot, and who am I to deny someone something like that? I'm game if you are." It hit him rather suddenly what exactly Dolph was proposing. What was on the table here. He really wished it didn't have him flushing head to toe. Didn't have his heart hammering at the mere thought.

He wished he didn't want to do this. It was wrong on so many levels.

But damn it he did.

Still, he found himself hesitating. "I don't know..."

Dolph leaned in close, their bodies just nearly brushing, and lightly slid his nose against the underside of Mike's jaw. Pulling a sigh out of him and making his eyes flutter closed. It had also been a while since they got to be together like this, rarely ever alone or somewhere they could feasibly be alone.

He didn't like to admit it, but he missed this. There was something insanely addicting to it. The adrenaline coursing through his veins. The knowledge he was doing something he shouldn't. Their natural chemistry snapping and crackling between them when they touched. Kissed. Their passion burned so hot, so bright, and together it was absolutely blinding. Threatening to burn them to ashes.

Every time they got together left Mike wanting more. He couldn't, really shouldn't, but still he craved. Still found himself thinking about it. Once or twice even dreaming of it, an awkward situation he felt immense shame over while sitting on the closed toilet seat. Head in his hands. Drying sweat leaving his skin sticky. Grimy.

"It's up to you. Whatever you want." In his opinion, though Dolph was trying to make it like the final decision was Mike's to make (and, he supposed, in a way it was since he could technically walk away), Dolph also wasn't playing very fair. Ambushing him in the guest room. Leaning in close, keeping him trapped against the door with his body. Teasing him. Smelling as good as he did. Looking like he did.

Looking at him like that.

Really it wasn't fair at all. Because whether he wanted to or not (he totally did) they were definitely doing this. He had no possible way to fight Dolph, or ignore the hum of energy under his skin. And Dolph knew that. Knew just how to push Mike's buttons to get what he wanted. A reaction. A favor.

And behind closed doors, whatever he wanted in bed.

Not that Mike was, like, complaining. He loved making people happy. Would do anything to do so. What they wanted to do he would do delightedly. Diligently. That applied about ten-fold in the bedroom.

"You know I want." He spoke lowly and with slight irritation because they both knew Dolph knew this. Far too smug for his taste, knowing Mike would play right into his hand. Dolph, grinning, tugged him off the door. Letting out a quiet yelp when Mike suddenly charged him, taking the control right out of his stupidly smug hands. He licked heated kisses into Dolph's mouth while curling around him. Absorbing the pleased moan Dolph let out and kissing back harder. With earnest fervor.

Hands squeezed at his shoulders, fingers then trailing along the back of his neck. Bodies pressed firmly together. His ears picked up loud laughter from the next room and he broke the kiss with a gasp to trail lips along the stubbled jaw. Squeezing his fingers into Dolph's waist, a low sound next to his ear making his hair stand on end.

Muffled conversation continued from the other side of the wall his back thumped into, Dolph whispering against his throat. He grasped tightly to whatever parts of the man he could, taking a shape inhale when fingers picked at where his shirt was neatly tucked into his pants. A shiver running up his spine when quick tugs freed it, hand slipping underneath and nails biting into his sensitive skin.

He wasn't sure how much teasing he could really take like this, praying Dolph took mercy on him but knowing the chances were slim. It was rare they got this, even rarer in the situation they were in, and Dolph wasn't known to squander an opportunity laid so perfectly for him. Trust him on that one.

Fingers plucked at buttons, getting through three before Dolph invaded his space again. A heady scent bulldozing his senses and making him dizzy. Dolph always smelled good, but this was something else. He'd happily drown in whatever bottle this stuff came in, that's how good it was.

"Gonna have to be extra quiet, you know that? They could hear you." Another button undone, his shirt looser across his chest. Falling just a centimeter more open. He felt himself arching, trying to break free or maybe draw closer to the other man. To melt completely into him. "Can you actually do that? Can you keep quiet?"

He swallowed thickly.

"Yeah. Yeah I'll- I'll manage." Another button, Dolph leaning back and shooting him a twisted smile he felt deep in his gut. Leaving him to question just how well he'd be able to manage not alerting anyone in the next room what was transpiring.

"We'll see about that." And then, without warning, he dropped to his knees. Fingers making quick work of Mike's belt, the leather snapping as it was tugged from around his waist and tossed onto the (thankfully carpeted) floor. Dolph glancing back at it and making a face.

"Next time, we'll try the laundry room. I remember it has a hard floor." His response dried on his tongue as eager hands wasted little time with buttons and zips. Mike wheezing, clenching his jaw to keep from making any other sounds, when Dolph's left hand slid across his skin. Pressing firmly but gently into his stomach while eyes watched him with open curiosity.

"Hmmm. Usually can get at least a squeak out of you with that one. Going to have to work harder, aren't I?" Squeezing his eyes closed, he counted to five in his head and let out a steady breath. Trying to center himself and ignore the delicious tingling all over his body.

"You're trying to break me...on purpose?" Dolph hummed, smiling sweetly while tugging down snug dress slacks and briefs a few inches. Cool air skating across his skin and making bumps rise up his arms. A tremor in his thighs. Damn him.

"It makes this a little more interesting, don't you think? Just like that time you did something really similar when I was on that conference call with those really important people I told you about? Remember that?" He did, and that had been pretty entertaining. Dolph's strained voice and broken sentences delighting him to no end.

He was quickly coming to realize it was not nearly as fun on the opposite end. Especially when he liked being vocal. Noisy. Sharing his...appreciation.

"If we're caught-" A pointed look.

"Don't get us caught. Simple." If only it were. He had a feeling this was not going to be anything near easy or simple for him.

#wrestling fanfiction #WWE #wrestling slash #mizler #the miz #dolph ziggler #not everything goes on AO3 #WWE fanfiction #might start posting shorter fics here because there's too many on archive #i have too many ideas someone help #of all my ships these two are the least popular and also the ones taking over my life the worst #an old idea I had years ago I decided to write finally #I thought this was going to be short but here we are #two parts because I can't control myself

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thehamsterjedii · 4 years

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Imagine after returning to Yavin IV post liberation of Lothal, Hera vents out a bit to the ex- ISB agent Kallus.

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Words: 921

Most people say the golden hour of any sun is the most beautiful time of the day. Hera Syndulla might have agreed before, but now, she hated it, it only brought her painful memories.

The sun was setting on Yavin IV, giving the Ghost an almost magical shine while it was slowing down to land on the Rebel base. Hera parked the Ghost silently, opening the ramp to who wanted to leave. She heard faint but heavy steps exit the ship, definitely belonging to the purple Lasat. She can't really blame him, it was an eventful day, no wonder he wanted to vent at the borders, away from any noise.

The Mandalorian spectre has been in her cabin ever since they jumped into hyperspace, and apparently, she's not planning to leave any time soon. Chopper powered off to charge a while ago, leaving Hera in the silent cockpit, haunted by her thoughts.

Alexsandr Kallus hasn't been with the Ghost crew for long, all he ever knew of them was how they were ruthless rebel killers back in his empire days, but it turns out, they were none of what he believed back then. The crew of the ghost are a found family that cared deeply for each other more than he ever had in mind. A family he wished to have.

Kallus wandered around the VCX's hallway, not having a specific destination in mind, he let his feet carry him to wherever they wanted. Eventually, his feet led him to the cockpit where he found the pilot slumped in her seat while sniffling quietly.

Hera almost jumped out of her chair when she heard the cockpit's door open, quickly wiping her tears away and looking back at the intruder, she found Kallus standing there silently. She sighed and turned her head to the windshield, fantasizing the marvelous jungle of Yavin that surrounded the base.

Kallus walked slowly and sat with a huff on the co-pilot seat. If Hera had to guess, he must be on the verge of collapsing after this day, Adrenaline solely keeping him upright.

He looked shyly at Hera and spoke with a quiet sorrowful voice "I'm sorry for what happened today Hera, i couldn't stop anything from happening", Hera gave away a small smile at his apology, "You couldn't have stopped any of this from happening, it's the will of the force, I'm glad you made it out in one piece" she said sadly.

Kallus chuckled a little at her last comment, "The Force have always been a mystery to me, since the war on Lasan, when some lasats called it the Ashla" he replied.

Hera smiled but the smile never reached her eyes, she responded "from what Kanan told me, the force is an energy that binds all living things together. Some people have more sensitivity to it than others, due to something in their cells Kanan mentioned before, but I kind of forgot... Midichlorians? Maybe.. Anyways, these Midichlorians varied in number from a force sensitive to another, therefore some jedi and sith have been more powerful than others. Most of us normal people have about 2-100 Midichlorians in each cell, hence why we're not attuned to the force. But Kanan and Ezra, they had more than that, ranging in the thousands. The force will always be mysterious in how it works, even the jedi couldn't describe it"

Kallus sat there dumbstruck, overwhelmed by all this new information he never heard of before, his mouth slightly open and eyes wide. Hera chuckled slightly at his reaction, but went back to the sad look.

"I.. Can't describe how I'm currently feeling, but this is incredible, it must've been crazy for you to live with 2 force sensitives" Kallus let his last words slip before realising what they meant, he hurriedly tried to mend the situation "Hera,.. I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to.. Ugh.. I'm..", Hera lifted a hand to stop his rambling, a slight smile on her lips while her while her eyes are on the verge of tears "Yes, it was crazy, but i would want to have them living with me more than anything. I just... I miss them so much.. I.. I just lost Kanan and before I could grieve, I lost Ezra too. I never thought I would lose them both so fast. And I feel like this is my fault, I mean Kanan came to save ME and died.. I'm sorry" Hera said shakily and tears started to cascade down her face.

Kallus would have never thought he'd be one of the few people to see the General's vulnerable side. In his imperial days, he wouldn't think her crew meant this much to her, oh how wrong was he. They're literally a family, torn apart too soon, because of the empire. He despised himself knowing he was a part of this murderous dictatorship that holds the Galaxy in a vice like grip, crushing hopes and families for power. What an abomination.

Kallus put a comforting hand on Hera's shoulder and said caringly "none of this is your fault Hera, this, is the Empire's fault, and they will pay for it. I feel disgusted that I was part of this abomination".

Hera looked up from the floor to meet Kallus's eyes, and smiled, "I'm glad you're in the rebellion, we'll make the empire pay for this suffering. You're a good man Kallus, that's why you left, don't sell yourself short" she replied quietly.

Kallus returned the smile and whispered "We'll make them pay".

#star wars #star wars rebels #swr #alexsandr kallus #agent kallus #hot kallus #hera and kanan #hera syndulla #ezra bridger #sabine wren #zeb orrelios #sw imagine #sw rebels #the hamster writes

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svnthxsense · 5 years

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Genre/Rating: Fluff/smut ; M

Warnings: Fem reader, cursing, light choking, slight corruption (?), slight praise, oral, tiny bit of slow burn

Word Count: 9.8k i’m sorry

Author’s Note: I got very carried away... Anyways, Happy Mark Day! This oneshot is a standalone in my Neo Tech High School series and is loosely based off of the first verse & chorus of Shot Clock by Ella Mai. Please send in any feedback! Also, my apologies if the Keep Reading function doesn’t work on mobile but I can’t do much about it T-T

It was mid-March when news broke in your school that a tier-1 athlete had transferred in. Everyone was swarming with curiosity all for a certain Mark Lee. Most of the gossip came from the guys, who bantered about his stats as a starting point-guard and argued about whether or not he’d make a good addition to the school’s beloved team. The girls, of course, were looking forward to a fresh face on campus. You couldn’t help but be curious, too.

After a week of anticipation, people were stunned to see the actual image of the mysterious basketball player. He was attractive at the absolute least. Then there was something that neither you nor your peers expected: he was the shyest, most awkward boy you had met in a while. How was it that the star basketball player who was always in the spotlight happened to be socially awkward?

