#look i just got out on christmas break for college the term is catching up to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ratedbangtann · 4 years

Text

“Hey, you.” ~ JJK [18+]

↳ summary - Your friends made fun of you constantly for your crush on Jungkook. Except, you didn't have a crush on Jungkook - did you?

↳ rating - explicit/18+

↳ word count - 8.6k

↳ pairing - Jungkook x reader

↳ genre - college!au, friends to lovers

↳ warnings - TW// F2L, a little humour, passionate and rushed sex, fingering, unprotected sex (pls assume birth control! But wrap it up, guys), romantic sex, steamy and heated and generally just everything you want from college boy JK, right?

↳ a.n - what’s up, beauties! I was commissioned again! I hope you love this, I thought it was cute lmao. If you would like your own commision, or would like to leave a tip, please head to: https://ko-fi.com/ratedbangtann (I just lost my job thanks to corona so it's my only income right now lol)

**************************************************

Winter Break was supposed to be a chance to relax, to kick your feet up and enjoy the holidays; Christmas, new year… But you spent the whole three weeks studying, as always.

“You need to learn how to have some fun,” Tae had remarked more times that you were willing to count as he walked past you sat at the kitchen island of your tiny shared apartment off campus. Easy for him to say; acting majors hadn’t been given much to focus on over the break, but you? Broadcast production was a tough major, filled with coursework and studying alongside practical work.

The only days off you gave yourself had been Christmas day and New Year’s Day, and then it was back to your old routine. You and Taehyung had made Christmas cute for the two of you, whilst all your other friends had gone home for the holidays. But you were paying rent on this place, and a Christmas away from home didn’t seem like a bad idea.

But the break was over, and lectures and seminars were starting up yet again.

“______, you gave yourself absolutely no break. How are you so eager to get back to class?” Taehyung groaned as you walked onto campus together.

“Just happy to have some company that isn’t you for a change,” you teased, earning a shoulder shove from him.

“Tae! _______! Wait up!” you heard a familiar voice calling from behind you, and soon after an arm was around your shoulder and another best friend at your side.

“Hey Jimin, how was your break?” you smiled up at him, seeing that gorgeous smile beam back down at you.

“Good, but I missed my girls…” Jimin pouted at you, then reached around to ruffle Taehyung’s curls. Tae just rolled his eyes and smirked. “You see Jungkook yet?” he asked.

“No, not yet. He’ll probably roll into class at the last second, as per usual. I haven’t heard from him over the break,” Tae rambled, missing Jimin’s tone entirely.

“No, I meant… he looks different… You’ll see,” Jimin smirked. You raised a quizzical eyebrow at him, but he just winked and returned his focus onto getting to class.

In the halls of your college campus, you split from the boys and waved them off at the performing arts department – Jimin was a dance major, specifically contemporary, and often had classes adjacent to Taehyung in the studios.

Your class however was held in one of the lecture theatres right at the other side of the block, so you walked through the corridors of chattering students, waving hellos to those that you knew from class or working on projects with other majors. Jin – Jimin’s frat leader – waved sweetly to you as he stood at the water fountain surrounded by girls wanting to hear everything about his ski vacation to Italy. Quite comical, really – like the alpha of a pack at the watering hole.

He may have been a ladies’ man at first glance, but he was a real sweetheart when you got him away from the herd. All those girls, and yet he was always very respectable, never hitting on them, simply enjoying the attention and remaining chivalrous. You smiled at him and waved back, a silent promise to check in with him when lunch kicked in.

Walking into your classroom, you weren’t expecting to see Jungkook ready and waiting for you in your usual spot in the fifth row – and you had been right. As if the boy could be on time, ever. All part of his charm, you suppose. So you slipped into your seat and waited for him, no doubt the last one in as the final bell rang out. You focussed on pulling out your laptop, logging into it and opening up a document to start your note taking.

Being a little early, you had time to scroll through your college emails like you obsessively did every day. You were so engrossed in your task, you hadn’t even noticed Jungkook walking into the room until he sat beside you.

“Hey, you,” he spoke softly as he sat down, pulling his headphones out of his ears. He always greeted you that way – a running joke from the start of college. He’d taken far too long to remember your name, and so when paired up with you on the first assignment, he fell short, simply addressing you as “you” whenever you would meet in the library to work. Now, it was almost a term of affection.

“Hey Kook-“ you started as you looked up, but your eyes widened, and your jaw dropped.

It had only been three weeks…where did all that hair come from? How was he now able to tie it back into an adorable little ponytail? And why did it bloody suit him so well? And… Oh my god, were those tattoos on his fingers?

This couldn’t be the same Jungkook, surely not? Last time you had seen him, his hair was getting longer sure, but not at all able to tie up. And he most certainly didn’t have hand tattoos, or any other tattoos that you were aware of. Jimin was the only person you knew with a tattoo…

And yet, as you studied the boy beside you setting up for the lesson, it was most definitely him. The same bunny-toothed smile and innocent wide eyes; the same all-black cargo pants with a chain and oversized sweater; the same dangly chain and hoops earring along his lobe and helix. Except with his hair like this and little tattoos to match, he looked – dare you say it – sexy…

“You know, with a little bit of eyeliner and a motorcycle, you may well be on your way to joining the cast of ‘Sons of Anarchy’,” you laughed. He grinned at that.

“Are you referring to the tattoos, or the epic man-bun?” He slunk back into his seat and smirked. “It’s not just my hand, you know…” He pushed his sleeve up to proudly show the multiple tattoos on his forearm; a skull hand, a floral design with lettering, some writing that your eyes followed to read ‘rather be dead than cool’. “More up here too but I’ll show you another time.”

“Where’s my sweet innocent little Kookie gone? I’m gonna have to think of a new nickname now…” you huffed, still admiring the black ink over his skin.

“You know I always wanted tattoos, well I got a bunch of money from family this Christmas, so I thought, screw it. If not now, then when?” he shrugged. Seemed like pretty sound logic to you, and you had to admit they were pretty awesome.

“Why this one?” you pointed at the flowers.

“Ah, my birth flower, tiger lilies. Korean meaning for them is ‘please love me’, so that’s-“

“Alright class, welcome back to the second semester. Hope you all enjoyed your break, but it’s back to work!” your professor started the class with a loud announcement, silencing Kook in the process. You’d have to get him to tell you about then more later.

*****

“Oh this one is just a Nirvana quote, I liked it. Song is called Stay Away. And the Ox is my birth year, the lilies my birth flower…” Jungkook was explaining his new ink to the group in the refectory hall, perched up on the table next to where you sat, where Jimin sat marvelling at the ink with his dance major best friend, Hoseok. On your table, Jin and Taehyung were catching up on the events of their winter breaks. Well… Jin was telling Taehyung all about his ski trip, of course.

You were just absentmindedly staring at Jungkook, sat on top of the table chatting away with Jimin. His hair was half up in that cute little ponytail, with dark tendrils falling into his eyes and framing his face. It suited him well, looked so soft and silky too. He looked so different and yet exactly the same. His sweetness hadn’t changed, his sense of humour hadn’t changed. And yet something felt different, and you couldn’t put your finger on it.

Next thing you knew, fingers were being snapped in front of your face and waking you from your little daydream.

“Earth to ______…” Jin called, still snapping. “Don’t you want to hear my epic tale of heroic skiing skills?” You pushed his hand out of your face and gave him your full attention.

“You know, fantasy’s not really my genre, Jin,” you remarked, earning an overly offended response.

“You should be kinder to your elders, young one. Especially when he’s the head of the best fraternity on campus and throwing the first back to school party of the semester this Friday that he can or cannot get you barred from, young lady!” he rattled off; of course he would never exclude you from a party, and he was only joking.

“Hey!” a voice boomed behind you, deep and fast approaching. And then said voice was sitting beside you and dumping his bag on the table, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in mock protection. “You could never exclude our fraternity sweetheart. She is the soul of every omega delta gamma event.”

“Precisely. Nice try, Jin,” you winked, turning to hug the new face at the table. “Hey Joon,” you greeted as he dropped his arm from your shoulders.

“Well then pay attention to me, _______! Instead of gawking at Jungkook’s new bad-boy get up. We get it, you want him. Now back to me please!” Oh god, this again.

“Will you shut up? I do not want Jungkook,” you scathed, lowering your voice to stop him from possibly overhearing from the next table. The others at the table giggled. “What?” you asked.

“Nothing, nothing…” Joon laughed. “So skiing, Jin?” You were grateful to Namjoon for taking the heat off you, now trying too hard to look like you were only paying attention to Jin.

“Yes, skiing…” Jin sat up straight and continued his story.

*****

“Pizza or fried chicken?” Taehyung asked as he scrolled through menus on his iPad, plopping down on the couch beside you in your apartment.

“Oooor, I could just cook?” you laughed.

“No, Miss Kill-joy… It’s been a long day of falling asleep in class and listening to Jin’s skiing trip stories over and over again. We’re ordering in.”

“Fine. Pizza,” you surrendered, flipping through show after show on Netflix. “We still haven’t finished season 3 of Stranger Things yet, feeling brave enough today?” you teased. Taehyung had always been a little too easy to frighten, and it was honestly a wonder he’d made it through the first two seasons without scaring himself silly.

“Oh god.. Uh, maybe? I’m getting pretty desperate to figure out what’s happening to Billy but like, do I really wanna know?” he didn’t even look up from his phone as he spoke, focussing on adding the toppings to his make-your-own pizza.

“If you get too scared, you can spend the night in my room with me, okay? Won’t let anything happen to my Tae-Tae,” you pouted dramatically, babying him with a pinch to his cheek that had him shrinking away from you and giggling like a child. “Oh, can I get a-“

“BBQ base, and a side of chicken wings. I got you,” he smirked. Damn, he knew you too well. “Put the damn show on, I’m a grown up now. Can handle it.”

“Tough words…” you laughed, flicking through the shows to land on Stranger Things, and hitting play.

It didn’t take long for Taehyung to be shrinking into a ball against the couch and hiding half his face behind a pillow. Poor thing, he was just too sensitive. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t enjoying it. It just meant he’d be curled up against you snoring and clutching your arm all night.

An episode in, and food had arrived. You grabbed some plates and empty glasses and created yourself a little feast on the coffee table in front of you. You figured the next episode could wait until you’d had something to eat.

“So tell me,” Taehyung started, cheeks full of pizza like a hamster hoarding nuts, “how’s the insane crush on our own adorable little bunny holding up now that he sports a man-bun and an arm of ink?”

“You’re really still on this, aren’t you?” you avoided the question and all eye contact with Taehyung, dipping your pizza crust into some ranch dressing and quickly shovelling it in so you wouldn’t have to do much more talking. But still, he pressed on.

“Oh my god, stop trying to cover it up. We all see it. Only person who doesn’t is Jungkook, which is insane, considering…” he raised his eyebrows and picked up a chicken wing, leaning back into the couch. Despite his already full hamster cheeks, he took a bite of the spicy wing.

“Considering what?” you asked curiously through chewing. He took a moment to answer, raising his finger to keep you silent and waiting impatiently while he swallowed.

“Considering how obvious you are, always staring at him when he’s not looking, always looking around to find him, asking after him. You practically swoon when he walks in a room, you laugh at all of his terrible jokes, and don’t think we didn’t all see you drooling at lunch. It’s just ironic, that neither of you realise…” he chuckled to himself, taking another large bite of a pizza slice he picked up in his free hand, practically shovelling the food in.

“Neither of us? What do you mean?” you asked, confused. Tae froze on the spot, a string of cheese latched between his teeth and stuck to the end of the pizza he’d just bitten into. It stretched and broke off from the slice, dangling comically from his lips. But neither of you laughed.

He took his time reeling in the string of cheese, proceeding to take forever to chew his mouthful, clearly stalling for time before swallowing overdramatically.

“Just meant like… neither of you notice that you’re drooling over him, y’know? Yeah, that’s it.” He wouldn’t look you in the eye, quickly shovelling another mouthful of pizza in his mouth to avoid having to speak further on the matter.

“You know for an acting major, you’re a terrible liar…” you scoffed, folding your arms over your chest as you turned your whole body to face him on the couch. “What did you really mean?”

Tae sighed. He could never lie to you, not really. You knew him too well for that, spent too much time with him to know his tells. And truly, he was a really terrible liar when it came to his friends. He dropped the pizza back into the box and turned to you, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and swallowing the latest mouthful.

“I’m just saying, we all see the way you drool over Jungkook, but like… it’s more, isn’t it? You don’t just wanna screw his brains out, you’ve been falling for him since day one when he wondered into your lecture hall like a lost puppy. We all know It, ______… We talk about it all the time. And it’s just… it’s ironic ‘cause… well….” His eyes darted up to look at you, finding your expression to be a mix of both realisation and confusion in one.

And he’d be right. How on earth had it taken someone literally telling you that you liked Jungkook, to realise that, well… you bloody liked Jungkook! How far did this thing go? How deep did these feelings sit? Have they always been there? Did they grow over time? Is it just a crush or is it more than that?

But it made sense. You had always found him cute, sometimes attractive – hell, even sexy sometimes… But most girls did, he was Jeon Jungkook. Except that didn’t explain why you always wanted him around, why you always thought of him first when someone asked about your friends, why you were often caught out staring at him by the others. There was something more… Oh god, there were feelings involved.

You snapped back to reality, reminding yourself that somehow Taehyung wasn’t finished speaking…

“Wh-why is it ironic?” you stuttered, not even bothering to deny his claims any longer.

“Because to all of us it’s also painfully obvious how much he likes you too…” he said sheepishly, slowly so as not to shock you too much.

“N-no he doesn’t,” you protested weakly. He couldn’t, he’d never shown any signs.“Oh _______… yes, he does. I can’t understand how you both haven’t realised, it’s painfully obvious to all of us. Jimin said he’d asked about you the second he got back to the frat after vacation. He always talks about you. They ask him how his class went, and he’ll reply like ‘oh yeah it was good, _____ did this, _____ did that, _____ made me laugh so hard today’. It’s adorable but Jimin said he barely talks about anything else.

“Funny thing is, you stare at him when he’s not looking, and he stares at you when you’re not looking. We laugh about it all the time, it’s kinda funny to watch. I honestly don’t know how you can function alone together in class,” he laughs, shaking his head at the image of you both automatically turning your heads periodically.

“But... He…” you shook your head trying to think of excuses for him, but you were drawing a blank.

“I mean he actually told Hobi he liked you about a month ago when he was drunk. Hobi said he was crying into a bucket and whining about how he’d never have you and he just likes you soooo much between hurling,” Tae laughed at his own impression of Jungkook weeping. You couldn’t help yourself then.

You leaned forward and slapped his shoulder, followed by another slap and another, all cushioned by his hoodie and barely enough to hurt anyway, just to annoy.

“Ow, hey! HEY! What- What’s that for? Ow!” he cried dramatically as you knelt over him, slapping his arm out of pure frustration.

“YOU,” slap, “NEVER,” slap, “TOLD ME?!” you yelled. “You knew all this time I liked him, and you said NOTHING?!” you sat back on your heels running your hands through your hair totally exasperated.

“Well I assumed you knew that at least you had feelings for him, Jesus! It’s so obvious!”

“And when he said he liked me you didn’t think to bloody tell me?!” you scoffed, indignant.

“Well he was drunk, and he didn’t remember in the morning so…” Tae rubbed his arm dramatically.

You rested your elbows on your knees and buried your head in your hands. You had to figure out what to do with this information, if you should do anything at all. God, you’d been fawning over him since Freshman year. No wonder they’d teased you about it constantly in the last few months… You felt like a fool. You hadn’t even realised you were crying until the first silent tear rolled down your cheek.

Taehyung said nothing then, pulling you to lean on him with an arm around your shoulder. He rubbed your back and kissed your forehead like a good friend should, comforting without having to say a word.

“I feel stupid, Tae…” you whined into his shoulder.

“No, sweetie, I’m the stupid one. Should have said something sooner. I’m sorry…” he held you with both arms then, feeling a surge of guilt for keeping such information from his best friend.

In your head, you tried to think of any signs you might have missed, anything at all that proved what Tae was saying. And although they’d made fun of you for liking him all this time, you knew he would never, ever lie to you about something like this. Especially not with your tears soaking into his hoodie.

You needed to do something about this. You needed to say something to Jungkook, maybe to be a little (a lot) more obvious. Either way, now that you knew he liked you, you couldn’t simply sit on this information. Time had been wasted already…

*****

You were gonna do it. You were gonna tell him, that very morning, just after class let out for lunch. You’d pull him to the side, explain you wanted to talk to him. Go somewhere quiet. Tell him the truth.

At least, that had been your plan. But the second he walked in as the final bell rang that morning and sat beside you, you lost your nerve. Now suddenly, you had to deal with butterflies attacking your insides, and an inability to act natural around him. Awesome.

“Hey, you,” he smiled as he sat down beside you, as always. Only today you couldn’t muster a genuine smile back, just a nervous half smile. And he noticed. “Whoa, what’s up?” He put his hand on yours that rested in your lap and you flinched a little from him, like his had was made of hot coals. He held his hands up, staring at you with wide bunny eyes like you’d trodden on his tail.

“S-sorry, bit jumpy today I guess…” Smooth, _______. Real smooth. “Nightmare last night,” you lied.

“Oh, I’m sorry… need a hug?” he opened his arms to you and of course, you couldn’t say no to that. So you shuffled along the bench of the amphitheatre and slotted into his arms, curled up in a little ball and tensing up as soon as his arms wrapped around you and hugged you to his chest. You weren’t sure if he could tell you were tensed up or not, but to you it was painfully obvious.

“Alright class, we have assignment marks to discuss!” your professor started his talk, and Jungkook reluctantly let go of you, letting you straighten up and open your laptop to take down your notes. But he kept his eye on you the whole time, watching with concern at your sudden stiff manor around him. Had he done something wrong?

*****

“Taehyung it’s been three days and I don’t know how to act around him anymore! Help me. You did this. You fix this,” you paced in front of his little desk in the student union, where he spent Thursday afternoons working.

“Uh, this isn’t my fault. You could ha-“ You lost your cool, dramatically slamming your hands down on his desk and leaning down to be eye level with him. He shut up immediately.

“Fix. It,” you demanded.

“Okay, okay… Uh, there’s a party tomorrow right? Jin’s party? At the fraternity?” he scrambled for ideas.

“Oh no, tell me you’re not serious. No, this is like some cheesy Netflix teen movie or something,” you groaned, pushing off his desk and pacing yet again.

“Yeah well it’s the best I’ve got, okay? So just… I don’t know, ask him to dance, get him a drink, take him to one side, talk to him. If it goes wrong, blame it on the alcohol. Yes, it’s a cliché. But clichés are clichés for a reason,” he tried to convince you, and unfortunately, it was starting to work…

“If this backfires, I’m holding you solely responsible,” you warned, pointing your finger accusingly.

“Okay, yes, fine, whatever,” he shook you off, turning his attention back to the calendar of student activities that he’d been working on for this semester. “You should wear that black dress, the one with the mesh layer. He likes that one.” Just how much info did Taehyung have on Jungkook’s little crush on you?

“Oh for god’s sake,” you rolled your eyes and grabbed your bag, stomping back to the cafeteria to find Namjoon or Jimin; anyone but your infuriating best friend.

*****

“I’m telling you, the dress was the right choice,” Tae tried to convince you as he escorted you the few blocks to the campus where the frat house was. Your arm was linked with his as if you were a couple from the 50’s on a stroll along the beach; very typical Tae.

“And how is it you know so much about which of my dresses Jungkook likes the most?” you asked suspiciously.

“Well last time you wore this was when we all met up in summer right? And we went to that club? He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He turned to me and said, ‘she looks good tonight, right?’ I just agreed and let him carry on staring while you danced with Hobi and Yoongi.”

“Oh, is Yoongi coming tonight? I miss him!” your attention was diverted to the friend who had decided college wasn’t for him, and he was going to pursue a career in DJing instead.

“Yeah he’s bringing his decks, you know how he is.” Indeed you did; always had a decent mix for any kind of party.

Turning the corner to head down the street of sororities and fraternities, you could already hear the bass from Yoongi’s speakers blaring and lights flashing in the large bay window at the front of the house. Already in full swing, then.

Inside, the whole ground floor was littered with bodies all drinking and dancing already. Looking around, you could see a few people you knew, but none of your closer friends just yet. Only Yoongi, set up with his decks in the corner of the large living room. You dragged Tae over to him first.

“Hey _____! How’s life?” he yelled over the music, putting an arm around you for a side hug and lightly bumping fists with Tae, beer in hand.

“Good, good. Seen any of the others yet?”

“Uh, Jin was setting up a keg in the other room, with the pool table in? Namjoon was with him. No idea about the others.” He took a gulp of beer, fiddling with some buttons in front of him. “Here,” he yelled, hitting the top of a bottle of beer on the edge of his mixing desk to get the cap off, handing it to you.

“Thanks! I’m gonna go find the others, say hi.”

“Alright doll, come dance later okay? I’ll play that mix I made for your birthday,” he smiled his adorable gummy smile, patting your elbow lightly and turning back to his decks, holding his headphones to his ear as he bobbed his head to the heavy bass.

Tae stuck by Yoongi’s side, catching up on lost time with him. Tae was fond of Yoongi, looked up to him like a big brother he rarely got to see. You made your way through the hordes of students into the room you expected to find Jin, and low and behold there he was feeding Namjoon from the keg. Whilst you were glad to see them, that wasn’t who you wanted to find… You wanted to find Jungkook.

“Save some for the rest, Joon!” you laughed as he held the end of the pipe.

“_____! You made it!” he cheered, hugging you with his free arm.

“Have I ever missed one of these?” you laughed, comfortably tucked under his arm and playfully hitting his chest.

“Touché,” he grinned.

“You guys seen Kookie?” you asked, trying to seem casual. The pair just smiled to each other, thinking you weren’t in on the joke still.

“Kitchen, I think. But have a drink with us first, he’s gonna be around somewhere. Pay attention to us,” Jin whined, clearly making fun of you again. You didn’t even argue, taking a few gulps of the beer Yoongi had handed to you. You chatted to them for a while, joining in with the chants and cheers of people brave enough to do keg stands with Jin, at least until your drink was empty, and you had an excuse to leave and find Jungkook.

The kitchen had people in too, same as every other room and the room was only lit by the flashing lights of the living room. You spotted Jungkook on the other side of the room, leaning against the worktop with a beer in one hand and his phone in the other. He was alone, a perfect opportunity to get him out into the yard, or somewhere quieter at least.

He looked so good tonight… Wet look black jeans clinging to his muscular thighs, a black shirt with red dots all over tucked into them, a few buttons undone. Necklaces dangling against the exposed skin at the top of his chest, hair down and flowing freely, showing off just how long it really had become. And his sleeves were short, showing off his new ink properly for the first time… There was no denying the attraction you felt to him anymore, that was for sure.

The same butterflies you’d been feeling around him all week were rising, frantically fluttering against your stomach as heat rose to your cheeks. You hadn’t even noticed you yet, but you could feel your hands getting sweatier.

But you could do this. It was Jungkook. Even if he really didn’t feel the same way, he would never be cruel about it, never laugh at you or yell at you. You had nothing to be afraid of. It would hurt if he didn’t want you, but your friendship would survive; you knew it.

He briefly looked up from his phone, eyes finding you. Immediately, his body stood upright, sending you an awkward smile; that was your fault. You’d been acting weird all week, ever since your epiphany with Taehyung. But you smiled back, trying to look as natural as possible.

You lifted your empty beer bottle and mouthed ‘want one?’ at him, to which he nodded. You smiled and headed to the large fridge freezer, picking out two bottles for the both of you, but when you turned back, you almost dropped them both to the ground…

A girl had wondered up to Jungkook, a prettier, popular girl from one of the sororities. She’d snatched his attention away, playfully touching his hair and tracing his tattoos with her delicate fingers. She leaned into him, her lips devilishly close to his ear. She was clearly whispering something flirty to him, his eyes widening a little and his cheeks turning pink. And then she started to nibble at his earlobe…

You caught his gaze again for a second, and his eyes widened even more. Could he see the shock on your face? The tears brimming in your eyes and blurring your vision? Could he see your knuckles turning white against the necks of the bottles in your hands?

You couldn’t watch any more, putting the bottles down on the kitchen island in front of you and hastily exiting the kitchen with hot tears starting to spill. You were gonna do it, you really were. But who were you kidding? The sight of another pretty girl, a prettier girl, was all it took to divert his attention. Tae had been wrong; he must have been.

You didn’t feel much like partying anymore…

Without stopping, you walked straight to the front door and out onto the street, disappearing from the party without so much as a wave to any of the others. You hadn’t even seen Jimin or Hoseok yet, but you didn’t care. You needed to get out, to go home. To be alone and sob to your heart’s content.

The air outside was cold, biting at your skin as you stumbled the few blocks home, wiping your cheeks and trying to hold it together until you were safely in the confides of your own home. It didn’t take long, and before you knew it you were stumbling up the stairs in your ankle boots and struggling to fit the key in the door.

You shut it behind you and leaned against it, hitting your head on the wood and freely letting the tears and the sobs rattle through you. How stupid you felt, how naïve… You just got used to the idea you had feelings for him, how dare the universe now give you heartbreak just a few days later. What kind of bullshit karma crap was that?!

You let yourself sob against the door for a moment as you found some composure, enough to realise you just wanted to get into some comfy sweats and a hoodie and eat whatever crap you could find in your refrigerator. You didn’t stop the tears but took a few steps further into your apartment, when some loud knocks rang out on the door behind you.

You jumped a little, startled by the noise and furiously started wiping the tears away. Taehyung must have seen you leave, must have followed you home to comfort you knowing that it hadn’t gone well with Jungkook. He’d feel so awful, probably blame himself for getting your hopes up or something. But he’d have the warm hugs you needed right now.

But then, Taehyung lived here. Why would he be knocking?

You stepped towards the door and opened it slightly, peaking through the crack so see who had been rasping on the wood moments before.

As if the world was playing some sick joke on you, Jungkook was stood there, his face looking sad and his fingers fiddling with each other.

What you hadn’t seen, was the way he stopped that girl at the party as soon as he saw the look on your face, as soon as he saw you dump the beers and turn. He saw the look on your face, and suddenly it had all clicked into place for him. You liked him too. And his heart had dropped into his stomach. He tried to follow you, getting stuck behind a couple of the jocks from the neighbouring frat house, and tailing behind you trying to shout your name over the heavy bass of Yoongi’s mix.

The second he saw your reddened eyes he stepped forward, pushing his way into the apartment, giving the door a kick shut behind him and cupping your jaw in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe your tears away. He smiled weakly at you, already aware that it was his fault you were crying, his fault you had left.

“Hey, you,” he said softly, his tone so affectionate, so worried and full of care as he looked into your eyes. They brimmed again at his words; they just sounded so sweet coming from him, like you were the only person in the whole world he’d want to say hello to at all.

But you stood frozen, biting down on your lip to stop a sob from erupting from your throat. All you could do was look up at him, his hands holding your face up towards him as his thumbs stroked over your cheeks. His eyes were searching yours in the silence, like he was trying to find confirmation or a sign or something, but you just weren’t sure.

But before you could even try to compose yourself enough to speak, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours so softly, so cautiously, lingering for a second and waiting for you to push him away, to slap him or scream at him for getting the wrong idea – but he hadn’t and you both knew that.

So when he parted from your lips and looked back down at you, he saw your small smile, the tears spilling yet again, the deep breaths you were taking. In such close proximity, he could practically hear your heart threatening to beat out of your chest and feel the way your cheeks had heated up under his hands.

And he couldn’t deny himself anymore.

He leaned in again, this time with more purpose, more aggression, his lips crashing with yours only this time you were ready for him, matching his desperation, his urgency. Your hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer. You couldn’t seem to get close enough, not even when your chest pressed against his.

Finally, after months of unrecognised feelings towards him, Jungkook was here and he wanted you. You didn’t care about anything else, couldn’t focus on anything else but the way his lips felt against yours, the way his hair felt silky soft brushing up against your forehead.

His hands slid into your hair, fingertips grazing over your scalp and adding a layer of bliss to the way he kissed you. One of your hands slip up his chest and wrapped around his neck to draw him in even more. He groaned against your lips, and if the stirring in your chest was anything to go by, you knew where you wanted this to go.

You just wanted him.

Without disconnecting your kiss, you stumbled backwards, dragging him with you through the hall of your small apartment. You stumbled together, your back hitting your bedroom door as his hand flew out to turn the doorknob for you. The pair of you shuffled into your room, Jungkook kicking the door shut once again.

His hands dropped from your hair and flew to his shirt buttons, hastily undoing them one by one as you took the opportunity to separate from your kiss to undo the zip at the side of your dress and shuffle out of the mesh over-layer and the straps of the black dress underneath. You pushed it down around your waist, breasts still hidden from view by the black bra you’d worn that evening.

Jungkook flung the shirt from his body, immediately stepping towards you again to grip your bare waist in his hands and reconnect your lips fiercely. Both your arms wrapped around his neck and you pulled him towards you as you stepped further and further back, until the backs of your knees hit your bed and you tumbled backwards with him still locked on your kiss.

Everything was happening fast, everything was heated and desperate but after so long denying your feelings for him – and unbeknownst to you, him denying his feelings for you too – you felt like there was just no time to waste.

His lips found their way to your jawline, kissing and nipping at the skin from under your ear down to your chin, and continuing down your throat. He took his time, his hands working through your hair again as you moaned under his assault on your neck. It felt so good – he felt so good. You couldn’t help your hands reaching between you both to unbuckle the belt holding his jeans up, making light work of the button and zipper soon after. You could already feel the large bulge formed in the now open crotch of his jeans, and it stirred a heat between your legs that had already been steadily building.

Jungkook’s lips travelled further down, between the valley of your breasts to mouth and bite and suckle at the fullness on display above the cup of your bra. He reached underneath you to unclasp it, while you worked the straps down and threw it to one side. His mouth immediately latched onto your nipple, his hand massaging the other as he tweaked and flicked the nub over and over again.

Your moans sounded obscene, breathy and whiny under the pleasure he was giving you. You couldn’t help the way your hips rolled up to grind against the prominent bulge you’d uncovered earlier; you needed some kind of friction now that the uncomfortable sticky feeling in your panties was only worsening.

No words were exchanged at all – and certainly no time wasted on teasing you – as the hand on your breast slid between you both and pulled the remnants of the mesh dress and the tight underdress down, both of you kicking it off to let it land in a pile at the bottom of the bed. His waist slotted neatly between your thighs and his hand cupped your sex, middle finger toying with the wet lace of the underwear you had on.

“Oh, Jungkook…” you whined, breathless and lost in the bliss of both his mouth working your breasts and his hand dipping past the lace to swirl around your throbbing clit. Hearing you whine his name was something he’d admit to only dreaming about in the past, his brain daring him to think of all the things he wanted to do with you, all the ways he could make you create that exact sound for him over and over again. It was music to his ears.

It only seemed to rile him up further, fingers moving faster and expertly toying with your clit just a little more, until he slid them down to circle your entrance and slowly push two inside you. The stretch felt magnificent, and by this stage you were already turned on enough to be able to take both with no issues.

Jungkook groaned against your breast, a wave of arousal pulsing through his veins at the way you felt on his fingers, imagining with absolute clarity just how you’d feel on his cock too. He curled his fingers and hit your g-spot with each downward stroke of his hand, having you thread your hands in his hair in desperation to grip onto something, anything.

