#marksonbum

sex shop employee and slightly flustered customer au (markson)

Mark has his favourite hoodie on because he needs something comforting for his first trip to this particular kind of store, and the hood is really useful for hiding his face just in case someone recognises him fondling a dildo. In a sex shop. Named Wang's Wangs.

Mark curses Jaebum and his great ideas, and the fact that he is for better or for worse Mark's best friend, and the fact that his BFF can't deal with Mark's increased bitchiness after not getting laid for almost six months. He sighs; Jaebum's leaning against the brick wall outside, probably texting his other half about Mark and his pathetic sex life, and waiting for Mark to complete his stupid mission of purchasing either porn, a fake dick, lube, and/or condoms.

"Do you need some help?" a cheerful voice pops up from behind him, and Mark freezes in the middle of the aisle, belatedly realising that he's been staring at a giant pink dildo for the last few minutes. "If you're a first timer, that one's kinda out of your league. If not, well, for your size…" Brown eyes look Mark up and down. "Anyway, you might want to try smaller model, this one for example."

A neon green buttplug is unceremoniously shoved under Mark's nose, and he backs away hastily, nearly crashing into a rainbow wall of rubber cocks. "Jesus, no, I—I, uh, I'm good. Just looking around. Thanks."

The guy grins. He's got a brilliant smile, all wide and toothy. His hair's mussed up, probably because he's been doing inventory; there's a couple of large boxes and a clipboard resting beside him. He's also got great biceps, which are covered with a sheen of sweat. Mark shakes himself mentally, flushes, and tries to concentrate on what the guy's saying.

"Great! Name's Jackson, and I'm great at servicing wangs, so just come get me if you need any assistance with yours." He winks, then cranes his head forward to peer at Mark. "You're legal, right?"

"I'm twenty-two," Mark stammers back as indignantly as he can, fingers fumbling as he pulls out his ID. Jackson's eyes are a soft brown, and he smells like grape. Probably from carting around mounds of lube. Fuck.

"Excellent," Jackson says, nodding. "Well, have fun!" He picks up the boxes and stuffs the edge of the clipboard in between his teeth like a demented puppy, and stalks to another aisle, this one filled with porn. Mark buries his head in his hands and groans as softly as he can. What is his life and how and why?

"By the way," Jackson yells from where he's stacking DVDs with titles like Trashy Twink Tops and Boy is a Bottom on them. Mark's fists clench before he realises that the store's empty except for the two of them. "We're giving away free lube and condoms with every purchase, so if you're really interested in that pink dick, you'll have plenty of help!"

highschool party au with spin the bottle (marksonbum)

Jackson shivers when the bottle lands on him. Jaebum's eyes are dark, predatory, sober, and before Jackson knows it, the older boy's crawled to settle right in front of him. Beside them, Mark's smiling, slowly, seductively, his long legs splayed open in an obscene vee. The others all went to bed about fifteen minutes earlier; there's just the three of them continuing a lazy game that's turned into something more serious.

"Truth or dare?" Jaebum asks, voice deep and quiet.

Jackson's eyes dip to his lips before darting back up. "Dare."

Jaebum doesn't say anything. He turns his head towards Mark and nods. The other boy's smile morphs into a wolfish grin, mischievous and full of sharp teeth. His cool hand cups Jackson's cheek and tilts his head, the gentle movement at odds with the rough, dirty kiss that follows.

neighbours au where person A goes over to person B to tell B to ‘stop singing karaoke it’s 2am’ (markson)