You were surprised to discover that you two had a lot of classes together, and you’d be lying if you said you never stared. It didn’t help that he always came into math class with basketball shorts and a tank top on, his skin lightly glistening with sweat even after his brief post-gym shower. His hair was tousled, yet he managed to make it work like no other. It was a sight that made your mouth water and your mind fill with less-than decent thoughts.

It was only halfway through his first week of school when Mark had gotten called into the principal's office in the middle of third period. And then you were called in- not even five minutes after.

“Good morning, Principal Yoon,” You greeted her politely, taking the only other seat left in the room right next to Mark. You felt his eyes on you but decided against looking back at the nerve-wracked boy. Every time you saw him, you seemed to have a new fantasy about things you’d love to do to him. Was it wrong to fantasize about what his hands could do other than dribble a basketball?

“Good morning, Y/N.” She sat down in her leather office chair, scooting along until she found a comfortable position. Her tone was firm yet extremely polite. Most principals were intimidating and loathed by students, while Principal Yoon was approachable and kind. The students of Neo Tech adored her and her methods of running the school.

“Good morning, Mark. I’m sure you’re both wondering why I called you in, and I can assure you that it’s nothing of concern.” She held a manila colored folder in one hand before opening it and examining the paper in front of her. The both of you sat a bit uneasily, wondering what could’ve possibly landed you in this predicament.

“Mr. Lee, your basketball skills are outstanding.” Immediately, Mark began rambling about his appreciation for her comment until her voice interrupted him. “Yes, well, the reason I called you both in has to do with that actually… You see, Mark, your last school was a bit behind in comparison to our curriculum here, and without the proper grades you won’t be able to be an active team member.”

Mark could’ve sworn he heard his heart drop. The whole reason he transferred to your school was that his tier-1 team was becoming mediocre at best. In order to stay on track with his plan of obtaining an athletic scholarship, he needed to choose the best of the best. And that’s what led him to your school, which currently holds the number one spot in the nation amongst all the tier-1 teams.

“That’s why I’ve brought Y/N in as well. It was brought to my attention that you two share more than half your classes together, and I’m well aware of how advanced she is in all subjects. So, to put it frankly, I’m going to suggest that you two become acquaintances. Of course, the final decision would be up to Y/N, but I’m hoping that both of you might benefit from this opportunity.”

Mark couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed about how Principal Yoon pressed the issue. It was bad enough that his old school had a less advanced curriculum; and to make matters worse, his tutor just had to be the prettiest girl he’s seen. The way you dressed, especially, drove him crazy. Your sheer black tights underneath your plaid skirt, with your skin-tight, off-the-shoulder top that exposed your collarbones. He gulped at the very thought of what was underneath those clothes. How was he supposed to focus when he wanted to study his tutor more than the material?

“I would be happy to help,” You answered, mindlessly sneaking a glance at the boy next to you. His gaze seemed to be set on the ground, looking at anything but you. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to add ‘tutor’ to my resume.”

Principal Yoon smiled in response, setting the folder down on her desk before gently lifting her glasses off her face. She was pretty young to be a principal, couldn’t be a day over thirty. It was one of the things that made her so approachable, she seemed to sympathize with the lives of students because she was in their place not too long ago.

“Well, then it’s settled.”

You strained yourself trying to hide the smirk forming on your face, finally allowing yourself to steal a look at the golden boy once again. He seemed flustered, as per usual, and still didn’t dare to look you in the eye. He seemed so innocent, yet so ready to be corrupted. The excitement bubbled deep within your stomach at the thought of how much time you’d really need to spend with him in order to get him caught up. And boy did you hope you had extra time for other activities.

Without a word, you rose from your seat to offer a ‘goodbye’ to your principal and sauntered out of her office. Mark fumbled to get up, hurriedly saying goodbye to Principal Yoon before he rushed after you. At the sound of his footsteps, you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. This will be fun.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You hummed in response, then turned on your heel to face him. He was breathing a little raggedly, but you knew it was from nerves because there was no way someone as athletic as him would be out-of-breath from a short jog.

“I- I was wondering when you’d be available…” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, trying his hardest to sound anything but stupid. You waited for him to go on as he stared back at you but quickly caught himself. “Y’know, for the tutoring.”

Your smile almost made his breath hitch but he ignored the pounding on his chest and found the courage to keep eye contact with you. He regretted it as soon as it happened because he damn-near whimpered at the beauty in front of him. Your lips, a faint rose color, were glossy and plump. He imagined how they’d feel pressed against his, and against other body parts alike.

“How about we do an evaluation of sorts at the library this afternoon? This way I can see how behind you are and how much time I’d need to get you in shape. I wouldn’t want you missing the opening game.” You winked, and Mark found himself gulping down nothing in another attempt to calm himself.

“Y-Yeah, that sounds good,” He replied and waited for you two walk away first because he couldn’t quite will his feet to move.

The end of the day seemed to have come much too quickly for Mark’s liking. Of course, he was itching at the chance to get to know you, but even he knew his nervous habits. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself in the midst of his first impression.

Mark made his way to the library like you had told him to, and he easily found you at one of the tables towards the back of the room. You had books laid out in front of you, with worksheets accompanying them.

“Hey, so I was thinking we could start by evaluating your trig skills and then get into some science. Does that sound good?” It felt like an eternity before you finally looked up to find him sitting directly across from you at the table. He nodded softly as you pushed over the first worksheet. While he diligently started scribbling across the paper, you had nothing to do other than watch him. You picked up on a few things in a short amount of time: math seemed to frustrate him. When faced with a particularly difficult problem, he would huff in annoyance. Nonetheless, he would complete it before moving onto the next one with a scrunched-up nose. It was incredibly cute and you couldn’t help the smile that found its way to your lips.

“Okay, I think I’m done.” He pushed the paper back to you before bringing his hands down into his lap, nervously toying with his fingers. He then brought his bottom lip in between his teeth, chewing delicately. You tried not to react, instead turning your attention to analyze his answers. Did he know what he was doing to you? After looking through all the questions, you tsked.

“Your trig teacher must’ve sucked.” You adjusted your sitting position so that the paper would be visible to the both of you. “For number four, you need to use the quadratic formula- which is X equals negative B plus or minus the square root of B squared minus 4 times A times C. Then you divide the whole thing by 2 times A.”

Mark tried to keep up with you as you explained, but his mind was way too focused on how good you looked while concentrating. On top of that, math was never his strong suit. He had always struggled since the moment variables were introduced into his lessons. Memorizing the quadratic formula was all too difficult when the explanation was coming from that pretty mouth of yours, he thought.

“B…? Wait where is the X comin-”

“Mark.” You interrupted, trying to the best of your ability to keep the smile creeping up on you at bay. The way his name rolled off your tongue so naturally enticed him. “I can already tell that you’re about two months behind with the trig curriculum. That alone will take me at least two weeks to catch you up on, and that’s if we meet practically every day.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Mark answers weakly, his eyes retreating down to the desk below him. Immediately, your demeanor softens at his vulnerability. “I know this probably isn’t how you’d like to spend your free time. I’ll find another way to catch up, I’m sure-”

“Hey. I said it would be a lot of work, I didn’t say I don’t want to tutor you. Luckily for you, I’m pretty much free this semester anyway. Now, the issue is if you are willing to put in the work.”

Oh, was he willing.

[two days later]

“So, after school at the cafe?” You ask, grabbing your books from your locker and securing them in one arm. The tutoring sessions would have to be extremely consistent to make any noticeable progress before the school’s opening games. They were a big deal within Neo Tech’s school community, and the pressure was on to see how the new point guard would compare to all the hype.

“Yeah, if that’s fine with you,” He murmurs before eyeing the small stack of books and papers cradled in your arm. Naturally, he feels the need to take that burden off your hands. After all, you would be the reason he even gets to play this season. Without you, it’s unlikely he would’ve caught up in time to make a good impression on Neo Tech and other schools alike. “Let me carry your books for you.”

“You don’t have to,” You insist, moving slightly so the books are a bit more out of reach. Mark pouts in response, leaning forward again in another attempt to grab the materials. He succeeds this time, his hand slipping around the stack and drawing them away from you. “Persistent, huh?”

“Guess you could say that.” He chuckles, wrapping the books in his arm just as you had done. This is the only plan he thought of to spend time with you outside of a studying environment, but he hopes you don’t notice these intentions. “We have class together anyway.”

“And where are your books?” You raise on eyebrow questioningly, beginning to walk with him beside you. History was never your favorite class, but you stayed on top of the work anyway. It was easier, you realized very early on, to get the work out of the way so you’d have more time for studying and other extracurricular activities.

“I leave them in my desk.” He shrugs, looking over to see you smiling widely. The baby pink color that takes over the apples of his cheeks is extremely obvious, but you don’t comment on it. Seeing Mark flustered is cute, you determined as soon as you had met him.

As the two of you walk through the large doorway of your history classroom, bubbly conversation fills the air. Your teacher, Miss Han, sits perched on her desk patiently. She was a nice lady, but it didn’t change the universal distaste for history among your class.

“Well, uh- I guess I’ll see you at the cafe.” Mark sets your books down on your usual desk quickly, scurrying to find his seat among some of the other basketball players that had this period with him. You recognize one of them as Hendery, a friendly acquaintance due to all the classes you two shared last year.

“I see you, Mark.” Hendery’s eyebrows raise in a teasing matter, shoulder bumping the boy next to him. Mark stares back at him, confused as to what he meant. “You carrying Y/N’s books.”

The explanation causes Mark’s blush to reappear, the heat becoming warmer and warmer upon his flesh. Hendery is one of the only guys on the team that he’s fairly close with, yet he still didn’t feel ready to tell him about his little crush.

“It was nothing, really. She’s tutoring me and I thought- why not?” He tries desperately to make his response seem nonchalant, but the act he puts on is no match for his flushed cheeks. Hendery, with one brow raised, eyes Mark’s cheeks. “Okay, maybe I think she’s kinda cute.”

“Bullshit! You like her!” He accuses in a whisper-shout type of voice. Mark groans in response, softly hitting his shoulder with a closed fist. A cackle leaves Hendery’s lips, his hand coming up to muffle the sound. “Dude, just ask her out! You’d be a very lucky guy.”

“I can’t just ask her out!” It comes out as a high-pitched shriek. “It’s not that simple. I mean, it is that simple. But what if she says no? Then I’ll have to deal with rejection and seeing her every day for our study sessions and-”

“Mark, you’re way too worried. Do you want me to talk to her? Find out some dirt? We had a few classes together last year-”

“N-No! That’s too obvious!” His voice sounds so exasperated by now, Hendery is afraid he’ll pass out. Talking with his hands is a nervous habit that happens when he’s rambling, and right now is no exception. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do, dude.”

“Better hurry before someone else beats you to it.” At this, Mark’s head snaps in Hendery’s direction. Before he can even formulate a proper response, Miss Han clears her throat and silence falls upon the whole classroom. Throughout the lesson, though, Hendery’s words echo in Mark’s head. What did he mean by that?

“One iced americano and one green tea please.” Mark pulls out his wallet before you have time to protest, and by the time your mouth opens to say something, his receipt is already printed. You didn’t expect him to order for you when he asked what you liked from this shop. Oblivious, he turns to you and stops in his tracks when he sees your surprised expression. “Huh?”

“You didn’t have to pay for me.” Your voice is firm but you’re grinning over at him, ignoring the way your whole body feels warm because of his display of generosity. Buying drinks shouldn’t be such a big deal, you remind yourself. “I owe you a lot now- carrying my books and now coffee.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugs, before examining the shop to find the best seats. He decides on the small table in the corner, shuffling towards the spot silently. Your brows furrow at his response, hoping for something a bit more engaging in terms of conversation but realizing that Mark wasn’t quite good at conversing in general. At least, around you, he didn’t seem to be.