“P-please, Kookie… Need you,” you panted, begging to feel him completely, to be totally immersed in the pleasure of him and him alone. How could he deny you of that?

He sat up on his knees immediately, pushing his jeans and boxers down to his knees and swivelling his hips to sit enough to push them off along with his black Chelsea boots. You kicked your shoes off as he did, shuffling yourself out of your panties and leaving you both totally exposed to each other.

He took a moment to turn his head back to you, to look into your eyes properly and just admire how you looked right now. Your hair was messed up, matted to your forehead with sweat much like his was. You had dark rims under your eyes where your make up had pooled from your tears and streaks in your foundation to match. Your neck was red and in places, a little bruised from his own handiwork. And he had never, ever thought you looked so beautiful.

His expression twisted into a smile, his eyes squinting and his bunny teeth gleaming in the low light of the street coming in through the window. It was all you could do to smile back, resting on your hands as he slowly crept up the bed towards you, the happiness exuding from both of you, the knowing relief you shared with each other. You parted your legs for him to slot between, letting him hover over you and slowly lean in for another deep kiss.

You lay back down, Jungkook following to never once break your connection. His hands roamed from your thighs up to your waist, holding onto you as your lips moving in perfect unison, slower than before but still incredibly heated. You’d never been kissed like this, never been held like this or touched like this. He was making every single touch count.

You rolled your hips up against him again – a sure signal that you were ready, you wanted him – and felt his rigid length brush against your folds. Reaching between you both, Jungkook gripped himself at the base and slowly, began to push inside you. Your kiss separated just barely for him to groan in absolute gratification, lips just barely grazing yours. He pressed his forehead with yours and shut his eyes, revelling in the way you felt.

There was no denying his girth, and yet still there was no pain or discomfort to be felt. He eased himself in slowly, gave you a chance to adjust, and as soon as you started to kiss him once again his hips began to rock.

His hair fell into his eyes, descending past his ears and doused in a light layer of sweat from the heat inside your small bedroom. The pendants and necklaces he had worn that night dangled above you, swaying backwards and forward with each thrust he made. His freshly healed tattoos were now on full display to you, and you could help but to reach out and touch them.

Each thrust just felt like it was meant to be, like he was supposed to fill you this way, you were supposed to fit together like pieces of a jigsaw. You reached up to tuck his hair behind his ear, showing more of his face to you. In the dim streetlight, he looked so perfect, so absolutely stunning as he clearly became consumed by nothing other than you. You placed a hand flat against his chest, wrapping the other around his neck and bringing his lips closer to you so you could reach up for them again.

As your bodies writhed against each other, moan after moan escaping you both and being muffled by intermittent kisses, you knew right then that this was exactly how it should be. You loved him. And he loved you.

“K-Kookie?” you stuttered your voice a higher pitch than usual. His thrusts were become more dynamic with every passing second, and yet never speeding past a pleasurable roll of his hips. He struggled to open his eyes and tear himself about from his paradise, but he did so, looking down into your eyes.

“Y-yeah, baby?” he huffed, his breath laboured and voice stifling another groan. He pressed his forehead to yours for stability, keeping his hazy eyes on yours.

“I… I love you, Kookie…” you cried against his lips, another tear escaping down the side of you face. He smiled then; an out of breath, exhausted and relieved kind of smile as he continued to roll his hips into you, having you whimpering as your bit down on your lip.

“I love you too, ____…” he grinned, his eyes fluttering closed, “Oh, fuck, I love you so much.”

You threaded your hands in his hair again, bringing his lips up to yours and colliding them in potentially the most passionate kiss of your damn life, moans and whimpers included. His hand slid between you, fingertips concentrating on coaxing a delightful and euphoric orgasm out of you with targeted strokes to your clit.

With a new level of ungodly satisfaction, you couldn’t control your lips anymore and broke the kiss, just holding him close to you with parted lips and moaning wantonly as your eyes rolled back. You’d never felt an orgasm approach so fast in all your life, never felt it hit you the way this did.

Your legs spasmed and shook in his grasp, hands tightening in his hair. Your moans caught in your throat, unable to move while every muscle contracted. You couldn’t be sure of it in the moment, but Jungkook sure noticed the way you clenched and gushed around him as you came. And with each contraction dragging against his length inside you and you finally delivering a loud and high pitched moan, you brought him to his edge too.

His hips slowed and stuttered as hot spurts of cum painted your walls, more than he ever had before. He tried to keep rolling his hips, to get every last bit of pleasure he could before exhaustion took over and he collapsed next to you, head buried in the crook of your neck and chest half laying on you.

Both of you were utterly drained of energy, breaths heavy and hot against the other’s bare skin. It felt incredible. It felt perfect. It felt just as it should.

It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours that passed by, both of you simply becoming comfortable laying in a heap of sweaty nudity – you simply didn’t care. You had Jungkook now, right here with you. And he loved you.

You weren’t sure of the time, nor did you mind, but the two of you fell asleep laid together that night. Jungkook had rolled onto his back, dragging you onto his chest and pulling the messy sheet up to cover you both. With one final drawn out kiss, the pair of you lay in peaceful contentment and drifted off.

*****

Next morning, you awoke to the sun streaming directly into your eyes; you hadn’t closed the drapes last night. Your groaned and turned away from it, stretching your limbs out onto the rest of the empty bed, and- wait, empty? No, no… Had you… had you dreamt your night with Jungkook? Had he left without a word? Did he regret what had happened?

You sat upright, clutching the sheets to your chest. You were still nude, your clothes still strewn about the place; but Jungkook’s were gone.

He must have just decided to leave.

A knock on your bedroom door drew your attention away from your sadness, and a rather smug looking Taehyung wondered in before you had the chance to turn him away. He sat at the end of your bed with his arms folded and a smile you grimaced at in disgust.

“Mooooooornin’,” he teased. You wanted to kick him off the bed.

“Shut up,” you groaned.

“See? Told you he liked you! Can’t tell me that that wasn’t Jungkook I saw you naked-cuddling with when I got in last night,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Yeah, well I hope he had fun. He’s done a runner this morning,” you accused. Taehyung was about to object, when a key jingling by your front door sounded, the door opened and closed, and footsteps drew closer down the hallway. And then who should come into view, but none other than Jeon Jungkook sporting the outfit he had on last night and brandishing a brown paper bag with some rather ominous grease stains on, and two hot coffees in a holder. He must have stolen one of your hair ties, because most of his locks were back in a bun again save for the front pieces parted in the middle.

His face looked a picture; the deer in headlights cliché. His wide eyes darted between you and Tae, and all Tae did was smirk at you.

“Go away, Taehyung,” you flatlined, shooing him with a foot to his leg. He held his hands up in defeat and stood, walking past Jungkook and out into the hall.

Jungkook snapped out of his shock and confusion to put the coffees on your nightstand and the bag next to it. He sat down on the edge, turning slightly to face you.

“Hey, you,” he smiled, his eyes soft and adoring. He tucked a strand of your bed hair behind your ear, leaning forward to place a kiss to your forehead. You tucked your knees to your chest and smiled shyly.

“Thought you’d done a runner,” you joked.

“Could never do that to you. Just wanted to get you breakfast in bed; least I can do for making you think I was flirting with one of the sorority girls.”

“Oh, no it’s okay… I just…. Yeah, I don’t know,” you laughed at yourself, feeling pretty stupid for not even giving him a chance to push her away before you jumped to conclusions.

“Hey,” he said softly, shuffling closer to you. “I, uh… I haven’t even looked at another girl since I met you, _____. Never wanted to, I never noticed anyone but you…” he confessed, shyly looking down at a spec of fluff on your sheets.

“I can’t believe I had no idea… I didn’t even realise I liked you like that until Taehyung kinda let it slip…” you chuckled, fiddling with the ends of his hair dangling in his eyes.

“You’re welcome!” you heard Tae shout from the kitchen, clearly eavesdropping with your door still wide open. Jungkook stood up to shut it, just a little harder than average in response to Tae’s mischievous meddling and then came and sat back down beside you.

“Well, we have some lost time to make up for, then,” he smiled, leaning in for a gentle and purely loving kiss, lingering a few moments, just enjoying finally having each other. You pulled apart with a shy giggle. “But first, breakfast!” He leaned over to pick up the bag, unpacking the bagels and hash browns he’d picked up from the diner around the corner.

You watched him, just how cute and attentive he was being with you. He was the same Jungkook, always had been this way with you. But now, you knew why, and it all made sense. It all fit together.

“Yes, breakfast.”

177 notes · View notes

bakuroo-writings · 3 years

Text

Summaries and links below the cut!

Bakugou Katsuki - Last Christmas

❄ Six months after dating Bakugou Katsuki, you tell him you love on Christmas Eve. His response? To break up with you. Fast forward one year, Bakugou feels like something is missing. When he figures out that you’re why it’s a little less merry this year, can he get you back?

Kuroo Tetsurou - Christmases When You Were Mine

❄ As you and Kuroo reminisce on your long since ended relationship, you both realize how much you miss each other. Will Christmas be a time of reconnecting or is it too late?

Ukai Keishin - In Love on Christmas

❄ When picking out a tree with your family, the last thing you expected was to be abandoned and have to get it on top of your car by yourself. So what’s a girl to do? Ask the nearest stranger for help, of course. And the nearest stranger just so happens to be a delicious looking blonde. Will fate show up to help two single strangers be in love on Christmas?

Bokuto Koutarou - I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

❄ Every year, your husband dresses up as Santa Claus for your twins, who always try - and fail - to catch a glimpse of Santa. So what happens the morning after when they’re finally successful - only for them to see Santa kiss their mother?

Shinsou Hitoshi - The Only Gift

❄ Spending a silent night with your long term boyfriend on Christmas Eve is exactly what you planned. What you didn’t plan was a heart to heart about the future but life has a magical way of working out sometimes. By Christmas night, Shinsou knows he got the only gift he ever needed.

Todoroki Shouto - Let It Snow

❄ Stuck at the airport on Christmas Eve, due to heavy snowfall, you figured getting a hotel room was better than sleeping on an uncomfortable plastic chair. It would be just your luck, however, that all the rooms are taken and the only offer you have is sharing a hotel suite with your ex. With snow still falling outside and a warm, roaring fire inside, old feelings resurface and you just might get answers for him abruptly ending the relationship. . . and maybe a kiss goodnight?

Akaashi Keiji - Kiss Me at Midnight

❄ Tired of attending boring holiday parties alone, you ask your best friend, shockingly dateless for the holidays for once, to be your plus one. You drink, you dance, you be merry. Not having anyone to wake up early for, you two have all night to party. Basking in the holiday lights, you can’t help but think that Christmas day is the best time to admit your feelings. Will you be gifted a midnight kiss?

Iwaizumi Hajime - I'll be Home for Christmas

❄ Being truly alone on Christmas for the first time, you’re feeling more bah humbug than festive leads to think of the only person left that you actually consider family, Iwaizumi Hajime. Or, at least, you used to think of him like that until college. Resigning yourself to the fact that all your future Christmases will be alone, it seems that Santa - or maybe fate - has a different idea.

Aizawa Shouta - Under the Tree

❄ Aizawa was never big on Christmas. He doesn’t need parties or presents or traditions or even decorations. But, with you by his side, he loves making cookies, even when it results with flour all over the kitchen. He loves when you press kisses against his cheek, even when it results with a sticky mess from the half-finished candy cane in your hand. Aizawa still isn’t big on Christmas but, since you, it’s been a little sweeter. And all he needs is you under the tree.

Tendou Satori - Santa Baby

❄ As a chocolatier, Tendou can’t buy you a light blue convertible or a yacht. And that’s okay because you’ve never needed expensive things; you just needed your Santa Baby. As he watches you trim the tree with your Christmas decorations, he knows that there's one thing he can check off your Christmas list.

Kuroo Tetsurou - Walking in a Winter Wonderland

❄ Having dated Kuroo for years, you often get asked the same question: “Are you two married?” Every time, the answer is a light laugh followed by a “no” and both of those remain true as you both stroll, hand in hand, down the snowy park by your mountain cabin for this Christmas getaway. Spending the day in a winter wonderland, Kuroo just might be hoping to change the answer to the question.

Bakugou Katsuki - Merry Christmas, Kiss my Ass

❄ Bakugou Katsuki hates Christmas. Having the Christmas holiday tainted by his ex. Whirlwind summer romance turned into Bakugou being played and left heartbroken. Well, maybe, not heartbroken, but he’s definitely not happy at the turn of events. Can a chance encounter turn his “merry christmas, kiss my ass” to something else?

Bonus days:

Tanaka Ryunosuke feat. Nishinoya Yuu - I Won't be Home for Christmas

Daishou Suguru x reader - Bring the Snow

Dabi x reader - An Unexpected Gift

Sugawara Koushi x reader - Marshmallow Kisses

Kenma Kozume x reader - Christmas Gamer

All writings belong to bakuroo-writings (2020).

#12 days of fluffmas #haikyuu x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #kuroo x reader #ukai x reader #Bokuto x reader #shinsou x reader #todoroki x reader #akaashi x reader #iwaizumi x reader #Aizawa x reader #tendou x reader #tanaka ryunosuke #nishinoya yuu #daishou x reader #sugawara x reader #kenma x reader

91 notes · View notes

rhosyn-du · 3 years

Text

Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter Five

Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings Rating: Explicit Art: @cor321 Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire. Link: AO3 , Tumblr Master Post

Chapter Five

Jace worried that things would be weird when they got back home. He and Simon hadn’t spoken since New Year’s. He’d thought about texting, had in fact written and deleted at least a dozen texts over the next three days, but he never actually sent one. After all, Simon was the one who left without a word, and Jace wasn’t the kind of guy who chased after a hookup who wasn’t interested.

But when he finally got back to the apartment, it wasn’t weird at all.

He arrived home late afternoon the day before classes were due to start again to find Simon and Maia on the couch playing Overcooked. Simon glanced away from the game just long enough to tell Jace there was pizza in the kitchen if he wanted some, and that was it. The three of them spent the rest of the evening gaming, Simon acting like nothing at all had happened and Jace trying to convince himself that it didn’t bother him in the slightest. If Maia noticed anything, she didn’t let on.

The beginning of the new term was busy enough that they didn’t see each other much over the next few days, and Jace threw himself into his new classes with an enthusiasm he usually reserved for more hedonistic pursuits. Thursday night found him at his desk, deeply immersed in his world history reading. He was in the middle of a very dry passage on the Byzantine-Norman wars when he heard a light knock on his bedroom door.

“What is it?” he answered, not looking up from his book.

“Hey,” Simon said, opening the door. “I was just wondering what you were doing tonight.”

Jace looked up from his book only to have his brain come to a screeching halt. Simon was standing in his doorway, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. A small towel. It was disturbingly reminiscent of that first week living together, when Jace had realized exactly how hot Simon was. Except now he knew what it felt like to touch Simon, to kiss him, knew how he liked to have his dick stroked and the noises he made when he came.

With great effort, Jace snapped his eyes up to Simon’s face. Simon, who was still talking like nothing at all was off about him just strolling into Jace’s bedroom mostly naked.

“Because I don’t have any plans, and I was thinking maybe you might want to do something. You know, if you’re free.”

There were many things Jace wanted to do, all of which involved divesting Simon of that towel.

“Were you planning to put pants on?” Jace was proud of how level he managed to keep his voice.

The look Simon gave him was somewhere between flirtatious and challenging. “Do you want me to?”

He didn’t. He really didn’t, but he also didn’t know what the hell was going on, and while Jace would never say he didn’t knowingly walk headlong into bad choices on a regular basis, he tried not to make the same mistake twice. Three times, tops.

“Simon,” Jace said levelly, “what are you doing?”

“Seducing you?” Simon seemed to deflate a little. “Or, you know, failing to seduce you, apparently.”

“Not exactly failing,” Jace admitted, standing to move closer to Simon, who gave him a tiny, hopeful smile. “But I thought you said this was a mistake.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it,” Simon said, “and maybe I was wrong.”

Hope rose like a cresting wave inside Jace’s chest, and he struggled to keep it from sweeping him away. “I had fun on New Year’s.”

“Me too,” Simon said, taking a tentative step closer. “Like, a lot. And I was thinking, you know, we’re obviously into each other, so maybe it wasn’t a mistake. Wouldn’t be a mistake.”

Jace found himself nodding. This could end in disaster, probably would end in disaster if his life thus far were any indication, but standing here with Simon so close, his smile so bright, Jace thought maybe it was worth the risk.

“I mean, as long as you’re not seeing anyone else,” Simon said quickly, and that rising swell of hope crashed like shattering glass. “Because I don’t really—”

“I get it,” Jace interrupted. He didn’t actually need a detailed explanation of why Simon was only interested in hooking up with him until someone better came along. It was all anyone ever wanted from him, and most of the time it was what he wanted, too. “We’re both hot and single, so as long as neither of us is seeing anyone, there’s no reason we can’t have fun together.”

Simon’s brows furrowed, and for a second Jace worried that he hadn’t managed to hide his disappointment, but then Simon was smiling at him again. “Yeah, of course. That’s exactly what I meant.”

“In that case,” Jace said, taking the last step that put him firmly inside Simon’s personal space, “my answer to your earlier question is no.” When Simon started to frown, he clarified, “I don’t want you to put your pants on.”

“Good,” Simon said, leaning in so that their lips just barely brushed as he spoke, “because I’d much rather take yours off.”

Their mouths met in a kiss that was surprisingly gentle, and Jace had to pull away after only a few seconds because of how much he wanted.

“Do you think we can make it to a bed this time?”

Simon glanced over at Jace’s bed, as though he were seriously contemplating the answer to that question. “I think we can probably manage.”

“Good,” Jace said, catching Simon’s gaze and holding it. “Because I really want to suck you, and you’re not going to be able to stay standing when I do.”

Simon kissed him, hard and fast. “If you keep talking like that, we definitely won’t make it to the bed.”

It took them far longer than it should have to make it across the room, mostly because Simon seemed intent on making sure Jace wasn’t wearing any more than he was by the time they got there, but Jace eventually felt the backs of his knees connect with the edge of the bed and pulled Simon with him as he tumbled into it. They landed in an awkward sprawl, half-laughing into the kiss they refused to break as Jace tugged at the towel that was somehow still knotted around Simon’s waist.

Simon made one of those soft, desperate noises that Jace was quickly becoming addicted to as the towel fell away, and Jace stroked a hand up Simon’s thigh, just high enough to tease. He left it there, unmoving, as he deepened their kiss, licking into Simon’s mouth with intent.

It didn’t take long until Simon’s hips were moving, trying to find friction for his rapidly hardening cock. It took only a few seconds longer for him to realize Jace was doing it on purpose.

“Should’ve known you’d be like this,” Simon said between kisses. “Just as much of a dick in bed as you are everywhere else.”

“Not much of an insult, considering that you like my dick,” Jace answered, finally moving his hand to trail lightly up the length of Simon’s cock, eliciting a shaky gasp. “Consider this payback for coming in here in nothing but a damn towel.”

“Oh, that’s how it’s going to be, huh?”

That was all the warning Jace got before he found himself on his back, hands pinned to the bed above his head, Simon straddling his thighs. He flexed his arms experimentally, determined he probably could get free with enough effort and also that he really didn’t want to.

He cocked an eyebrow at Simon. “What are you going to do with me now that you’ve got me?”

Simon swallowed hard. “So much,” he said seriously. “You said you want to suck me and that works out because I kind of really want your mouth, but first I’m going to show you what happens when you’re a tease.”

“You’re one to talk about teasing. Do you ever bother to take clothes into the bathroom with you when you shower?”

Anything else Jace might have said was lost in a startled gasp as Simon’s mouth closed over his left nipple, a swirl of tongue punctuated by a sharp nip of teeth. Simon repeated the treatment on the right, and it was enough for Jace’s hips to give a tiny, involuntary jerk. Against nothing at all, since Simon was sitting far enough back to keep him from getting any kind of friction.

Jace managed to bite back the frustrated whine that wanted to escape. He wouldn’t give Simon the satisfaction.

“I wasn’t sure you noticed,” Simon said, before returning his attention to Jace’s nipples, and it took Jace several seconds to remember what they were even talking about. When he finally did, he lost any hope he’d had of keeping quiet. Simon had thought about whether Jace was watching him, had maybe wanted Jace to watch him. And that was…that was a lot.

“Fuck,” Jace gasped. His hips were moving again, unable to keep still. “Fuck, Simon.”

“Hmm?” Simon asked innocently as he finally ceased his assault on Jace’s nipples. “Something I can do for you?”

“You could try not being such a—” His words were cut off, lost into the ether with any possibility of coherent thought as Simon’s teeth sank into the skin just beneath his clavicle, hard enough to leave behind a pleasant ache. He wondered if there would be any hint of a mark left by morning. He hoped there would be.

Jace let his head fall back against the bed, baring his neck in invitation. Simon’s hands weren’t pinning his to the bed anymore so much as holding them. Simon seemed happy to take him up on his invitation, worshiping Jace’s neck with tongue and teeth, and finally sucking a deliberate mark into his skin, just above his collarbone, where it wouldn’t be obvious unless he wanted it to be.

“Simon, please.”

“Please, what?” Simon asked, all amused faux-innocence. “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what it is.”

“Want you,” Jace growled, finally breaking free from Simon’s grip to tangle a hand in his hair and drag him into an impatient kiss. Simon kissed back, just as desperate, and made absolutely no protest when Jace pulled their hips together to finally get some friction. The kiss slowed, no less wanting, but a little less frantic as they rocked together.

“You have me,” Simon murmured against his mouth, and Jace shuddered with the weight of those words, with how much he wanted them to mean so much more than Simon intended them. But he did have Simon now, and he was going to make the most of it. Which reminded him that he’d gone into this with a plan.

Simon made a noise of protest when Jace pulled away but quieted immediately as Jace moved down his body, tongue following the line of dark hair that led from his chest down to his belly button. He got distracted there for a minute, tracing the lines of Simon’s abs with his tongue, reveling in the way the skin tensed and relaxed under his mouth.

“What did I tell you about teasing?” Simon asked, breathless.

“Don’t remember,” Jace lied, sliding down so that his breath ghosted over Simon’s cock, making his hips jerk. “But you seem pretty into it.”

He didn’t give Simon the chance to respond, sliding his mouth over Simon’s cock and taking him down to the hilt in one smooth motion, swallowing around the head. It was almost too much, too quick, and Jace had to fight back his gag reflex, but it was totally worth it for Simon’s broken-sounding, “Holy shit.”

Jace backed off, tonguing at Simon’s slit and sucking at the head of his dick before sliding back down, then repeating the pattern. It wasn’t the first time he’d deep-throated a guy, but it wasn’t something he had a ton of practice with either, much as he enjoyed it, and he knew better than to rush himself. It got easier every time he took Simon into the back of his throat, spurred on as he was by Simon’s near-incoherent stream of curses and praise. He lost himself in the sound of Simon’s voice, the weight of him on his tongue, the taste of him as he leaked steadily into his mouth.

After a few minutes, Jace realized that Simon was holding back, thighs trembling with the effort of keeping his hips still, one hand fisted in the sheets beside Jace’s head. Jace pulled off Simon’s cock with an audible ‘pop,’ and Simon’s whole body jerked.

Jace met his eyes. “You don’t have to be gentle with me.”

Simon opened his mouth, closed it again, stunned into silence for once.

To illustrate his point, Jace took Simon’s hand from where it was tangled in the sheets and placed it on his head. “I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Not gentle,” Simon repeated, eyes dark and steady as his hand tightened in Jace’s hair. “I can do that.”

Jace lowered his head back to Simon’s dick, never breaking eye contact, letting the head just rest against his parted lips. Simon gave a shallow, experimental thrust, and Jace moaned around him, relaxing his throat so he could take him deeper. Simon thrust again, and Jace let his eyes flutter closed as Simon began to fuck his mouth in earnest.

“Fuck,” Simon panted. “Do you even know…know what you look like right now? Like, you’re always hot, but this is just…fuck. Wish you could see yourself. Wish I could have you like this all the time, except…except I’m definitely not going to last that long, and you’re just. Fuck, Jace, you’re perfect.”

Jace would have been embarrassed by the noise he made at Simon’s words, except that Simon seemed very into it, thrusts picking up speed as he continued in a broken voice, “Oh god, you— So good. I can’t— Shit. Your mouth—”

With a half-voiced gasp that might have been Jace’s name, Simon thrust deep one last time and came in hot spurts down Jace’s throat. Jace swallowed it all, dizzy from arousal and lack of air. He didn’t think he’d ever been this turned on in his life.

And then Simon was tugging Jace up by his hair, kissing him hard and deep like he couldn’t get enough of the taste of himself in Jace’s mouth.

“Perfect,” Simon repeated as his hand closed around Jace’s cock, and all Jace could do was hold onto him and make desperate noises that he would absolutely deny later into Simon’s mouth as Simon expertly jerked him off. It would have been embarrassing how quickly he came, except that Jace was beyond embarrassment, beyond anything but the feel of Simon’s hand, his body, his mouth.

After, they lay together a while longer, exchanging lazy kisses until it became so much that Jace had to pull away. He couldn’t let himself get used to this.

Simon watched him, that tiny thoughtful furrow that Jace found so endearing forming between his brows. When he opened his mouth to speak, Jace cut him off.

“I was thinking, if we order Chinese now, we’ll have just enough time to wash up before it gets here. And after, I want to ride you until you can’t remember anything but my name.”

“I…” Simon blinked at him. “I think I am literally incapable of turning that down.”

“Cool.” Jace rolled off the bed, refusing to look back at Simon, all sex-tousled and sweaty in his bed. “I’ll grab the takeout menu.”

~~~

The Hunter’s Moon was busy for a Tuesday night. Not packed like it would be on the weekend, but definitely more than the usual crowd. Rock Solid Panda wasn’t a big enough name to draw a huge audience, but it was clear they were finally starting to make a name for themselves. It probably helped that they’d finally decided on and stuck with a name for more than two gigs.

Maia was working tonight, and Jace joined Lily and Bat at the bar so they could chat with her when she wasn’t too busy with other customers. It was the first time they’d all hung out together since they got back from break, and Jace had been both looking forward to and dreading the show. Looking forward to it because, despite anything he might say to the contrary, he’d actually kind of missed his friends. Dreading it because his friends knew him, knew Simon, and he really didn’t want to have the conversation he knew would happen if they figured out he and Simon were sleeping together. He wasn’t sure which would be worse, them making the same assumption they had in the coffee shop, that he and Simon were actually together, or them recognizing what was actually going on and knowing that Simon could so much better than Jace, realizing that Jace was willing to take whatever Simon would give him.

“You starting with beer or vodka tonight?” Maia asked as he slid onto a stool.

“Beer,” Jace answered. “I’ve got eight a.m. Latin this semester.”

“I don’t know what’s worse,” Lily told him, “that you insist on studying a dead language for fun, that you’re willing to be in class at eight in the morning to do it, or that you’re letting it keep you from getting properly drunk at your best friend’s show.”

“I took Latin in high school, and it just makes sense to stick with it for my language requirement, and Simon isn’t my best friend.”

“Oh, sorry,” Lily said, “your fake boyfriend’s show. Speaking of, seems like none of us has won that bet, yet. I’m impressed.” She looked up at Maia, who set a frothing pint in front of Jace. “Unless you’ve been holding out on us, Roberts.”

“Nope,” Maia said, shaking her head. “They both made it through the entire break without my assistance.”

“We’re proud of you, buddy,” Bat said, patting his shoulder.

“Oh, fuck off,” Jace said. “We were fine. Minimal family drama, and Simon charmed the hell out of my entire family.”

Maia’s eyebrows climbed almost to her hairline. “Even Maryse?” She’d never actually met Jace’s adoptive mother, but she’d heard more than her share of stories.

“Even Maryse,” Jace confirmed. “I think starting dating again has mellowed her out a little.”

At Lily’s prompting, Jace gave an abbreviated—and entirely sanitized—rundown of his visit home. Maia gave him an odd look when he mentioned Magnus’s party, but she didn’t say anything. Jace brushed it off, but it left him with an unsettled feeling.

“Hey, you,” Maia said to someone behind them just as Jace was finishing up his story.

“Hey,” Simon said. Jace could hear the smile in his voice even before he spun around to face him. “We just finished setting up and wanted to come say hi before we start our set. Becky says ‘hi back,’ by the way,” he told Maia.

“Did she say anything else?” Maia asked hopefully.

“Nope,” Simon said. “Well, she told me to stop being dumb when I suggested she, you know, actually talk to you. You guys know that’s an option, right? Talking to each other directly?”

Maia ignored him, turning to Maureen. “Excited about the big show?”

“Holy shit, you guys,” Maureen said, her own smile tempered by just a hint of panic, “there are so many people here.”

“Yeah, because you guys are awesome,” Maia said. “Seriously, you deserve this.”

“It’s true,” Lily said. “I don’t even like indie rock normally, but you guys are alright.”

“Ooh, ‘alright,’” Simon repeated archly. “High praise from the great Lily Chen.”

“And you better bask in it,” Lily told him. “It’s a shame you didn’t get here a little sooner. You just missed Jace telling us all about your New Year’s adventure.”

Simon’s eyebrows shot up. “Wh-what?” He threw a panicked look at Jace, who could only give a tiny head shake.

“Yeah,” Bat said. “We heard you got your ass kicked at Land Mines.”

“We lost by one shot!” Simon protested, visibly relaxing despite his scowl.

“Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades,” Jace told him, smirking.

“Really,” Simon said, turning to look at Jace with a calm intensity that Jace had gotten to know very well over the past several days, one that had his dick twitching with interest. “I’ll remember that.”

“Let me know if you need a reminder,” Jace said, leaning back against the bar. He saw Simon’s eyes flick to his collarbone, where the fading mark he’d left was just visible above the open collar of Jace’s shirt. It was light enough now that no one looking at it would know what it was at a glance, but Jace knew. And more importantly, Simon knew.

“I don’t think I’m the one who needs a reminder,” Simon said, and Jace had to actively suppress a shiver.

“Anyway,” Maureen said pointedly, giving them both a dubious look, “we should probably get back on stage. We’re on in five minutes.”

“Right,” Simon said, tearing his gaze away from Jace. “Playing music. That thing that we’re doing in front of, wow, so many people.” His grin was back as he looked at Maureen. “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit!” she agreed, pulling him toward the stage.

“I’d ask what that was about,” Lily said, “but I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Jace said, sipping his beer nonchalantly.

“Wow,” Bat said. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re kind of a shitty liar?”

“If Jace had to explain every time he did something weird, he’d never stop talking,” Maia said, and Jace wasn’t sure whether to be offended or grateful. He was saved from having to decide by Simon stepping up to the mic and introducing the band.

Rock Solid Panda’s set was mostly music Jace knew, mostly their early songs with a few covers thrown in. As they played, Jace found himself paying less attention to the music and more to the way Simon’s hands moved as he played, the way he lost himself in the music. It wasn’t the first time Jace had found himself watching Simon, but it was the first time he let himself keep doing it.

“So, this last song is new,” Simon said. Over the course of their set, the crowd had gone quiet. “I just finished writing it a few days ago, and we’ve only played it a couple times in practice, so it might be a little rough. But, um. Well, I hope you like it. This one’s called Random Afternoon.”

As Simon plucked out the opening notes, Jace recognized it as something he’d heard vague snippets of over the past couple weeks, just the guitar line as Simon worked through it in his room. This was the first time he’d heard any of the lyrics, though.

It was a love song. Melodic and melancholic, it spoke of a love that didn’t sweep you off your feet but bloomed in a thousand tiny, mundane moments. A love that started as the faintest flicker and grew to a consuming inferno before you realized you were in danger of getting burned. A love that was wholly unrequited, because those moments didn’t mean the same thing to them as they did to you.

Jace drained the last of his beer, trying to settle the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t jealousy. He didn’t get jealous. It was just a song, and he and Simon weren’t even together really, so even if Simon was harboring feelings for someone he couldn’t have, it wasn’t any of Jace’s business.

He turned to the bar, intending to ask for another drink—something stronger this time, maybe—only to find Maia already there, sliding a glass of water over to him. He raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Don’t be stupid,” she told him, shaking her head like she knew exactly what he was thinking. Maybe she did. She was the only person he’d ever talked to about…any of this. But at least last time she’d given him tequila.

He looked back to the stage, sipping his water and wishing he’d insisted on tequila.