Each flat has a huge shared kitchen and seven rooms, two of which are reserved for international students so that they’re better able to adjust to the local crowd. Well, Mark hasn’t seen his flatmates since he and his parents arrived at ten in the morning. Right now, Mark’s parents are pottering about the kitchen, his mom already stuffing cleaning supplies and other kitchen-y things into his cupboard under the double-sink. Mark himself is still busy unpacking his suitcases in his room at the end of the corridor, and trying not to sniffle too loudly when he arranges his framed family photographs on his erstwhile empty desk. In the evening, his parents leave for London, both of them with tears in their eyes as they wave goodbye. Mark is left feeling too cold at the platform, watching dully as the train pulls away. When he gets back to the flat, he’s half-heartedly glad that there’s still no hide nor hair of his flatmates; he’s looking forward to a quiet evening feeling homesick and alone. He’s pulling out a towel and some pyjamas when he hears an unexpected knock and nearly falls over. "Hey dude," a guy says, leaning on Mark’s open door. He has a black snapback with 'WANG' across the front in obnoxious large silver letters, and huge biceps. Combined with his lazy, Americanised accent, Mark's new neighbour is probably a giant dudebro. "Oh hey, you speak Mandarin? I’m Jackson by the way, Jackson Wang." Mark blinks as Jackson rattles off in fluent Mandarin, chattering nineteen to the dozen, something about the laundrettes and getting ripped off? He ends up nodding and 'hmm'-ing a whole lot, twisting the towel in his hands until Jackson finally switches back to English and apologises from keeping Mark from his shower. It turns out that the rest of their flatmates aren’t arriving until the weekend, so Mark spends the next few days trying to get used to the tiny shower and climbing up and down hills to deal with administration issues. He wins the heart of the Malaysian lady who owns an Asian grocery shop down the street, as well as the hearts of the Taiwanese couple who run the restaurant further down—even though he’s pretty sure that their son hates him because Mark can at least stutter out some Mandarin. He crosses paths with Jackson here and again; the two of them pretty much keep to their rooms, and although they share a wall, Mark doesn’t hear much from the other boy, which he’s grateful for. Until Friday, that is. It’s the last day before the university fills up proper with freshmen; the university bar has an 'international special' night that Mark doesn’t go to, preferring to Skype with his parents, who’re in Italy for their holiday. He thinks he heard Jackson leave sometime around ten, but definitely hears him come back around two in the morning, belting out one of Jay Chou’s songs nonstop. Mark waits for the yelling to stop in the dark of his room, but gives up after ten minutes of sheer caterwauling, and wrenches his door open, remembering his keycard just in time. "Hey, Wang," he snaps, "shut the fuck up!" A hyena laugh floats out from the kitchen in reply. "Sweary motherfucker, you’ve been holding out on the Wang Wang." Mark shuts his eyes for a moment and stomps into the kitchen, ignoring the peal of drunken laughter as Jackson catches sight of his Iron Man pyjama pants. "Dude, it’s 2am, I don’t have time for your bullshit." "You're harshing my buzz, dude," Jackson answers, too happily for Mark’s liking. "Loosen up a little, American boy, American boy," he sings, and Mark stares because that actually came out really nice. Husky and on tune. "C’mon, s’our last night alone, just us. Don’t tell me you won’t miss our quiet little home." Jackson pouts, and gestures wildly around the spotless kitchen. Sighing, Mark lets his shoulders droop and sinks down on the couch next to Jackson. The other boy’s been alright, really, he’s just drunk, and he’s nice. He’s a good kid. Probably. Even with alcohol breath and shitty singing. "Yeah, sorry, man. I was talking with my parents, and you know." Fuck, Mark is a buzzkill, isn’t he? Fuck. "Yeah," Jackson murmurs, suddenly sombre despite a burp. His head rolls onto Mark’s shoulder. "I know."

met in a line for a roller-coaster au (bonus: one of them is scared shitless) [markson]

Jackson’s so not here for this. "I hate you," he whines to Jinyoung, who cackles and rubs his palms together like the evil shit he is. "Scaredy-cat," Jinyoung sneers back. "It’s only a small one for kids, fucking hell, Wang." Behind them, Jaebum clucks his tongue disapprovingly,  but Jinyoung simply ignores him and grins. "Even Youngjae didn’t make so much noise." Given that Youngjae’s face is pale and covered with sick, well, Jackson gulps down a mouthful of fear and air, and repeats his hatred of Park Jinyoung. The previous ride ends, and the line of carriages painted to look like mine carts are emptying out for the next ride. Jackson adjusts his cap again and again as the short queue moves forward to fill the carts. Jinyoung and Jaebum giggle as Jackson is left standing alone in front of a cart that already has a guy sitting in it. "Sir, would you please take your seat," the bored attendant says. Jackson glares at him and then at his useless friends, climbing in miserably. He doesn't give a shit that the snot-nosed kids in front are laughing and jeering at him, but does perk up when the dude beside him tells them sharply to buckle up and keep quiet. "Sorry, I'll have a word with them later," the guy says, turning to Jackson. Jackson grips the safety bar tight, and not just out of fear. The guy is gorgeous. Fucking lean and long and red hair and bright eyes and pink mouth and that fucking smile, holy shit. "Hi," he says eloquently. That's all he manages before the rollercoaster lurches forward and his voice trails off into a shriek.

'you were the only one at the party who understood my movie reference' au (markson)

"Hey, I think you and I could be drift compatible." Mark's face screws up in laughter as Superman's face goes totally blank. He takes a long pull of his beer, snickering as a scowling Jackson slinks back to his corner of the Halloween party, tail in between his legs.

"Didn't get it either?" Mark says, grinning up at the disgruntled jaeger.

Jackson sighs dramatically and drops down onto a beanbag chair. "No one watched the movie because they thought it was about giant robots and monsters," he mutters. "Fuck, I'm going to get stuck, aren't I?" A groan escapes, and Mark laughs, polishing off his bottle. "Fuck you, Tuan, you're meant to protect me from beanbags and people who don't appreciate Pacific Rim."

"Don't be a kaiju, sweet baby," Mark shoots back, imitating his best friend's exaggerated pout.

Jackson takes the beanbag with him as he leaps onto his co-pilot.

lifeguard/swimmer or lifeguards au (marksonbum)