The cafe became a regular stop before your tutoring sessions, the two of you eventually decide that the library was a better spot for studying. So, almost every day after school, you two would rush over there to pick up your usual orders before racing back to the library. Most of the private rooms filled up after dismissal, so you two always made it a point to manage your time efficiently. Coffee runs and then studying- that was your routine.

You had hoped to test the waters with some flirting, but your efforts seemed to go unnoticed. And when they didn’t, Mark would be a nervous wreck in response. You wondered if you should try your luck outside of your study sessions, but you didn’t have many opportunities since he sat nowhere near you during your shared classes. Study sessions and coffee runs seemed to be your only options.

On numerous occasion, Mark would slip his wallet out and pay for your coffee without a second thought. These events would result in a whole lot of whining on your part, always arguing that you should treat him once in a while too. He liked the idea of spoiling you, he wanted to say, though the invisible filter that was stuck in his throat never allowed him such a luxury.

Plus, the look on your face was equally as cute as your whines. Although you tried to be angry, the lopsided grin that always appeared made Mark’s stomach do flips. How was it possible to be that effortlessly pretty? It would take the nation’s top philosopher, Mark thought, to figure that one out.

“Mark!” You call, jogging over to his locker where he stands, putting his books away. He focuses on not being a clumsy mess then looks over at you, spending extra time admiring your all-black outfit: leggings and a v-neck. He forces his eyes not to travel south of your face, instead putting on a small smile. “I was wondering where you think we should study? The library is gonna be closed for a staff meeting today.”

Without thinking anything through, Mark immediately answers with, “Actually, my parents are out of town this week. We can study at mine if you want.”

Fuck. His eyes widen at his own words as soon as they come out. You can’t help but be surprised too, but your shock quickly turns into something much less decent. At this point, you’re dying to get your hands on him. You know that if you two have your study-session today, you’ll jump his bones the minute his hand so much as grazes yours.

“Oh, okay. Cool. So I’ll meet you after 8th,” You conclude with your voice sounding like pure honey to Mark. As you turn and walk away, Mark is unsurprisingly staring at your figure in those damn leggings. He wonders how much thought you put into your outfit, if you’re wearing it on purpose to torture him. He shakes the thoughts out of his head when he feels excitement course through his veins and towards the southern region of his body. No way is he going to get a boner now. Demanding his attention elsewhere, he rips his eyes away from you and tries to think of anything but how good your ass looks.

P.E. was always Mark’s favorite class. For most of his life, his Phys. Ed teachers had consistently been carefree and maybe a bit lazy. Their go-to lesson plan comprised of a few laps around the gym and then free-choice sports. Most of the girls opted for volleyball and badminton while almost every single boy could be found on the basketball court in the midst of a friendly scrimmage. Today is no different from the rest of those times.

Mark enjoys the friendly competition but easily leads his team to a win. He has gym with some of the other guys on Neo Tech’s basketball team, and it was easy to see how well he’d fit in with the pace of the other guys. At his old school, it always felt like he was being held back. He had to slow down his plays and examine the court thoroughly before he was able to make a proper judgment of his next move. With the Neo boys, everything seemed to come naturally.

He was able to gauge each player’s strengths and weaknesses fairly quickly too. For example, Hendery was a great shooter under pressure. When he gets boxed in by other defenders, that’s when his shooting is the most precise. So with that in mind, Mark always looks for Hendery when he notices that the opposing team’s defense is particularly aggressive that day. His judgments haven’t failed him thus far, with today’s scrimmage resulting in another win that should go down in the books.

Basketball was something that came easily to Mark his whole life. Talking to girls though? Not as much. He excelled on the court, took the lead and kept a risky attitude with unexpected plays and passes. He fits in well with Neo Tech’s strategy and game style. Plus, the guys on the Neo Tech basketball team were quick to befriend him and make him feel right at home. That is, of course, until he overhears one of his teammates, Lucas, talking to another teammate in the locker room as he begins to pack up his stuff after their particularly long scrimmage.

“Bro, are you really gonna shoot your shot with Y/N?” The other one- Xiaojun, he thinks- asks the taller boy. Lucas shrugs a little, folding his gym clothes neatly before placing the pile back in his locker. He’s not wearing a shirt, and Mark can’t hide the feeling of insecurity that seeps into his veins. Mark’s never been as built as that, but he never thought much of it until now.

“I mean, probably. She usually comes to our games, right?” He looks back at Xiaojun, eyebrows raised. The boy nods back slowly, a look of uncertainty on his face. “She’s so hot, especially in that one skirt she always wears.”

Mark’s jaw tenses and his whole body becomes rigid before he can calm himself down. He knows, in his mind, that he doesn’t technically have a right to feel possessive. He hasn’t made a move, so who was he to stop Lucas’s plans? This thought doesn’t stop him, however, from feeling the sudden urge to punch Lucas in his pretty face. It annoys him that all Lucas has to say about you is ‘She’s hot.’ To Mark, you were so much more.

He loves the way you insist on helping him and accept nothing less than 100% effort on work. He loves how you smile proudly at him when he finishes his worksheets with no errors, how you blush every time he pays for your coffee before a study session, how you always find a way to get something done if you commit to it, how you genuinely care about how his day went when no one else seems to ask. You’re more to him than a nice body in a short skirt. Much, much more.

Hendery notices his tense shoulders and pensive facial expression, quickly grabbing the shirt that was draped over his shoulder and sending a soft wack to Mark’s back. This seems to do the trick, his face softening when he realizes it was Hendery who hit him.

“Ignore them,” Hendery orders, folding the shirt in his hands and placing it back in his locker. He’s friends with both Lucas and Mark, but he can tell how much Mark likes you. Lucas’s crush would pass with time, it was a never-ending cycle with that one. “Lucas isn’t her type, trust me. And if you’re so worried, make your move.”

This time, Mark realizes that Hendery is all too right. He needs to do something-anything, before it’s too late.

Yet again, the end of the day comes too quickly for Mark to process. He blankly shuffles out of the lab room and is taken by surprise when he sees you leaning against the wall opposite the doorway. You push yourself off the wall when you spot him, and take into account how good he looks when he’s out of it. It makes you wonder how he’ll look when he’s all fucked out and-

“Ready?” Mark interrupts your thoughts. Instead of saying anything, because you don’t trust your voice at this point, you simply nod and begin pacing your walk so you’ll be shoulder-to-shoulder. Your shoulder brushes against his occasionally, but neither of you shows any sign of being bothered by it.

The car ride is full of thick tension and utter silence aside from the soft hum of the radio. Mark’s grip on the wheel is tighter than he’s used to but he can’t help it. He can feel your eyes on him, his skin beginning to warm underneath his usual basketball shorts and a loose tee. You study him shamelessly: the veins of his arms that bulge occasionally when he shifts the wheel one way and the other, his habit of biting his lower lip when the car in front of him drives too slow, and the simple things like the contour of his jawline.

He pulls into a driveway and you aren’t surprised by how lavish his house is. His mother and father are both high-ups in some big company, as Mark had put it. They take business trips often but still find time for their beloved son, while his older brother is away at the number one university in the country. One might ask why Mark needs an athletic scholarship if his parents have so much money. He thinks of it more as a pride thing. His father, before becoming a businessman, was also on an athletic scholarship for soccer. His older brother has one for baseball while he studies Marketing and International Finance. Sports scholarships were almost like a family heirloom for the Lee’s, along with a business degree.

He jumps out of his seat, closing the door behind him before rushing to the passenger side to open the door for you. Under normal circumstances, you might’ve blushed. But with Mark, you know you have to be the confident one between the both of you. No matter how flustered his smiles make you and how weak in the knees his deep voice makes you, you force yourself to put on a bold front.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Mark snorts as he leads you through the foyer to the carpet-clad staircase. Humble was one way to put it. The whole interior has a simple, all-white color scheme. Upholstered leather loveseats were positioned neatly down the halls, with minimalistic tables to match. You let yourself take in your surroundings as both of you walk through the maze of his house towards what you presume will be his bedroom. Your guess is right; he stops in front of a white-painted wooden door and opens it just a bit to peek inside and make sure nothing was out of place. He breathes a sigh of relief that he decided to move anything remotely embarrassing to his walk-in closet as soon as he started his new school. Opening the door wider so that you could enter, you step in hesitantly and watch a little too intently at Mark closing the door firmly behind him.

His room is somehow exactly how you pictured it; a light blue color paints the walls. His full-sized bed leans against one wall, with posters of his favorite movies hovering above the headboard.

“Shit, I just realized that my desk-” You glance behind you, seeing his computer which took up most of the space that the desk had to offer and the somewhat large gaming chair that was tucked comfortably underneath said desk. Almost thanking fate for throwing this curveball in your favor, you just smile reassuringly at him.

“It’s fine, Mark. We can study on your bed.” Mark’s eyes widen suddenly and you realize that you probably gave him too much to process at once. “Or the floor, that’s fine too.”

“N-No! I mean- whatever’s more comfortable,” He manages to stutter out. Mentally, Mark would have said something spicy just to see you blush. However, in reality, Mark just couldn’t muster up the courage to openly flirt like that. His lack of confidence had posed many obstacles for him over the years. It seemed the one place he was truly confident was on the court.

“Well, it’s your room so I’ll sit wherever you sit.”

He nods once before setting his backpack at the foot of the bed and jumping back onto the soft mattress. Scooting up towards the headboard, he waits for you to do the same. You ignore the excitement that bubbles knowing his eyes are on you, and take a seat next to him with your bag still in hand.

“So uh- what are we gonna start with today?” Mark tries so hard not to seem phased by having a girl like you in his bed, but his patience is wearing thin and he can only blame himself. Maybe if he just made a move…

“We always start with trig.” You furrow your brows in confusion because it’s become a set routine already. Trig was always first because that was the subject he was most behind in. English was obviously not a problem for him and in terms of science, he was just behind with lab work that he could complete in school. “Then, we brush up on some science. I don’t really think you need it, though. You’re almost caught up with your lab work.”

“Oh, yeah. Right, of course.” He has to physically focus on not rambling or he’d be a mess all over. Of course, you know this by now. And while his shy and awkward demeanor is definitely adorable, it also makes you hesitate to try anything with him. After all, what are the chances of the shy boy in front of you gripping you up only to have his way with you?

Mark begins working on the sheets you give him almost as soon as you hand them over, eager to complete the work and somehow finesse his way into spending more time with you. He was being dumb, Hendery would continuously tell him. He should just go for it, because with a tutor ‘as hot as Y/N,’ why wouldn’t he? His lack of confidence makes him want to pull his hair from the roots, but he resists the urge and silently completes the worksheets. He double-checks all of his work carefully so that no time will be wasted in going over stupid mistakes. With a sigh of relief, Mark hands the papers over to you and looks up at you nervously. You always look so stoic when analyzing his answers, it intimidates him yet also lights a spark of excitement at the same time.

“Well done. There were no errors, just make sure you remember to show your work because the question requires-”

“Y/N?” Your name slips out of his mouth before he realizes it. You fall silent, eyes lifting to meet his dark brown ones. “Um… Can we maybe t-take the day off? I think I’d rather be doing almost anything other than trig right now.”

You don’t expect this question, because he’s never asked for a break. It was always about him being up to date with the curriculum so he’d be able to be part of the starting five. What you also don’t expect is for his eyes to flicker, very briefly, to the exposed skin of your upper body. There’s only a bit of cleavage showing, and a peek of your collarbones visible from certain angles. Suddenly, you realize that the time for making a move is now. And you can’t pass up the opportunity.

“What did you have in mind?” Your voice dripping like honey in the air. Slowly, you push the papers and books away from you and they hit the carpeted floor with a light thud. Mark gulps, finding his mouth dry when his mind goes blank with what to say next. Come on, Mark. Keep it together.