~~~

“Thanks for staying and helping us get all the equipment loaded back in the van,” Simon said when they got back to the apartment several hours later. “You didn’t have to, and I know you’ve got early class tomorrow.”

“It was wholly self-serving,” Jace told him. He still felt unsettled and far too sober. “You would have woken me up when you got home, anyway, and it would have taken you longer without my help.”

“Well, whatever your reasons, I appreciate it,” Simon said. “I still can’t believe so many people showed up.”

“I can,” Jace said, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it over the back of the couch. “You played a good show.”

“You really think so?” Simon looked genuinely surprised, and it only added to Jace’s feeling of disquiet.

“Yeah,” Jace said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. It should have been. Maybe he wasn’t as effusive in his praise as Bat or Maia, but he’d been to basically all of Rock Solid Panda’s shows over the past two years. “You put a lot of yourself into your music.”

As soon as the words were out of Jace’s mouth, he was thinking of the new song Simon had played. Maybe he’d been thinking about it the whole time. From the way Simon froze, Jace knew he’d hit a nerve.

“Sometimes,” Simon said. “But not always,” he added quickly. “Sometimes, I write songs about, like, random thoughts that come into my head, or stuff that’s happened to other people, or, you know, Maureen and I even collaborate on writing sometimes, so some of the songs are hers.” Simon was babbling. He was kind of a terrible liar.

“It was a compliment,” Jace said with an amusement he didn’t feel. “You should learn how to take one.”

“Oh,” Simon said. “Right.” He forced a smile that almost looked genuine. “Thank you.”

Jace shook his head. “I give that a C-plus at best. Come on, you can do better than that.”

“You know what?” Simon said, raising his chin. “I take it back. I shouldn’t be thanking you, because Rock Solid Panda is awesome, and our music is awesome, and you should be complimenting us, like, all the time.”

“That’s more like it,” Jace said, grinning.

“No, now I just sound like you,” Simon said, shaking his head.

“Exactly.” Because I’m awesome and people should be complimenting me all the time.”

Simon gave him an unimpressed look. “Remind me why I’m friends with you again?”

“We literally just went over this,” Jace said, lounging against the wall. “Because I’m awesome and people should—”

“Oh my god, stop talking,” Simon said, but he was obviously fighting back a smile now. “Seriously.”

“You going to make me?” Jace challenged, and this was probably the kind of thing Maia meant when she told him not to be stupid, because he knew now that Simon was in love with someone else. Or hung up on someone, anyway. And Jace was at least honest enough with himself to know that he was just asking to get hurt if he kept having sex with a guy he was maybe into as more than just a friend with benefits who didn’t feel the same way about him.

He was also honest enough with himself to know he was going to do it, anyway.

Simon shook his head. “Nope. That’ll just encourage you.”

“See, you say that.” Jace stretched his arms above his head, very deliberately arching his back and making his shirt ride up to reveal a sliver of skin above the waistband of his jeans. “But this is totally doing it for you.”

“I really kind of hate you sometimes,” Simon said without heat before stalking over and pinning Jace’s still-raised wrists to the wall above his head.

“Oh yeah?” Jace said, rolling his hips shamelessly against Simon’s. “Why don’t you show me how much?”

The kiss was hard and bruising, Simon’s body pressing him into the wall like he was trying to erase every millimeter of space between them. Jace kissed back just as hard, exerting just enough pressure with his arms to make a show of protest, but not nearly enough to break Simon’s hold. Maybe he’d never be the kind of guy Simon wrote love songs about, but like this, he knew what Simon wanted, what he liked, and he planned to give it to him.

They were both breathing hard when Simon broke the kiss to say, “Bedroom, now.”

“Yeah,” Jace agreed, a little dazed.

“Mine, not yours,” Simon added seriously. “I want you in my bed.” He put just a little more pressure on Jace’s wrists before releasing them entirely.

Jace felt like all the air had been punched out of his lungs. They hadn’t actually done anything in Simon’s room. They mostly ended up in Jace’s room, or on the couch, and there had been that one time in the bathroom when they had decisively concluded their shower was not big enough for anything other than getting clean. But never in Simon’s room, and the idea that he wanted Jace there, in his bed, made something inside Jace tremble.

Simon didn’t give him time to dwell on it, kissing him again before turning to walk down the hall toward his room, expecting Jace to follow. Knowing Jace would, probably, because somewhere along the line Jace had apparently lost any ability he once had to say no to Simon.

As soon as he made it to the bedroom, Simon was kissing him again, deep and filthy and full of promise as he quickly and efficiently divested Jace of his shirt and pants.

“Eager,” Jace observed as he kicked free of the pants that had pooled around his ankles, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black boxer-briefs.

“You wanted me to show you how much I hate you,” Simon said. His smile and tone were teasing, but there was something else in his eyes that Jace couldn’t quite identify. “So that’s what I’m doing. Get on the bed.”

Jace made a show of stretching out on the bed, reveling in how Simon followed his every move with his eyes.

“You just planning to look?” he asked when Simon made no move to follow him.

“You kinda deserve it,” Simon said, pulling off his own shirt. “But no.” He kicked off his pants and crawled up the bed until they were face to face, his knees bracketing Jace’s hips. “Because you’re right. This totally does it for me.”

He leaned down to bring their mouths together, and it was slow and gentle in a way Jace wasn’t expecting, wasn’t prepared for, and he felt like he was being unraveled by it, all the loose threads that made up the tangled mess that was Jace being pulled apart by Simon’s lips and tongue and breath.

“Here’s how this is going to go,” Simon told him, mouthing along the skin of his jaw. He took one of Jace’s hands and wrapped his fingers around the slats of the headboard, then did the same with the other hand. “You’re going to keep your hands right here like this, and I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to take it.”

As close as they were, there was no hiding Jace’s full-body shiver at Simon’s words, no hiding just how much he wanted, but he still put on a cocky smile and gave his best shot at seeming unaffected. “Bossy. What makes you think I’m just going to go along with it?”

“Because you like me bossy,” Simon said, running his hands up Jace’s arms from his shoulders to where his hands still gripped the headboard and grinning down at him. “This is totally doing it for you.”

Jace’s denial was cut off by Simon reaching a hand down to cup his cock through his underwear, thumb dragging across fabric wet with pre-come. Jace bucked up into the touch, gasping. His hands stayed where they were.

Simon’s grin was smug as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of Jace’s boxer-briefs and pulled them down and off in a single motion. Jace made a soft noise—half relief, half impatience—as his cock sprang free from its confines to lie hard and leaking against his abdomen.

Simon’s smugness turned to something almost like awe as he sat back on his heels and just looked, and Jace started to feel that unraveling sensation again even as his cock twitched under the weight of Simon’s appreciation.

Jace licked his lips. “If you want me to take it, you’re going to have to give it to me.”

“I’d tell you to be patient, but I know that’s a lost cause,” Simon said, reaching over to grab condoms and lube from his nightstand. This meant leaning over Jace, close enough that Jace could feel the heat of Simon’s body, but still not quite touching. Until Jace rocked his hips up, rutting against Simon’s hip for the few glorious seconds it took Simon to pull back.

Simon sat back on his heels once again, his free hand moving to Jace’s hip and pressing it firmly into the mattress as he gave him an unimpressed look.

Jace smirked back. “I wouldn’t need to be patient if you weren’t taking your damn time about it.”

“You say things like that,” Simon said, uncapping the lube, “but I don’t think you’ve really considered the full implications of what you’re asking for.” He poured some lube out into his palm, coating his hand, before moving the bottle to spill directly onto Jace’s dick.

“Fuck, fuck.” Jace arched off the bed from the unexpected cold, and before he could even find the words to tell Simon what an absolute asshole he was, the cold was replaced with the heat and delicious pressure of Simon’s hand.

“And anyway,” Simon said, continuing to stroke Jace’s cock with one hand while the lube-slick fingers of his other hands circled Jace’s hole, “this is supposed to be about how much I hate you.” He pressed one finger just inside, teasing Jace’s rim. “So I’m going to take exactly as long as I want to.”

Then that finger slid all the way in, and for a while Jace’s entire world narrowed down to the feel of Simon’s fingers—around him, inside him—and the sound of Simon’s voice, teasing and praising in turn.

“God, look at you.” Simon had three fingers inside him, and Jace had long since lost the ability to form coherent words. Or do anything, really, besides cling to the headboard and writhe under Simon’s touch.

“You’re so hot like this.” He curled his fingers, stroking over Jace’s prostate for what must have been the hundredth time. “And everyone thinks they know how hot you are, but they don’t because most of them haven’t seen you like this, and that’s almost a kind of tragedy except that I do get to see you like this.” He sounded almost as wrecked as Jace felt. “I get to make you like this.”

“Simon,” Jace gasped, and he wasn’t sure whether it was Simon’s words or the curl of his fingers that brought him there.

“Okay,” Simon breathed. “Okay, yeah.” And then Simon was taking his hands away and Jace let out a desperate whine because Simon going away was the last thing he wanted.

“Shh,” Simon soothed as he tugged off his own underwear and fumbled open the condom wrapper. “I’m not going anywhere.” He dropped a quick kiss on Jace’s knee, then leaned back again so he could roll the condom on and slick up his cock. “I promise.”

“Don’t want promises,” Jace said, managing to drag the words out from somewhere. “Just want you in me already.”

Simon let out a faint growl, and then he was hooking Jace’s knees over his shoulders, pinning Jace to the bed with his own body, pushing into him in a single, relentless stroke.

“This what you wanted?” Simon asked when his hips sat flush against Jace’s ass.

It was. God, it was.

“Want you to move,” Jace said.

Simon did, fucking Jace like he wanted to break him, kissing him like he wanted to own him. It was everything, and Jace took it. Because Simon told him to. Because he wanted to.

“Feels so good,” Simon panted. “God, Jace, I just—”

He reached a hand between them to wrap around Jace’s cock, stroking in time with his thrusts, and Jace keened.

“Come for me,” Simon said. “I want to feel you come for me, baby.”

Jace didn’t know whether it was the command or the endearment that pushed him over the edge, but he was shaking apart with Simon’s next upstroke, spilling between their bodies as Simon swallowed the desperate sounds of his release. Simon fucked him through it, not slowing until Jace was trembling on the edge of overstimulation.

“Don’t stop,” Jace told him. “I can take it.”

“Jace—” Simon’s voice was wary, but Jace could feel how much he wanted in the way his body trembled, the way his hips never quite stopped moving.

“Want you to come with your dick inside me,” Jace said, locking his ankles around Simon’s back. “Please.”

“Fuck,” Simon swore as he started moving in earnest again. “How are you even real?”

Jace wanted to respond with something pithy and clever, but he’d lost all capacity for words, for thought as Simon fucked into him, chasing his own pleasure. It teetered on the edge of too much, would be too much if Jace let it, and all he had it in him to do was hang on until finally Simon’s hips lost their rhythm and Jace felt his dick pulsing inside him as he whispered nonsensical words of affection into the skin of Jace’s shoulder.

They lay like that for what felt like an eternity, yet still not enough time at all, until Simon finally sighed and pulled his softening cock out to deal with the condom. He looked at Jace as he tied it off and tossed it in the trash.

“You can let go now,” Simon told him. When Jace just frowned in confusion, he leaned over and tapped Jace’s biceps, grinning.

Jace felt himself flush as he uncurled his fingers from the headboard and lowered his arms, rolling his shoulders to ease the faint ache. He’d forgotten he was even still holding on. He wracked his brain for something to say, anything that would save him from having to think about how easy it had been to do what Simon told him to do, how much he’d wanted to.

“So, you hate me that much, huh?”

Simon’s bark of laughter was incredulous. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, exactly that much.” There was that look in his eyes again, the one Jace couldn’t place, but Simon tore his gaze away before he could tease it out.

“You could stay in here tonight,” Simon said with deliberate casualness, and Jace felt his heart stutter in his chest. “You know, if you want.”

He wanted it so much it was almost a physical ache.

“I’ve got early class,” he said instead. He was keenly aware of all those loose threads Simon had inadvertently spent the last couple hours pulling apart, ready to unravel him completely with just the right tug. He rolled out of Simon’s bed. “I’m just going to take a quick shower and head to bed.”

“Sure,” Simon said. “Of course. That makes total sense. Um. Sleep well.”

“Yeah, you too,” Jace said, grabbing his clothes from the floor as an excuse not to look at Simon. He knew he wouldn’t be able to say no if Simon asked again.

Simon didn’t.

#shadowhunters #shmb2021 #jimon #jimon fic #jace wayland #simon lewis

8 notes · View notes

forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Photo

Do You Tree What I Tree?

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: T Word Count: 8730

For @justmattycakes! Happy holidays!!! Massive thanks to @spiderman-homecomeme for organizing this Spideychelle Secret Santa!

Summary: Home from their various colleges for winter break, MJ and her friends make a day out of going to cut down their own Christmas trees. Being alone in the woods—just her, Peter, and an axe—seems like the perfect opportunity to admit that her feelings for her friend have changed.

“Wine and cider!” Peter announces, jabbing a finger at the car window as they pass a rustic-looking roadside sign.

MJ smirks to herself. His touch will probably leave a smudge on the glass, which Flash will painstakingly wipe clean later. She likes Flash much more now than she did in high school—they all do—but she likes to build up a little vindictiveness towards him in advance, for when he inevitably says or does something douchey.

“Whine inside her, is that what you’d do if you could actually get a girlfriend?” Flash asks immediately. Sweet justification for MJ, though she rolls her eyes.

Flash is driving, but Betty trusts his skill enough to smack his arm from the passenger seat, then turn to smile back at Peter.

“That sounds nice. We should definitely stop on the way back.”

“Yeah,” Ned pipes up. “Maybe they’ll have a fireplace too, where we can thaw our fingers.”

“Babe, I won’t let your fingers get cold.”

“Aw, babe,” he croons, reaching over his girlfriend’s shoulder where she sits in front of him to tangle their fingers together.

“Back to your intense lack of dateability,” Flash persists. MJ swears his original asshole persona comes out so much more whenever he slides behind the wheel of his dad’s Cadillac Escalade. “Are you having a lonely winter, Parker? With only your cold lab bench to keep you warm?”

Next to MJ, Peter sighs and mutters, “Same old Flash.” She thinks he says it only to himself, but he darts a look at her and they share a smile.

“Well, I don’t have your L.A. weather,” he allows, artfully changing topic.

Flash will talk for an hour straight about the numerous perks of attending UCLA, including the constant sunshine, the short-shorts, and the absence of his current listeners. The last they all recognize to be a blatant lie, but they like him enough to let him get away with it. MJ has a special sympathy for Flash in those moments; she’s still growing from the girl she was when they were all at Midtown together, when she found it so much easier to edge away from other people or, when she did interact, to speak defensively, insultingly, and with liberal use of the middle finger. Her communication skills have flourished with not being able to see these people in person every day. She’s actually amazed with how she’s clung to them, certain she’d failed to develop the kind of solid relationships people were supposed to form in high school and that she’d just stagger forward through her fine art degree (PoliSci minor) with a wild hope of connecting to other humans through the doodles that she’s developed into graceful sketches, from sketches to oil paintings with sweep and verve.

The five of them are in their second year at their respective centres of learning now and it feels really nice to gather after living by too-brief text exchanges, missed calls, and videocalls that somebody’s roommate inevitably arrives home in the middle of, loud and invasive. When MJ’s speaking to Ned or Flash, they can push through. They have the boisterousness and, in Ned’s case, natural good nature, to conduct two separate conversations at the same time. Betty prefers to hang up and try at a better time, when they can speak uninterrupted. Peter’s different from all of the above. MJ always sees how he blushes, as though he’s being caught talking to her. It makes her flush in return. There’s no reason for them not to be as close as either of them are with any of the others, but conversations with him make her feel different. Without meaning to, their voices lower and they wander away from whatever topic they start with; on some nights, into the most intimate tracks of their inner lives. She gets why he feels caught to be interrupted because it’s disorienting for her too, being dragged back to the larger world, hearing a voice other than his in her ear. She likes traditional phone calls with him the best because she can lie in bed with her phone pressed to her ear and he doesn’t have to know.

“Are we almost there?” Ned says when Flash pauses in his rhapsodizing of Venice Beach.

MJ, sitting in the middle of the backseat, watches her friend unlock her phone and check the map.

“Yes. Under two miles to go.”

“And we’re super sure about this place?” Ned checks.

“Mhmm. A friend of a friend in my French workshop went last year and got the most spectacular Fraser fir,” Betty assures him. “I saw it at her Christmas party. That’s the one you couldn’t go to because you got the flu, remember?”

“Ugh,” he agrees.

“We passed a tree farm awhile ago,” Peter ventures. “That wasn’t it?”

“Betty told me the owners of that farm own this lot too. It’s cheaper to get your tree here because they don’t tend the lot in the same way,” MJ informs him. She likes the look on his face when he listens. She likes the feel of his leg bumping against hers as they traverse the uneven gravel sideroad.

“Yeah, I think I’ll be making up the cost difference paying for a paint job. I can hear the stone chips!” Flash complains. As if he’s ever paid for so much as a tank of gas.

“It’s an adventure, moron,” she says.

“I wasn’t prepared for stone chips.”

“I told you everything in an email last week, when we were planning this,” Betty calmly reminds him. “We should all be prepared.”

It isn’t visible to her right now, but MJ knows her friend has a shiny, compact saw at her feet, tucked into a neat black case, looking bizarrely like a tennis racket. Her own axe is trapped beneath Peter’s shoe so it doesn’t slide forward under Flash’s seat and slice the soles off his shoes. It’s quite sharp. She made sure.

“Listen,” Flash demands, “I’m the transport. Someone else can take care of the less significant details.”

“That is so fucking dumb,” Peter mumbles.

“What?”

“I said, I hope your feet don’t go numb,” he says more loudly. MJ turns her head, like she’s trying to follow the gentle backwards sweep of falling snow with her eyes when she’s really trying to hide her smile from Flash’s suspicious gaze in the rear-view mirror. “Did you wear waterproof boots and warm socks?”

“Of course. About to make winter my bitch.”

Betty twists to catch MJ’s eye.

“You wanna take this one?”

“Go for it.”

While Betty educates Flash on why that is not an acceptable thing for him to say—not with two of his female friends in the car, or ever—MJ drums her fingers on her knees. Her mittens are piled in her lap for now; despite her natural inclination to insult Flash’s ride, it heats up nicely. Plus, she’s tucked between Peter and Ned. She glances to her right to check on the latter and finds him huffing a warm breath on the window. He traces his finger through the resulting condensation, drawing a heart and writing ‘B+N’ in the middle. MJ glances at Peter and he’s already looking at her.

“So, tree?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I’ve been told to keep it under six feet. A measuring tape and a ladder might’ve been helpful, but there wouldn’t have been anyplace to put the ladder once we got the trees on the roof of this thing.” She smacks the SUV’s ceiling and Flash goes, “HEY!”

“You can just choose a taller one,” Peter suggests, “and then cut it shorter.”

“I feel bad about the waste though. It’s a living thing.”

“I can help you with that.”

“Oh yeah?” MJ’s genuinely curious. She knows May prioritizes Hanukkah customs to keep Peter’s connection to both his ethnoreligious traditions and his lost love ones strong, so she doesn’t know how a Christmas tree fits into that.

“Right before you guys picked me up, May had an idea. She thought it might be nice just to get some pine branches for, like, generic winter decorating and to make the apartment smell good.”

“That’s a really good idea.”

“Yeah. I was gonna grab scraps from where other trees had been cut down, but I can get them off whatever tree you pick instead. Or you can. You have the axe.”

“I’ll give you a turn with it if you help me drag my tree back to the car,” MJ bargains with a smile.

“I can definitely help.”

Of course he can. He could probably carry a dozen trees if he felt like it. Over his head. With all the roots and clumps of frozen earth still attached. But the thought of him hauling the tree back with her rather than for her is something she appreciates. As she nods, she gets the fluttery feeling she’s been experiencing more and more whenever he’s called her this term. Their calls have gotten longer. A younger version of herself would be amazed at the way she can now talk for hours without noticing the time slipping past. And it never feels wasted. Actually, when they aren’t talking, MJ misses Peter. She can’t completely put it into words and so she hasn’t. What she’s done, besides continue to answer every time he calls, is offer him a chance to swing the axe she brought. Romantically, there’s room for improvement.

Their overlapping winter breaks are going to end in another week and she’s scared the calls, as treasured as they’ve become to her, won’t be enough.

“There!” Betty cries. She flings her arm across the dash to point.

“That’s the woods,” Flash says, brushing her off.

“No, that’s the driveway! You’re going to pass it!”

The jarring, inelegant jerk of the wheel as he takes Betty’s directions at the last moment tips Ned into MJ and MJ into Peter. They all groan in discomfort, but Flash seems supremely pleased with himself as he straightens the tires. Off the gravel, their passage between the trees is muffled by the packed snow on the laneway other cars have driven over. There’s a dusting on top as today’s thin flurry continues to fall. As she sits up straight following Flash’s terrible Baby Driver impression, MJ feels Peter’s hand on her back, through her coat, and her face gets hot. Unable to meet his eyes in thanks, she leans towards Ned instead and the two of them stare out at the picturesque scene where low drifts spill over the ground and every pine, spruce, and fir—all dusted in white—looks like the perfect Christmas tree.

“Hats on,” Betty instructs as Flash pulls to a stop next to a pickup truck with a tarp already laid out in its bed, awaiting a tree. “Shoelace check. Gloves and mitts secure.”

“You sound like you’re prepping us to jump out of an airplane,” Flash laughs.

He swings his door open while Betty’s trying to get back into her winterwear checklist with the rest of them, letting in a gust of cold air that disturbs the warmth MJ’s hoarded as well as Betty’s good temper. She reaches across the center console and shoves Flash with both hands, pushing him straight out of the vehicle with a “WHOA!”

Betty’s nonchalant as she flips her mirror down and adjusts the positioning of her pompom hat before stepping out of the SUV herself. Peter and Ned pile out, laughing, and MJ climbs out Peter’s side. Flash is next to the car, brushing himself off.

“I’m going to get sick,” he pouts.

“Say cheese!” Ned encourages, snapping a picture as Betty runs into shot to pose next to her victim, cupping his face between her gloved hands.

“Maybe this’ll make him change his mind about the cider place,” MJ notes to Peter hopefully.

“I feel like we’d be stopping there no matter what,” he muses. “It was either making Flash fear hypothermia or Betty sneaking back to the car first and tampering with his brake line or something.”

“So, which way looks good, babe?” Ned asks his girlfriend.

As she told them, this lot isn’t the manicured family attraction the last place was. There aren’t any employees standing around—easily spotted even as they drove past the tree farm down the road in their orange crossing-guard-style vests—or a map marking which areas are which type of tree. There’s just sort of a main track that’s been tramped down by passing feet leading between trees. It’s easy to see for a ways, but beyond that, the forest grows denser. MJ knows Betty did her homework and can identify tree varieties, and she doesn’t actually care which type she gets. She’s here for the experience, and for the idiot next to her who gives her a thrill every time the nylon sleeves of their winter coats rush against each other.

“Hmm,” Betty says, and strides forward through the narrow entrance. From there, things fan out. She taps her bow saw, now loose, against the side of her leg. “Well, what would everyone like to do?”

“I’m going wherever you are,” Ned vows. She shoots him a soft smile.

“Me too,” Flash decides. “You’ll get us in and out of here fast so we can get warm. Not like Parker, who’ll probably get lost in the first five minutes.”

“What?” Peter asks, insulted. “Will not.”

“Oh yeah? How’s your sense of direction without that robot lady in your head?”

“Karen is not a robot lady, she’s an AI.”

“Same diff.”

“It is not. A robot lady is like what they have on The Jetsons.”

“Whatever. Point is, without your GPS, I don’t trust you.”

“Well,” Peter counters, “we can just look at our phones.”

“Already tried that,” Flash informs him. “I don’t get a signal out here.”

Regardless, the rest of them check.

“That’s alright,” Betty persists, trying to be chipper to maintain group morale, MJ’s sure. “It’s daylight, the snow’s not coming down hard, and nobody’s going off alone. Now, Flash, Ned, and I are going that way.” She points, then glances from MJ to Peter. “Do you guys want to stick with us, or…?”

MJ opens her mouth and looks to Peter, shuffling beside her and doing some sort of best-friend telepathy with Ned, based on the stupid, scrunched up looks on their faces. Is he going to say something? He’ll probably want to stay with Ned. It’ll be weird if she speaks up for both of them. But if she doesn’t, when are they going to talk, just the two of them? Since they’ve all been back in the city, everything’s been done in a group—buying presents for friends and relatives, going skating, getting hot chocolate, attending Flash’s ugly holiday t-shirt party (L.A.-themed, so no sweaters allowed). The woods though. The woods are quiet and friendly and private. Snow muffles sound, fresh air and cold wake her up and fill her lungs until they burn with everything she’d say to Peter if she just had this opportunity. No Ned and Betty hanging back to offer encouraging looks, no Flash to ruin everything with a terribly timed innuendo. MJ just needs Peter. Just her and Peter. Please, dork, she thinks, don’t say Ned.

The words come from her.

“I think Peter and I’ll go that way,” she declares, nodding sharply in a direction that isn’t Betty’s.

“Yeah,” Peter adds.

Oh, thank god, MJ thinks.

“He’s gonna get you lost,” Flash warns. He’s already stamping his feet like he’s freezing to death on the spot, though the cold isn’t that bad with the tree cover. “Then he’ll go nuts in the woods.”

“I have an axe,” MJ reminds him flatly. She glances at Peter. “Bring it.”

Peter snorts a laugh.

“No one will be re-enacting anything that remotely resembles The Shining,” Betty instructs. “Meet back here in, how long, do you think?”

“Depends,” Flash says. “How long should we wait before declaring those two missing and sending out a search party, of which I will not be a member, but will be happy to direct from the comfort of the Escalade with a hot drink in my hand and my feet against the heating vent.”

“Dude, don’t do that,” Ned pleads. “You’ll make the whole car smell like your feet.”

“My ride, my rules.”

“Should we just…?” Peter asks MJ. She nods.

“Let’s go.”

“Ok, um, an hour!” Betty decides.

Peter gives her a thumbs up and the two of them follow the path as it diverges, then cut away again, wading through ankle-deep snow where no other tree-hunter has walked today. The sound of Flash goading the other two fades. MJ stops for a minute and turns to watch them march into the trees. She takes a deep breath in and out.

“You good?” Peter asks.

“Yeah.” She hefts the axe onto her shoulder to look more lumberjack-esque (and so she doesn’t slice it into her calf as she walks). “Come on.”

Despite promises to share, she refuses to surrender the tool any sooner than she must. Soon enough, she’s huffing, face passing through damp clouds of her own breath and chilling her flushed cheeks and frozen nose. Balancing her temperature out here is a tricky thing; as long as they keep moving, as they are, she stays warm, but with Peter crunching along in the snow beside her, she’s too warm. MJ bites her mitt between her teeth and unzips her coat a little to let the brisk air circulate around the back of her sweaty neck.

“You’re not gonna catch cold?” Peter asks solicitously.

She shakes her head.

“Ok,” he says, “but it’d be just like you to get sick and say nothing about it while Flash complains all the way home that he is sick when nothing’s wrong with him.”

“The only thing he’s suffering through is his body’s natural rejection of us. He spent too many years thinking he was better than we are just to end up right here, hacking down Christmas trees together.”

“Probably caroling,” Peter guesses.

“Probably. He claims his favourite holiday song is the instrumental version of ‘Carol of the Bells,’ but that has to be a lie.”

“My money’s on something super cheesy.”

“Mine too,” MJ agrees with a grin.

Gradually, she slows, taking in the pine trees around them. Her guesstimation is that some of these go up to ten or twelve feet, but there are shorter options tucked in between. Younger, or those that maybe didn’t get as much light as they grew. She wipes the back of her mittened hand across her forehead, pushing her slipping fleece headband back where it’s been sliding forward.

“So,” she asks, “any of this look good to you?”

She lowers her gaze to find Peter hastily averting his from her face.

“That one?” he says, pointing to a tree at random.

“Peter, that one’s longer than Flash’s SUV.”

“Oh. Right. Um, ok…”

Focusing now, she watches his upturned face and the serious expression that sinks into it, the way snow’s been sinking into her hair. Maybe Betty was right about wearing a hat, though Betty’s hair is also significantly flatter than hers and thus more conducive to hat-wearing. Well, it’ll be fine. They aren’t stranded or anything and the snow’s not getting to them as much as it was when they had to walk across the clearing to reach this stand of trees. They’re sheltered here. As MJ hoped, it’s quiet.

Instead of asking Peter how much of his remaining holiday he’d like to spend with her, or how he feels when she forces him to hang up the phone first (he must notice), or why, exactly, he was so quick to agree to go off into the woods with her when he could just as easily have insisted they all stay together, she criticizes the first tree he takes genuine interest in.

“Crooked.”

“Too dense.”

“Too sparse.”

“Weird empty area.”

“I swear to god, something moved in there, Peter. I do not want a fucking National Lampoon Christmas, ok? My mom will freak out if I bring a live squirrel into our home.”

He’s laughing at her when they finally spot one that looks pretty good: shorter but not squat, full but with soft, long needles rather than nasty ones bent on treating them both to non-consensual acupuncture if they stand too close. It doesn’t look sickly or as though it’s currently inhabited by birds or rodents.

“So young,” MJ does note, assessing its size in comparison to a taller tree a yard away. “Oh well.” She raises the axe and adjusts her grip.

Peter goes scrambling backwards, almost slipping, then tries to pretend he was only calmly moving out of the way, that he is not afraid of the radius of her swing. When he starts babbling about how quickly his body could probably heal from an axe wound (though, with all the crazy shit he gets up to, that’s actually not something he’s experienced yet), she finally laughs at him.

“Relax,” she says. “You can just hold the branches up at the bottom while I chop through the trunk.”

Fearless—and even more determined to prove it now that she’s given Peter a scare—MJ drops to the snow and wriggles under the tree, as close as she thinks she should be while still being able to swing the axe. Peter’s hand makes her jump. She whips her head around, nearly getting a clump of needles in the eye, but he’s only skimming her coat by accident as he gathers the lowest branches away from her. As she asked. Right, he’s not touching her on purpose and he’s not even doing the not-touching activity on purpose but because she told him to. He’s trying to help. Frustrating.

She props herself up on her elbow and takes an awkward whack at the tree. The blade sinks into the bark like it’s supposed to, but it’s still somehow surprising to feel the give. MJ takes a few more tentative swings and the axe sinks deeper, requiring some force to yank it out again. She grunts and hears Peter crouch down behind her.