Instead of saying anything that might ruin the moment, he simply mimics you and pushes the books off his lap and onto the floor. When he turns back to face you, he’s met with your challenging gaze and he can’t help himself as he leans towards you without any doubt in his mind.

Your noses brush against each other, his face so close that you could feel every minty breath he lets out. You know what’s about to happen, and you no longer have the patience to delay it any further. Mark’s hesitant ways, while sweet and gentlemanly, drive you to the brink of insanity. And so, with a deep breath, your hand lifts to pull his face to yours. Your lips softly press to his, letting him process the fact that you’re actually kissing him before you grow impatient. Feverishly, you move your mouth against his. Mark swears he’s in heaven when he slowly opens his mouth a bit wider and your tongue automatically swipes against his. He’s been waiting for this moment- to feel your lips against his, to taste you in more ways than one. He needs it all, right now.

“Y/N,” He separates from you to breathe out your name. You practically bite back a moan, humming in response while his hands grab your waist. You expect him to say something, but he just kisses you again with more confidence than before. As he slowly leans back against the headboard, you follow him absentmindedly, simply chasing the heat of his lips against yours. You’re straddling him now, his hands moving to grip your ass cheeks with greed. The force makes you roll your hips in response, grinding down onto him unintentionally which makes Mark’s breath hitch.

You experiment, repeating the movement and pulling away from him only to see his reaction. His eyes are focused on the movements of your hips above his, concentration straining his face. After flipping your hair to one side, you continue your slow torture and lean down to kiss the spot below his ear. With his hands firmly clasping around your hips, you suck at his supple skin and lick over the spot when you’re done. By now, his breathing is a little heavy and uneven as his erection pressed against your clothed core. You feel him against you, his basketball shorts doing little to conceal his excitement.

“You’re driving me crazy,” He whispers as he drops his head to the crook of your neck, his breath tickling you slightly. You relish in knowing that the feeling is mutual. With every huffed-out breath, every soft kiss on your skin, you only become more reassured that you want this- and it makes it all the more worth it knowing that he wants this too.

You break the kiss to rid yourself of your t-shirt, the material on your warm body frustrating you a bit more than you’d like to admit. As you meet his eyes again- they’re filled with a hunger that causes your stomach to clench and arousal to pool within the confines of your panties- you can’t help the absolute urgency you feel to make him putty in your hands. So instead of kissing him again, you play with the hem of his loose tee, letting your hands graze over the skin of his abdomen. He hesitates, remembering the locker room fiasco with Lucas and suddenly he feels that insecurity itching at his skin again. He isn’t extremely built, his athletic body on the more slender side, but you don’t mind at all.

From his demeanor, you can already deduce what’s bothering him. You press a sweet kiss to his lips, almost silently telling him that you liked him just as he is. A kilowatt smile lights up his face, and your cool hands against his heated skin make him grab at the material to discard it himself. He stares up at you, waiting for your next move because quite frankly, he likes you in control.

“These too,” You order, pointing at his basketball shorts. Mark is quick to shimmy them off of his body, leaving only his boxers to conceal the length of his cock from your eyesight, though the bulge is very much prominent. You debate whether or not to fuck him then and there, but decide that having him writhing from your mouth alone would satisfy you more.

With a quick motion, you bring your lips down to the skin above the waistband of his boxers. He twitches slightly at the contact, and then feels your nails gently rake against his sides. He’s much too sensitive to your touch, and it almost scares him. How could you have so much power over him? Maybe it’s the way your plump lips push against his skin so confidently, how your eyes find his without a second thought. He envies your confidence, but he also finds it unbelievably addicting to have such control taken away from him.

Mark isn’t a virgin. But he also isn’t very experienced. His past sexual encounters were vanilla, with him hesitantly taking control because his girlfriends always expected such. His first time was awkward at best, his hips didn’t quite know how to fluidly move nor did his tongue know how to expertly flick against hers. He did get a bit better as time went on, or so he likes to think. But he feels so foreign to sex with you.

It might be because you seem so opposite of him- in terms of how easily everything comes to you. However, he doesn’t find it in him to assume anything about your sex life, because he doesn’t particularly care. He ignores any thoughts of how many guys you’ve been with or if they’d be better than him, because as your hands slowly pull his boxers down, he’s content with knowing all you’re thinking about is him, at this moment.

You hum pleasantly at the sight of his length free from its confines, a small bead of precum ready to drip from the head. Much to your surprise, your mouth salivates on its own at the sight. You stroke him twice in your small hand, before your spit comes down on the side of his dick. He watches you in awe as you slide him into your mouth without hesitation, your tongue running along the underside of his length. A guttural groan emits from the awestruck boy before he can stop himself, much to his dismay. It would make you grin if your mouth wasn’t preoccupied.

You begin to slowly, tentatively bob your head up and down on him as your hand twists up to meet your mouth. You look at him expectantly for his response, and it doesn’t disappoint. His hands fly to your head, fingertips smoothing over your scalp while he sucks in a harsh breath. His mouth drops open soon after, the warm and slick tunnel of your mouth proving to be quite the pleaser.

He feels nervous under your stare once again, but he certainly can’t look away from the sight before him. With your plump, infamously glossy lips wrapped around the tip of his dick and your tongue sliding obscenely over the slit. He wants to memorize every detail of the picture painted for him, so he stares at you and forces himself not to look away. He sees everything: the way you blink slowly as you take him further into your mouth, the way you search his face for reassurance that you’re making him feel good, the way you twist your wrist in an almost tortuous way that feels so, so good.

“Fuck, I need to feel you.” He gently, regretfully pulls your head away from his crotch. Your mouth detaches from his cock with a quiet popping sound, a string of spit connecting his dick to your bottom lip. Your mouth is tinted red and a little swollen, a bit of spit still left on the side of your mouth. Even so, Mark still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

He decides that, eventually, he’ll ask you out. The turn of events today is unexpected and definitely not what he had in mind, but he’s in too deep to put a stop to it now. He wonders if he fucked up his chances by going along with this, if you’d reject him because of the irony of him asking you out after he’s had his way with you. He swallows the nervous feeling that is rooted deep in his chest and stems out to the entirety of his body, pushes it aside to deal with later.

You undress quicker than Mark can process his thoughts, and for the first time since you’ve met him, your confidence wavers. Confidence was always something that came and went for you- the brave front you had put on didn’t quite prepare you for feeling Mark’s hungry eyes all over every inch of your body.

“Y/N- you’re so beautiful.” He motions you to get on top of him again, and you comply shyly. He kisses your lips once, then your cheek, then your neck, then your shoulder. All until you’re smiling so wide that you feel a pinch of pain in your cheeks. Mark Lee definitely owns your heart, no point in denial any more.

“W-Would you want to uh- ride me?” He stutters out clumsily, his hands finding purchase at his sides. This is why he likes that you take control. For one, it’s sexy as hell. For another, it gives him less room to be the nervous mess that he usually is.

At his question, your demeanor changes from a slightly nervous girl feeling so bare underneath his gaze to something even you didn’t know you had in you. You can feel your arousal as you slowly move closer to him, your thighs on either side of his. His boxers are still hanging just below his knees and he hurriedly kicks them off all the way.

“Condom?” You ask, eyes searching around his bedside but to no avail. Mark fumbles a bit, keeping one hand around your waist securely while the other rummages through the bottom drawer of his nightstand. After finally locating the box of condoms his mom insisted on giving him during freshman year, he pulls the foil packaging into sight. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly his hands make work to slide it securely over his length, but his desire is clouding his judgment more than he expected.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” His voice is a bit breathless as he carefully tucks some of your hair behind your ear. The action makes your face warm and quite possibly your heart. But you don’t admit that. Instead, you nod curtly before pressing a reassuring kiss to his lips. Without skipping a beat, you take hold of his cock and align it at your entrance. You run the head back and forth between your folds, but realize you’re only putting yourself through further cruelty with every second that passes with no relief to the throbbing of your core.

So without warning, you sink down on him at a painfully slow pace. Your slick folds welcome the stretch of his girth, the very feeling of him making you shiver with sensitivity. Mark looks down to where his dick is being swallowed by your core, finding it harder and harder to hold on to his sanity as you sink further down on him. You let out a soft, delicate moan when you feel him fill you up completely, and Mark swears he could cum just from hearing those angelic sounds. He then decides, if you two do this again, he’ll fuck you into his mattress until you’re crumbling at the seams because of him.

“Shit,” He mutters under his breath when you start bouncing on top of him. The sound of skin slapping against skin proves to be quite the soundtrack as you desperately grip his shoulders. You bite your lip in an attempt to muffle the screams of pleasure just aching to come out. Your moans come out in whimpers when Mark uses his thumb to draw figure 8’s on your clit. He’s biting his bottom lip, his facial muscles strained between a fucked-out state and a concentrated one.

“Such a good boy,” You muse lightly without even thinking. Your voice mumbling such praise causes Mark to gulp, and he’s strangely even more turned on. Then again, you’d been awakening emotions and sensations that Mark hasn’t quite felt before, didn’t even know were possible. On your side, you’ve never tried much dirty talk during sex, but for Mark, you were willing to try. You can tell he likes it by the way his grip on your hips tightens and his breathing becomes heavier. And so, as he pants and groans softly next to your ear, your pace turns merciless. You bounce on him with an unrelenting pace and he knows you won’t stop until he cums, hard.

“Oh fuck. Oh shit.” Profanities spill from his mouth, his eyes screwing shut intently at how good the friction between your folds was. He forces himself to continue rubbing circles into your clit, albeit a bit sloppy, but circles nonetheless. You’re only more motivated by his lewd sounds, feeling your walls clench even tighter around his throbbing cock. The sensation causes an idea to form in your head, and you decide that his reaction will be the most satisfying part.

“Feels so good. Are you close?” Innocence laces your voice as you grab his hand and guide it to one of your breasts. Watching as he instinctively grabs it greedily in his palm, you notice how hot his fingers look wrapped around your flesh which only fuels your idea. Mark nods eagerly at your question, his breathy pants coming out shorter, more frequent, and sinful enough to make your head spin.

Abruptly, you begin rolling your hips against him rather than bouncing, causing him to look up at you. Then, you grab his hand again and bring it to your throat, making him wrap his fingers around the width of your neck slowly. Mark’s mouth drops open a second time this afternoon, feeling his hand tenderly squeeze around your neck. Your breathing becomes a bit restricted, but not enough to cause any discomfort. The force only makes your eyes roll back, while Mark turns to putty underneath you. After a few seconds, he releases his hold and brings his hand down to knead your ass, whispering something about how good you feel. Despite his seeming increase of confidence, all that Mark is thinking about is the power trip he got from choking you. Holy fuck, did that really happen?

“Gonna cum now, baby?” You force the question out when you feel him begin to pulse inside of you, leaning down to suck on the skin where his shoulder and neck meet and then licking your way up to just below his ear. Gently and carefully, you take his earlobe between your teeth and pull away slowly. Mark, by now, is a writhing mess underneath you. He can no longer contain his sounds nor his desperation to climax, bucking his hips up to meet yours. The combination of his thumb running over your clit repeatedly and his dick hitting just the right spot has a white-hot pleasure burning through your entire body. “Mmph- Mark!”

“Fuck! I’m g- gonna cum,” He yelps when he hears you moan his name, his thumb’s movement over your clit becoming rougher, sloppier by the second. He gives up on trying to thrust up into you, instead letting you ride him with an almost animalistic nature. His face scrunches up, a choked groan falling from his open mouth as he feels his climax course through his entire body. His seed fills up the condom, the sensation of release so utterly euphoric that Mark isn’t sure if he’s ever felt this good. Your pace on his dick slows before coming to a complete stop, breathing heavily and feeling so out of it even without an orgasm.

“Lay down, beautiful,” He rasps out, moving from his position and running his hand along your thigh delicately. His half-lidded eyes meet yours before you obey his command, positioning yourself in the middle of the bed with your head resting comfortably on one of the pillows. Mark hovers over you, pressing affectionate kisses all over your upper body before traveling lower.

“I’ve never done this before,” Mark admits shyly, sucking on the skin of your inner thigh before repeating the action to the other one. As he licks a stripe up from your dripping core to your clit, you feel a shiver run all the way up your body. Noticing your reaction, he sucks your clit into his mouth and rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud. Your drawn out moan tells him he’s doing something right, so he continues to flick his tongue over the bundle of nerves while he looks up to see your face.

“Shit! More, p- please.” Your pleads leave his ears red and his mouth watering, his tongue moving to slide between your folds with a soft moan. The vibration combined with his tongue darting in and out of you languidly makes you see stars at this point. “Oh my god- are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

He chuckles lightly, seeing your brows furrow in concentration as he forces his tongue to fuck your core faster and faster. One of his hands comes down to rub over your clit, your juices creating a squelching noise every time his tongue moved inside of you. Mark swears he’s never felt more proud when your hand comes down to grip at his hair, pushing his face further into you just as your thighs clench around his head.

“You’re so wet,” Mark praises before going back to thrusting his tongue between your folds. The taste makes him hum, vibration spreading through your lower region and making you whimper in satisfaction. Mark’s a quick learner, you see, when he continues to hum and groan into your pussy as his finger circles your clit consistently. “Cum, baby.”

You give in to his command, letting yourself fall apart at the seams underneath his mouth. Your pussy throbs around his tongue as you ride out your orgasm, a moan caught in your throat as your mouth hangs open in an ‘O.’ Mark happily laps up your juices, diligently downing every last drop before collapsing on the mattress next to you.

“Wow,” He remarks in awe, peering at you through the corner of his eyes. You’re still trying to catch your breath, but you laugh lightheartedly anyway as you turn your body to face him. A few pieces of hair cling to your forehead, and he delicately pushes them away from your face before caressing the curve of your jaw.

“The game’s coming up,” You comment, your hand toying with the one that wasn’t touching your face. The game was so important to him, you couldn’t think of anything else you’d rather talk about in this moment. “Aren’t you excited?”

“Well, yeah of course. A little anxious, but I think that’s normal before a big game.” Basketball might be the one thing he could talk about without a nervous bone in his body. No stuttering, no confusion, just speaking his mind. “Do you like basketball?”

You nod in response, giggling at the face he makes that’s somewhere between surprised and overjoyed. Basketball was something you enjoyed watching and analyzing, especially since it was such a big thing for the students of Neo Tech. Most schools prided themselves on their football team, but not Neo. Basketball had always been like gold.

“What do you think of our starting five? Maybe you can tell me something I haven’t picked up on.”

“Hmm,” You start, fully prepared for the rant that’s about to happen. “Xiaojun is a pretty amazing shooting guard, he almost always knocks down shots whether he’s open or not. Ten can’t be matched when it comes to being a small forward. He’s quick as hell, and I see him use that to his advantage a lot when he’s trying to get open. Hendery- where do I even start? He’s so versatile when it comes to shooting, perimeter shots and jump shots- it doesn’t matter, he can make them all. And his defense skills are crazy, he’s fearless even up against bigger guys. I mean, I guess that’s normal among power forwards but-”

Mark zones out a bit as he prepares for you to talk about Lucas. What were you going to say? Would your eyes light up when talking about him? Would you gush about how good he was? He hopes not, especially not after what just happened.

“Lucas is a good choice for center. He’s tall, so it makes sense that he’s the best at rebounds. His shooting ability is fairly decent, but he needs work on his passing in my opinion.” He’s surprised to see that you keep your comments completely analytical, not even blinking an eye as you continue your commentary. If Mark liked you a lot before, hearing you talk about basketball has him on the verge of calling out for cupid.

“And you-” Mark’s ears twitch, his attention completely and utterly focused on you. Had you seen videos of him playing at his old school? He dreads the thought, knowing that he wasn’t playing to his full potential back then. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to see this Friday.”

“Is it too early to say ‘marry me?’“ He jokes, and both of you laugh. Secretly, though, you wish he had been more direct from the beginning. Seeing him with his newfound confidence is even more attractive than seeing him flustered. You wonder what today will bring of your relationship, but decide to wait and bring it up after his big game. He needs a clear head, and so do you if you want to see him perform to the best of his abilities on game night.

[game night]

You aren’t disappointed in the least bit, savoring every minute of the game and concentrating on how good Mark is. His position was always point guard, and now you understand why. He has a certain talent, it’s not technical. Sure, he’s a great shooter and he’s ruthless with defense. But more importantly, he facilitates the team in a way that makes all of the players better. He plays using their strengths, knowing exactly who to look for in any given situation rather than making himself the star.

He leads the team flawlessly, and you’re sure everyone feels it too. The momentum the five boys build up in the first half is too strong for the other team to compete with. By the time half-time is up, it’s clear that Neo Tech will come out on top. There’s a certain feeling lingering in the air as the coach switches out Ten and Hendery for Yangyang and Jungwoo. No matter what the coach does, who switches out, the outcome is secured.

Despite how certain victory is, it doesn’t stop everyone holding their breath as the shot clock winds down to its final seconds and Mark steps back to launch the ball into the air. Everyone is still as the ball seems to move in slow motion, a loud swoosh sound echoing throughout the gym seconds before the final buzzer blares, indicating the end of the game. The crowd is immediately on their feet and cheering, high-fiving and fist-bumping all around.

You’re sitting in the first few rows, so it’s easy to run out onto the court. The school’s sports reporters, Chenle and Jisung, are already holding the microphone towards Mark to record a post-game interview for tomorrow’s newsreel. They only get to ask a few questions, though, before Mark’s eyes are on you.

A bright, proud smile graces your face and Mark is sure he wants to see that same smile every day of his life. You’re standing a few feet away, facing him and the rest of the boys on the team. This reminds him of Lucas’s conversation in the locker room, and he knows that now is no time to be shy.

So, he answers one final question before brushing off the two boys and turning towards you. His walk is confident now, as if he’s done this millions of times before. Now, he stands with you toe-to-toe and he lets his arms wrap around your waist slowly.

If it’s even humanly possible, you push your body closer to his and drape your forearm over his shoulder. His eyes stare directly into yours, the shy boy long gone and replaced with the same courageous Mark that was on the court tonight.

“How’d I do?” He whispers as he leans his forehead against yours, his breath tickling your nose. Everyone on the team is watching, but it doesn’t bother either of you. Instead of answering, you grasp his jaw and press your lips against his. It doesn’t take long for him to respond, his mouth moving against yours slowly and affectionately. You pull away after a few moments, still beaming up at him.

“I guess you finally got together, huh?” Hendery smirks from his spot on the bench beside the two of you, and Mark laughs quietly. Though, Hendery’s statement reminds him that he never did ask you out. His brow quirks upwards when he meets your eyes, the silent question spelled out right in front of you.

“Yeah, we did.” Your answer is what he’s been dying to hear since the moment you walked into Principal Yoon’s office, and it feels even better knowing that he isn’t daydreaming this time. This is real, you returning his feelings- it’s all real. And Mark couldn’t be happier.

“I told you she liked Mark!” Xiaojun throws a victorious, high pitched scream at Lucas as they walk towards the locker room.

#nct #mark lee #nct scenarios #nct reactions #mark scenarios #mark imagines #nct imagines #nct smut #mark smut #nct fluff #mark fluff #neo tech high school series #happymarkday #nct 127 #nct dream

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madisonrooney · 3 years

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hi it's your secret santa! first of all HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! i hope you have a wonderful day! how are you celebrating, if you are at all? safely, i hope! either way i hope you manage to find a way to have a great day full of love!! consider my christmas gift a belated birthday gift as well lol. anyway i loved reading your last answer, it was so thoughtful and sweet. i realized after reading that i barely know anything about dove lol so follow up q: what about dove makes you love her so much?

sorry for the late response! the last couple days have been v busy and ive been super tired and dissociative on top of it so i made a point to save this bc i wanted to give it my full attention!

first of all thank you!! i was going to do a virtual meet and greet with one of my favs from jersey boys but he got confused about timezones so we rescheduled but were doing it next week! then i went to a virtual walt disney family museum panel, had pizza for dinner and watched some liv and maddie, my mom made a cookie cake that we ate while watching the grinch musical, and then some friends and i watched the jersey boys movie together over skype!

im so glad you enjoyed reading my last answer! and oof thats another loaded question (i love it tho)

- like i said when first talking about what drew me to her and liv and maddie, a big thing is just how much passion and love she puts into her characters. ofc she puts passion into every character she plays, but its the passion she puts into characters like liv, maddie, and mal that means the most to me. that goes back to the fact that ive dealt with a lot of negativity directed towards me for enjoying disney channel, and then you have dove out here saying “yah im a teenager/twenty-something who not only respects what theyre doing on disney channel, but puts my all into it” not to mention she even won an emmy for playing liv and maddie in season 4! i hope that passion and talent has started to change the conversation about disney channel, and tbh i think it has at least a bit. ofc, none of this is to say other people her age acting on disney channel arent talented and passionate, but idk, something about her has always stood out to me. i find her to be more animated and expressive than most. it can be hard for me to read emotions in live action movies and shows, so thats been really important for me. not to mention she was not only playing the lead but TWO lead characters on a four season show with distinct personalities but also subtle similarities. AND the main character in the biggest DCOM franchise in years for 5 years running now. PLUS the fact that there was a period where those were both happening at the same time. she was only 16 when she started all this and hadnt even had any big roles prior to it!! she had a lot of responsibility so it was amazing to see her not only pull it off, but excel at it.

- i just love like....her aesthetic?? shes always seemed to be a very old soul to me, into old jazz music and poetry and stuff like that. its just very charming. and for her to have that aesthetic on top of being a disney channel actress is a fascinating juxtaposition.

- this is kind of sappy and it gets tiring to hear it said over and over again but that doesnt mean it isnt true: i love how transparent she is about her struggles with mental health issues, trauma, and such. she has been for a long time but even more so over the last year or two. no shade to anyone else, but a lot of actors dont really give you a look into their personal lives, they just share and promote their product. im not saying theres anything wrong with that, its good to know what youre comfortable sharing, ive just felt all the more close to her with her being as open as she is, especially as someone who has gone through trauma myself, albeit different from hers.

- kind of connected to that, i love how important spreading kindness, positivity, and love is to her. thats another thing thats been said a million times but still, its very important to me.

for example. she’ll randomly tweet things like “i love you” a lot. im one to always think of the thought process that goes on behind whatever someone posts, texts, etc., bc personally i put a lot of a thought into pretty much anything i say or do before i put it out there publicly, probably bc of my social anxiety. even tho its a simple statement and takes her a couple seconds to post, she still had to have the thought “i want to remind my fans that theyre loved” or something along those lines. and she has this thought FREQUENTLY. to just randomly get a notification every few days or weeks or so of her saying something like that is just very heartwarming to me.

the reason i connected with miley so much when she helped me through my initial trauma was bc it felt like even if no one loved me, she loves her fans, thus she loves me. thus the person i love and admire the most loves me. even if its only one person, it can be enough. it was for me at the time. i feel that same way with dove. when she came into my life, i didn’t feel as unloved, but her love was still helpful to me.