“Is it going ok? Can I do anything?”

“Umm, maybe be prepared to pull the top of the tree in the other direction so it doesn’t fall on my head. I think I’m almost halfway.”

“Yes, please don’t make it fall on your head,” he requests.

“It won’t as long as you do your job,” she promises gruffly, hewing in once more.

“Do you think this would be easier with a saw?” Peter’s voice is higher now, coming from the other side of the tree. Though the branches fell when he changed position, she can feel them only resting lightly on her as he holds the top of the tree away. Probably standing on his toes.

“Don’t say anything against my axe.”

“I’m not! I was just thinking out loud!”

“A saw,” MJ informs him with another swing, “is not as badass.”

“Good point.”

But is he just agreeing because the tree’s starting to topple and the final swings to break through it take her blade closer to his shins as he dances out of the way? Maybe.

She clambers out and, with the tree now on an angle, is able to chop from an upright position, down on a diagonal until she buries her axe in the snow, then yanks it free.

“Oh, you can lay it down,” MJ tells Peter when she realizes he’s standing there with his arms full of tree, face hidden as he keeps his head pulled back from the branches.

He does so gently and then they stand there in triumph. MJ hurls her axe into the ground.

“Would you quit that?” Peter requests, jumpy.

She grins.

“Sorry. Just really feeling this.”

“I can tell.”

They took their time making their selection and can do one of two things next: either trim the branches for Peter to take home to May right here or drag the tree back to Flash’s SUV and perform the necessary amputations there. They do neither. MJ shrugs her shoulders and flexes her fingers inside her mittens, exorcising the tension of gripping the axe’s handle. She turns, glancing casually around, but really looking for something invisible—a reason to stay. A rational delay before rejoining the others.

“Hold still,” Peter says, as she’s looking back the way they came. The way she thinks they came. They stomped around this area, circling every tree, for a while, so the footprints are a little confused.

“What? If you try to tell me there’s a squirrel in my hair, I’m not going to believe you.”

He smiles softly.

“No squirrel, just snow.”

She stares at her friend warily as he approaches, then sweeps snow from her headband. That’s when she realizes one side of her coat is soaked from lying on the ground. It can’t get through though, it’s just the outer layer. Still, Peter walks a complete circle around her, wiping snow away.

“There,” he says.

MJ sighs.

“Peter…”

“Yeah?”

His face is so open as he looks at her, flakes flying around and between them. Her heart squeezes almost painfully because there have been so many days of not seeing his face without the assistance of a screen. Now that he’s here, it’s too much.

“Umm… how many branches do you think May wants?”

MJ crouches and puts her back to him, feigning being deep in concentration over the fresh Christmas corpse splayed out in the snow. She feels like a detective at a crime scene. Peter exhales heavily behind her, then drops to her level.

“More is probably better, right? She’ll probably take some in to work or try to give them to the neighbours anyway.”

“True.” They both reach for the axe. “Go ahead,” MJ says, quickly withdrawing her hand.

Peter shaves off what he thinks May might like—plus at least an armload more—in quick slices and snips.

“Jeeze, this thing is sharp.”

“I know,” she says proudly.

“I want one. For the suit, I mean. You think that could work?”

“Well, you already have a bunch of less probable-sounding features, so why not a spider with an axe made of webs?”

“Ned’s gonna be so excited when I tell him.”

“I’m excited,” she says, maybe a little too forcefully. It’s not a competition. She doesn’t think he’s already forgotten about her. There’s just some kind of glitch in her brain-to-mouth connection that no Spidey tech could possibly fix.

“I think we’re ahead of schedule,” Peter tells her.

He pulls out his phone to check the time while MJ cleaves into the fallen tree’s trunk, cutting it down to a size more suited to transport and her family’s apartment.

“We could do this in two trips,” he presses. “Take the tree and come back for the branches? Or vice versa?”

“I think we can manage it in one.”

She glances at him and he looks mildly frantic.

“Or two,” MJ amends. “Two would be better.”

Are they finally going to talk? That has to be the reason for Peter stretching this out, doesn’t it? But he moves quickly to grip the lowest branches of the tree, down where MJ severed it, and she grabs those on the opposite side of the trunk. After a jerk to get it going, they slide the tree smoothly over the snow, leaving a fine trail of needles. It occurs to her, as they walk, that she was worried about this part on the way in here, that the tree might pick up dirt from where others have walked, but the ground looks fresh and sparkling in the sun. That’s not familiar.

“Peter? Are we going the right way?”

“What? Yeah. Aren’t we? We have to be. Because the sun was…”

He gestures very unconvincingly overhead and her heart plummets in her chest. For once, not because she’s scared of saying something about her feelings for him and hearing they aren’t reciprocated, but because what Peter’s not saying directly is that they might be lost. And the worst part of that scenario is Flash being right. No, no, no, Peter will not make Flash right, not today.

“It’s been snowing,” she reviews. Stupid and obvious, but facts are soothing to her. “How much do you think it’s snowed? Not that much, right? It can’t have. We must’ve just started walking the wrong way.”

“Definitely. Ok, let’s turn around.”

So, they swing the tree with them and strike out in the opposite direction, not going very quickly as they navigate the trees. They pass the stump they lately created and MJ plucks her axe from the snow on the way past. It just makes her feel better, having it.

Unfortunately, this way isn’t correct either.

“Alright,” she says slowly. “What the fuck.”

“Let’s leave the tree for a minute.”

They set it down. She realizes she’s sweating.

“How could we be lost? How could you be lost?”

“There aren’t exactly landmarks,” Peter says. “It’s just… trees.”

“Maybe we should’ve gone to a place with signposts and neat little rows.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

He wanders over to her, watching her with careful eyes.

“I wasn’t this cold when I called today an adventure.”

“Maybe you should zip your coat back up.”

But she’s too warm and uncomfortable to do that just to challenge how he’s calling her bluff.

“Are you scared?” he asks. “You don’t need to be scared. I think we did a lot of circling. We didn’t walk too far in any one direction. I could climb a tree and look around?”

“Climb a tree? One of these trees? The ones covered in snow with the thin branches and the spiky needles?”

“Hey,” Peter jokes, hitting her arm with his elbow, “you’re supposed to be cheering me on.”

“I…” She closes her mouth. He frowns.

“Is something wrong?”

“We’re lost and Flash is going to gloat.”

“Besides that.”

“You’re trying really hard to get us out of here.” That should be a compliment, a commendation, but it sounds accusing as it leaves her mouth. MJ feels on-edge, heart beating all wrong.

“…Should I not be?”

God, she’s being strange. She can feel herself being strange. Everything’s aligning to buy her more time and she’s panicking trying to work out what to do with it. The snow is falling softly all around and she’s auditioning to play the most awkward protagonist in the history of Hallmark holiday movies.

“Are you looking forward to going back?” MJ asks abruptly.

“To the car?”

“To school. In January.”

“Umm, kinda? I mean, it’s going well. But you know that, we talked about this stuff the other day when you and Ned were over at May’s.”

“Yeah.” She’s thinking, staring down at her cut tree, debating how to mention that there’s one thing they didn’t talk about, that she couldn’t bring up, because she felt strange about doing it with Ned there. She goes to continue, unsure of her phrasing, but ready to push onward, when Peter answers, looking thoughtfully up at the pale-grey snow clouds.

“It’s really nice to be home, but I also don’t like living in the past.”

He glances at her to see what she thinks. She’s noticed that he does that a lot, when they’re on a video call. Sometimes, she teases him about it—the way he makes certain assertions sound like questions because he wants her input, values her opinion, thinks of her as wiser than him (she is) though he’s the genius playing around at the upper end of the grading curve in all of his classes.

“Sorry, what were you gonna say?” he asks, spotting the unfinished thought in her expression, how she holds her eyebrows a little too tightly together.

MJ shakes her head.

“It’s nice to have you home.” As Peter’s beginning to smile, swaying slightly towards her, she rambles on, “It’s nice to have everyone home. I mean, I could go longer between having to see Flash in person, but what can you do, right? It’s worth it to have Ned home. And Betty. And you.”

She swallows.

“There!” he shouts, pointing past her. She squints.

“What is it?”

“Our tracks.”

Trusting his superior eyesight, MJ troops after him. Sure enough, their deep treads from earlier are still faintly present—now gentle indents as the snowfall works to even everything out again.

“But we don’t have to hurry back,” Peter says. She avoids his eyes.

“Except we probably do, now that we’ve wasted time being lost.”

“We were never actually lost.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself so you can sleep at night, Spider-Man. Help me with the tree.”

He does, then hightails it back to collect May’s branches once MJ’s in the clearing with only the little trail left between her and the makeshift parking lot. She pulls her bounty along and through the gap, suddenly back with the rest of her friends.

“Did you manage to lose Parker out there?” Flash asks immediately. “Nice. Up top.”

She rolls her eyes instead of meeting his hand in a high five.

“He just had to go back for something,” MJ explains, expressly for the benefit of Ned and Betty.

“What’d he do, drop some of you guys’ sexual tension in the woods?”

Flushing with the sting in the air and self-consciousness, she walks past Flash. Just close enough to drag the tree over his feet and make him start whining about getting dirt on his blindingly-white designer snow boots. When his complaints cut off, she knows she’s in trouble. It’s like the sudden silence in a horror movie that you just know means nothing good.

“Never mind,” Flash says loudly. “Sexual tension present and accounted for.”

MJ whirls around to see Peter’s arrived and is staring at her with a pleading look on his face. Or he was, until Flash’s words sunk in. Surely, Peter’s fast enough to snatch his keys, toss them to Betty, and have them all climb into the SUV and wheel outta here, leaving Flash behind? But during the holidays? She’d feel bad. He’s lucky.

“Can we just get the trees loaded?” Peter asks, moving to help MJ pull hers closer to demonstrate that it’s not so much a question for Flash as a demand for him to shut the hell up. Flash probably doesn’t understand. He’d need tact for that.

“Fine. And not a scratch on the Escalade,” Flash commands.

He opens the trunk to reveal a set of carefully folded tarps; they’re too ratty to actually belong to him, so MJ’s betting that they’re Betty’s or Ned’s. Those two went on a big, romantic camping trip together right after high school graduation, so these could be remnants. The first tarp crinkles in Peter’s hands as he pulls it out and unfolds it. Beneath the second—removed by Ned—there’s a Burberry blanket protecting the SUV from the tarps. Honestly. Momentarily forgetting about their awkward moment in the forest, MJ catches Peter’s eye and nods at the blanket. The two of them start laughing and soon, Betty and Ned have spotted them and are laughing too. Flash is perplexed, which, as always, is when he gets grouchy and defensive.

“Can we pick up the pace, people?” he requests. “I need a hot drink and an even hotter fire. I can barely feel my fingers.”

“Wait.” MJ frowns and pauses in assisting Peter with dragging the longest tarp onto the roof of the SUV. “I have a tree, Ned and Betty each have trees… Flash, where’s your tree?”

She turns her head and notices Ned just cutting off a gesture of slicing a hand across his throat to insist on her not finishing that question. Betty sighs and explains.

“Flash’s service came back while we were out there.”

“Dude,” Peter huffs, stretching to reach and finish tugging the tarp into place, “you had service? You could’ve texted us to see if we were, I don’t know, lost.”

“This should come as no surprise to you, Parker,” Flash says snootily, “but I had other priorities.”

“Oh yeah?” MJ questions suspiciously.

“He went online and bought an artificial tree,” Betty says with a roll of her eyes.

“Sacrilege.”

“More like brilliance,” Flash corrects. “It has snow-encrusted branches, pre-strung lights, and the thing isn’t gonna die in a week, so it’s better for the environment.”

“Isn’t it plastic?” MJ checks in a slow voice, waiting for him to catch on.

“Yeah.”

“Then the process used to produce it created harmful emissions and when you find it next year and decide to throw it out because you’re no longer ‘feelin’ it’ or whatever excuse you have, it’ll go straight in the trash and from there to one of the many, many local and international landfills that house our city’s waste.”

“You’re pretty judgy for a girl who just fucking murdered a tree.”

“I did my research,” MJ counters easily. “This is a sustainably managed forest. They maintain the trees, protect new growth and transplant saplings every spring to ensure the health of not only the cash crop, but the forest as a whole. Pre-light that, dickhead.”

Feeling flustered, she goes to give Betty and Ned a hand with positioning their tree on the roof. MJ stands on the ledge offered by the open trunk and stabilizes the tree while the others guide it into position.

“Tension,” she hears Flash diagnose under his breath. He’s smart enough to not meet her eye when she glares down at him.

They encounter a small problem while loading the second tree: both Betty and Ned have selected especially full specimens. Side by side, they take up the entire roof, and MJ’s tree is still on the ground with Peter’s mountain of branches, waiting to be slung onboard.

“I don’t think it’ll fit,” Ned says after jumping into the air twice to take a look at the available space (none).

“Neither do I,” she agrees. “Guess it’s going in the trunk.”

“In the trunk?” Flash is there in a, well, flash. He slipped into the driver’s seat, ostensibly to doublecheck their route home, but really to start his seat-warmer and turn the Christmas radio station back on. His distress is juxtaposed against a jazzy rendition of ‘Winter Wonderland.’

“Yeah. There’s nowhere else.”

“Guys, please. Are you trying to get back at me for the sexual tension comment? It’s forgotten. I lied. No tension here. Cut the act and tell me that thing’s going on the roof with the others.”

“While ‘that thing’ is a capitalist nexus, it’s also a precious symbol of everything I love about Christmas,” MJ says firmly, “and it’s going in the trunk of this SUV.”

“Guys?” Flash glances at the other three, but nobody sides with him.

“Don’t worry, Flash,” Betty says kindly. “We won’t use the second tarp to go on top of the roof trees, we’ll line the trunk with it instead. There won’t be any needles, I promise.”

That is definitely not a promise she can make, and MJ’s sure her friend is aware, but she’s taking a shortcut to winning this standoff and MJ admires that. The placating seems to wash over Flash like the spirit of Christmas over Scrooge McDuck. Suddenly, he’s smiling.

“Yeah. We can do that. Of course. But.” Oh no. The smile’s warping. Flash is about to be an asshole again, MJ can see it coming fast on the horizon. “The tree’s going to take up more space than just the trunk.”

MJ peers into the SUV. Shit. He’s probably right.

“Oh,” says Betty, not getting the issue, “well, we can fold the seats down, right? The tree isn’t that tall. Come on, guys, we’ve had real problems. This is nothing!”

She beams at them and Ned wraps an arm around her, hugging her to his side.

“We’ll lose a seat in the back,” MJ says.

She’s profoundly annoyed by the satisfaction on Flash’s face as she’s the one to say the words, point out the obvious. Isn’t she always? It feels like her role in this friend group and she never minds that, never has until this very situation and its inevitable conclusion.

“Somebody’s gotta sit on somebody else’s lap,” Flash singsongs. “And it’s not me because I’m the driver!”

The other four look at each other.

“Betty,” Ned begins, “you and I could…”

“But she needs to be in the front to navigate,” Flash irritatingly points out, “and before you say it, you shouldn’t double up in the front. It’s not safe.”

Maybe they can back over him when they steal his ride and drive out of here, MJ theorizes. She sighs. Loudly. Vexedly.

“I’ll sit on Peter.”

She proceeds to make eye contact with none of them, just fishes a sloppy coil of rope out of the back and works with Betty to feed it over the trees and through the windows. Some cold air will blow into the SUV, but that won’t matter so much to her, she guesses, since she’ll have the benefit of Peter’s body heat. Who needs a seat-warmer when you can have an actual human lap? Ugh, no, not funny, but she tried to consider it in a way that doesn’t make her want to volunteer to sit in the trunk with her tree.

Finally, they lift her tree and Peter’s branches inside, position them, and shut the trunk. Flash is whistling ‘Carol of the Bells’ as he practically skips to the driver’s seat. Betty, far more compassionate, gives MJ a reassuring look before she gets in. Then Peter climbs into the back, taking the middle seat, and glances at her, lingering in the snow. She groans to herself and folds into the car as Ned gives her an encouraging pat on the back.

Maneuvering is awkward. Peter cranes his neck back like his whole body is leaning to make room for her, but it’s not possible—he’s already pressed back against the seat. She sits. He rustles beneath and behind her. Before she can panic and insist on walking home, Ned gets in and slams the door closed (Flash complains).

“Uh,” Peter starts, “do you wanna shift forward so I can buckle my—”

“Absolutely not. If we’re sharing a seat, we’re sharing a seatbelt. I don’t want to end this excursion by flying through the windshield when Flash swerves the car off the road because he sees a snowdrift that looks like a butt or something.”

“Hey! I’m an excellent driver,” he complains, starting the car.

“I could just, like, hold onto you?” Peter offers.

MJ’s heartbeat rockets. She presses the top of her head to the ceiling to ground herself.

“No. We’re using the seatbelt.”

Peter stretches it away from the seat and holds it for her to grab; she passes it back for him to fasten. The second it clicks into place, Flash throws the SUV into reverse and hits the gas. Peter must move his head away from behind hers because MJ’s genuinely surprised not to feel his nose break against the back of her skull.

“Excellent driver, huh?” she questions flatly.

“There was ice.”

“Sure there was.”

Flash winks at her in the rear-view mirror and instead of siding with her, MJ catches Ned chuckling.

“I’m sorry, but it’s funny. You guys look ridiculous seatbelted together,” he says.

But she doesn’t feel so much ridiculous as confused and on alert, swaying with Flash’s accelerations and decelerations (thankfully minor compared to how he started off). Every time, Peter’s hands jump to grab her: shoulders, waist, legs. Once, he grabs her hands and even though she still has her mittens on, dripping melting snow onto the seat on one side and the tree branch she’s clutching on the other, it’s startling.

“Sit still,” Peter tells her when she jerks out of his hold.

“You sit still.”

He laughs.

“I can’t go anywhere—you’re sitting on me.”

“Then try having less bony legs,” she suggests, though they both know the nerd has more muscle mass in one of his legs than the rest of the SUV’s occupants have in their entire bodies combined.

“Right up here!” Betty directs. “We have to pay.”

MJ sags gratefully into Peter, relaxed for the first moment of the short drive from the lot to the tree farm. She tenses up again when they pull in and Betty offers to be the one to hop out and pay for their trees. There is no reprieve from Peter’s lap. She hands over her cash to her friend with a sigh and listens while the trees are removed from the roof, shaken by a machine to rid them of loose needles, and replaced for transport home. When the trunk opens and the tree farm guy slides MJ’s little tree free, she shivers at the cold air blowing in.

“Take off your mitts and put your hands by the vent,” Peter suggests.

MJ looks around and sees that the only vent she can reach is the one their feet are bracketing, down by the floor. She fights the grip of the seatbelt to bend forward. Ah. Hot air on her freezing fingers, plus, she’s out of the draft coming through the open trunk.

“This is better. Thanks, dork.”

She glances back and spots the stricken look on her friend’s face as he watches her, still seated on his lap, but now bent over. MJ sits swiftly upright.

“I’m actually not that cold,” she says, spine rigid beneath her coat and her sweaters.

Peter sighs and, while Ned’s looking out the window to watch her tree get vibrated and wrapped, tentatively offers MJ his hands. If Ned notices that they’re holding hands when the SUV is completely repacked and they’re on their way to the place with the wine and cider, he doesn’t say a word about it. It’s shared body heat. It’s a survival tactic. That’s what MJ tells herself as she finds her and Peter’s fingers moving gently from a perfunctory clasp to intertwining.

They stay that way until Flash pulls off the road at the cider spot, which turns out to be an apple orchard. Well, more than just the orchard; there’s a whole barn here, but fancy, with a designated lot and possibly a restaurant inside.

“This is so cute!” Betty says.

MJ concentrates on shaking her hands out of Peter’s before Flash puts the SUV in park and turns around to see them.

The two of them are the last out of the car and she’s stiff with the silence, listening to their friends laugh and gripe about the cold (Flash) as they wait with Ned’s door open. Before MJ can push through her thoughts and fears to say anything, Peter’s arm comes around her. Her eyes widen. …And he unbuckles the seatbelt. Probably just because she was taking too long. She slips over into Ned’s vacant seat and is about to scramble out when Peter catches her hand. MJ turns.

“Will you tell them we’ll meet them inside?” he requests.

Heart hammering, she relays the message, then looks on as Ned and Betty hustle Flash through the doors before can make another of his unwelcome comments or otherwise interfere.

“I think we really need to talk,” Peter says, after MJ pulls the door closed to preserve what little heat is left in the vehicle.

“We talk all the time,” she argues. She thinks, Yes, please talk to me.

“About a lot of stuff. You know, most stuff.” He wedges his fingers under the edge of his hat to run them nervously through his hair.

“That’s a generalization, but a fair one.”

“But, you know, lately, I’ve been, uh, wishing that we could talk about…”

“…even more stuff?” MJ guesses, hopes.

“Yeah.”

“Me too.”

“You know, our schools aren’t that far apart,” he says, like it’s the first time he’s realizing this.

She smiles wryly.

“I’m aware. That’s why I came out for Thanksgiving first year when you couldn’t make it back to Queens. Even if we did eat take-out shrimp Pad Thai instead of homecooked turkey.”

“And,” Peter adds, “it’s why I showed up at your dorm to help you study for that midterm you were stressing about in October.”

“And why I picked up when you called me every night,” MJ says, quieter. He smiles softly.

“I was talking about the distance.”

Summoning her courage, she looks him right in the eye and lets her still-uncovered hand sneak back over his.

“What distance?”

“You’re my best friend,” Peter starts. “You and Ned.” MJ frowns. Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit, she’s misjudged this, seriously misjudged this.

“Oh. Well. Great. Cool.”

“No, MJ!” he says quickly, noticing the look on her face. He flips his hand under hers so their palms meet. “I’m definitely in love with you, I just mean… Well, oops, I guess I said it.”

She’s pretty impressed with her own control over her facial features—maintaining a slightly-happier-than-neutral expression—when half of her brain is setting off fireworks that seem to be landing and fizzing around on the other half. He’s in love with her. Definitely.

“For as fast as your mind works, your mouth always manages to get ahead of it,” she observes.

Peter’s expression goes from tortured and fumbling to sharp and decisive.

“That’s good advice.”

“What? That wasn’t advi—”

He darts forward and kisses her, hand emphatically clutching hers. There’s a humorous smack when their mouths separate.

“Oh my god,” Peter says, “I forgot to ask if it was ok to do that.”

MJ smirks.

“My only complaint is that you beat me to it when I’ve been trying to figure out how to do that all day.”

“I did wonder,” he admits with a small smile.

“And you couldn’t have helped me out?” she asks, exasperated.

“A big part of being friends with you is knowing you rarely need help. You’re good, like, ninety percent of the time.”

“What do you do the other ten percent?”

Peter shrugs.

“Kiss you and ask if you have plans for New Year’s? By the way, do you have plans for New Year’s?”

He tries to adopt a casual expression but now that MJ thinks about it, she can’t recall the last time her friend looked at her with anything like mild interest. He can’t pull it off anymore, if he ever could. Apparently, she wasn’t always watching that well, because she clearly didn’t know everything.

Peter loves her. He loves her.

“I have a feeling I’ll probably be available,” she tells him. “I have a bad habit of trying to be where you are.”

“I love that about you.”

MJ kisses him quickly, then shoves him away, nearly into the pine tree resting on his other side. Whoops. It’s just that she can feel how easy it would be to get caught up in this moment, and they’re still in the back of Flash’s SUV. People are waiting for them. She takes a deep breath and gives Peter a searching look.

“If we walk in there like this—” She shakes their clasped hands. “—what do I say?”

“Tell them your hands were cold.”

“I… I don’t want to hide it, I just…”

“I know. It’s ok. It’s new.”

“Yeah.”

Peter nods sympathetically. He’s her friend first; he’s not going to push her to speak before she’s ready. (He probably knows he couldn’t if he wanted to.)

She hauls the door open and they stride through the snowy parking lot together. The sun’s already struggling to come out and flakes whip high into the air, catching in the light. They step inside the building to see brightness streaming through the windows, their trio of friends crowded around a table. Flash seems to be making Ned sprinkle cinnamon into his hot apple cider while he films it—presumably to post for the enjoyment of the Flash Mob. (That’s still going. He has a shocking number of followers.) Betty turns and her gaze slips down to their joined hands. She smiles.

MJ has the excuse ready. When Flash and Ned glance over, she’s prepared to tell them her hands were cold.

She opens her mouth.

“Peter’s my boyfriend now.”

#my writing #spideychelle secret santa #spideychelle #spideychelle fanfiction #peter parker #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones #ned leeds #betty brant #Flash Thompson #nettypot

49 notes · View notes

tipsydipsydo · 4 years

Text

『© tipsydipsydo』

All listed and linked work (that includes my writings, my fake texts and my moodboards) in here is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

Do not repost, plagiarize, translate or use any of my work in general!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Please respect that. I’ll fight any illegal use of my work!

Thank you.

「Information: Only the unique combination of pictures, the colour schemata and editing of the moodboards is my intellectual work! I don’t own the pictures themselves and all credits are going to the rightful owners!」

➸ Blog Navigation

A post where you'll find all my other themed Masterlists of my writings, my personal sideblog, my fic-recs blogs and so much more!

➸ My Networks

This is a list of all the networks where I got accepted as a writer in their community. Please check them out!

➙ Information!

All the showed (anonymized) persons on my Moodboards should only symbolizes specific scenes, situations, outfits, jewelry or cosmetics! Nothing of this should make you feel excluded when you have a different skin color, hair color/structure, body shape or gender!

My scenarios and fics should be open for everyone to read, that’s why I try my best to write gender neutral and male scenarios/fanfics as well!

(Some scenarios or fics could still be personalized for specific groups of people or communities where I think they deserve some more attention and love! For example because there is a lack of writings for them etc.)

What I want to say:

We all are the same equal in our own unique existence!💓

I love all of you guys!🤗💓

» Gender «

↬ Female: ♔ [♔-Reader]

↬ Male: ♚ [♚-Reader]

↬ Gender neutral: ♕ [♕-Reader]

» Genre Key «

↬ Fluff: 🌸

↬ Angst: 🌧

↬ Hurt and Comfort: ☔

↬ Serious Themes: ⚠️🚫

(For example sexual assault, (mental) illnesses, traumatic experiences, rascism, antisemitism, islamophobia, homophobia, transphobia etc.)

➙ We can’t take those things easy and I’ll not accept that someone “joke” about it!

↬ Comedy/Crack: 🌞

↬ Soft Smut [sweet vanilla~]: 💋

↬ Hard Smut [kinky stuff~]: 😈

┃ ➙ [💋😈]: kinky smut with feelings ;)

[Information]

I made a list where I explain what kind of sexual content I’d write, how I interpret different kinks (especially how the Dom-/Sub-Dynamic in my fics work) and with what kind of Smut I’m not comfortable.

┃➙ My sexual content Rules!

» Other useful symbols «

↬ Scenarios: 💭

↬ “Connected to” (connected to an other scenario/fic/series): 🖇

► Kink-Scenario 😈💋 [♔- Reader]

[What kind of dirty secret(s) could the boys have?]

► Halloween Costume-Scenario 🌸💋😈 [♔- Reader]

[You’re wearing a scandalous Halloween Costume for a Halloweenparty...]

► Their favourite Make out-/Sex-Songs: Hyung Line Maknae Line 💋😈 [♔- Reader]

[Which songs would bring the boys right into the mood?]

► Honeymoon-Destinations: Hyung Line Maknae Line 🌸 [♔- Reader]

[What cities/countries would they choose for their honeymoon-trip?]

► When the boys have a crush on you!

▸ Their feelings for you! 🌸

▪ here [♕- Reader]

▸ Their dirty thoughts about you! 💋😈

▪ About him [♚- Reader]

▪ About her [♔- Reader]

► Easter Special 🌸💋😈

[You’re wearing a sexy bunny outfit for them on Easter Sunday!]

▪ Easter with her! [♔- Reader]

▪ Easter with him! [♚- Reader]

» Series Key «

↬ Finished: 💯

↬ Ongoing: 💬

↬ Long Term Project: 📅

↬ Paused: ⁉️

↬ Uncompleted: 🗑

(the last one will hopefully never happen...)

▲ ▼ ▲▼▲

► Naughty Days ‘til Christmas 💋😈 [♔|♚|♕-Reader]

This is a spicy Advent Calendar for Christmas: The Boys bought an Erotic Advent-Calendar and every day they unpack another sexy Accessory with the Reader. Of course they try all the products! 💬

(24 Smut-Drabbles with female/male/gender neutral Readers)

► BTS Dog Hybrid-Series 🌸🌧💋😈 mostly [♔-Reader] BUT [♚/♕-Reader] possible!

Seven different stories about the boys in a world where humans and hybrids exists, an unique ethnicity of humans they’re able to shift their shape into a dog. ⁉️| 📅

► BTS “We’re all the same equal!”- Series 🌸💋🌧⚠️🚫 [♔|♚|♕-Reader]

We all deserve the same love, no matter if we’re are chubby, thin, tall, short, have white or colored skin, are a female, male or an other gender. It simply doesn’t matter. And the boys would still love us. And they would teach us to love ourselves. ⁉️| 📅

► Disobedience [Hoseok x Reader x Namjoon] 😈 [♔- Reader]

Summary: You are sexually frustrated, annoyed and bored, which is why you started to mastubate without the permission of you boyfriends, Namjoon and Hoseok. Even if they promised to take care of your needs tonight. But you don’t feel like waiting anymore. But you also didn’t expect that Hobi will catch you with your pastel blue dildo deep into your pussy...

► l’innocence indécente [Jimin x Reader x Jungkook] 💋 [♔- Reader]

Synopsis: Jungkook and Jimin want to try something new with you... and you have to admit that you like it. A lot...

► Prey [Jimin x Reader x Taehyung] 😈💋 [♔- Reader]

Synopsis:

► Birthday Princess [Yoongi x Reader x Taehyung feat. Jungkook] 😈 [♔- Reader]

Synopsis: You have Birthday today and your two boyfriends make sure that you will be sexually pleased to the ultimate maximum...

► Birthday Gift [Seokjin x Reader x Jimin] 😈 [♔- Reader]

Synopsis: Your Boyfriend Jimin bought you something very specific as your birthday present. You should use it as a preparation tool before you’ll get the real birthday gift tonight...

► Halloween Special 💋😈 [♔- Reader]

► Easter Special 🌸💋😈

▪ Easter with her! [♔- Reader]

▪ Easter with him! [♚- Reader]

► My Fake-Texts Masterlist [Semi-active/inactive] [♔- Reader]

Note: At the beginning of my blog I was more focused on making fake texts (simply it was easier and more comfortable for me back then because I was a bit insecure about my language struggles) but now it’s not my main thing anymore. That doesn’t mean that I don’t want to make fake texts in general anymore but right now I like the “real” writing much more! So I don’t know when I’ll make new fake texts.

► Improvisation 🌸💋😈 [♚-Reader]

Summary: This wasn't planned. Well, the whole world didn't planned to deal with a damn pandemic in 2020! If everything would have gone "normally", you would be in Seoul with Jin right in this moment and just enjoy that you're finally able to be close to Jin again. But now you two are stucked at home, Jin in his dorm in Seoul and you in your apartement in your town, far away from him. So you have to improvise for now on, how you want to deal with longing emotions and urging sexual desires...

► Strawberry Kiss 🌸💋 [♕-Reader]

Summary: It's Friday Afternoon and when Jin comes home from work, the freshly baked strawberry cake smells deliciously. But he decided that a taste of you is even sweeter, especially when you're not wearing any underwear underneath your thin summer dress...