- of course i need to specifically talk about her kindness in person too. dont get me wrong (ive been saying that a lot havent i lol), i totally and completely loved her long before i met her, but naturally, i love her 10x more after the experiences ive had getting to know her in person.

i could go ONNNNNNN about the experiences ive had with her, and i have lol, and if you already heard me ramble about this in the server i apologize, but the most important thing ive taken away from every encounter ive had with her is this: she always goes the extra mile. she always goes out of her way to make people feel special. what i mean by that is she could say/do HALF as much as she has when meeting me and i would still leave over the moon feeling loved. you can tell she does this in excess bc she really truly means it and cares about people like me, she doesnt have any kind of ulterior motive and isnt just going through the motions doing whats asked of her, she simply cares about me and the rest of her fans. some examples - the first time we met, i was sobbing (lol) and she hugged me for a really long time, rocking me back and forth, brushing my hair with her thumb, calling me sweetheart and honey. she even started to tear up a bit herself. - a couple months later, i went to my first liv and maddie taping. i was preparing to reintroduce myself (i looked a little different bc id been cosplaying as maddie the first time i met her) and ofc when preparing myself, i fantasized pretty heavily as i usually do and pictured myself showing her the pic of us on my phone, her gasping, jumping out of her chair screaming, and hugging me, thinking that was probably way more than i was gonna get. that is EXACTLY what happened. then she went on to tell me how my costume made her whole weekend. things like this would continue to happen where i would set the bar impossibly high and not only would she meet it but she’d exceed it. - our usual interaction from there on would start with her face lighting up when she saw me, her calling me some kind of cute name like love or baby, and then hugging me without me even having to initiate it. - when i saw her in mamma mia, i didnt know when id be seeing her again afterwards after pretty consistently getting to see her for 2 years, so i wanted to make sure we got some kind of closure. at the stage door, i reminded her how much she meant to me and just expected like an “aww i love you too” or something back, but she said “you are an angel in my life” and i will never forget that. obvs, i havent told her ALL the details about what she and her characters mean to me but like...she can tell. she can tell if im in a homemade maddie costume sobbing into her arms that theres something there, and shes VERY appreciative of that. - i thankfully got to see her at a meet and greet a few months later and every time i thought i should get going cuz i didnt want to hold the line up, she would just open her arms for another hug. speaking of being appreciative, she even said “thank you for being such a supportive fan.” as i left, i turned around to say one last goodbye. i made sure she wasnt with the next fan yet and yelled out “bye!” and she yelled back “I LOVE YOU!!” and blew me a kiss. again, its the little things. - i saw her at a small panel in new york a few months after that. she walked in the room when the lights were down as they were playing a clip, she quietly waved hi to everyone, then saw me and loudly whispered HI BABY!!! and stopped on her way to the stage to give me a hug. (then she looked at me from the stage and asked which way i thought she should cross her legs for the interview lol) - sometimes when she sees im next in line, shell give me a knowing smile or whisper “hi baby!!” or something like that. she saw me in the crowd after clueless and seemed to make a point to come to me last bc she knew wed be talking for a while, which we did. she even told me she’d seen me in the audience, asking if i was in the front on the left, which i was.

even all that is still just scratching the surface. weve “known” each other for 5 years now and every time i think she’s done the most she can do, she outdoes herself again. not to mention when im at these events, i see her treat all the fans she meets with all of that kindness too. naturally all of this has made me love her all the more.

- finally, lets just be honest here..........................shes REALLY fucking hot.

#gcwca secret santa #Anonymous

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lettalady · 4 years

Text

Alphabet Soup - I is for Identical

The document is due in a matter of days and he hasn't responded to your revisions, nor will he acknowledge the pings you've sent him this morning. You know he's at work. You saw him filter in with the rest of the small group working on the project. Everyone has been burning the candle at both ends to meet the deadline. You've started seeing charts in your sleep, crunching numbers as you toss and turn.

Irritation drives you up and out of your chair. You can see movement from his workstation, legs sprawled out from behind the dividing wall, knees and feet swaying in a lazy motion as he apparently has bum-fuck else to do but lean back in his chair and swivel away the day.

He's not talking through a problem. He's not been pulled another direction by someone else on the floor, his opinion desired for input on their project. You can't hear his distinctive laugh, or a low-level muttering that you've learned to tune out – his go-to-method for working through a problem.

Maybe he needs another pair of eyes? Supervision to help move towards the goal. Maybe another pair of hands... though the temptation right now is to march over and strangle him. You need to know if he can resolve everything you'd noted in your revisions. You need to know if you'll be staying late, again delaying the reward for the completion of the project, or if you can start looking forward to the much-needed rejuvenating massage.

If he would just answer your pings. What good is an internal messenger system if he won't acknowledge the queries.

The fact that you're standing in place wins you a few curious glances from your coworkers. Maybe... if you get a coffee from the breakroom? A little more caffeine in your system probably won't help but it's a distraction. Except your feet carry you away from the breakroom, leading you towards the man that seems content to while away the morning.

Casual Fridays are evil, you've decided. There's no reason for his denim clad legs to be any more problematic than the buttoned-up attire usually required around the office, but here you are in your frayed state imagining a scenario where you get to yank that dark denim off him.

Your mental fantasy screeches to an abrupt halt as you round the barrier to find him stretched out in the rolling chair, still swaying slowly back and forth. His hands are folded over his stomach, fingers laced together, his focus solidly caught on the ceiling tiles above him.

"What the hell, Chris."

The chair squeaks beneath him as he lurches upright, blinking at you standing there with your hands on your hips. You wouldn't have felt even a little bit sorry if his sudden motion had sent the chair sliding out from under him. Ok, maybe a little, but right now you're too tired and hungry and angry and borderline burnt out to care that you'd given him a start. If he'd been working it wouldn't have been an issue.

His mouth drops open, hinging to start to form a defense of his actions – or rather, inaction – but you're not having it. You flutter your eyes shut before squinting them open again, glaring at him as you shake your head, "No. I don't want to hear it. We're on a deadline here, or have you forgotten?"

A quick glance aside at his desktop shows his screen and the messenger window with your dialogue still sitting unanswered. At least the files are open on the screen, as well. He's just... ignoring it all.

"I know we're all exhausted. I get it. But..." You try to fight the urge to step forward and kick the bottom of his shoe. Anything would be better than the way he's got his legs sprawled out.

As though reading your mind, he rights himself a little more in the chair, drawing his feet back towards the rolling wheels beneath him. Which – would have been fine, appreciated, even – except the action is coupled with a seeming appraisal of your outfit, and how close you're standing, and ends with a damned look of amusement on his part.

Cue tirade, a bunch of words spilling out of your mouth causing a few curious coworkers to pop up from their chairs like meerkats, others leaning around cubicle walls to source the drama going down. It ends with you demanding that he have the decency to at least acknowledge messages and to let you know the project's status before the end of the day – if it isn't too much trouble.

After lunch, with a little food on your stomach to somewhat dilute level of caffeine in your system you realize maybe you were a little harsh on him. He'd gotten in maybe four words? You hadn't even waited around for any sort of explanation, just told him off and then stormed off – the rest of the floor giving you a pretty wide berth regardless of their involvement in the project.

Add to that the business-as-usual updates from him for the rest of the day, not a single word or sidelong look from him about your outburst, and you're about ready to curl up and melt into the scenery as the end of the day approaches. Then comes the chipper notification from him announcing that all the revisions were completed, the entire group receiving a copy of the final revision of the project for everyone to look over, and a few exclamation marks behind well wishes for the weekend now that the project is behind the lot of you.

Ok. You're an ass and need to go apologize to him. Why hadn't he stopped you? Corrected your assumption that he was putting off the final steps of the project? If he was so close to being done all it would have taken was a few words to course correct your --

Oh, right. The few words you refused to let him utter.

It's an agonizing number of steps to bring you back to his cubicle where he's cleaning up in preparation for leaving, tossing the empty coffee cup from a place down the street and shoving a notepad and pencil into his desk drawer. You clear your throat to get his attention, hemming through a soft greeting. "Er. So... I'm sorry about this morning. It was unprofessional and uncalled for and... I feel like a monumental dick. But um, I looked over that final draft and..."

His eyebrows arch up before knitting together. He's likely wondering why you are rambling through what he already knows. Everyone had clicked to view the document and then responded that they were happy with it. Everyone could see the group chat and the acknowledgements. This is some piss-poor excuse of an apology.

"I wish you'd said something. But I guess today is just the day for me to put my foot in my mouth." You shrug, helpless.

He's clearly just as ready for the weekend, keen to get to whatever he's got planned to celebrate the end of the project – he's already changed his shirt and shoes from the company-acceptable bland that is allowed on casual Friday. The plain shirt was already so so problematic – somehow the faded band logo is worse.

You sidestep, already trying to turn to escape his presence as you issue a final apology, "So anyway, yep. I'm sorry."

There's that thing about return trips. When you're venturing to somewhere unknown it seems to take forever. When you're traveling a familiar path, the trip seems to take a blink of an eye. Really you should have bypassed returning to your desk. You should have gathered up all your things, issued the apology, and then ran for the door. Instead you settle into your chair and stare at the computer screen and start to fantasize about somehow sliding into the matrix of the digital world.

"Hey."

His quiet greeting and the soft knock on the frame of the cubicle wall makes you jump out of your daydream. Is he here to return fire, finally? You slowly turn to face him, readying yourself for what you're due.

"We all have days." His smile grows as he emphasizes the final word, his shoulders jumping with a short shrug.

If he didn't have his hands anchored in his pockets he'd be waving them around – an ever-expressive talker. Sometimes it made you want to tie him to the chair during meetings... which is a super unhelpful thing to be focusing on at the moment. It's the too-tight shirt, the weather-worn logo stretched across his torso, amplifying the muscles he usually has hidden beneath layers. And the dark denim framing the hips you want to straddle. And –

"I'm supposed to be meeting my brother. Celebration of the completion of the project. But..."

You suck in a breath, feeling the heat of your fantasies pooling in places that make you want to squirm in your chair. Role reversal! He's the one standing at the edge of the cubicle and you're the one swaying in the swivel chair.

Wait. Is he asking you out for drinks?

"Are you asking me out for drinks?"

He digs one hand free from his front pockets, rushing to wave away perceived concern, "No pressure."

"No. I mean, yea. Drinks sound good."

"Ok then."

The awkward barrier built from your outburst starts to fade as the pair of you walk towards your destination. You notice that his phone keeps buzzing. He only responds to every third message, but then he did mention that he'd originally had plans with his brother. He holds the door, tapping out another reply as the pair of you arrive at the bar down the street.

"Look if this is delaying plans..."

He shakes his head, glancing up as he pockets his phone again. "No. Hey. We deserve this. Long overdue stress release."

That's true but doesn't do much to alleviate your concerns that you've interrupted established plans. "I'm trying not to dig my 'I owe you' hole any deeper. First round is on me, for the record."

"There's no owing anybody anything." His laugh is catching as he follows along towards the barstools you've set your sights on. "Just drinks. As for who is paying ..."

It's not up for debate, but if he wants to try to make it into a quick draw scenario that's on him. With the project finally behind you – barring any unforeseen issues discovered by higher-ups – you feel yourself start to relax.

For the first time in – weeks? – you don't feel like you're trying to swallow while someone is sitting on your chest. Laughter is helping. Laughter and whatever those little bite things are that he ordered, too.

He's turned sideways, leaning his elbow on the bar-top and flicking pretzel pieces at your hands. This time when his phone buzzes it jumps off the edge of the bar and into his lap, but he doesn't bother responding to the message he reads off the screen. When you make a face at him he shrugs it off, "He's blown me off more times than I can count."

"You could invite him."

"Fuck no." He blinks at his own response and then emits a sheepish laugh, his cheeks coloring slightly. "I mean – I love him but, no. Not really in the mood to share. He can wait."

"Hey, dickface."

You turn, surprised by the unusual greeting, and then falter. You recognize the clothes: the sneakers, the snug dark denim, the plain shirt clinging to a well-defined torso. You blink and look back at the man sitting next to you who is currently rolling his eyes and groaning.

This must be what going crazy feels like.