► Birthday Gift [Seokjin x Reader x Jimin] 😈 [♔- Reader]

► Home 🌸🌧 [♕-Reader]

Summary: You finally managed to spend your two semesters abroad studying in Korea! However, after some unfortunate circumstances, you want nothing more than finally be able to fly home again. But your Roommate Namjoon has some ideas to make your year abroad still wonderful...

► Precious 🌸💋 [♔- Reader]

Summary: Today is your birthday and because your last few weeks have been terribly stressful, you want nothing more than to be able to sleep in in your day off. However, Namjoon has to go to practice all day long, that’s why he has found a very gentle method of waking you up to unpack your presents together...

► Disobedience ft. Hoseok 😈 [♔- Reader]

► Business Trip 💋😈 [♔- Reader]

Summary: It's a stressful life to be the CEO of a big and international known company. Always hopping onto the next flight to a new investor or business partner, all around the globus. But sometimes he can't fix his little problem alone, so you need to help him out with some naughty stuff through these rough times of his job~ ► Jar of Kinks 💋😈 [♔- Reader]

This Two-Shot is based on my own Jars of Kinks.

I identify myself as a Switch. That's the reason why I decided to write a Two-Shot to my "Jar of Kinks". So I'd be able to write both Dynamics, with Dom! Yoongi and Sub! Yoongi as well. In this Index you'll find the links to the Oneshots, combinded with their summary and their individual warnings.

► Touched 💋😈 [♔- Reader]

Summary: This week was just so awful and shitty, every muscle in your body hurts and you're absolutely exhausted from this horror week. But Yoongi has an Idea to relax you and make you feel so loved in a way, that couldn't make thousands of compliments.

► Netflix and Chill 🌸🌞 [♕-Reader]

Summary: Hoseok and you are best friends, especially because you two share an unique passion for which you get sometimes quizzycally looks from others. Like every friday night you meet up to watch some series on Netflix together and massage and fondle the hair of each other. All the same, all innocent as ever. Until it comes to an certain situation and you realize the true meaning behind “Netflix and Chill” faster than you expected.

► Disobedience ft. Namjoon 😈 [♔- Reader]

► Little Swan 😈 [♔- Reader]

Sneak Peak: Laying open, completely helpless and so vulnerable in front of him. Presented like a meal on a silver tablet. His meal, his prey. Your wolf is starving, licking his lips with an animalistic and devilish smile at the sight of your parted pussy lips. Revealing his most desired things, this swollen and sensitive clit and this pretty tiny pussyhole. Clenching around nothing, literally begging to get filled with his fat cock and stuffed up with his cum until it’s leaking out of his little sweet swan...

► Mustang v8 💋🌞 [♔- Reader]

Summary: You kinda have a thing for the sound of the engine of a Mustang. How bad that Hoseok’s new car is a Mustang and that your Boyfriend looks super hot while driving!

► Study Break 🌸💋 [♔- Reader]

Summary: College wants to kill you right now. Exam Phase and then you have to write a 20 page long scientific work! Jimin and you barely see each other, you gave yourself completely to your studies. Until some specific needs some attention again...

► Poolside Kisses 🌸💋😈 [♔- Reader]

Summary: Jimin said, you should pack a swimsuit into your suitcase when you're going to visit him in Korea. You thought, you'll go bathing somewhere privately, maybe just with the boys or so... and not going to a pool party of one of Jimin's Idol friends where you'll not know anybody! Since then you hate yourself that you only brought your new bikini to Korea that reveals more of your bare skin that you're used to...

► Mousse au Chocolat 💋 [♔- Reader]

Synopsis: You are Jimin’s favourite dessert...

► l’innocence indécente ft. Jungkook 💋 [♔- Reader]

► Birthday Gift [Seokjin x Reader x Jimin] 😈 [♔- Reader]

► Dirty little Secret

Summary: Whenever you leave your apartement for work, you're carrying a dirty little secret to your workplace as well. To be more specific, you wear inconspicuous sex-toys underneath your business attire to keep your sex-craving libido under control. Nobody noticed something and everything went well... until now. Until your Boss and secret crush, Park Jimin, bursts into your office unannounced and hears something buzzing which definitely doesn't come from your phone. Even worse, he sees a certain remote-control laying on your desk that seems to be surprisingly familiar to him... 😈 [♔- Reader]

► The Definition of Art 🌸💋 [♚-Reader]

Summary: You’re under Taehyung’s total mercy. Tied up, bare and trembling you lay spread out in front of your boyfriend who loves to turn you into his personal piece of art...

► Deflowered 🌸💋🌧 [♔-Reader]

Summary: You're getting married tomorrow and you want to say goodbye to your mare. There you met the stable boy Taehyung for the last time, who's your best friend and childhood crush at the same time. You will experience a stormy night full of love and passion and you'll give the biggest proof of love to him...

► The hands of a sinner 💋😈

(The Idea of this Fanfiction has two versions: for female and male readers!)

For her! [♔- Reader]

For him! [♚-Reader]

Summary: Since Jungkook got his hand tattoos, you’ve found out that they have a stronger effect on you than you would like it. You also have good reasons not to tell him that you are developing a kink for this tattoos. And these reasons getting confirmed...

► Goddess of the sun 💋 [♔- Reader]

Synopsis: Jungkook is the best servant for his Queen and Goddess

► The walls 💋😈 [♔- Reader]

Synopsis: You don’t know why but today was the first Day you realized how buff and bulky Jungkook’s Biceps are. And the fact that they look delicious when they’re tensed up…

► l’innocence indécente ft. Jimin 💋 [♔- Reader]

► Der Geliebte 🌸 💋 [♔- Reader]

Summary: You and Jungkook met right at the first day you opened your own atelier in Seoul after you had to leave your old home behind you. You love paint canvas with landscape motives, other people just roll with their eyes when they hear that you choose such usual, almost boring things to paint. Not so Jungkook, he seems to be different than most of visitors. It’s almost like he can read your feelings through your paintings...

► The laundry hamper 🌸 🌞 💋 😈 [♔- Reader] Summary: Jungkook has a crush on you since you moved together for college but the poor boy is way too shy to confess his feelings to you... rather he would search through your laundry hamper to get a shirt which smells after your very personal scent and tries to calm his racing heart... and other nerves. He didn’t thought to get catched by the person who already stole his whole heart in the most embarrassing situation...

This is probably the most important information on this blog 💌

Don't be shy around me!

You can feel absolutely free to talk to me, to stuff my inbox (even when you just want to ramble or to fangirl etc.) and my PMs are always open too! So don't hesitate to get in contact with me, you're not awkward or weird, okay?💕💕

I'm pretty curious about you guys too and Im always up to become mutuals or even friends, okay? 🤗

Love you, Tipsy 💜

[Dates]

Published: 27th December 2019

Last Update: 10th August 2021

1K notes · View notes

mrvdocks · 4 years

Text

Plus One

It’s Joyce and Hopper’s wedding. A new member is added to the household, and things get real.

(chapter one)(two)

It’s a Wednesday in February when he returns home and plops down onto the couch. The bar shifts just seemed to get worse. In the span of three minutes, he had to break up a fight, have the bouncer kick out a guy for harassing his manager, and clean a spill a drunk party group had made.

I’m not paid nearly enough for this, he thinks.

A sneeze breaks him from his misery.

“Bless you.” He says with his eyes closed. They shoot open when he realizes you don’t sneeze like that.

He sits up and looks at the moving thing under the pillow. His heart races as he hears some kind of breathing.

Please no, he thinks. We just took care of the plumbing.

He lifts the pillow carefully, expecting to see a pile of rats or mice or worse. Instead, he’s greeted by a sneezing dog.

It’s a Scottish Terrier with big eyes that just seem to interrogate him as to why he interrupted his sneezefest.

“Uhhhhh, where’d you come from?” He scans the apartment, seeing a dog bed at the corner of the lazy boy across from him.

This had to be the work of one person only.

Steve calls out for you, hearing you run out from the bathroom in a hurry and a towel haphazardly wrapped around you.

“What’s the emergency? Oh, I see you’ve met Mickey.”

He’s speechless, looking at you like you’re out of your mind. “Mickey?”

“Yeah, they brought him in today and I felt really bad that they were taking him to the choky tomorrow. I had to save this poor baby. And who can say no to his little eyes?” You singsong the latter half of that sentence in a baby voice, kneeling to ruffle your fingers through Mickey’s fur.

“What if Tony finds out we have a dog? What do we say? We can’t keep him.”

You roll your eyes. “Relax, he’s quiet when he eats the jerky from Tom’s.”

“That’s my jerky!” Steve whines.

“Okay! I’ll get you extra then. Don’t be such a sourpuss.”

Steve glances back to Mickey still staring at him. He puts out a cautious hand, Mickey getting close enough to sniff and then lick.

At least it was nice to have another man in the house.

He runs his hands through Mickey’s surprisingly soft coat, earning a low whimper from the pooch. Mickey lies on his side, clearly loving the scratches Steve is giving him. Steve catches himself smiling, suddenly forgetting the looming threat of eviction for a moment.

He’s wanted a dog since he was six, but his dad would never let him keep one. Not even a goldfish. He thinks maybe if he’d had a dog, he wouldn’t have turned out so cold in his teens. He just wanted to love something and have it love him back.

“Hmm, maybe you’re not so bad.”

Mickey responds by kicking his tiny paws in the air, writhing on the couch.

Steve is so bewitched by the creature he doesn’t even notice when you come back into the room or even left for that matter.

“So, anything from that Sissy girl you were seeing?”

“No,” he pouts, “I mean I think she was scared off by this.” He gestures to himself.

“Oh my god, you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what? I just felt like there wasn’t any long term potential there.”

“You guys went on one date, and you didn’t even kiss! You blue balled her!”

“Okay first of all, who takes their date to their family member’s birthday party and expects a whole relationship to blossom from there? And second, when you’ve been single as long as I have, you just know what you want and what to expect.”

You snicker. “But you don’t know what you want, you have like, the worst standards.”

“Uh, I like to think they’re realistic.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I don’t think it’s fair everyone has to compare to Phoebe Cates.”

“Phoebe was a great product of her time, thank you very much. And, I mean what about Tessa Grey?”

“Tessa Gr - my co-worker?”

Steve nods adamantly. “I would date her. You know if she wasn’t - engaged.”

“Alright we have to unpack that sometime but first why do you always say their names like some sort of serial killer?”

“Because,” he thinks, “they’re firsty-lastys. The same way I’m Steve….”

“Oh please don’t say it.” You cover Mickey’s ears.

“Steve “The Hair” Harrington!”

You groan in response, bringing Mickey to rest on your chest while you put your feet up on Steve’s lap.

“Sounds like someone’s jealous.” He mimics.

“Oh, please. Okay, okay, let’s say for the sake of this being hypothetical, Tessa breaks off her engagement and she shows up here and says, ‘Oh my god, Steve Harrington I would love to have your babies, let’s get married! You can meet my family and eat my famous pasta, wahhhh!’” You flail your hands around for effect, seeing the amusement in his face.

His face screws up, “Geez, am I dating Wario now?”

“That is exactly how she sounds! Plus, you would find something wrong with her and then you’d bail.”

“That is not true.”

“Oh but it is! It’s so true. In fact, anyone as grotesquely tall and hair-obsessed as you cannot be so picky.”

“I’m just trying to make sure I find the -”

“Don’t say it.”

“The one.”

You groan, shoving your face into Mickey’s chest.

“Oh yeah? I don’t see you bringing anyone home. Still not over Danny?”

Your mouth forms an O, you kick his thigh with the heel of your foot.

“For your information, I have been seeing someone.”

This piques his interest. “Who and is he an escaped convict?”

“Okay,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “I haven’t talked to him but he left his number at the desk so who knows?”

“Hmm, I may be wrong, but I don’t think that was meant for you. You are a receptionist after all.”

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we? But I just have some stuff to take care of beforehand.”

He nods.

“Personal…..maintenance.”

“Yup.”

“Gotta mow the lawn.” You emphasize.

“No yeah, I got you the first time. But come on, let’s be honest here. You’re stalling.”

“For what?”

“Jumping into the unknown. Danny was a huge part of your life so I get what it’s like to lose that connection.”

You laugh sarcastically. “Okay, grandpa are these your words of wisdom? I am totally over Danny. At this point, I can say screw Danny! I have all the time in the world to find someone else!“

You weren’t completely wrong. Danny had been with you since senior year of high school. You thought it would be like one of those fairy tales where the high school sweethearts end up living together in an amazing house surrounded by all these treasures and all that jazz. Nothing could tear you down.

And then junior year of college came and he slept with one of your college friends. You transferred soon after. It was your first relationship, and you just felt like a failure.

You don’t view California so great anymore, instead choosing to uproot yourself and finding the first place you could in New York for cheap.

It worked out fine, you think. It led you to Steve and Robin.

Even though you clowned him for it, you also wanted that special connection. Love that movies taught you but you’d learned the hard way they weren’t going to translate into real life the same way.

“Uh-huh. I mean there’s no shame in it, I was the same way with Nancy.”

“I wasn’t moping around and wallowing in self-pity like you, though.”

“C’mon what was that whole period of just ‘Danny!'” He mimics your voice crying and eating out of an invisible tub of ice cream.

You feign being offended, chucking the couch pillow to him as he catches it and smothers himself with it.

“Your dad’s crazy. Yes, he is.” You pout to Mickey.

Joyce & Jim’s Wedding

Chincoteague, Virginia

March 1-3rd

“I remember during ‘84, Chief Hopper had a special visitor waiting for him in his office to talk to him about the disappearance of her boy. At the time she was just the town’s nut, but I bet no one would guess the wild ride these two would go on to end up here.” The man who Steve tells you was one of Hopper’s officers back home, toasts.

It sat poorly with the guests, including a somewhat already even more pissed off looking Hopper. He seems to get the idea and ends his toast blessing the couple in their late forties.

Jonathan goes up next, greeting the crowd. He’s dressed impeccably, his hair somewhat slicked back and his ring very prominent when the light catches it.

“I would like to thank everyone who came out to help us celebrate. I’m very proud of my mom and at first, I was a little wary about her settling down with someone. Not because I was moody about it but because she’s done so well on her own taking care of me and my siblings. She’s always been both parents to me but Jim,” Jonathan raises his glass.

“I want to thank you for helping us years ago, for believing in us. For being patient with us and sticking with us through thick and thin. My mom lights up every day like a Christmas tree and I think that’s evidence enough for me to happily welcome you into the family. To my mom and Jim!”

“To Joyce and Jim!” The crowd toasts.

The wedding was held in a gazebo near the beach on the East Coast, with Joyce getting married in a white tea-length dress with lacing decorating her collar down to her arms and Jim in a grey suit decorated with one of Joyce’s favorite flowers in his pocket. They’d both changed for the reception, Joyce into a red sheath dress and Jim into a black dress shirt and pants and a blazer matching Joyce’s dress.

You were seated with Jonathan and Nancy and another pair of family friends, talking and catching up with the other nuptials. They both told you the craziest stories about Steve from high school to when they last saw him, all the while he sat mere inches from you and hid behind his hand when something particularly embarrassing came up.

You’d often erupt in fruity laughter, hearing about the time Steve got his Scoops Ahoy uniform stuck in the fridge or when he’d played Dungeons and Dragons for the first time only to lose every time.

“So, how long has this been going on?” Nancy queries, gesturing to you and Steve.

You glance at Steve, lost for words for a moment. “We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, friends,” Steve adds right after you.

“I’ve been rooming with him for the past two years since Robin left.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she concedes. “I always hear you call him Honey over the phone sometimes.”

Your eyes widen. Curse your sarcastic nature.

“Oh no, god no,” You laugh nervously. “I just like to mess with him.”

You drown yourself out with the drink in front of you, leaving Steve to pick up the rest of the conversation.

“We got a dog.” Steve blurts out, trying to fill in for the painfully embarrassing silence.

Jonathan raises his brows, “Really?”

“Yeah, only instead of being the dad of the group back then, I’m a dog dad now.” He reveals.

Nancy and Jonathan laugh, almost as if to help ease both of you back into not being awkward.

“Hey, you guys heard Dustin’s getting married right?” Nancy pouts with her bottom lip drawn out. “He’s so old now.”

“Yeah, Steve loves the little guy.” You blurt. Steve glances at you.

“Last I heard he was starting up some fund for kids with CCD in California,” Jonathan alleges.

“Oh yeah,” Nancy remembers. “The Palm Springs wedding.”

The music begins playing for the guests and Nancy jumps, exclaiming that she loves this song and asks Jonathan to dance with her. They turn to you and Steve and urge you onto the dance floor, but you say you’ll be there in a second.

“What was that?” He whispers in a shrill tone.

“I panicked!”

“They probably think we’re idiots now.”

You cock your head down and glare at him. “These are your friends, Steve. They would never think that. It’s just been a while since you’ve all seen each other they probably understand.”

Steve bounces his leg in response. You put your hand on his thigh, stopping him.

“Look, we are gonna go out onto that dance floor and we are going to find you the best damn lover you’ll ever have.”

He nods rapidly, hooked onto your every word.

You lead him in when a couple leaves, guiding his hand to rest on your lower back and rest your left hand on the lapel of his suit. Your right-hand holds out for his, swaying until you can match the tempo of the music.

“Okay, what about violet in glasses?” You suggest, feeling him turn you to catch a glimpse.

“Too bookish.”

“What’s wrong with bookish?”

“I already have you, don’t I?”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, what about red with the pony?”

“Where?”

“Behind you, rotate.”

He rotates you to the left and makes a face. “Too mean.”

“What? She seems nice.”

“The red makes her seem aggressive.”

You sigh. “Okay, pink with the braid?”

He glances quickly to his right, “Yeah she’s cute.”

“I’ll go and spill my champagne on her and then you just swoop in and dry her off.”

“Is there any way you can do this without assaulting someone?”

“It’s not assault, I’m just very hands-on with this.”

“That sounds like it’s textbook definition.”

“When have you picked up a textbook? Nevermind, you want to try this or not? I haven’t failed you yet.”

He purses his lips, thinking back to the first wedding.

“Don’t. I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

As the song ends you retreat to your table, grab your glass, and start sipping. Steve stays behind, watching you fake stumble and fall against the woman and drench her with the drink. She gasps as the cold beverage hits her, and Steve pulls out one of the fancy napkins from the table.

“Showtime.”

"You think she hates me now?” You say, drawing circles in the sand with your feet.

“You mean because a drunken guest dumped their drink on an expensive dress she was planning on returning?"

You stare at him, unamused.

"I appreciate the try. She just seemed….too hostile.”

“I get it, I mean a guy like you coming up to me and trying to pat my breasts down - I would want to leave too.” You chuckle to yourself.

Steve stands, smacking off the sand on his pants. He takes hold of your shoulders and leans you close to the waves as they crash against your ankle.

“Oh my god, Steve! You know I can’t swim.”

Steve is laughing like crazy, teasing you. He takes hold of your waist in a second, carrying you as far into the ocean as he can while you’re shrieking.

He twirls you as you grip his hands tight, digging your nails into his skin and still screaming to be put down.

“Be careful what you wish for.” He says into your ear and drops you on your ass. The overwhelming cold and seaweed cover your body as you try to stand only to be wiped out by a wave.

Steve is howling in hysterics, clapping like a seal.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna kill you!” You don’t sound too threatening, if anything your wet appearance was akin to that of a wet kitten just meowing in protest.

Steve runs and dodges you, moving in a zig-zag pattern as you try your best to chase him through the water.

“You’ll never catch me!” He fronts.

Anticipating him to move in a pattern, you wait till he moves to the left to start running to the right and knock him down against the sand with a hmph!

“Gotcha!” You exclaim, putting your hands on his chest and completely unaware of the position you’re in.

You’re straddling him, legs on both sides and your face is inches away from his trying to catch your breath. He smells like salt and champagne.

He’s frozen in place too, one of his hands firmly on your lower back.

Your eyes flicker from his to the rest of his face, focusing on the moles decorating his neck. He can smell your perfume still even through the saltwater. It inundates his senses, disorienting him momentarily. Your necklace dangles and touches his chin, taunting him.

This is the moment you’ve been looking for, the one that the movies oh so love to display over and over again. Something in you tells you to do it, to just lean down and see if he tastes like you do.

Instead, he pushes you to the side softly, catching his breath and patting your thigh. “I guess you got me.”

You nod, taking your dress by the ends of it to walk back onto dry land and leave him sitting there. You’d see him back at the hotel anyway.

@mochminnie, @wolfish-willow

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things imagine #joe keery x reader

95 notes · View notes

ttttaehyungie · 4 years

Text

a twist of fate | pjm x reader

a twist of fate | park jimin x reader oneshot

☘ genre | bff2l, soulmate au, fluff

☘ word count | 4k

☘ rating | PG-13

☘ summary | It was on one of those nights, sprawled lazily on the couch with the armrest as a pillow for your head, mindlessly scrolling through the threads as you speed-read them, that you first came across the term. Singular soulmates? It had you sitting up. Singular soulmates, put simply, was where someone may be your soulmate, but you’re not theirs.

☘ a/n | This fic was fueled by the recent return of my struggles with insomnia (but has, in turn, further fueled my insomnia as well...) and I just wanted to write some characters being dumb alrite HAHAH

The day your best friend’s name appears on your body was a day filled with panic for you. You still remember the immediate response your brain spat out the moment you saw the black letters of his name printed on your skin.

What the heck- NO.

It’s not that Jimin was unattractive- in character nor in looks. It’s just that, like every boy that age, he was obsessed with girls, entranced by any girl that so much as looked at him for more than two seconds. You couldn’t blame him. Being fourteen was just like that, or so you’ve heard. Being fourteen, pubescent and hormonal, people around you just magically became attractive, acne and brace-faces didn’t matter. Being fourteen, standing at the cusp of maturity and the newfound independence that it brought, but without possessing said maturity in its fullness yet, love and relationships were inevitably an exciting topic to navigate in all its sparkling novelty. Being fourteen, you knew that he didn’t really have feelings for you.

But now, at age twenty-two, his name still sits in its place under your collarbone. The cursive style of it has the starting letter of his name looping into the other remaining letters that resemble little waves with the way it’s strung together.

No one really knows all that much about soulmates, just that the mark appears after your soulmate falls in love with you. But as to how fleeting or how deep the feelings are, no one knows. Whether the mark fades along with the feelings is a mystery too. There’s little proper literature on the subject, and whatever you do know about the topic is the result of casually scrolling through reddit whenever you’re bored.

It was on one of those nights, sprawled lazily on the couch with the armrest as a pillow for your head, mindlessly scrolling through the threads as you speed-read them, that you first came across the term. Singular soulmates? It had you sitting up. Singular soulmates, put simply, was where someone may be your soulmate, but you’re not theirs.

You’d dismissed it away back then, writing it off as hogwash floating around on the internet where there’s no information gatekeeper.

Now? It’s become a real fear.

Because you’ve fallen in love with your best friend.

Har har, what a cheesy romance trope, you know. But what were you supposed to do when, during that Christmas break of your first year of college, you had the shocking revelation that Jimin had grown up.

You barely restrained yourself from gawking at the sight of your best friend walking down the street towards your rendezvous point. You’d gone off to different colleges, neither of them far from your hometown, but not close enough that it was convenient to see each other anytime. So you haven’t seen each other in four months. And apparently, in the time that you’d both gone not seeing each other, Jimin’s body had suddenly gained all this muscle in a lithe and toned kind of way. Studying contemporary dance full-time had really changed his body, his once lean and slender limbs now becoming sinewy and firm.

He’d really become a…

“...Hunk.”

“What?”

“Hug!”

You barrel into his arms, and his familiar musk eases you. It’s a strange sensation, feeling the ridges of his body where soft and pliant flesh used to be. But he rests his chin atop your head, and the gentle weight of it is still the same as ever.

“Did you miss me? Or are you just using me for my body warmth?”

Even though he’s changed physically, he’s still the same dork as ever, and it has you smiling both with mirth and with the assurance that he’s still the same Jimin despite the distance of four months between you.

“You’re probably the one using me for body warmth, Mr I’m too cool to wear a jacket to the movie theaters.”

“That was one time!”

It earns you a jab in your side that has you squeaking and writhing in his arms. Yup, some things stay the same.

It’s at your yearly Christmas get together with the gang that things start to go wrong.

Up to that point, you’d blamed the odd sensation on the initial surprise at Jimin’s change in physique. But now, looking at him in his black turtleneck and silver hair, standing by the fireplace and laughing with Tae, his eyes creased in laughter in that oh so familiar way, it has your heart squeezing in a very unfamiliar way.

It’s just because you haven’t seen him in a while and you’ve missed him, you rationalize, taking a sip of the drink in your hand.

Or it could be the alcohol. Yes, it must be the alcohol.

He’s still the same Jimin as ever, you muse, yet something about him just feels so… different. It’s like he’s grown up so much, even though he’s still retained his dorky rambunctious nature.

On the drive here, one arm on the wheel and the other on the backrest of your seat, and the setting sun behind his profile, you couldn’t help the way your heart leapt in your chest.

But maybe it’s just the golden hour sunshine that had him bathing in radiance.

Yet, you knew the view of him was just one thing. It was also in his aura. Leaving for college had forcibly hurled all of you into independence, and Jimin’s had left him becoming someone with a quiet hum of reliability.

Even his chronic tardiness had been left behind with high school Jimin. You’ve known Jimin since preschool and after all these years of knowing him, you’re well-accustomed to the pouty apologies that he doles out each time he’s late- which is always. When he’d offered to pick you up at your house at 5pm to drive you to Hobi’s, you’d fully expected to only have him swing by at 5.30. To your surprise, when you’d made your way downstairs at 5, you’d found him sitting in your living room chatting with your mum, as he apparently had been doing for the last 15 minutes.

Jimin notices your arrival and you don’t miss the quick once-over he gives you. But he doesn’t say anything about it as he gets up from the couch- the same couch he’d once stained from tripping and spilling chocolate milk all over way back in middle school- and promises your mum that he’d make sure you come back in one piece. When you got to his car, instead of the candy wrapper and crumbs-strewn car you were expecting, you were met with a surprisingly spotless interior instead. Your previous perception of your best friend- little brother to be taken care of at all times- was shattered with each new discovery that left only a sturdy and dependable version of him in its wake.

You go to take another sip of your drink, only to find that you’ve unknowingly emptied the cup while you were musing over your best friend’s recent transformation. Frowning into the cup, you decide to get a refill.

From the corner of his eye, Jimin spots you moving off the couch and it’s clear you’re heading to the kitchen where the drinks are. The flush of your face is a tell-tale sign of your tipsiness, if your quiet and withdrawn demeanor weren’t already a dead giveaway. He sighs and apologizes to Tae, cutting him off mid-sentence, and heads over to the kitchen after you.

You’re just about to gulp down more of Yoongi’s mulled wine when a hand wraps around yours, preventing the tilt of the cup and stopping you from ingesting any more of the inebriating liquid. A pair of stern eyes are trained on yours, and you wilt under his gaze, letting him take the glass from you.

But no. Your brain suddenly speaks through the fog. Thoughts of him have already plagued your mind all night, keeping you from having fun. But he’s not going to stop your fun any longer. You reach back for the glass, but it’s a weak attempt that’s easily countered as he pulls it away and out of your reach. He quirks an eyebrow at this.

“Stop controlling me,” you whine.

“I’m not,” he scoffs. “I just know you, and know that you won’t like missing the rest of this gathering just because you drank too much too fast.”

“But I’m fine!” Your voice comes out a little louder than you expected.

“Just slow down on the drinks, okay?” His tone is hushed as he attempts to placate you. “How many glasses has it been?”

“Not even that many.” Unlike him, you can’t be bothered to keep your exchange discreet. “Just give me the damn drink, Jimin!”

Unsurprisingly, your bickering has caught the attention of the others. Back in the living room, it’s Hoseok that has been badgered into playing peacemaker. He enters to see the two of you squabbling in his kitchen. But he also sees something else. Someone- most probably the instigator of all chaos in the group aka. Jin- has sneakily hung mistletoe above the drinks station, likely in hopes of catching two unsuspecting people as they got drinks together.

Which turns out to be you and Jimin.

Hoseok’s bright laughter cuts through the thick tension that has settled over the room. You look at him, only to find him pointing at something above your heads, and that’s when you finally look up and spot the mistletoe.

When you look back at Hoseok, the smirk that sits on his face is smug and unbudging.

“You gotta kiss now,” he sings in an equally smug tone.

“No,” you refuse. “No way.”

“Uh-uh, you know the tradition. You’re not escaping this.”

You shake your head adamantly.

“Kiss. Kiss. Kiss,” he goads. “C’moooon it’s just a peck.”

Jimin, who has stayed quiet up till now, finally speaks up. “Am I really that unappealing?”

He’s unreadable, wearing an expressionless mask.

“Okay, fine.” You’re unsure what his words mean, and it has you relenting, giving in to him as you so often do. “It’s just a kiss.”

You lean in, expecting just a chaste peck that will placate Hoseok. But you’re taken by surprise as Jimin cups your face, hand slightly cool on your cheek from your alcohol flush. The sensation is refreshing and you find yourself leaning into it slightly. His face hovers near yours, and the proximity has your heart pounding. Instinctively, your eyes flutter shut as he closes the final few millimetres between you. The kiss he lays on you is hesitant but the tenderness is undeniable, his plush lips nipping yours gently. He pulls back slowly and you can’t help the yearning that grows in tandem with the distance between you. Before you can say anything, he breaks eye contact and turns to Hoseok.

“There. Happy?”

Hoseok is nothing but pleased.

“Definitely.”

You’ve kissed. Jimin and you have just kissed. You kissed Jimin. Well, technically, he kissed you. You just stood there in shock the entire time. But the point is, Jimin, your best friend, and you kissed.

You spend the rest of the night by his side under his insistence that he keeps watch over you. He still refuses to let you drink a sip more. Not that you were putting up a fight anymore after what had just transpired.

At least your quietness for the rest of the night can be pinned on your tipsy state- you’re known to be a quiet drunk.

The rest of the way back home is spent mostly in silence too as you struggle to process what’s just happened. Even up to when you’re pulled up at your house and the engine is cut, you and Jimin merely exchange quiet goodnights.

The silence surrounding it persists till the next day. You’re hanging out in his room, watching a movie. You had said yes to the invitation to laze around in his room for the afternoon way before the unexpected events of the previous night. Even though the thought of seeing him had you antsy as hell, you couldn’t think of a good enough excuse to flake on him, so you dragged yourself over to his place.

It hadn’t been too bad when the movie was playing, you could just fake that you were watching the movie intently. But when it came to an end, so did your excuse for your unusual quietness. So here you are in his room, an empty bowl of what used to be popcorn and an incredibly awkward silence sitting between the two of you.

“Hey, ____,” he begins quietly.

“Hm?”

“We’re still best friends, right?”

Best friends. Right. You can’t deny the way your heart sinks a little at that. Quickly, before he can notice, you plaster on a smile.

“Of course we’re best friends, what are you talking about? We’re Jimin and ____. The dynamic duo. The inseparable pair.”

Jimin smiles faintly at that.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, y’know?” he starts again. “The kiss, I mean.”

“What?”

“I mean, Hobi was just pestering us into it so, yeah. Can we just forget about it?”

It has you pausing for a beat, but you scramble to agree.

“Yeah, yeah. Forget about it.”

That was all three years ago. You’d been friendzoned a whole three years ago. But still, you couldn’t get over your feelings after three years. You said you’d forget about the kiss, but you never did.

What hurt even more than being friendzoned though was the growing possibility that you were singular soulmates. After that Christmas break, things with Jimin had just gone back to normal, your best friendship persevering over geographical distance as you returned back to your own college campuses.

The kiss had certainly complicated things in that you suddenly had all these feelings for the person who at one time had simply been your best friend. Of course, it wasn’t just the kiss. Perhaps it was that first semester you’d spent apart- the first time your previously inseparable pair had ever really been separated- that made your appreciation for him grow. Or maybe it was the growing up he had done over that time that had you seeing Jimin in a different light and finally considering him properly as a man. The kiss had merely been the seal on the confusing feelings that had been bubbling up inside you since your reunion till the Christmas gathering. You had to come to terms with it- you’d fallen in love with your best friend.

If you were his soulmate, your name would surely have appeared on him by now. But he never mentioned it and the dynamics between you two only continued on as best friends.

And it sucked. You were in love with your best friend, your soulmate, but you weren’t his.

You’d tried dating around, in the last few years. Well, if your name hadn’t appeared on him, then maybe it’d appear on someone else. Maybe you just hadn’t met them yet and hadn’t fallen in love with the right one yet. Heck, maybe when they fell in love with you, their name would appear on you just under Jimin’s. It was an odd idea, you know, and you’d never heard of anyone else having that experience before. Perhaps you should launch your strange query out into the unknown void that is reddit and hope to find a comrade somewhere out there in cyberspace.

But the thought of it, imagining a name under Jimin’s, was just plain revolting to you. And what would they even make of it, having to play second fiddle to someone who’d been in your life through all the finger-painting and scuffed knees and awkward puberty and the countless late-night conversations on anything and everything? After all, your long-standing friendship with Jimin had been built on the kindred spirit that you’d serendipitously discovered in each other all those years ago in the playground of your childhood.

You always had to suffer through this train of thought, didn’t you, each time you were about to meet Jimin. You exhale, huffing out your frustration, and wrap your shawl around you as you step out of your car. It’s his graduation show tonight and the formalwear was a dress code requirement. You’d left all your formal dresses at home and had to borrow your college roomie’s instead. But the one she’d loaned you was strapless and failed to conceal your soulmate mark, hence the shawl to hide it.

By the time you get seated in the auditorium, it’s only a couple of minutes till the show begins. The program booklet keeps you occupied as you search for Jimin’s name to take note of which items he’s in so you can look out for him. But you know that even without it, you’d still spot him any time he’s on stage- his stage presence powerful and captivating enough to hold the audience rapt at attention.

The lights dim, and the conversations in the hall quieten with it. The anticipation for the show to begin is palpable. With a bang, it starts, the first item full of fierce and strong movements. You sink back into your seat, settling in for the entrancing show that the dance majors never fail to provide.

The show goes well, and Jimin’s appeared a number of times now. He exerts this magnetic pull on you, your gaze following him from when he first steps on stage till he runs off into the wings. Having followed his dance journey for so long now, you can see just how much his full-time training has paid off- the lines of his extensions are long and poised, his turns are immaculate. His movements exude passion and emotion, and you can’t look away.

That’s probably why you notice it. It’s as he’s running off stage that he stumbles. It’s small, and he’s almost at the wings, but you see how his ankle rolls and a pang of worry reverberates through you.

The enchantment from earlier is broken and replaced by nothing but concern. Each jump that he lands no longer has you dazzled, but wincing instead as you imagine him landing on his busted ankle. You know Jimin and you know his work ethic. He’ll put the production over his well-being any time and only speak up about it after everything is over and his body left battered with abuse.

There’s a slight relief when the lights finally come back on at the end of the show, but it’s not in its entirety. You need to see Jimin.

You’ve been to enough of his shows to remember the path backstage, and you sneak into the dressing rooms, slipping past the families and friends of the exhausted but happy dancers now crowding the lobby in the usual post-production celebrations.

Now that you’re backstage, your next challenge is finding the right door to Jimin’s dressing room. You spot someone ahead of you carrying an ice pack and figure it must be the person Jimin finally, and most likely begrudgingly, admitted his injury to.

“Jimin-ah,” the person calls, as he opens one of the many doors in the corridor.

“Ah, thank you so much,” you hear Jimin’s cheery voice ring out. You roll your eyes. It’s so like him to be putting on fake smiles to hide just how bad the pain is so that he won’t cause his friend to worry.

Your heels clack annoyingly against the floor, but you can’t find it in you to care to be quiet as you race to see him.

“Jimin!”

“____?”

Maybe you should have knocked. Or maybe you should have texted him that you were coming backstage. But then, you can’t find it in you to regret not doing either of those things because you burst into the room to find Jimin, drained and still in his final costume. That is- a shirtless costume. In your peripheral vision, you register his shocked expression, but your eyes are locked on something else.

Sitting there, just underneath his collarbone, is your name.

Jimin reaches for the first thing he can grab, which happens to be the ice pack, and attempts to cover up the mark, but that only has him hissing from the icy sting on the thin and sensitive skin of his chest.

“You idiot.” Your words are harsh but your tone is nothing but soft.

Sensing the seriousness of the conversation about to go down, his friend excuses himself from the dressing room. But you barely register that either, your mind still fixed on the visual memory of the soulmate mark on your best frie- no, your soulmate’s chest. The mark that matches yours in placement and in font.

You approach him slowly, and kneel next to him where he’s slumped on the floor and leaning against the wall. With a trembling hand, you gently hold his wrist and pull the ice pack away. There it is, skin slightly reddened from the cold, but the delicate swirls of the letters of your name sit crisp and delicate on his chest. Your thumb strokes across the letters, across your name imprinted on his skin.

“When?” You take the ice pack from him and settle it on his swollen ankle.

“Three years ago.” It comes out as a whisper.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” your voice is soft, your eyes shimmering with tears from welled up emotions. He holds your gaze in his as his thumb wipes away the tears that have spilled over.

“I thought you wanted to remain as best friends.”

A sardonic laugh escapes you before you can stop it. “And what gave you that stupid idea?”

Jimin averts his eyes with the next statement, the boring linoleum floor of the dressing room acting as his anchor as he verbalizes the thoughts that had wrung his heart out for so many years now. “I’m not your soulmate, and it’d be really selfish of me to force you into a relationship with me just because you’re mine.”

Your jaw drops. Then you sigh and shake your head lightly. A gentle tug on your shawl has it slipping off your shoulders and folding haphazardly into his lap. You get the satisfaction of watching his eyes go wide, his gaze trained on the script sitting just underneath your collarbone. The thought that it’s an exact replay of your own reaction has you giggling.

“But I-” he stutters, index finger rubbing at his name as if it would rub off. “But you said? We’re still best friends?”

Then his head snaps up to look you dead in the eyes, brows furrowed.

“Wait. Why didn’t you tell me?” he cries.

“We were fourteen!”

“Since we were fourteen?! You knew since we were fourteen and you didn’t tell me?!”

“I figured it was nothing more than pubescent hormones!” you scoff defensively, arms crossed in indignance. “Need I remind you just how many girls you were obsessed with that year?”

“Just one,” he mumbles and you barely catch it.

“What did you say?”

“It was just you,” he whispers. Your arms go slack as you see the earnestness in his eyes. He clears his throat and looks away. “I mean, I’m sure you know the struggle- what if I’m the only one who feels this way? And what if I lose my best friend because we’re not meant to be?”

The way his words resonate with your own sentiments so deeply reminds you just why you’re best friends. He’s captured your thoughts and struggles so astutely, as if you both shared one mind. Perhaps that’s why you’re soulmates after all.

“Is that why you asked me if we were still best friends?”

All you get is a quiet hum in response.

“And is that why you told me the kiss didn’t have to mean anything?”

He sighs. “Like I said, it would have been selfish to just keep you for myself, even if you’re my soulmate. Your soulmate could have been out there somewhere.” He finishes the thought with a chuckle and a shrug. “But not gonna lie, I wish you’d told me sooner. Do you know how difficult it’s been to love you from afar all these years because I thought I wasn’t your soulmate?”

“Oh believe me, I definitely know that struggle firsthand,” you say, echoing his earlier sigh of exasperation at both of your stupidities. “We’re idiots, aren’t we?”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s beaming as he asks, “are we still best friends?”

You snort. “Definitely idiots.”

“Well at least now I know I’m your idiot, idiot.”

220 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

When We Went From Friends to This, Part 1: Week 1 (Branjie) - Writworm42

A/N: Fic summary: At the start of their first year of college, roomies Brooke and Vanessa have to quarantine together for two weeks. Fourteen days is a lot of time to bond, but it’s also a lot of time for things to get complicated.

For the lovely Ortega–merry super belated Christmas <3 Thank you Holtz for betaing & suggesting a song for the title, Bean for answering my questions about whether UK stereotypes are true, and Ortega for being patient fdhsjkf

Title from Paper Rings by Taylor Swift

TW for implied weed use

Day 1

“I still can’t believe you gotta go in-person to all these classes, you sure there ain’t a Zoom option?”

Vanessa snorts, and she’s pretty sure that Silky can hear her roll her eyes on the other end of the line. “For dance majors? Bitch, you know that ain’t gonna work.”

But Silky is too stubborn to be fazed by common sense. Instead, her voice gets a little more urgent. “We’re only first year. Start out with something that doesn’t need to be done in-person, then switch majors to dance once this is all over. C’mon, I can’t have my bestie dying Miss ‘Rona here!”

“Christ, you sound like my mom.” Vanessa huffs. “Look, the uni is being very careful, okay? Why else do you think I gotta quarantine for two weeks ahead of the start of term? Plus all clubs have been suspended and meals and showers are booked with time slots for each room. I’m literally seeing no one except the people in my classes and the bitch I’m sleeping next to.”

“But—“

“Listen, I’m at the dorm now, so I gotta go. I’ll call you later, alright?”

“Bye.” Silky’s begrudging send-off brings a flash of guilt to Vanessa’s chest, but only for a moment. Pushing her feelings aside, she hip-checks the door to the dorm building, trying to make her way inside without disrupting the large box she’s holding with one arm or the suitcase she’s trailing behind her with the other.

“Hi, I’m Vanessa Mateo, I think I’m supposed to be room 96?”

The suspiciously stoned-looking guy at the front desk barely looks up from the computer as he slides the keycard across his desk, and at first, Vanessa hovers, waiting for him to launch into a spiel about rules, but a moment passes without him saying anything, so she surges on. The building is a bit of a maze, its cement walls cold and drab despite the colourful posters plastered across it in a desperate attempt to make it more hospitable. By the time she finally reaches her room, she’s almost grateful that she’ll have to stay in it 24/7, given the impression the building and staff have left so far. No matter, though, right now, all she wants is to put down what she’s carrying and collapse onto her bed.

She shifts uncomfortably for a moment, trying to balance her box while also maneuvering her card towards the keypad, but the effort is unsuccessful–when she finally manages to tap the card, she’s met with another obstacle, having to actually open the door without any free arms.

It’s probably not the best impression to kick the door open and promptly drop almost all of your stuff before falling on top of it. Scratch that, it’s definitely not the best impression. Especially when Vanessa looks up at the owner of the voice that’s holding back laughter, asking if she needs help in a soft, calm twang.

Her roommate is tall, blonde, and nothing short of gorgeous. And even as she makes a motion as simple as offering a hand, Vanessa can tell that this girl is the picture of poise and grace.

“What’s your name?” The girl watches with piercing eyes as Vanessa dusts herself off, fighting off a fierce blush as she straightens up and catches her breath.

“Vanessa, but my friends call me Vanjie.” She extends a hand again, and this time, the girl seems rather shy as she takes it, nervously brushing a piece of hair behind her ear.

Huh.

“Nice to meet you, Vanessa. I’m Brooke.”

Day 2

Brooke, as it turns out, is the polar opposite of Vanessa–quiet and reserved, so introverted that Vanessa has to wrestle information out of her. What Vanessa learns about her is interesting - she’s a dance major too, she’s from Toronto, she decided to study here because she wants RAD training as well as to get trained in other styles. She plans to minor in costume design, having an affinity for and attraction to any pattern that involves leather or lace (a kinky detail that Vanessa, much to her shame and embarrassment, files away hungrily). She has two cats back home, Apollo and Henry, that she misses terribly. Everything else Vanessa knows, though, had to be acquired sneakily over their first night together, more observation and speculation than actually asking. Like how Brooke must be a fan of Schitt’s Creek , given that she put out a ‘ fold in the cheese ’ sign on her desk. Or how Lana is probably her favourite artist, because she has a weird habit of not checking if her air pods are actually connected to the school’s shitty bluetooth network and it’s always the first couple notes of Summertime Sadness that play from her laptop before she catches her mistake. Or how her ass is one of the best Vanessa’s ever seen, because Brooke has no shame changing in front of her–

She strikes that part from her mind almost as quickly as she thinks it in the first place. The important thing is, she’s got to spend two weeks with only Brooke to keep her company, and if they stay in this silence, it’s going to get very awkward very soon.

“So… How d’you like Scotland so far?” Vanessa starts, grimacing internally at how stupid the question sounds. But Brooke doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, she smiles kindly as she looks up from her computer, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear again.

“To be honest, I haven’t really seen much of it… Pretty much came right here after I came off the plane.” Her smile turns apologetic as her face flushes pink, clearly self-conscious about the lacklustre answer. That’s okay, though; Vanessa can still work with it.

“Probably a long flight, huh? What’d you do to keep yourself entertained? Or are you a plane sleeper?” Vanessa adds with a teasing grin, and much to her delight, Brooke laughs.

“Nah, I can never sleep on planes. Unless I knock myself out with Gravol or something, at least.” Brooke chuckles, giving a small wink. “I just read a bit, then the airline showed The Notebook, so I watched that.”

“I love that movie!” Vanessa gasps, “I swear I’ve probably seen it, like, three thousand times. It’s just so–”

“Romantic!” Brooke finishes. “The poor guy next to me must have hated me for all the crying I did.”

Her eyes are alight with excitement, and Vanessa can’t help but pick up on it, because finally , the perfect topic, and Brooke likes Vanessa’s favourite movie, and maybe she likes other stuff that Vanessa likes, and they can talk about that together, and–

“So what’s your favourite scene?” Brooke asks eagerly, and Vanessa claps her hands over her face.

“That’s the worst question to ask me, bitch!” Vanessa groans, but grins behind her hands when Brooke laughs, a string of apologies flowing between giggles.

“Sorry, sorry, I should’ve known.” Brooke puts her hands up in mock surrender. “Too many to choose, right?”

“Right.” Vanessa giggles a little too. “Although…” she brings herself up on her elbows as soon as the idea hits her, and for some reason, her heart skips a beat as she formulates the question, a rare flash of nerves hitting her square in the chest.

“Maybe a rewatch would be a good reminder?” Before she can verbalize what she’s thinking, Brooke beats her to the question, blushing again and chewing on her lip.

It’s cute, how shy she is, and Vanessa makes a mental note that she’ll have to help her new roomie break herself of those habits.

“Yeah, lets.” Vanessa smiles warmly, sliding off her bed to grab her laptop from her desk. “Here, we can use my computer.”

She’s only just grabbed the computer and turned around when she falters, realizing with a sinking dread what decision is next.

Either she has to invite Brooke onto her bed, or Brooke has to make room on hers.

It’s just a bed, it’s just a bed, it’s not like you’re inviting her to snog, it’s just sitting down to watch a movie…

So maybe Vanessa’s never had anyone but her friends lounge on her bed before, and her friends certainly don’t make her feel as nervous as Brooke does. Maybe Vanessa’s bed is a little small and Brooke is a little pretty, and the thought of being that close together makes her mouth go dry. And maybe the sudden uncertainty in Brooke’s eyes, too, is imagined, or else doesn’t mean anything that Vanessa thinks it could mean, rejection or reciprocation or suspicion of what Vanessa’s feeling. None of that changes anything right now, because Brooke is smiling again, tapping the space beside her bed to beckon Vanessa over.

“C’mon, let’s watch. If you want, we can even try to find the director’s cut.”

Day 3

Vanessa’s fast-developing fascination with Brooke’s ass isn’t helped by the sight of Brooke stretching on the floor that greets her as she comes back from her shower.

“Oh, hey!” Brooke lifts her leg up into a needle stance, peering between her legs before shifting her weight onto one hand and waving to Vanessa with the other. Her hair is still wet from her turn in the showers, and her current position is causing stray drops of water to trickle onto her arms, making it all too easy for Vanessa to give into temptation and watch as the droplets course over each one of Brooke’s muscles.

Bloody Hell. Vanessa’s got to do a better job of keeping her hormones under control.

“Hey yourself.” She tries to keep her voice casual as she grabs a pair of PJs from her bedside drawer, turning away from Brooke to change.

It’s strange. Vanessa never used to be as shy as she feels now, self-conscious of her nakedness as she drops her robe and begins to re-dress. A few months ago, this would’ve been no problem at all; to be honest, she’s not sure it would be now if she had a different roommate. But with Brooke next to her, watching her or not watching her at all (she can’t decide what’s worse, really), it’s different. She can’t help but wonder what she must look like, what Brooke must see if she’s actually looking. What does it feel like, being in Brooke’s head? What does everything seem, looking through Brooke’s eyes?

But Brooke is comfortable changing around her, and even though there’s no actual rule that says so, Vanessa feels obligated to feel comfortable, too. Partially because if it’s a non-issue, then feeling embarrassed about it might fade. And if that fades, then so will the way she feels every time she lays eyes on Brooke at all.

Right?

Vanessa whips around quickly, the sudden, eerie feeling of being watched making her forget that she doesn’t have a shirt on yet.

“ Christ! ” Brooke hits the floor with a thud, flushing beet red as she scrambles to cover her eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to see–”

“I’ve seen yours, now you get to see mine.” Vanessa rolls her eyes and laughs, hoping that the light tone and faint smirk she forces herself to slap on disguises how secretly mortified she feels. And thankfully, the comment does work; the redness dissipates from Brooke’s face, and she giggles a little, though her gaze stays firmly planted on the ground until Vanessa slides on her t-shirt. Just like that, the awkwardness fades from the air, and things are back to business as usual as Vanessa begins to comb out her hair. Brooke finishes stretching, Vanessa goes to the half-bath to blow her hair dry. Brooke sits at her desk and types intently, Vanessa tries not to peek over Brooke’s shoulder to see who she’s talking to. Brooke stretches out on her bed to look at her phone, and Vanessa does the same to play around on hers.

“Oh, it’s our turn for dinner.” A reminder notification at the top of Vanessa’s screen alerts her to the time, and she shuffles up to slide on shoes and get going, only remembering what she’s wearing at the last minute.

“Gimme a second, we can go out like that together.” Brooke grins, swiping yet another strand of hair behind her ear as she drops her sweatpants and swaps them for a pair of pajama pants.

“Are you sure?” Vanessa frowns, but Brooke just shrugs, a wry smile spreading on her face.

“I’ve seen yours, now you get to see mine.”

Day 4

They do morning stretches together the next day, and Vanessa has to admit that lust gets pushed aside by jealousy the minute they slide into the splits. Vanessa can do them, even if she hates them–it’s not that she can’t. It’s not even that she’s inflexible, she wouldn’t have survived in dance up until now if she were. But Brooke? That girl is on a whole other level. She slides into the splits with no effort at all, falling into position almost instantly and yet extremely gracefully, then does the one thing Vanessa hates, because it’s the one stretch she can’t do. She grabs a high foam block and puts it under her front foot. And then, just when Vanessa thinks she can’t get shown up even worse, Brooke grabs a second block and slides that under, too.

God, Vanessa wishes she could hate Brooke. But Brooke is too sweet, too kind, and too encouraging to even hold her pretzel-like tendencies against her, especially when she turns to Vanessa and taps her foot, offers her tips on how to get herself to that level of flexibility.

Vanessa tries to tell herself that the way Brooke’s eyes seem to linger on her every few minutes is just that generosity, a teacher monitoring her pupil. But even after Brooke helps Vanessa slide a small book under her foot, elevating her leg just enough, the lingering continues, and it’s hard not to let wishful thinking–at least, she thinks that’s what it is–take over. And that feeling only gets stronger as they move to their next stretch, one where they’re toe to toe with their legs spread wide and Brooke is grabbing Vanessa’s hands to pull her hardly an inch away from her chest.

Is it just Vanessa, or is Brooke blushing? And is it just Vanessa, or are Brooke’s hands just a little sweaty under their softness, warm and gentle as if they’re trying to hold Vanessa with as much tenderness as they can? And is it just Vanessa, or has Brooke’s chest gone still, her breathing stopped until Vanessa straightens out again?

“Your turn.” Vanessa offers, pulling Brooke into the position she’d just been in, and from the way Brooke comes to a harsh, sudden, stiff stop, but her muscles don’t shake and her breathing doesn’t change, Vanessa can tell she’s holding back. Almost as if she doesn’t want to get too close.

Vanessa’s imagining it. She has to be imagining it. There’s no other explanation, not a heterosexual one, and Brooke is…

Come to think of it, Vanessa doesn’t know for sure. But she can’t ask, not now; it would be too strange. So instead, she pulls Brooke forward sharply, resisting the urge to giggle when the blonde grunts in surprise at her strength.

“No holding back.” Vanessa shakes her head, smiling far too warmly for Brooke not to know what this is really about. “You can trust me, okay?”

“Okay.” Brooke smiles up at her, and then her muscles relax, and everything feels back to normal.

Day 5

“Truth or dare?”

Brooke turns to look at Vanessa, shifting to sit up as she smiles dubiously. They’re lying on Brooke’s bed together, pressed up against each other in an attempt to both fit in the small space of the double underneath the fuzzy, tickly cushion of Brooke’s top blanket. Vanessa rolls her eyes at Brooke’s skepticism, rolling onto her back to look up at her, grin wide on her face.

“C’mon, you know you want to. We can scroll Reddit later. Truth or dare?”

“Um…” Brooke crinkles her nose as she thinks, and Vanessa has to swallow the thought of how cute the blonde looks like that.

Although admittedly, the fact that she’s starting to hope Brooke keeps thinking isn’t just so she can watch the way Brooke’s brow furrows and muse quietly to herself about how seriously Brooke is taking this choice. Rather, it’s because she knows what she wants Brooke to pick, and the longer Brooke thinks, the more opportunity there is for Vanessa to hope she’ll pick up on the psychic signals she’s trying to send her.

Pick truth, pick truth, pick truth…

“Dare. But I’m not licking anything and I’m not going anywhere naked.”

Damnit.

Vanessa frowns, chewing on her lip as she tries frantically to think of a dare she can ask Brooke to do. It has to be appropriate, obviously, nothing too crazy like she might ask of Silky or her other, closer friends. But it can’t be boring, either—-if there’s one thing Vanessa doesn’t want to be in Brooke’s eyes, it’s boring.

Then, she thinks of the perfect thing. Something that might get at her truth question, that isn’t too high-stakes but definitely still has a bit of an ‘oh shit’ factor—exactly what you want from a dare.

“Dare you to prank call your last ex. On speaker. ” Vanessa smiles triumphantly, sticking out her tongue to tease her roommate. It’s foolproof—depending on the voice, Vanessa will know who Brooke has dated. And if she’s dating someone already, then surely she’ll say that, since admitting it is no problem.

Only, from Brooke’s face, there’s definitely a problem.

“I don’t want to play anymore.” Brooke heaves herself up off the bed, face becoming stony and cold as her eyes cloud over with something that Vanessa can’t quite decipher. Something mixed with anger, sure, but also something…

Crap. Crap, crap, crap. The magnitude of what Vanessa’s just asked of her new friend hits her like a train, and she feels like both the dumbest and worst person in the world at once. She called Brooke out, put her on the spot, and if she is queer? Pretty much just asked her to out herself. Which, unlike someone like Vanessa, who has a pan flag on her desk, not everyone is willing to do.

Brooke isn’t just feeling cornered, she’s feeling afraid.

“Aw, c’mon Brooke, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want—“

“I said I don’t want to play!” Brooke snaps.

There’s a beat, Vanessa’s own heartbeat the only thing she can hear amidst the crushing silence.

“Brooke—“ Vanessa tries again after a moment, her throat going dry as she tries to cut through the sudden tension, but Brooke just turns to her desk, scoops up her things and storms towards the door.

“I’m going for a walk. See you at dinner.”

She slams the door on her way out, and suddenly, getting an answer to Vanessa’s question doesn’t really matter anymore, because there’s no satisfaction in what a reaction that strong might mean. She drops her head in her hands, staying there for a moment before punching the mattress underneath her, rocketing up and grabbing her phone.

“Silk? Yeah, I’m okay, don’t worry, I just… I fucked up.”

Day 6

They don’t talk about it at dinner, nor afterwards. They don’t talk about it the next morning, not during their morning stretches or at breakfast, either. It’s not that they don’t talk; they say good morning, ask each other questions about what time breakfast is, what time Brooke is going to be on a call with her parents. But that’s about as far as it goes; Brooke sticks to business, asking and answering questions in as few words as possible and avoiding Vanessa’s gaze at all costs. It’s torture, the tension eating away at Vanessa’s mind and stinging in her chest. She fucked up, and she fucked up bad , and despite Silky’s advice, she’s not so sure she can fix this.

Still, she supposes it won’t hurt to try.

Brooke is in the shower when Vanessa decides to sneak out, purse over her shoulder and mind ready for a mission. There’s a supermarket open within walking distance of the uni right now, and technically, she’s not supposed to leave campus at all except for emergencies. Which this is, so it should be okay, right? At least, that’s what she’ll say if she gets caught. She’ll have to be fast, and sneaky, and careful not to run into anyone who might ask where she’s going. Come to think of it, she hasn’t been for a walk on the grounds yet, not since arriving–how will it work? Will she have to plan a route? Give it to the front desk? Get a pass or something, to make sure she comes back within the allotted time? This could be dangerous, very dangerous…

“If you’re gonna go to the shop, can you get me a pack of cigs?” The stoner at the front desk doesn’t even bother looking up from whatever he’s doing on the computer as she tries to sneak by, stopping in her tracks at his voice.

Christ, really?

“Sure, whatever.” Vanessa rolls her eyes, a little irritated at how easy this actually is. So much for danger and adventure.

She comes back about an hour later, throws the guy his pack and launches that he owes her eleven over her shoulder, and skips back into her room with a jumbo bag of ketchup Lays in her knapsack.

“Peace offering?” Vanessa grins down at Brooke as the blonde’s mouth drops open first in surprise, then delight as she snatches the snack from Vanessa’s hands.

“Where did you find these?” Brooke squeals with delight as she tears the bag open, breathing in the sharp, slightly-sour smell that makes Vanessa’s nose wrinkle. Still, seeing the look of utter joy on Brooke’s face makes Vanessa so happy that she can’t help but smile, too.

“International aisle.” Vanessa sits on the edge of her bed proudly. “Figured you might like them, seeing as you always say you’re craving them.” She winks, and Brooke rolls her eyes, but giggles despite herself. But the moment passes as soon as it had come, and then they settle into silence again.

Come on, Vanessa. Just face the music. Apologize. She deserves that from you. Vanessa bites her lip, her hands curling into fists as she tries to force her heartbeat even again, because the longer the silence goes on, the more awkward it gets, the more she realizes that it’s now or never for her to make things right.

“Brooke–”

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Brooke says quietly, her voice flat and lifeless and… scared, almost. Vanessa sucks in a breath, her chest sinking as she realizes what’s going on.

“Well… Do you want to?” Vanessa prods, but Brooke doesn’t even look up from the bag of crisps, which suddenly seem to be the most interesting thing in the world despite the dullness in the blonde’s eyes.

“Honestly, I’d rather we didn’t.” When she finally speaks up, her voice is barely above a whisper, and it’s enough to make Vanessa’s heart break.

Not just because she’s lost her chance to apologize–because she knows that tone, knows that look. Knows the hesitancy and caution behind it, the anxiety and the feeling of being trapped and overwhelmed. Knows what kind of revelation that voice and that look are hiding, and how the information Brooke is trying to avoid isn’t actually set in stone yet.

Jesus, she’s fucked up way more than she thought she had.

“Okay.” Vanessa finally nods, sighing deeply. “But if you do… I’m here, okay?”

Brooke hesitates for a moment, but when she does look up, her eyes are full of a gratefulness that’s surprisingly warm. “Okay.”

This time, when silence falls, it’s not awkward, but full of resolution.

“So…” Brooke finally breaks it this time, a slow smile spreading on her face, “They just put up the newest season of The Bachelor online, wanna watch it? We got snacks, after all.” Brooke waves her bag in the air, and Vanessa smiles.

“Shove over, mate. I wanna see what kinda mess the girls are this year.”

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #college au #lesbian au #when we went from friends to this #writworm42

15 notes · View notes

sunriseverse · 4 years

Note

rec listtttttttttttttttttttttttttttt

fair warning there’s a lot of different fandoms here—i have, uh. twenty-two pages of bookmarks. lots of newmann though, i promise. in no particular order, i give you a fic rec list

the future’s owned by you and me by kaiyen (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 7k, Not Rated)

Years after they stopped writing each other, Newt and Hermann run into each other on the steps of Cambridge University Library. Quite literally.

Newt stares at him, expecting more. He doesn’t get any. “Come on, man, who are you? Maybe I’ve read something.”

I doubt it, Hermann barely catches himself from saying. “Gottlieb. Hermann Gottlieb.”

And Newt looks like he’s struck oil. “Oh my god,” he says, and something flickers behind his eyes, like there’s more than just recognition there, and before he can wonder any more about what it is, Newt blurts, “Oh my god!” and Hermann flinches and makes a face like a disgruntled frog.

What you can expect: emotions, opprotunities missed, and opprotunities taken. I absolutely adore this fic, though I might be biased by the fact that it has Newt as bipolar, and that’s something I always crave (more bipolar Newt fic when???).

Survival is for Nerds by Annabeelee (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 46k, Teen and Up)

It's three hundred and two years after humanity lost to the Kaiju and two hundred and twenty one since the Kaiju left. Not that it matters to Hermann. In relation to following a neurotic genetic experiment across whats left of the Northern American continent while dodging alien predators and hostile subgroups of humans, its possibly the least helpful thing to keep in mind.

What you can expect: scifi, tension, and a very intersting world. Post-apocalyptic, technically, but the way it’s written makes it almost hopeful. I love how the setting and writing makes it feel like a blend between victorian steampunk and futuristic in tone.

people can surprise you (or not) by pdameron (James Bond, James Bond/Q, 10k, Teen and Up)

“I’m not you, Bond. I don’t exactly have a technique for getting rich strangers to like me.”

“Just do your naive cute puppy thing, and they’ll be doting on you in no time,” Bond replies as he pulls up to the grand estate.

“My what?” Q asks incredulously. Bond doesn’t answer, simply giving him an indulgent smile. The fucker.

(or: 00q meets Gosford Park. Except not really.)

What you can expect: humour, murder, and some light espionage. Also, fake dating.

Infinite Distance by lachatblanche (X-Men, Erik Lensherr/Charles Xavier, 7k, Teen and Up)

When they encounter an unfamiliar and seemingly-abandoned ship in the middle of nowhere in space, Captain Charles Xavier of the spaceship Graymalkin heads out to investigate.

What you can expect: drama! Intruige! It’s set in space! I read this a while ago but I have memories of it being rather riveting despite the relatively short length.