You blink again, but nope – it's not a trick of the light.

There's two of them. Him. They're twins.

Your only saving grace at the moment is you know which of them you left the office with, and while they're both in just about the same attire, one has a shirt with words on it. Not-Your-Coworker reaches out to pinch his brother's arm, hard. "The guy that gets the free drinks should be the guy that got his ass chewed by the office hottie."

[ if you prefer reading or getting notifications from Wattpad/ AO3 ]

#alphabet soup challenge #imagine chris evans #writing addiction

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sw4tch · 5 years

Text

//vent

Y’ALL remember how my mother took control of my bank account bcus she’s a control freak and also i don’t have rights

[[ editor’s note: I FEEL LIKE OVERSHARING BCUS I LOST MY WILL TO LIVE A FEW DAYS AGO AND I WANNA FEEL SOMETHING BY WRITING DOWN MY OWN NARRATIVE, FEELS GOOD TO HAVE CONTROL OF SOMETHING IN MY OWN GODDAMN LIFE, I’M A PIECE OF SHIT!!!!!!!!!! ]]

a few days ago we had an argument and she said she was going to take my money from my account to replace a fucking calculator that SHE lost (and i know this bcus she was the last person to use it but thinks she can fucking gaslight me about it when i have a perfect recollection of when SHE TOOK IT FOR HER ACCOUNTING EXAM)

anyway, that’s fucking stealing in my book bcus i don’t know WHY I HAVE TO PAY FOR SOMETHING SHE LOST

whatever, she tried to convince me that no, *I* lost it. But i didn’t back down this time bcus honestly? i’ve been pretty fucking SUICIDAL this last few weeks and it gives me a rush of serotonin to argue back with a woman that makes me hate myself

it’s a form of self-harm you see, if she yells at me and makes me cry then i feel justified in feeling like shit

anyway let’s not dwell on how toxic we are for one another and how we fight all the time bcus we mutually hate each other

anyway anyway anyway

i had some money in paypal but they were dollars and i had to transfer them to my account bcus of their whole new policy, but the one day the transfer was scheduled it failed bcus my bank did a system fuck up that day specifically (it wasn’t only for me, it affected a lot of other people too)

SO, that money didn’t move from my paypal and i was like “huh i’m glad, otherwise my mother would have stolen it”

i wasn’t planning on transferring it again bcus now i knew what she wanted to do

but today i just. let it slip that i wasn’t transferring that money bcus “i knew she was just going to steal it”

like i just. said that. that i knew she was going to steal my money.

and i recognize that was a bad move on my part, usually i don’t try to anger my mother bcus She Makes Me Cry but. I just don’t give a fuck anymore. I keep fantasizing of dying in a robbery or something bcus i genuinely want to die so much more lately. so i just let that slip.

anyway we went into full arguing mode again and this time she said “oh so you think i’m ROBBING you, H U H???? Well don’t expect me to pay anything for you ANYMORE bcus you’re the one that’s been stealing my resources from the start!” and she left angry bcus i refused to apologize to her (another bad move on my part, i should have just done that. but i was angry and i feel suicidal and i hate myself and I WAS ANGRY AT HER)

so that’s how we’re back here crying on tumbler dot com and making myself a victim again and feeling sorry for myself bcus that’s all i’m good for!!!!!!!!!!

and i wish i was dead!!!!!!!!! i have no future!!!!!!!!!! i’m mediocre and no one will hire me once i get out of college!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i’m a piece of shit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! someone just put a gun on my head while trying to rob me so i can look at their eyes and go “SHOOT ME YOU COWARD!!!!!!!!!!!”

BECAUSE THEY WILL SHOOT ME!!!!!!!!! THIS IS FUCKING MEXICO, OF COURSE THEY’LL SHOOT ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHOOT ME SHOOT ME SHOOT ME SHOOTME

it’s funny, the topic of My Money came to light bcus i was rambling to her about how i saw the mob psycho manga on a shelf in the books section of a store and i really, really wanted to buy it bcus of the series messages that All that matters is that you become a good person, and being Kind and Empathetic.

and it all got out of control.

it’s funny, it’s funny, it’s funny, it’s funny, it’s funny, it’s funny, it’s funny, it’s funny, it’s funny, it’s funny, it’s funny, it’s funny, it’s funny, it’s funny, it’s funny, it’s funny

It’s almost like trying your damn best to be Good is all fucking useless and makes you lose your will to live in this cynical and corrupted world

I’m sorry Mob, you absolute delight of a fictional character, i just don’t see how i can survive in this place at all

#vent//////////////#smth smth about dead doves and not opening #snaily blabber

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justwriting34 · 5 years

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The Umbrella Academy. Netflix’s (new) hit show, or well I think it’s a hit, but I am not a great judge of shows. It’s my type of show. It’s crazy, without shoving your face in the crazy. It doesn’t take itself too seriously, while still having serious moments. It has a talking monkey, seriously, could you think of a better show? It has romance, just not enough that you feel like a kid after the perfect Halloween score. It has action, just not so much action you’re in a slaughter house, or a b rated action movie with ½ price Bruce Willis. It has time travel, that realizes that time travel doesn’t make sense. And damn it, it has the talking monkey.

How can anyone not love a show like that? I sure have to like it. The show didn’t give me much of a choice. And it isn’t like some shows that Stockholm Syndrome you into loving it. I loved it at first sight, because of the monkey. We get it, you must be thinking a lot about the monkey, you love the monkey, we get that. First off, it’s a monkey butler, that’s a very different thing. And don’t go quoting me saying that I was only referring to him as the monkey or the talking monkey or even a talking monkey. It won’t work. I won’t listen even if you are right. Which you might be. And honestly, I don’t really like the monkey, well no more than any one likes a talking monkey. I mean come on we all have a soft spot for Curious George and that monkey doesn’t even really talk, the man with the yellow hat, just makes us think we can understand him. That monkey could just be talking about throwing poo all the time and we would have no way of knowing that. But no the talking monkey butler, bet you didn’t think I knew that, can tell us what is going on. But that monkey butler is not my favorite character, or even in my top ten. Which is something special considering there are only a little over ten characters in the show.

No, my favorite character is Klaus, though I am probably more like Vanya then I would like to admit, but I’ll circle back to that in a moment, let me take a moment to talk about my favorite character Klaus. Klaus is the crazy fun that I wish that I could be. Not the drugs part, don’t do drugs kids, stay in school, ok now that I have that PSA (brought to you by the crazy rantings of a girl behind a computer), out of the way, I want to take a moment to do an appreciation paragraph about the wonderful Klaus.

Klaus is the crazy we all need in our lives. He makes the world seem just a little bit different, a little more interesting. He adds perfect comedic timing to the group, and he does it at just the right time. So, yeah Klaus is freaking amazing. Oh, and as an added note he looks great in a skirt.

See an appreciation paragraph. Now, onto Vanya. I see myself in Vanya, a lot more than anyone would like to admit. Hold it. Freeze. Yes, I mean you too. Don’t think about what I just said too much. I had a normal childhood. Well, normalish? But really, when you think about it, don’t we all have a few messed up things about our childhood. One or two things that give us that special little quirk. That little oddity, that would make people tilt their head. Yeah, well I had those. But for the most part I am normal. My childhood was normal, and my parent’s well they were as normal as parents can be. And I am not saying there aren’t a few things that my parents did that made me a little messed up, but isn’t that life. You’re a kid and you see things that your parents did wrong, even if it just one or two things, and you vow to do things differently, so then you screw up your own kids in a unique and different way, well that’s me, and that’s what I believe, but I may or may not still believe in the Easter Bunny, my traps are going to get that monster one of these days, so you probably shouldn’t take anything that I believe beyond face value.

Anyway, that got off topic, I mean I have no idea if there was even a point to all of that rambling, you know I have heard people call my writing pedantic before, and I never agreed with them until just now. I mean, I ended up talking about my plans to catch the Easter Bunny and not stay on the topic that I am supposed to be on. And now I am being pedantic about being pedantic, that takes a new level of crazy, or narcissism. I just love my writing so much, or maybe I just love to write so much.

Stopping that, and going back to the topic on hand, Vanya. Well, really, the topic is why Vanya and I are so similar. It’s simple really. I apologize for existing to. I never really thought about it that way before though. I just assumed I was apologizing for things that I should have done better, but no I have been apologizing for existing. I didn’t even realize that I was doing until there was that line about apologizing just for existing. Which is weird because, I always wanted to be an actress, ever since I was little, but I as I grew up, instead of still wanting to be in the spotlight I wanted to disappear. But this isn’t about that, not really anyway. We will spin back to why it is a little important in a moment.

But let me first say this, if I could draw I would. I would draw a kickass picture of Klaus in a skirt, maybe I would even add the talking monkey butler, yes, I know his name is Pogo, but give me a little credit for this bit. If I was good at outfits and designing and such nonsense I would cosplay as Mother. I know I just threw a curve ball or whatever the comic equivalent of that is. But you must love mother’s style. I mean it’s a classic elegance you can’t beat that. Well, maybe except for Klaus and a skirt, but I’m a girl and I can’t pull off a skirt like Klaus. Truth be told I only really have three talents.

First acting. As I’ve said before, being an actress has been my goal since I was very little. My problem is auditioning, and auditioning seems to be a very big part of the whole thing of being an actress, so in this case that talent seems a little bit useless. That talent in this case would be useless, most likely, in this case no matter if I could audition or not. Of course, like many of the other things I say hold onto that most likely because, of course, I will be coming back to that. Now my other two talents seem to be much more important now and much more important with why I started writing this in the first place.

The second one, as you hopefully, noticed my mediocre ability to write. I have seen that I have the smallest ability to write something that is readable and at least entertaining enough to keep you occupied, while doing menial tasks. Such as, but not limited to, using the bathroom, waiting at the dentist office, waiting at the DMV, procrastinating on doing any work that is much more important than my writing, that work seems hard and you really don’t want to start on a weird time or whatever else excuse you’re using the moment. And besides all that I’m almost done with this one, I think, I never can tell with my ramblings.

Last talent that I seem to have been bestowed is my vivid sometimes overused imagination. Now, what do you get when you have a writer with too much time, a laughably vivid imagination, and an extremely engaging and wonderful little show?

If you guessed a fanfiction with the author, no let me get this straight, I need to make sure that I get this right, a persona of the author, playing a major part, I would like you all to give yourselves a pat on the back, for the ones who didn’t get it right let me say you should stop reading this right now. Who my kidding? You’re not going to stop reading this. You aren’t going to go start your task they need to do. The dentist hasn’t just called you. And honestly you probably still have about two hours to wait at the DMV. Oh, as the right ones have guessed, this is a giant, wind bagged, and yes pedantic, way of introducing the fact that I have decided to put my writing of my Umbrella Academy fanfiction out not the real world.

Now, about five disclaimers though most of the people that I am addressing in this disclaimer had already written me, I’m sure, five Twitter messages ten emails, and twenty-five mean spirited letters, and have just ignored this disclaimer. And I know, this feels like the disclaimer to a medicine commercial, half the people aren’t paying attention, a quarter is going to still get upset when it happens to them and the last quarter are paying attention, but it doesn’t pertain to them. Also no one really watches regular tv that much anyway, they all have Netflix, free product placement.

First disclaimer, this is only based on the show. I bought the comic and I plan on reading it, I just haven’t had the time yet. And if I get interest, I may write one like the one I am currently writing with all of the information from the comics. Secondly, I’m doing this for fun, so please take it easy on me, if you like it, tell me, if you don’t tell me, if you think there are a few things I need to fix tell me, just do it nicely. Remember my writing may seem like I am a hot and legal combination of Klaus and Number Five, I am really just a Vanya at heart, so be delicate.

Thirdly, if either dark horse or Netflix asks me to take it down, it’s down without questions. I would hate for someone to not do the same for me.