Gertrude’s Goulash by lollzie (Gotham, Edward Nygma/Oswald Cobblepot, 7k, General Audiences)

Ed needs a new roommate. Oswald needs a room. Oswald may just be the most amazing person Ed has ever met. Shame he's not single. Cue wooing via the medium of cooking.

What you can expect: pining, misunderstandings, obliviousness, and a lot of goulash as a method of romancing.

Death Of The Author by happygolovely (Gotham, Edward Nygma/Oswald Cobblepot, 9k, Mature)

Edward Nygma was never intended to be anything more than a secondary character.

The Riddler demands otherwise.

What you can expect: a story within a story within a story. You think you have it figured out, and the next moment the carpet is yanked out from beneath you. Fairly dark, possibly disturbing, but my goodness if it’s not engaging.

we make our friends, we make our enemies by ORiley42 (Mission: Impossible, Benji Dunn/Ethan Hunt, 52k, Teen and Up)

Benji finds out he has a new neighbor. This new neighbor happens to be off-the-charts hot. Hijinks, friendship, more-than-friendship, and secret agent drama ensue.

What you can expect: pining. There’s spy stuff going on too, and it eventually gets brought up, but my gods, the pining. Also, it’s fucking hilarious, and, at just over fifty thousand words, the perfect read when you’ve got an hour or two and you want something that’ll make you both laugh and cry.

Self-Sabotage by EmilyweepsforPilfrey (James Bond, James Bond/Q, 2k, Teen and Up)

For some reason, whenever he's alone with Bond, the most ridiculous things come out of Q's mouth.

Or 'the one where Q accidentally invents a girlfriend'.

What you can expect: Q being an utter idiot. It’s hilarious. Nice quick bite of humour if you fancy it.

The Long Con by harleygirl2648 (Hannibal, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, 19k, Teen and Up)

There are two kinds of cons: long and short. Short cons mean short-term gain, with smaller rewards, mostly just everything you have in your pocket at that moment. Long cons mean lots of time, effort, costumes, masks, props, sets, and other characters all looking to set up the downfall of the mark and take them for all that they've got.

Con Artist/Thieves AU: Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter are both interested in acquiring a Botticelli, but both of them are quite fond of each other's short games. For both of them, it's the deception and thrill of the game that's worth more than the payout.

And well, after all, aren't the easiest people to scam are those who think they are smart enough to not get scammed?

What you can expect: no cannibalism, a lot of banter, and, of course, con artistry. Quite delightful if I do say so myself.

deus ex machina by coloredink (Hannibal, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, 26k, Teen and Up)

"What the hell?" said Katz. "Is that--"

"Yeah, I know, it's kinda flashy." Will shut the car door behind him and patted his pockets for the little fob to lock the car.

"Isn't that Hannibal Lecter's car?"

The car beeped to indicate it was locked. "Yeah, I guess so." Will walked away, toward the field, Katz on his heels. "I needed a new car."

"So you bought the cannibal car?"

-----

You asked for it: the one where Hannibal is a murderous self-driving car.

What you can expect: what it says on the tin. Quite funny, especially with the element of magical realism meaning Hanni-car is sentient. The Hannigram is more vaguely implied than an actual thing, owing, probably, to the fact that Hannibal is, well, a car.

adapt, evolve, become. by peupeugunn (Alex Rider, Gen, 3k, Not Rated)

“This is how you get out. You're slowly moving towards a desk job.” A pause, then, “you know, most people do it the other way around.” Alex chuckles softly and and shuffles towards him to lean against his shoulder, burrowing into the crook of his neck. Ben’s arm winds around him, shields him from the world, a solid weight on his back. “You're going to miss the adrenaline rushes, kid.” There's something almost sad in his voice. Alex doesn't want to understand why. Down that road lies madness.

What you can expect: a character study, in a bit of a roundabout way.

A Sharp Dressed Man by Avelera (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 12k, Teen and Up)

Hermann's latest book needs an author photo. However, when he's given a makeover and a suit that actually fits for the photo shoot, his appearance is so transformed that Newt mistakes him for his (much hotter) older brother, Dietrich.

Hermann decides to play along.

What you can expect: gods this fic is so good. It’s the first Newmann fic I ever read, and I’ve reread it a good six times since 2018. I would say more, but I think the fic speaks for itself.

Gestures by Actually_Crowley (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 7k, Teen and Up)

Newton finds out what Hermann does with his rare free time, but the discovery leads him to believe that Hermann honestly and unequivocally hates him.

What you can expect: the rituals are fucking intricate. I love this fic so so so much. And the eventual reveal/confession...scream.

Fate’s Horrifying Ways (also known as: CHRISTMAS GODZILLA) by linearoundmythoughts (Pacific Rim, Newton Geislzer/Hermann Gottlieb, 4k, Teen and Up)

Your name is Newton Geiszler and you’re going to have to break things off with your sort-of online boyfriend because you’re cheating on him. Sort of. [AKA the most dramatic summary of a humorous crackfic ever ok]

Originally written for the Pacrim Secret Santa back in 2014.

What you can expect: first off, it’s not second person, I promise. It is, though, really fucking funny, owing to the misunderstandings that ensue. There’s much pining, some angsting, and, of course, humour.

Letters From Berlin by spenshi (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 12k, Teen and Up)

Newton keeps in touch with his family when he's shipped off to the Shatterdome. Jacob and Illia send care packages to the K-Science Lab.

What you can expect: Geiszler-family feels. A lot of them. Also, Newt and Hermann slowly growing closer to until they can finally admit they’re into each other.

Wishbone by cypress_tree (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 8k, Teen and Up)

Hermann doesn't have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving, so Newt invites him over for food, family, and a little bit of flirting. Just a warm, fuzzy college AU to get you through the holidays.

What you can expect: fluff, softness, general feel-good fic. It’s really good, and it has Geiszler-family feels. Reading this fic is a bit like drinking hot cocoa on a cold day.

next days by catbeans (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 5k, Teen and Up)

Hermann had never felt an ache quite like this one, and he had felt plenty. He had been running on adrenaline first, and then on the necessity to keep running, pain and bone-deep exhaustion falling to such a low priority that he couldn't even consider it one anymore, and then it had stopped.

(the 18 hour nap date these guys deserve)

What you can expect: Newt and Hermann cuddling. A lot. That’s really it, that’s the fic. It’s 100% indulgent and I love it for that.

Tebori by SkysongMA (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 7k, Not Rated)

Newt squints. "It's really not a sex thing? 'Cause I'm not opposed to it being a sex thing, mind you. I just don't want to come in the lab tomorrow and not get to throw things at your stupid face."

Hermann lets out an endless, long-suffering sigh. "It's really not a sex thing, Newton, honestly. We hate each other. That's worked out very well for us so far, and it will continue to work out for us in the future." He doesn't mention that they haven't always hated each other and that, at one point in their long relationship, showing up unannounced at Newton's door for the purpose of sexual favors would not have been so far out of the realm of possibility. Had been, in fact, one of those things Hermann had considered late at night long ago, when he couldn't go a week without a fat envelope in the mail full of Newt's ramblings.

But that was quite some time ago, and he means it. They each get more work done than they would ever have separately, even if only because they like to rub their progress in the other's face.

Anyway, admitting anything different would just give Newt ammunition

What you can expect: Newt gives Hermann a tattoo. There’s a lot of feels.

Newt Inherits a Bar by orphan (Pacific Rim and It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 11k, Not Rated)

The scary part is the bar looks exactly like Newt remembers.

What you can expect: you’ll probably tear up a bit. This one hits pretty hard, honestly, but it’s so, so, so good.

First a Darling, Then a Marvel by isozyme (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 20k, Mature)

Newt runs a simulation given three constraints:

1: Newt wants to clone a kaiju 2: Hermann does not want Newt to clone a kaiju 3: Newt is going to clone a kaiju anyway

What you can expect: a lot of sciencing, a lot of feels, and two repressed idiots. There’s like, a paragraph or two of smut but it’s pretty clear when it’s going to happen so it’s easy to skip, which is great. The tl;dr of this fic is Newt clones some kaiju, Hermann reminds him how fucking horrible of an idea that is, and everything more or less works out in the end.

Tea and Sympathy by osprey_archer (Torchwood, Owen Harper/Ianto Jones, 13k, Teen and Up)

Soon after Jack's disappearance, Owen takes sick. Ianto goes to check on him.

What you can expect: crabby doctors, put-upon Welshmen, and a fuckton of emotions that everyone is trying to ignore. Not particularly happy, but then, when is Torchwood ever? It’s good while it lasts, though.

Pareidolia by hal_incandenza (Pacific Rim and The Black Tapes Podcast, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 102k, Mature)

It starts as a profile of paranormal investigator and professional skeptic Dr. Hermann Gottlieb. But it seems the further journalist Newt Geiszler delves into his cases, the more mysterious Dr. Gottlieb becomes. What is he hiding? What is he looking for? What is the truth? What is the difference between a journalist's idea of truth, and a scientist's?

Seeing is not believing. Believing is believing.

What you can expect: suspense, mystery, horror, pining, and apocalypse cults, with a dash of an ambiguous ending. I love this fic so much. I literally would stop what I was doing to read it when I got an alert that there was an update when it was still a work in progress.

Meet Me There Across The Water, And We’ll Start An Endless Storm by Skepticamoeba (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 35k, Teen and Up)

Hermann, an honorably discharged veteran has retired to continue working as a Keeper at a Lighthouse. It is perfectly solitary, and with little in the way for incidents. Newton is the sailor that washes up on the seashore after a summer storm.

[Late 19th century Lighthouse Keeper AU--or the one where Hermann was an aspiring artist whose dreams got a bit derailed, and Newt is the sailor that needs to learn to take his time with things.]

What you can expect: the pining........the intricate rituals............the denial.........*chef’s kiss*

and I couldn’t whisper when you needed it shouted by Lvslie (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 24k, Teen and Up)

He still smells like Newt; bears traces of his recent nearness. Clothes sleep-wrinkled from the proximity, from the way Newt’s ankle has during the night hooked around the calf of Hermann’s good leg and dragged his whole body seamlessly closer. Cheek half-flushed from the face unconsciously nuzzled his into the side of Hermann’s neck—evidence of his presence, fast asleep, as Hermann lay still and fretful for hours an end, staring at the ceiling and feeling sick with wanting.

[An early 20th century AU inspired loosely by Maurice and Age of Innocence.]

What you can expect: wistfulness, pining, repression, denial, lots of feelings. You’ll probably tear up. There’s an achingly happy ending for both of them. This is one of the fics I want a hard copy of so I can mark it up because, fuck, I love it so much.

leave the car running by Macremae (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 1k, Teen and Up)

It is clear that, after everything, Newt doesn't like to be touched.

What you can expect: touch starvation, mutual pining, Newt finally getting the human contact he deserves. I wrote my own version of this since it was initially a prompt, but quite frankly, I like Newton’s version better because it hits.

The Man Who Invented Sherlock Holmes by Calais_Reno (Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, 15k, Teen and Up)

John Watson, struggling young doctor, doomed to live an ordinary life, dreams of writing detective fiction. If he can just figure out his hero's name, the story will practically write itself.

What you can expect: Watson sort of, kind of, maybe invents a man into being. Oops. I haven’t read this one in a while but I remember it being quite a lot of fun. There’s elements of what I would say is probably magical realism, but it’s never quite clear.

Newton Isn’t Dead by Macremae (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb and Vanessa Gottlieb/Karla Gottlieb, 32k, Mature)

Newton Geiszler is currently being possessed by a genocidal alien race known as the Precursors. They’ve taken over his body, leaving him a prisoner in his own mind. However, Newt has a totally awesome plan. He’s going to make a deal with them: let him prove that Earth is worth saving, and if he can’t do that, they can have his body. But convincing a hivemind full of mega-colonizers that one blue planet can be wonderful isn’t going to be easy. He’s going to need the help of his kind-of-ex Hermann, his best friend Vanessa, and one awesome Footloose remake to pull this off.

So, naturally, they go on a road trip.

What you can expect: pining, world-saving, eventual confessions and happy endings. I had the great honour of reading the chapters before they were published, and this fic is one of my top five favourite fics. There were multiple points where I yelled, both literally (quietly) and through text (slightly less quietly).

it takes time, but time moves slow by prettydizzeed (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 2k, Teen and Up)

Hermann conducts a cost-benefit analysis every class period of sitting in the back of the lecture hall versus walking down the stairs to the front. He wishes he had hard data for this, to get some actual statistics, and perhaps after a while, if he records his pain level and his ability to read the board and pay attention after each class, he will be able to predict the outcomes given either choice on a particular day.

Two curves, traveling in opposite directions, inversely proportional: pain goes up, concentration goes down. It’s comforting, somewhat, to make it a numbers game. Impersonal. Absolute. Not a tragedy, and not his doing, only his to interpret, a smudged scrawl across his left knee in an unfamiliar handwriting, his to analyze, to decrypt.

What you can expect: the fic may only be 2k, but it will leave you feeling like you were punched. It’s fantastic.

I Could Be Jew-ish For You by Macremae (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 10k, Teen and Up)

When Hermann agrees to spend Chanukah with his family in an attempt to wheedle some desperately-needed funding out of his father, Newt insists that he shouldn’t face Lars alone and tags along as his “emotional support family rage distraction”. What they fail to realize are two things: 1. When Hermann brings Newt with him to the festivities, assumptions will be made, and 2. Newt may be half-Jewish, but he sure wasn’t raised as one.

What to expect: fake dating fake dating fake dating— (can you tell I have a favourite trope?) In which Newt is Jew-ish, Hermann is both exasperated and pining, Lars is disliked, and we all get the Jewish romcom we deserve.

It Was Love At Second Sight by rednights (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 35k, Teen and Up)

Hermann receives the first letter when he is eighteen years old.

or: Kaiju don't attack the Earth, but Hermann and Newt still write letters, botch their first meeting, and fall in love, not necessarily in that order.

What you can expect: feels. So many fucking feels. There’s no kaiju but that doesn’t mean you won’t be on the edge of your seat.

hello my old heart by firebirdsuite (The Magnus Archives, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, 15k, Teen and Up)

Peter’s wrong, of course. When it’s all over, Martin does still want to tell Jon everything. It’s just—well, there’s a few things they need to work through first before they can get there.

Martin and Jon find each other again in Scotland.

What you can expect: tenderness, domesticity, and love. The perfect trifecta.

the truth about me (and the truth about me) by danimagus (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 11k, Teen and Up)

Newton suffers from a bout of memory loss and is told Hermann is his fiancé.

Hermann plays along, to his endless shame.

What you can expect: two words: fake dating. Gods, I love this fic, as Mary can attest from how I unceremoniously started screaming at her about it in her tumblr messages the day of/after it was published. This fic is great because it subverts the trope a bit, and thus avoids issues of consent that may otherwise have occured.

speak right to my heart without saying a word by thekaidonovskys (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 13k, General Audiences)

“Your eyes. Your expression. Your smile. I’ve worked with you for ten years, Hermann, and words have never been our primary method of communication.”

What you can expect: to be knocked the fuck out emotionally. This one hits pretty hard, and that’s what makes it so good.

Transducer by hal_incandenza (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 85k, Teen and Up)

“I need you to hide something for me.”

“Oh, excellent. Of course, Newton, please allow me to jeopardize my career. And yours as well. My pleasure. Do go on.”

“Yeesh, relax,” said Newton. “It’s a personal thing, not a work thing.”

“As if there is any division between the two,” Hermann snapped.

If only you knew, Newt thought.

What you can expect: intruigue, alien tech, light espionage. This fic will have your little nerd heart beating double-time. It’s very very good.

A Really Private Person by astolat (Person of Interest, Harold Finch/John Reese, 18k, Mature)

The end of the world started on a Wednesday in March.

What you can expect: badassery on Finch’s part. One of the few fics I have bookmarked for this fandom, and it’s bookmarked for good reason.

Party For Two by ProblemWithTrouble (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 18k, General Audiences)

“My mother’s parents have a home in the Black Forest that has a guest house. They’ve often allowed me to stay there when I could spare the time.” Hermann looked distant as if he were remembering something; the warmth of a fire and a nice book and the smell of freshly made tea. “It will be quiet, and possibly too boring for you-”

“It won’t be. I could use some quiet after the decade we’ve had. I could actually compile my research. And sleep. It sounds amazing.”

After the world doesn't end Newt and Hermann take a vacation together to live in a cabin and finally relax, as friends. Cue the pining, the longing, and the living together as best friends.

What you can expect: a fic that will wrap you up like a warm blanket. Mutual pining, vacationing together in a cabin, lots of feels—what more can you want?

Dream Drifting by MooseLane (Pacific Rim and Inception, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 5k, General Audiences)

"You're running an extraction on that spastic PPDC biologist, is what I hear." Chau fixes him with a side-eye. "I know I wouldn't want to go poking around in that little bastard's head."

(There are not enough Inception x Pacific Rim crossover fics, so I decided to change that.)

What you can expect: Inception meets Pacific Rim. There’s no other way to say it, really.

I’ve Got Nothing To Do Today But Smile (The Only Living Boy In New York) by gyzym (Inception, Arthur/Eames, 19k, Teen and Up)

Arthur's a corporate lawyer, Eames owns the coffee shop across the street, and all good love stories start with a quadruple shot latte.

What to expect: Arthur is stressed, Eames runs a coffee shop, and, through the power of friendship and a lot of stress-baking, everything works out happily for our intrepid protagonist.

Kalimat/كلمات by rainbowagnes (The Old Guard, Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicolò di Genova, 3k, Teen and Up)

Yusuf translates medical texts for Niccolò from Greek and Persian into Arabic, and Niccolò spots the substratum of the ideas of the classical authors that he had once believed the basis of his own civilisation that he would go to the sword to defend, translated and passed down and sewn into a no longer foreign script. There are words Yusuf does not know how to translate. They will never, ever know all of the words. The prospect is thrilling. --- It takes Niccolò lifetimes to learn Arabic.

What you can expect: if you, like me, are, especially natively, multilingual, this might hit the sweet spot of Language Feels. It did for me. Also, Joe calling Nicky hayati? Yeah.

i never liked that ending either by Macremae (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 15k, Mature)

You want a better story. Who wouldn’t? - Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out

Once upon a time Dr. Flick Tucker, K-Sci head of Biology, fought a bunch of highly scientific dragons to save the world. Then, they took over her life. It didn’t end well.

Once upon our time Dr. Newt Geiszler, marine biologist, sci-fi aficionado, and accidental discoverer of dimensional travel, got a chance to take her place. He has a couple of ideas.

In which Uprising is still a bad movie, musings on the nature of choice and personal autonomy are made, and somewhere, probably, a coin is showing heads every time.

What you can expect: everything’s fine this is a perfectly normal fic come here i want to cause you as much emotional damage as I can

Not Allowed by acedott (BBC Merlin, Gwen/Morgana, 1k, General Audiences)

Gwen has been dealing with self-imposed touch starvation since she was a child. Morgana sets out to challenge this.

What you can expect: gays. Pining. Touch starvation. Need I say more?

Rocky Horror Pancake Show by ChuckleVoodoos (Daredevil, Matt Murdock/Franklin “Foggy” Nelson, 19k, Teen and Up)

Foggy falls asleep at exactly 12:00 AM, and he’s making a wish. He wakes up at 12:00 AM too—twenty-four hours before he fell asleep.

"Let's do the time warp again!"

What you can expect: Ground-hog Day style time-loop, lots of fluff, and a happy ending.

Ain’t No Nancy Kerrigan by cleverqueen (DC’s Legends of Tomorrow, Leonard Snart/Mick Rory, 13k, Teen and Up)

It's 1994, and young Lisa Snart's jumps aren't strong enough for an Olympic singles skater. Thankfully, her older brother has an athletic friend who can match her in pairs.

Mick Rory is hopelessly in love with Leonard Snart, though he'd never say anything about it, so he jumps at a chance to do Len's little sister a favor. If he's patient and works hard, maybe he'll even get to skate with her older brother.

What you can expect: pining, ice-skating, and general goodness. It’s fun, it’s funny, and it has a happy ending.

#rec list #ask #a good 40% of these are mutual pining but really who's surprised. i love a good mutual pining fic #hopefully all these links work because i spent. an inordinate amount of time compiling this.#let me know if any of the links need to be changed #c.txt

56 notes · View notes

elejahfanfic · 3 years

Text

Fanfiction

And so it is Christmas

Part 2

Elijah Mikaelson x reader

ft. Klaroline and tvd lot

_human_no vampires

a/n:There will be great mad Mikaelson chaos and lots of love…

absolute christmas fluff... ho-ho-ho

_also this just blew into such a long ch_ thanks for reading. xoxo

❄

A day after

Mikaelson Mansion

"I am so happy that you came a few days earlier. Ever since you moved to New York, I hardly see you." Rebekah said cheerfully.

"I am sorry, but my workload doesn't allow me to be here as often as I wish to." Elijah said.

"I thought that since we moved back to Mystic Falls, it would be closer and you could be here nearly every weekend. It's only an hour by plane."

"It is, but, you forget that I need to get to the airport and then from Richmond here- and that is three extra hours." Elijah said.

"I really don't get why you have to stay there. You can open a practice here. People will need a good lawyer here, too. It's like you don't want to be with us anymore. Ever since father died you - shut down" the blonde complained.

"I have not shut down. We speak every day." Elijah said surprised that Rebekah was giving him a hard time as if he neglected them completely.

"Yes, but it is not the same. Klaus is always somewhere. Kol is impossible to - talk to. You know what he is like. It's lucky I got Stefan."

"You have Stefan and soon you will be Mrs Salvatore and your own home and you will not need any of us." Elijah said.

"Yes, but - still - I know it is terrible to say it, but you are my favourite brother. And I miss you being here."

"I know. I miss all of you, too." Elijah said.

"You would not say this if you are with her everyday, forever blocking the drive way," Kol now got in the dining room, "boring us with her wedding planning yada yada"

"I see nothing has changed here" Elijah said.

"No. Same old." Klaus now said entering the dinning room with his daughter Hope followed by Esther.

"Hope is more mature in her ways than you two, and she is only 12" Esther said directing her look at Kol and Rebekah.

They all sat down now at the big table. Esther looked happy to see her children and her grandchild together at the table. It was rare that they sat down like this. Only twice a year she would be able to have the pleasure.

"Even though it is not Thanksgiving yet, I would like to give thanks for - having you here, all together. And soon we will have one addition to the family."

Kol now cut in looking at Rebekah, "You're pregnant, that is why you are getting married in a rush."

"I am not," Rebekah replied briskly, "we are getting married because we love each other. What would you know"

"What would I know?" Kol now shot back at his sister obviously pained by the remark."I loved Davina- "

Klaus, who was sitting next to his younger brother, put his hand on his shoulder, as Kol was about to get up in his strop.

Elijah gave his sister a look that said- this was really uncalled for.

"I am sorry." Rebekah now said looking at Kol tearfully,"I am really sorry."

"You should be." Kol said.

"Enough!" Esther now raised her voice.

"I am sorry, mother." Kol apologized.

"You two will sit down and find a way to work your behaviour. You are not little children anymore. I will not want to have this repeated again. Am I clear?" Esther now looked at Kol and Rebekah,"Am I clear?"

Both Kol and Rebekah now nodded, apologizing once again.

"Good. Now - let's have breakfast." Esther said turning her look to Klaus, "What times is your plane?"

"Noon." Klaus replied, "We will be back tomorrow at two."

"Can you please put some flowers down to your father's grave as well, for me?"

"Of course"

"Thank you." Esther curled a tiny warm smile at her son.

The Mikaelsons, same as some of the others, had loads of happy and good times, but they also had their share of tragedy. They were also not perfect. But then again who was.

As everyone left, she took a moment to herself, pulling out an old album.

Are you all right, Mrs Mikaelson?" the butler asked the woman.

"Yes. There will always be a hole in my heart, but seeing everyone happy and getting on so wonderfully in their lives gives me strength. Right. I am going over to the Historical Society to meet the mayor. I have also asked Elijah to take the boxes to the homeless shelter when he returns from the town. Can you just help him with it?"

"Yes, Ma'am" the butler said and then left her to her memories.

A while later

Whitmore Homeless shelter

Y/N finished with her pro bono medical help there, and now spoke to the manager of the shelter about setting up a more permanent medical Centre close by.

"We will not get the funding for it from the City Council" the man replied.

"Ok. Then we will have to do a fundraiser." Y/N said.

"I really haven't got time to organize this."

"I will be more than ready to help." Y/N offered.

"I will help, too." a voice now came from the door, that was left open.

Both the shelter manager and Y/N turned to the man standing at the door.

"I am so sorry that I barged in like that. But I would like to help. I - and my mother had great experience in doing fundraisers like these."

"And you are?" the manager asked.

"Elijah Mikaelson." Y/N replied instead of the

"Yes- I am sorry, but ahm- yesterday I didn't quite catch your name" Elijah fibbed a little.

"Y/N, Dr Y/L/N”

"Nice to meet you, Dr Y/L/N" Elijah extended his hand now.

"Nice to meet you, too." Y/N said still holding his warm hand. As she moved her hand out of his, she felt strange butterflies ruffling up in her stomach. "So, I can really count on you?

"Yes. I don't leave things on empty promise. I am a man of my word." Elijah said."I will leave all my details and you can send me all your proposal ideas."

"All right. I will keep you to your - word." Y/N said thinking how very old- fashioned it sounded.

The manager's assistant now got in and thanked Elijah for the great donation in clothing as well as the check.

"Yes, this is why I came to the office. Here is the check." Elijah presented it to the shelter manager.

"Thank you so much, Mr Mikaelson. Please give your mother my regards."

"I sure will. Thank you." Elijah said."Well, if there is anything else you will need please do not hesitate to ask."

"You can help as at the kitchen then? We are about to serve the early supper. We need a volunteer." Y/N turned to Elijah.

Elijah was caught in the moment, but then nodded."Gladly."

And he followed Y/N to the shelter kitchen.

"So, you are running errands for you mom?"

"Yes, she is very busy. Tomorrow is the big Thanksgiving Ball at Historical Society Rooms and she has a lot still to sort out." Elijah replied."I hope you found a gown?"

"I have." Y/N said."I presume you will be there, too?"

"I will. This is why I came down for. And also to spend some quality time with my family." Elijah replied.

The other two volunteers now came in, one of them being Bonnie, she introduced Elijah to her friend and the other woman, who was one of the cooks.

There was no time to waste on chatting and they now got plating the food and soon serving it as the people started coming in.

"That's Elijah? Kol and Klaus' brother?" Bonnie asked as Elijah went to the tables with some plates.

"Yes. He is so - different" Y/N said looking over with the corner of her eye at Elijah, who in his Armani shirt with his sleeves up talking and joking a bit with some of the guys.

"Klaus always said that he is so serious. The lawyer!" Y/N said.

Seeing a twinkle in her friend's eyes, Bonnie couldn't stop herself and said now teasingly, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you like what you are seeing. More than like?!"

"Shush" Y/N said as she now saw Elijah returning.

Not long after, Kol appeared, as Bonnie had sent him a message that she would be at the Whitmore homeless shelter. Both brothers looked stunned at one another. To see Elijah with an apron was something he never thought he would see. But it was the same for Elijah, as he thought that Kol wouldn't care about any kind of charitable work. And although Elijah didn't say anything, but the way he looked at his brother surprised to see him there, Kol now burst at his brother. "All of you think that I am some kind of selfish immature loser. But you don't really know who I am. Not really."

"Kol - it is not true. I know that you are good hearted caring person," Elijah said, "why are you snapping at me like that? What is going on?"

Kol went quiet now looking at Bonnie and then at his brother. Apologizing, he now went out. Elijah wanted to go after him, but Bonnie said to let it be and she went after Kol.

Elijah looked at Y/N somewhat clueless.

"I think I know what is going on" Y/N now said.

"You do?"

Y/N nodded, "Let's take 5 minutes break."

They went to the back of the kitchen.

“Coffee?” Y/N offered, to which Elijah nodded as in yes.

"I know it is not my place to say, but - they have been seeing each other for a while now-" she said as she handed him a mug of coffee.

"Your friend Bonnie - is seeing Kol?"

"Yes. Last night, she kind of told him that they should - cool it. And I think your brother is in love."

"Oh," Elijah exclaimed taking a sip of coffee,"now that explains his behaviour earlier today."

"I think she is also in love with him, but - he got this special award for his comics series and they offered him to finish his term in Hunter College in New York."

"He won't go if she tells him that she feels so much more than-?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't know he got this award." Elijah said.

"I don't think he told anyone." Y/N said.

"Huh- Kol"

"Love is - not easy." Y/N said and finished her coffee.

"No, it is not" Elijah looked at Y/N in a sweet mellow way. She felt like every ounce of her breath was taken from her lungs. Her stomach flipped unexpectedly again, and she didn't understand where this was coming from. It was like he’d cast some kind of compelling spell on her. Elijah also didn't quite get what was happening to him as well. It has been a long while since a woman had stirred everything inside of him. Lost in the gaze, he didn't hear his phone ring, until Y/N said, "Are you going to take that call?"

"Ha? Yes" Elijah snapped quickly out of the sweet haze, took his phone out and swiping the call open- said, "Caroline"

Y/N left him to talk and went to the dining area, trying to steady the butterflies in her stomach.

to be continued

#elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson #kol mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #the originals #the originals fanfiction #fanfiction #the originals christmas

20 notes · View notes

percontaion-points · 3 years

Text

King’s Men chapter 1

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions.

Chapter 1

...then studied the spring championship banners hanging in numerical order around the stadium.

I'm still not quite sure that I'll ever be over the author deciding “year-round sport season”.

He'd agreed to spend Christmas break at Edgar Allan, but the Ravens operated on sixteenhour days during their holidays.

I get that the ravens are supposed to be EBUL, but like... they do realize that people need to fucking sleep right? Even beyond sleep, there's such a thing as over-training. And people who are sleep deprived and too exhausted to move ARE NOT AT THEIR PEAK.

Oh wait. I forget that the author knows nothing about sports, and I'm going to lump physical training into all of that as well.

I know that asking that the author knowing basic human biology and how humans function is honestly asking for a lot, but seriously? It seems like the goddamned bare minimum WHEN YOU'RE LITERALLY WRITING ABOUT THIS AS A CENTRAL THEME.

For a moment he was back at Evermore being smothered by the Ravens' malevolence and the court's forbidding color scheme. He'd never been claustrophobic but the weight of so much hatred had almost

crushed every bone in his body.

Again, I feel like this is asking a lot for this really crappy author, but like... not every single person on the Raven's team would have been so mean and nasty. Statistically speaking, at least some of them would have been nice.

But wait! Everybody outside of Riko and Jean are a team-shaped cardboard cut-out. They literally don't even have names, and forget about personalities.

"I was figuring something out."

"You were stalling," Wymack accused him, "so I did it for you. I told them you look like you've gone six rounds with a Sasquatch and said you probably wouldn't want to talk about it. They promised not to smother you, but I don't know if they'll keep that promise when they see you up close. This, though, I didn't tell them about." He gestured vaguely at his own face.

For all that this series likes to talk about the players going to mandatory therapy sessions, the second that therapy becomes relevant AND NEEDED, suddenly it's like “Betsy who?”

Neil doesn't need exy or the team; he needs long-term therapy and a good lawyer. (To sue the pants off from Riko. We'll start with the assault and unlawful imprisonment charges and go from there.)

"Riko called me on Christmas to say he inked you. How long do you think he'll let you hide before he forces you to show it off?”