Fourthly and lastly, promise, if Netflix and the writers want to take my twist on the story, let me a least fail at auditioning for a character that is basically me.

So, I hope you love my writing as much as I love Klaus, and the show, and hope you are a little more interested in it than I am in butler monkey.

Oh, and one more thing, I am going to be writing in both first person and third person. Me, or the character who I fantasize about being, is going to be told in first person. And scenes my character is not in will be third.

This is the opening for my blog which anyone who likes fanfiction, Umbrella Academy, and/or crazy rantings that might actually make sense, check it out. http://umberllacoverage.home.blog

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#the umbrella academy #umbrella acedmy #klaus #i love klaus #I'mVanya #Fanfiction

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brightlycoloredteacups · 5 years

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Shades of Green

Pairing: Armitage Hux x OFC

Summary: The woman Hux has been in love with since he was a teenager asks for his hand in Marriage. Accepting the terms was easy, everything that came after, not so much.

Warnings: Non for this Chapter.

Tagging: @anunhealthydoseofangst @tiyetiye @novumlibellum @salimahbicharara-comun @sammi-faye @bluearchersstuff

General Armitage Hux was very much aware his position afforded him luxuries few had the pleasure to experience. Among those were the sheer amount of messages he received. Marriage proposals, fanatic rambling, treaties. Day in, day out, he slogged through them, wanting to get to the real work. How many daughters of high ranking men could there be? Honestly, he was fed up with it all. The letter currently in his hand, however, was one worth reading.

He’d come across a name he remembers from his days in the academy. Titan Vane. The only woman he'd ever had the displeasure of falling madly in love with. He'd often thought about reaching out to her after he'd become general. Fantasized even. She'd be so impressed with him, with his army, she'd realize she loved him all along. It was a simple thing, but Titan was not the type of woman to just throw herself at someone, no matter what position of power they're in.

Now, it was Titan herself reaching out to him. He recognizes the letter as being hers immediately. It was handwritten, perfumed, and sealed with a kiss, by indication of the lipstick. Such ostentatious frivolity was customary among her people. One she delighted in thoroughly. He wasted no time in opening the letter, knowing full well it's going to be absolutely dripping with unnecessary flowery language. He smiles at the sight of his nickname.

Early on in their friendship, about a week, Titan had turned to him frowning. “What?” He asked, so damn afraid he'd disappointed her somehow. “I don't like your nickname” She stated plainly. “I'm gonna call you Tagie, after the last part of your name.” Tagie he repeated in his head. Tah-jee. He loved it. Only she called him that, and to save him from embarrassment, Titan only called him Tagie in private. He loved her all the more for it.

“Dearest Tagie,

Perhaps I shouldn't address you so informally, now that you're a general. I couldn’t help myself, however, old habits die hard, they say. I suppose I have hope that somewhere buried deep under all that severity my dearest friend still lies. I remember you. Forgive the informality General Hux, it’s just a simple case of fond memories.

It’s foolish, isn’t it? To think you still remember me. You’ve gone on to raise an empire, a feat which you’re undoubtedly proud of. I’ve seen you on holovids. I think you look rather dashing, if you don’t my saying so. To bold? Perhaps, but I’ve never been one for sublty, not when you could get right to the point.

Allow me to reintroduce myself.

General Armitage Hux, I am Princess Titan Vane of the Planet Wildling. I like to think I was your closest friend in those days, wishful thinking, I’m sure. Nevertheless, I invite you to my palace for tea. The invitation card is enclosed within this letter.

Ever Yours,

Titan Vane

PS. Even if you miss tea, please come visit anyway, I would rather enjoy your company.

PPS. Don't bring that Kylo character with you if you can help it. Cultural thing, I'm sure you understand.”

Armitage folds the letter neatly, wiping the smile that's been sitting there since he saw the letter off his face he stands. The invitation had fallen out of the envelope, but he'd been too distracted to pick it up. He does so now. Sending a communique to his officers to have his ship ready, he rushes off to his room to get ready. He didn't want to be late for tea.

The planet of Wildling isn’t the proper name, but everyone calls it that in common. It’s the closest word to the true meaning of the planet. It’s a mono-biomed planet, with vast stretches of jungle, pole to pole. If it isn’t raining, then its hot and humid. There is no inbetween.

Various tribes live there, and have spread out to neighboring planets.One family rules them all. The Vane family. They’d clawed their way to the top of the food chain during The Unification of Tribes, they remained there for some time, advising rulers from one generation to the next. Until the Great Tribal War. Taking advantage of the planet-wide rebellion, the Vanes had managed to kill off the old generation, and lead Wildling into a new era of peace. Titan Vane is a proud part of that heritage.

She’ in the jungle, hunting for meat when she spies the ship passing overhead. It’s a First Order ship no doubt. It meant one of two things, the General had gotten her letter, or Kylo Ren had finally come to slaughter her people. Heart racing, she takes of at top speed, determined to find out which.

She immediately beings to plan for the worst case scenario. Kylo Ren was a force user. Titan had the fortunate ability to train with Force Users, she’d cultivated a hard fought resistance to it’s powers. But he was the scariest man in the galaxy for a reason. Didn’t matter, she had backup plans for her backup plans.

She slides into the atrium just as Armitage is entering it. She startles him into taking a step backward. She can't blame him, she knows she looks wild. Leaves in her hair, half dressed, a spear on her back. She smiles at him apologetically. “My sincerest apologies,” she says, bowing to him. She’s utterly relieved its him. Her people lie to fight another day. “I didn't expect you to come.” Armitage smiles are her, a real smile, not the tight lipped strained twitch of the lips that people like them must wear in public. “Of course I came” he says, as if it were obvious. He'd always come for her, they both knew.

She bows again, “Allow me to change, Armello will take you to the veranda.” she looks behind him to the guards surrounding him. “They will stay here,” Armitage promises. A soldier, clad in all chrome steps forward. “General,” the caution in her voice is plain to hear. Armitage merely gives her a look. She steps back to her place. “To the veranda?” he confirms. she nods. “won't be a minute.” she promises.

In reality, she takes several minutes, but scrubbing muck off your body, taking variou foliage out of your hair, then dressing yourself takes time. She wished she had more faith in him, she could have made a much better impression.

She rushes out to him, nervous. This wouldn't be an easy conversation. She knew Hux would never be the same boy she had the pleasure of befriending in the academy, but she had to hope he still held enough fondness for her to agree to her plea. One can only hope.

That blasted woman. Leave it to her to be the only one in the galaxy to throw him so off balance he can no longer think straight. He had the hardest time not taking her right then and there. Sliding into the room like the wild thing she always had been, half naked with a slight sheen of sweat.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered her being. Of course, they were grown now. She was a fine young woman. Darker than he remembered from her days in the sun, hair an unruly mop he longed to comb his fingers through, and her eyes. Those damnable brown eyes. He could look into them forever if given the chance.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he jumps at the sound of her voice. She giggles as he turns red. “i didn't mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine.” he manages. He turns back to the view. Below him is a vast expanse of jungle unlike anything he'd ever seen. It almost seemed...alive. He's frowning, trying to figure it out, when he notices her staring. “What?” he asks, wiping at his face. “What a cutting figure you make General.” Pleased, he turns to her. “To you, my dear, I am Tagie.” her grin splits her face, he's satisfied to be the one that put it there. She launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He responds immediately, despite the surprise attack, pressing himself to her. He closes his eyes, taking in her scent. By the stars, this was always what he wanted. “I've missed you.” she confesses. “I've missed you too.”

They separate, much to his displeasure. “come, have tea with me. You will finally get to try our famous syrup cake.” he follows her to the small table laden with food.

Titan pours for him, dark tea going into an ornately decorated cup. She passes that to him, he takes it gratefully. “I hope I chose the right one,” she tells him, giving him a worried look. “Rather,” she continues loading a tiny plate with food. “I hope your tastes haven't changed, what with you being the leader of the First Order and all.” She passes the plate on to him, then finally sits and serves herself.

He takes a sip of tea. The sharp bitterness coats his tongue. He's in heaven, he swears it. “You got it right.” She breathes a sigh of relief.

They sit in silence for a while, enjoying the moment. “Do you remember Angle?” Hux sniffs. “I try not to.” Titan giggles. “You two hated each other.”

“Well, calling someone a ‘pasty bitch’ does not endear you to people.” Titan outright laughs at that. Hux turns a bright red. “I'm sorry,” she wheezes, “I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh but your tone was so funny.” His blush recedes. “You know he's moved here?” Hux scoffs, but says nothing. “He's tried to come into the palace, but my guards refuse to let him in. For that, I'm thankful.”

“I thought you liked Angle?”

“I did, when I was younger and didn't know any better. I find myself...attracted to a different sort of person these days.” the way she said it...was she trying to hint at something? Or was her reading too much into it. He remains silent, having decided he was definitely reading too much into it.

“Tagie,” she says, looking over her jungle. “Yes?”

“I must confess something.” Hux swallows the excitement bubbling within him. Please confess your love for me, he thinks desperate, please love me. “I didn’t invite you here merely to reminisce.”

“Oh?” He’s rather let down, but manages to keep it from his voice. “You’re smarter than that Hux, don’t play coy with me now.” She says, putting her cup down. Hux nods to indicate he was listening to her. “Being in a position of power does put one in a precarious situation, doesn’t it? You can’t think of yourself, you have to think of the people you rule over. About their wellbeing.” Hux is silent, she’ll get to her point, eventually. “My father, he’s a proud man, too proud, I think.” He makes a non-committal noise. “He thinks we can weather the battle without choosing a side. I tend to disagree.”

“Would you like a demonstration?” Hux asks. If that was what she wanted, why not simply ask him, instead of bringing him out her home planet. She giggles, “No, no, I was thinking something simpler than that.”

“Well, let’s hear it.” He says, bringing his cup to his lips. “Marry me.” Armitage chokes on the tea, spilling it everywhere. Tears spring to his eyes as he gasps for air.

He looks at Titan, making sure she’s entirely serious.

She’s utterly enchanting, sitting there, in her green dress. The sun is setting, casting a glow about her. Her beauty is such a thing that will remain unmatched for eons. She’s got a mask of patience on, but he knows she’s waiting for his answer. Say something you idiot! He berates himself, don’t leave her hanging in the air. “Why?” He manages, having caught his breath. Damnit, that’s not at all what he wanted to say. She presses her lips together, turning her gaze back to her jungle. “My father refuses to enter peace talks with you. It’s something that must be done. Sacrificing the millions of lives of our people,” She shakes her head. “I couldn’t bear it. Marriage is my easiest option.”

“But not your only option.”

“No. The others all involve an unnecessary amount of back dealing, death threats, and money.”

“You do love your money.”

“They allow me my luxuries, Tagie, of course I do.” They sit in silence for some time. Marriage, that’s what she was after. For her people, sure, but it was still him she wanted to marry. He was a strategic advantage in her grand scheme of things. Marriage to her was what he wanted, even if this wasn’t how he imagined it happening.

Titan gets up from her seat. “I knew it had been foolish to ask you.” She says, sounding hard. No, he thinks, no you aren’t foolish. You’re very brave. She turns and begins her retreat into her palace. “Titan!” Hux says, stumbling after her. She stops, looking at him. He swallows, say yes, stupid, tell her you’ll marry her. Damn her for always making him tongue tied. “Please spare the old platitudes General,” damn, this was getting worse.by the minute. “It won't help my peop-”

“Let's do it.” He finally manages. Titan looks at him warily. He isn't sure what he should do, but he know he wants to kiss her. “Let's get married.” She lets out a slow breath. Grabbing his hand, she smiles at him, his heart is in his throat. “Thank you Tagie,” all he can do is nod.

#star wars #star wars imagine #armitage hux #general hux #hux #hux x oc #Shades of Green

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