I 100% feel like the author has no idea that tattoo removal is a thing that exists.

"You still don't have any proper winter clothes," Nicky said. "We should just take you out and expand your wardrobe again, but I figured we'd start with this. You can't keep wearing team hoodies and not expect to catch a cold. Does it fit?"

I find it hard to swallow that Neil doesn't have any proper winter clothes. I know that this is one of the Carolinas, but still. It still gets kind of chilly in the winter.

Riko said Easthaven's Dr. Proust used "therapeutic reenactments" to help his patients. It was a thin line between psychological cruelty and real physical abuse, and Riko made it clear Proust was willing to cross that line if Neil disobeyed.

The 1980's called and they want their illegal therapy practices done by people who should have had their medical licenses revoked a long time ago back.

It was too early and he was too sore to fall sleep again yet, but he pulled his blankets over his head and willed himself to stop thinking.

Chapter 1 summary: It's been two days since Neil got back, and he's basically had the place to himself (and David). But David tells him that the others are at the airport now, and that Neil needs to get a goddamned grip. Again, kind of feel like Neil needs intense therapy, but... sure. Let's shove him back into exy and the dorm and college classes like nothing happened. Sounds healthy!

The others show up, and they're startled by Neil's appearance, and what he had to go through. They don't know the specifics, but the broad, sweeping general idea, that's mapped out by the bruises and Neil's new tattoo.

Some of the team give Neil a warm, winter jacket, citing that he doesn't have any proper winter clothes, and has only just been wearing team hoodies up until this point. Neil starts crying over the entire thing, which... okay. Kevin also gives Neil his binder full of money back.

They then go to the hospital where Andrew has been staying. As they're waiting for Andrew to come out from where ever, Kevin talks with Neil some about the abuse he also suffered because of exy and Riko. Neil asks why Kevin never told David that he was Kevin's father, but Kevin doesn't exactly have answers.

When Andrew comes out, he has a weird blank look, and practically ignores all of them. They go back to the dorm. After Andrew gets settled back in, he and Neil go up to the roof where Andrew asks for an explanation. Neil is still under some mistaken impression that him going to Evermore was to protect Kevin, but Andrew doesn't exactly see it like that, and they fight over the entire thing. Like everything in this dumb series, it's too long and doesn't seem to serve half the point the author seems to think it does.

Neil goes inside, where he pretends like everything is normal, but then randomly blacks out. For hours. And literally nobody notices any of this.

#All For The Game #The King's Men #Chapter 01 #do you even know how sports work?#Neil Josten #Riko Moriyama #do you even know how the world works?#HEADDESKING #Jean Moreau #THERAPY! GET IT!!#i'm done goodbye #Nicky Hemmick #holy medical malpractice Batman!#Aaron and Andrew Minyard #Kevin Day #David Wymack

2 notes · View notes

zacc-attacc · 3 years

Text

Kissing In The Snow: A Javid Fic

This fic is lowkey shit and I might literally post a new one to apologize for this, but have it anyway!

Final Word Count: 3.2k

Triggers: There’s a bit of an anxiety attack, and a reference to self-harm. I put an * before the attack and bolded the self-harm reference so you stay safe! Love you nerds!

The plan was originally to drive through the night. After all, it was a long-term trip, and we both had a pretty uncanny ability to stay awake. Since we had two drivers, we could switch roles every now and again. But we only made it until a few hours after dark.

I knew there would be snow. After all, especially around New York, there was always snow during late December. But that… That was the type of storm that we hadn’t seen in years. The only time I think I had ever seen that much snow was when my family had traveled to Canada and they were hit with a snow storm. It was magical as a kid in a warm, safe cabin. But now, as an adult, driving on a dark road with the life of my best friend in my hands, it was downright terrifying.

Jack wasn’t fully asleep when I started to consider pulling over. After all, it was only around 10 PM, meaning he was in the dozing part of the night. It was just dark enough that he couldn’t sketch in his physical notebook, and he had put in his earbuds to try and drift off. He had offered to drive, since he was sure I was sleepy from waking up at 5 AM to pack, but I assured him that I was wide awake. And I really was. Slamming three Bang Energy drinks in the span of two hours would do that to a guy.

Snowflakes had started to fall about an hour ago. They were small ones, barely making a dent in our view. But the longer I drove, the bigger they got. Bigger, thicker, and falling faster. I knew that if I was outside, I would be soaked within three seconds.

The wind howled, not for the first time, whistling around the car and nudging it slightly across the icy road in an attempt to push us off. I could feel my anxiety rising as I frantically tried to keep the car on the road while staying calm, but something must have tipped Jack off, because he sat up from where he was curled by the window, stared at the weather, and looked at me with shock on his face.

“Jesus, Dave, it’s crazy out there!”

I felt my hands that I hadn’t even realized were clenching the wheel loosen at the sound of his voice. Despite the fact that I had just been talking on and off with him for seven hours, his voice still had a strange habit of making the world seem less terrible. Especially when paired with his eyes, wide, hazel-y green, and worried.

“Yeah,” I said, hearing that my voice was significantly higher than it usually was.

“Should we… Pull over? Find somewhere to stay for the night? We can’t sleep in the car, you’ll freeze-”

“I’ll freeze? Last I checked I’m not the only one who can contract hypothermia,” I cut him off, smiling internally at the ‘Mama bird’ side that was revealing itself (a side that normally only showed in dire situations or when one of their friends were injured).

“Yeah, but you’re a string bean. Nothing to you,” Jack pointed out. This was true, but only when compared to him. As the linebacker for Northwestern University’s football team, he had enough muscle on him to pass for a professional bodybuilder. It was funny that he was a football player while also majoring in art, while compared to the other players with their business and accounting majors. I knew he secretly hated the team, but he was playing football for the scholarship to put him through school, so it was either play or starve. Obviously, he chose to play.

I tried to take a left turn, starting to slope softly almost 50 feet away in order to be able to make the turn. It was still almost too much for the car, causing me to need to break completely to avoid hitting a sign that read Joanna’s Nightly Cabins and Bunks, 10 mi.

I felt my entire body tighten as I tried to steer without adding any additional momentum to our car careening across the ice. The tires were locked in place, and still sliding like the world’s most dangerous hockey puck. Jack had stopped talking, and was holding his breath right along with me as we continued to slide. Once we finally stopped, I put my head down on the steering wheel and tried not to cry from a simultaneous feeling of adrenaline and relief.

*********

I was shaking, harder than I had in a long time. I felt Jack’s strong, warm hand on my back, an anchor. He knew how my attacks worked, since he had seen me through middle and high school. They happened a lot less now, but that didn’t make them any better when they did hit, like a freight train of emotion and a loss of control. Where my lungs decided to say “I can’t do this anymore,” and stopped wanting to work. Where my face felt like it was set on fire, and my eyes were watering and I tired to keep everything under control but it all felt so hard and my thoughts were rushing and my heart was pounding in my ears and-

“It’s okay, Davey,” his low voice muttered.

Davey.

That damn nickname. The one only he had ever called me.

He was leaning over the gear stick now to hug me, pinning my arms to my side (I had… Old habits) He was rocking, his hand on my heart as he counted the beats with me, whispering into my ear.

“Five, six, seven, eight…”

**********

Once we got to sixty, I had calmed down a bit. I could breathe now, at least, and I had stopped crying.

“I think I’ll drive us the rest of the way. Is that okay, Dave?” Jack murmured. He was still holding onto me tightly, as if I could break at any moment.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice sounding worn like it always did after an attack.

The moment I felt him pull away, I missed him. After all, he really was quite warm, and there was a winter storm outside. At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself.

I opened the car door, and heard Jack do the same behind me. The road was icy, icier than we should have been driving on. Then again, I guess that was kind of the whole reason we were dipping out rather than driving through the night.

As we were walking, I could feel my Timberlands beginning to lose the battle between gravity and friction. I looked up in an attempt to keep my balance, and saw Jack begin to topple. I instinctively reached out my arm to catch him, and we both spun in some strange, ice dance to keep our balance. Finally, Jack slapped the hood of the car to tether us both, hard enough that the alarm started to beep, shattering the night with its high tones.

Jack looked at me, and down at my arm, which I just noticed had somehow snaked around his waist in the struggle. I dropped it quickly, feeling my face heat up despite the snow, smiling awkwardly. Jack just patted my shoulder, and began to chuckle. A soft, not full-blown laugh at the situation. I found myself laughing right along with him.

His laughter had always been contagious.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“This is delux,” Jack grinned, unrolling his travel blanket onto the singular bunk bed. Joanna’s Nightly Cabins and Bunks turned out to be a dingy collection of cabins owned by an old woman looking to make a buck and offer hospitality to travelers.

“I’m glad you pulled over, you’ll catch your death in that type of storm,” Joanna said from the doorway, making sure we had enough blankets and brain cells to survive the night. The cabin was small, with a few bunks lining the walls. There was a hot plate on top of a little fridge, but the electricity had been kicked out from the storm, meaning those were both rendered useless. There was an oak door leading to what I guessed was a bathroom, and a light rattling sounding above us for what I assumed was the heating.

“Thank you for having us for free, ma’am,” Jack said for the eight billionth time that night. Joanna just tossed her head back in a light laugh.

“A sweet couple like you, and three days before Christmas no less? It’s no problem, really. I’m all for holiday cheer. Have a good night, you two,” Joanna said, turning and winking behind her shoulder as she walked away. I made eye contact with Jack, and noticed that he was blushing just as much as I was. We waited a few minutes to make sure Joanna was completely gone to continue unpacking.

“How many times has that happened now?” I asked, hanging Jack’s scarf over a vent so it could dry overnight.

“What?” Jack said, turning from making his bunk to look at me, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“We had a list of all the times… People thought we were dating. Back in high school, remember?” I smiled slightly at the memory, thinking back to all the time we used to spend with each other in high school.

No one was surprised when we went to the same college, since we had spent so much of high school half joint at the hip. Even our mutual friends were convinced we were secretly dating. It happened enough times that one day, Jack whipped out a notebook and wrote down all the times we could think of being asked. We just kept adding, until college happened and… I honestly don’t know what happened to the notebook.

“Oh, yeah, that! I think Medda tossed it out on accident… But we have our memories, right?” Jack said, regret flashing in his eyes. I just smiled at him sadly.

“Yeah. So, what time should we get going in the morning?”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was probably midnight when I heard a loud, metallic bang.

I sat up sharply, scrambling out of the sheets to make sure that Jack hadn’t hit his head and died from the top bunk.

“Dave, you okay?” Jack asked, glancing at me from his mattress.

“Did you hear that?” I questioned, gesturing to the ceiling where I had heard the bang.

“What?”

“Some sort of bang… I think the heater went out,” I said, suddenly realizing I couldn’t hear the rattle of the heating anymore.

“...Shit. Should we get Joanna?” Jack asked. There was a beat of silence as we made eye contact, and it dawned on me that neither of us wanted to wake up this poor old woman to tell her.

This is the height of being gen z. I thought, realizing how screwed we were.

“It… It’ll probably be fine,” I stammered, sitting back on my bunk. The air was already getting colder, and the wind howled against the cabin.

“...Get over here. You ain’t getting hypothermia on my watch,” Jack said, rolling his eyes and gesturing to himself. I felt my face heat up for what seemed like the umpteenth time that night.

“A- are you sure that you’re-”

“Oh, can it Jacobs. I don’t need your sister sicced on me because I didn’t do what I could to make sure you survived the night,” Jack pointed out, sounding mildly annoyed. I would’ve been more convinced if I didn’t see that he was also blushing, and had that look… That weird look he got when he was looking at a pretty girl or guy.

This is totally platonic. I reminded myself, climbing the ladder while holding my blankets. Jack nodded at me, tossing all of our blankets over the two of us.

I didn’t think I would be able to sleep with him right there, but something about his body heat and the crashing energy drinks was enough to lull me to sleep…

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Davey, you still sleeping?” Jack whispered. My eyes snapped open, and the events of the previous night hit me like a truck. I turned to look at Jack, who was still laying down beside me.

“Yeah,” I croaked. Jack nodded, and I felt him draw away from me.

Wait, away?

It was only then that I realized how close we are.

And that my head had been practically laying on his chest.

“Sorry,” I muttered, shifting away from him.

“It’s okay. Warmth, y’know,” Jack said gruffly, sitting up. I scooched away from him and climbed down the ladder, the cold air piercing my skin.

“We should get going soon… I’m sure Medda is ready to have my head for having you out on a night like that,” I pointed out, dashing to the assorted vents that had our assorted winter wear, half-dried.

“She could never, Dave, you know she prefers you,” Jack grinned, rolling his eyes.

“Well, she adopted you,” I pointed out. “She must’ve liked you enough to want you in her life forever.”

“She once threatened to take away my dessert privileges if we ever stopped talking,” Jack said, deadpan.

“Those brownies are no joke. I’m glad you were able to put up with me,” I chuckled.

“I don’t put up with you, Jacobs,” Jack said, self-deprecation seeping into his words. I stopped re-packing, and crossed the room to talk to him, being sure to drive my point home.

“Neither of us put up with one another, kay?”

“I- damn, Dave, makin’ us have a moment here,” Jack said, red creeping up his face. I stepped back, apologizing under my breath.

“No, no, it’s fine. You always had more of an emotional range then I did,” Jack shrugged, regret tainting his words.

A few minutes later, we were packed. Jack and I both had our jackets, scarves, mittens and hats on.

“I got it,” I said, grabbing the doorknob and pushing.

It didn’t budge. Not even a centimeter. I shook the door, throwing my weight onto it to the best of my ability.

“Let me try,” Jack said, grabbing my hand around the knob. I felt a sharp shock, and felt my heart kick into overdrive, pounding in my ears.

His hands were soft.

Jack was still struggling with the door, jiggling it aggressively.

“Its just a bit… Frozen,” Jack grunted, slamming the door with all of his linebacker strength. The door flew open, a few healthily sized pieces of ice spaying onto the fine bed of snow.

Jack had opened a door to a winter wonderland. Due to its remote location, Joanna’s Nightly Cabins and Bunks was peak stock photo winter.

The trees were frosted with white, like they were some sort of cake, or one of Jack’s drawings. There was a big, sprawling field with a few snow dusted cabins. The main house Joanna lived in was mostly cleared (we assumed she had cleared it herself… somehow), but by far the most shocking part was-

“Oh shit, my car,” Jack said, attempting to run across the lawn to the snow-covered lump that was his vehicle. This didn’t work well, since there was almost several feet of snow covering the ground. He had only made it about 10 feet when he collapsed into the drift, his legs having been unable to fight the snow.

I found myself half-laughing, despite being mildly worried as I helped him up.

“We are so screwed, Davey,” Jack said, his brow furrowing as his Manhattan twang set into his words. That’s how I knew he was really worried- his accent only set in when he was drunk, sick, angry, or stressed.

“It’ll be fine, I’ll call a plow, or a tow… We’ll find some way out of here,” I assured him, holding him by the waist so he wouldn’t fall. He leaned into me, obviously not against me touching him. Well, really it was his coat, but it still felt nice.

“How long do you think it’ll take?” Jack asked. I could feel my phone vibrating in my coat pocket, probably the boys and our families asking where we are.

“I dunno… I might as well call now,” I shrugged, pulling out my phone and tapping on Google to find the number.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Thank you… Goodbye,” I said, just about to hang up when a powdery, cold something hit my back. I swiveled around to see none other than Jack, a small arsenal of snowballs beside him.

“Oh, you did not just-”

“I did, Jacobs,” he grinned maniacally. I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You’re on!” I shouted, frantically grabbing snow and packing it into a solid ball. The snow was perfect for snowball fights, just the right texture. And I was wearing gloves, so it wouldn’t stick to any yarn on my mittens.

Jack pelted me with a snowball, hitting my shoulder with a solid thwack! I pretended to fall from the shock of the hit, then rolled towards him, tossing a ball at his neck. It hit him slightly above his collar bone, and I heard him laugh evilly as he ran towards me.

“YOU’VE MADE A MISTAKE FROM CHALLENGING ME, DAVEY JACOBS!” He yelled, attempting to grab me. I rolled away, standing above him with my superior five inches, and began to dodge snowballs, left and right while making my own.

“JOKES ON YOU, I LEARNED FROM THE MASTER-- SARAH JACOBS!” I screeched, hitting him in the head with a snowball.

“BUT I WENT AGAINST THE GREAT RACETRACK HIGGINS!” he objected, hitting my left arm.

“WHO LEARNED FROM SARAH JACOBS!” I shot back, hitting his lower thigh.

“AH, BUT YOU ARE NOT HER!” he pointed out, dashing away again in an attempt to confuse me.

“YES, BUT I AM HER BROTHER!” I said, dodging a ball from my right.

“THE MORE WATERED-DOWN VERSION, I SEE!” he shouted, attempting to dodge a ball coming for his torso and failing.

“OHO, YOU ARE GOING TO PAY FOR THAT!” I yelled, smiling like a fool and running towards him to the best of my ability. He grinned darkly, and I realized my mistake.

I was attempting to tackle a college football player. First string.

Before I could even comprehend how terrible of an idea it was to try and tackle a football player as an English major with limited athletics experience, I was on the ground and-

His lips were on mine.

Too passionately to be accidental.

His hand had somehow made its way to my back, and he was holding me like he had in the night. And… It felt right. More real and right and perfect then I thought it would.

I grabbed his face so I could feel him closer. Though I think a part of me knew it would never feel close enough.

He was doing this thing, I think to keep us warm, where he was rubbing up and down my back to keep the heat. And he kept letting me pull him closer while we just laid there, kissing in the snow.

Kissing in the snow. A romantic concept, one that lovesick teens would only dream of doing. Kissing two days before Christmas. Kissing like it wasn’t the end of the world, like we had all the time in the world. Kissing my best friend. Kissing the man who knew how to get me back when I was drifting.

Kissing in the snow. Because sometimes, snow and too much time wasted away from each other was enough to make a teenage dream come true.

And maybe I was okay with a winter teenage dream.

I was okay with kissing in the snow.

10 notes · View notes

xxsovereignsarayaxx · 4 years

Text

Fifty Shades of Mikaelson

Shade 1

Authors Note: So here is the first installment of a mulit chapter series, I posted a teaser chapter last year and after a lot of work and editing here is the first chapter. This will be a slow burn series but I hope you will stick with it. Word Count: 2953 Pairing: ???Mikaelson x Reader Insert (Slow Burn) Warnings: Implied sexual humor. Richmond Virginia is the home to Mikaelson Enterprises, one of the largest companies in the US to date, with countless connections across the country and the world. After receiving the company from the untimely death of their parents and younger brother Henrik the six remaining siblings all took a share and equal role within the company.

The loss of their parents and younger brother was hard on the remaining family and became so tough on Freya and Finn that they ultimately took a step back from public eye of the company and became silent partners, this allowed Elijah, Niklaus, Kol and Rebekah to have a free rein on the company so to speak.What made Mikaelson Enterprises different to all the others was the fact that it didn’t have one sole purpose.

The company originally thrived at investing low market sales. Rather than take the risk and invest in the higher term stock markets each sibling took to different sectors and reaped the rewards of their own doing which allowed them endeavour into other opportunities.Each sibling was different, Rebekah stuck to fashion. Her aim was that she wanted people to look great whilst not breaking the bank and so she worked with a large team of designers to manufacture a line of clothing that was stylish while being at affordable prices. Kol and Niklaus went into business together to create the bourbon of bourbons, wanting to create a new brand and enjoying the odd glass or two led them to a likely partnership. Elijah was different compared to his other siblings rather than go out into the world and create a new product he used his studies and degree and built a highly respectable law firm. And each separate business venture was all under the same roof in the tallest building in the city.

Springtime in Richmond was often cold and or wet, and as I watched from my large bedroom window the weekend hustle and bustle of those wanting to get to work on time hurried in large packs and then would disperse quickly into different buildings. I padded barefoot through my large apartment, still half asleep, yawning and stretching relying on my auto-poilet function to get me to my kitchen so I could sort myself out with a cup of coffee and some much needed breakfast. Scratching my scalp with my nails I waited for the kettle to boil when I heard my laptop ping with an email. Groaning that I had emails to read on my day off, I ignored them whilst I carried on waiting for the water to boil but then the glorious chime of the skype ringtone filled my ears and I begrudgingly went over to my desk and answered the call.

“You’ve got some explaining to do love.” Klaus said, as I clicked on accept.

“I'll take your late night business meeting went well.” I teased back wiggling my eyebrows, carrying my laptop to my kitchen island.

“Why didn’t you tell me Caroline was the representative for the Salvatore’s?”

“I didn’t want you to have...performance issues.” I replied with a higher tone of voice whilst also swinging my hips as my back was to the camera while I continued to fix up my daily dose of caffeine.

“You can do better…” Klaus deadpanned sounding un-amused.

“Is that what Caroline said, aww champ.” I said as I turned back around to the camera with a mug in hand sipping away at the hot liquid.

“I need you in the office today.” He said changing the subject.

“You know I don’t work Saturday’s.” I replied, leaning back against the kitchen cupboards taking another sip of coffee.

“Kol needs a new assistant…”

“And that is my problem how?” I sassed back.

“Unless you want the extra workload? I suggest you find somebody.” Klaus said smugly as he raised his eyebrow.

I leaned towards the camera slightly. “I mean the extra money would be nice but it doesn’t quite fit in with my schedule, but who in their right mind is going to put up with your brother? Come on how am I meant to pitch this? By the way the guy you're going to be working for is arrogant and so self absorbed not to mention he thinks he’s the hottest and smartest guy in the room.” I ranted sarcastically.

“I’ll see you within the hour Y/N.” He said bluntly and he ended the call.

Letting out a huff I closed the laptop lid in a swift motion and lent back on the kitchen cabinets and took my time drinking my coffee. I glanced up at the clock, I saw I had about forty five minutes to get into work, which meant an hour give or take. Putting my now quarter empty coffee cup in the sink I headed over to my bedroom and picked out some clothes to wear. Selecting a form hugging, white knee length dress with a thin black belt, I then moved into my on-suite bathroom and jumped in the shower.

As I entered the building to my workplace I did my usual rounds of saying my good mornings and made my way to the elevator. Standing patiently I waited for the metal doors to open and it made me think back to my very first day at the offices working for Niklaus or Klaus as he liked to be called. I was fresh out of college and had my tuition debt looming over my head and as I read through the job adverts in the daily paper I saw that there was a position at the esteemed Mikaelson Enterprises, hearing that it was good money I applied for it and I had been working happily here for the past two and a half years.

Strolling through into Klaus’ office he looked un-amused just like he was in the video call earlier.

“You're late…” He scolded.

“I told you I don’t work Saturday’s.” I sassed back.

“Do you want to find yourself unemployed?” He threatened.

“Oh please you couldn’t even last a day without me, I know you better than you know yourself. Tell me again who is it that sends out Christmas cards to the shareholders? Or handles organizing all of your meetings?” I replied, rolling my eyes at his lame threat.

“Organizing meetings are a part of your job Y/N.”

“Ahhh Y/N there you are darling, here is the list of candidates you asked for.” Kol interrupted, walking into Klaus’ office interrupting mine and his bickering and the younger Mikaelson hands me a stack of files.

Taken aback by the weight of the files, I gave him a sarcastic smile. “I did?” I asked, gritting my teeth sending my boss daggers with my eyes.

“Brother would you like to join me for a drink? The distillery has a new batch they would like us to try.” Kol asked.

“Would love to, I’ll catch up in a few moments just have a few things to sort out here before we leave.” Klaus replies and with that Kol says his goodbyes and leaves the office.

“Really? You're calling me into work so you can play hooky?” I questioned, gesturing with my free hand.

“Duty calls. If it makes you feel better you can work here.” Klaus says with a smile and gets up from his desk and grabs his leather jacket and heads for the door.

“Would you also schedule a meeting with Marcel?” He asked as he turned slightly facing me.

“Sure, how does the 10th of kiss my ass sound?” I deadpanned, rolling my eyes.

“Perfect love, I’ll see you later.”

Klaus left his office and I let out another huff, so much for spending my Saturday at home binge watching TV whilst having a face mask on and eating a tub of ice cream, hanging up my woolen coat on the coat stand I placed the files on his desk. Slumping back against the leather office chair I reached out for the phone and slotted it under my ear and shoulder as I dialed the number for Marcel’s office while I looked at the first résumé.

“Hello Gerard Corporation, Davina speaking.”

“Hey Davina, it's Y/N.” I replied whilst scanning down the document.

“Hi, Y/N! What can I do for you?” Davina asked in a chirpy tone.

“Can I book Klaus in to see Marcel next week? I did say it’ll be the 10th of kiss my ass but if that doesn’t work how does the 6th?” I asked her, spinning in the chair.

I heard a chuckle down the line. “I have no idea how you can get away with talking to your boss like that!”

“Takes practice, don't worry though in a year or two you’ll be speaking to Marcel exactly the same way.”

“I doubt it, but you're in luck Marcel is free on the 10th. I’ll email you a confirmation this afternoon. But why are you working today? I didn’t think you worked on a Saturday?”

“Yeah so did I. Klaus called this morning saying that Kol needs a new assistant and that unless I want the extra workload to find someone suitable.” I replied with a grumble.

“Oh dear. Have you found anyone yet?” She asked.

“Well so far I’m on the first one but listen to this.”

“Ok.”

“I’m hardworking, loyal to a fault and will complete any task given to me to the best of my ability.” I said in a completely different accent and all I could hear from the other line was Davina laughing.

“Kol is...a difficult person anybody sweet and nice would just crumble under him.”

“Tell me about it, well here's to hoping I can find someone in this stack who can stick it to him. I best get back to work but fancy going for a drink on Friday night?”

“Sure thing, let me know how it goes. Speak to you later Y/N.”

“Bye D.” I said as I put the phone down and got back to looking at the applicants.

Taking another of the résumés I left the office and headed to the break-room to fix myself another hot drink. As I was leaning over the counter waiting for the coffee maker I heard a clearing of the throat.

“Nice to see your putting in the extra hours Y/N. Niklaus seems to have taken the hint about getting you to work one weekend a month.” Elijah says.

Slapping the document on the counter I span around. “Do you really have to make me sound so cheap Elijah?” I teased feigning that he hurt my feelings.

“Deepest apologies Y/N, you are looking lovely today might I add.” Elijah says.

“Why thank you, what brings you to this floor?” I asked him, fluttering my eyelashes.

“I was hoping to see Niklaus, is he available?”

“Wasted your time I’m afraid, he’s playing hooky with your brother down at the distillery. No idea what time he will be back. But I can call you once he gets back into the office?” I suggested, picking up the cup and slid the résumé under my arm.

“That would be rather helpful, thank you. I couldn’t help but also notice that some of my brothers' employees were looking a little frazzled. Perhaps you could aid them?” Elijah said back.

“I’m a secretary Elijah, I’m not running a day-care when your brother goes out.” I replied pulling a face, rolling my eyes and walked past him leaving him alone.

As I walked through the office back to Klaus’ office one of his employees called Joshua collared me. “Miss Y/N the fax machine isn’t working.” He uttered stumbling over his words.

“Joshua darling, did they not teach anything at college? Here hold this.” I started, handing him my coffee cup and file and went to the fax machine to which was surrounded by a few other members of staff.

“Listen up children.” I called out.

“Bessie has done her service over the years you just need to know how to deal with her.” I added as I lifted up a flip, kicked the bottom drawer and pulled out the paper that had jammed.

“Thank you.” I said quickly taking my cup and file and made a rather sharp getaway and back into the safety of Klaus’ office.

I spent the remaining part of the afternoon going through the remanding résumés and to be honest out of the thirty I had read none of them stood out to me, the majority of the applicants were female and seemed ‘too nice’ and I didn’t think they would stand a chance, what male applicants were there also didn’t seem to be packing much in the spunk department. Looking at the clock on the wall I noticed that it was three-thirty and I was seriously hoping that Klaus and Kol would be making their way back to the office soon so I could go home. When I had an idea. Picking up the receiver on the phone I dialed a number to which I hoped would be the savior I needed.

“Hello.”

“Cami? Hey It’s Y/NN how are you? Just a quick one, are you still looking for another job?” I asked, twirling the wire around my forefinger.

“Y/NN, I’m good thanks and yeah I am. Why do you know of somewhere?” She asked me back.

“How do you feel working at the same building I work at? My boss's brother Kol, he’s looking for a new assistant. I will warm you though, he may be hot but he can be an ass.” I told her with a chuckle.

“Honestly I’ll take what I can get, the hours at the bar are getting fewer and fewer.”

“Pop down to the office on Monday. I’ll schedule an appointment so you can meet him and get a feel for the place.”

“Alright I’ll do just that, thank you so much Y/NN.”

“No worries Cami glad I could help.”

Ending the call and putting the phone back, the door to the office swung open and Kol and Klaus stumbled in, while Klaus propped himself up by holding onto the back of the sofa, Kol crash landed onto it.

Raising an eyebrow. “I take it the tasting at the distillery went well?”

“That it did love.” Klaus slurred back.

“Did you find me a new assistant? Y/N” Kol asked me, shifting his position on the sofa.

“I did, I’ve set up an appointment on Monday so you can meet her. If she is too your liking she can start as soon as.” I replied back to him, moving to another part of the room that had a jug of water, pouring it into two glasses. I handed one to each of the boys.

Klaus and Kol looked at me and then at the glass of water in their hand, letting out a sigh I made a drink up motion with my hands.

“Elijah was also looking for you earlier, I did tell him I would contact him when you got back to office however I don’t think now is a good time. And that is also me done for the day thank you very much.” I added and collected my things and left the office.

Walking into my apartment I was exhausted, dumping my handbag and coat on the sofa I stripped off and turned the shower on. Standing underneath the water flow I enjoyed having the hot water fall onto and down my body as I felt the day drain away from me.

Monday came and I was back in the office like normal and already typing away at my desk which was located just outside Klaus’ office. I was in the process of sorting through some of the stray bits of paperwork that was scattered on my desk when the familiar notification came through. Glancing at the screen I let out a scoff, Klaus wanted to see me in his office. Pulling out the USB drive that was in my computer and strutted into the room.

“His lordship wishes to see me.” I teased, mocking a curtsy.

“Did you type up the transcript from the Salvatore meeting?” He asked bluntly.

“Yes it’s all on here but you also have paper copies in the bottom drawer in your desk, you have a meeting in twenty minutes with Marcel and I also made a reservation at that fancy restaurant for you and Caroline at eight.” I replied, motioning to the USB stick in my hand when I mentioned it.

“What would I do without you love?”

“Probably you wouldn’t survive at all, but is it really a good idea to be seeing Caroline outside of business negotiations?” I asked him.

“You see love that when people have too much to drink they let details slip. All you have to do is ask questions. But would you be a sweetheart and pick up my suit from the dry cleaners?” Klaus replies smugly.

“If you say so, but in my opinion playing Caroline like the way your aiming is just a dick move. And what did your last slave die of?” I told him bluntly.

“Love I’m not playing your friend. I’m playing the odds so I can win the bothersome game between us and Salvatore’s just remember who you get your paychecks from, and we ‘evil villains’ have minions such as yourself to go and pick up dry cleaning. Now if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, yeah I get it. Just if you do you know find yourself in a compromising position later tonight make sure you wrap it before you tap it.” I sassed, winking at him and left the office.

#elijah mikealson #klaus mikaelson #Kol mikaelson #the originals #caroline forbes #camille o'connell #davina claire #marcel gerard #human au #fifty shades spin off #fanfiction #fanfic

83 notes · View notes