#which also means no good scans and it was difficult taking decent pictures of it but i was very flattered it has a new home | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunlight-moonrise · 4 years

Text

The Price (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Reader is a technical analyst for the BAU. She did not expect to be smitten by the resident genius.

A/N: This is my first time writing a fic as well as my first time writing smut. I’d like to thank @spencer-reid-in-a-pool for beta reading my work (you’re a gem and I’ll fight for you). Also a quick thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins and those in the discord for being so welcoming and helping me with this. The fic is inspired by @erin-bo-berin Sweet Cheeks.

Category: Fluff and Smut

Content Warnings: Oral (female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex

Word Count: 6.0K

Masterlist

There are a lot of things I enjoy about this job. The salary is decent. My coworkers are pretty cool. I get to interact with a sexy genius from time to time- you know, the usual that comes with being employed by the government.

I started as a technical analyst for the BAU a few months prior, working alongside the one and only Penelope Garcia with assisting the rest of the team behind some computer screens. Coding and hacking is second nature to me so the job is not too difficult. It was either this or facing some years in jail because I couldn’t cover my tracks fast enough. Looking at mangled and mutilated bodies on a weekly basis is better than prison.

I get along rather well with the team. I pretty much call everyone by a term of endearment, much to Garcia’s delight. It was one of the things we had in common and helped us get along with one another much faster. I sometimes can get carried away with the innuendos, but Garcia welcomes everything I say with open arms.

I typically save my more sensual remarks for the doctor. I remember the good old days when he used to be so tongue-tied by my actions. Now my words barely surprises him.

A voice broke my concentration. “What got you thinking so hard, angel?” I turn towards the person, a smile already adorning my face. Lo and behold, Dr. Spencer Reid has graced me with his delectable presence.

“Would you believe me if I said that I was thinking of you Doc?” He had a small smile on his face. I could pretty much categorize all the smiles he uses because of how often I stare at him. I mean, it is a tragedy to not stare at such beauty. This particular smile means that he is content and comfortable.

“May I ask exactly what it was that you were thinking about?” he asked.

“I cannot share the sordid details of my mind with you just yet darling. You’ll just have to use that beautiful mind of yours and conjure up something imaginative.”

He let out a small laugh and helped me carry the files I was juggling. My eyes immediately went to his hands. The things I’ll let those hands do to me. I bet only one is needed to perfectly wrap around my -- No bitch, focus. We got a case to present in five minutes. Right, right. Work now, daydream later.

We entered the conference room, where the rest of the team was already sitting at the round table, waiting for us. I gave out the files with Spencer’s help while Penelope started up the monitor.

“You guys are staying local but time is of the essence” she informed us. The TV lit up with four pictures of young boys. “We have a kidnapping case at Stafford County.”

“Were they kidnapped at the same time or place?” asked JJ as she skimmed over the report I handed out earlier.

“No” I said as I pointed to the two younger boys on the screen. “Jacob Rivers and David Hall were taken from their respective homes 48 hours ago” I then pointed to the two slightly older boys “Benjamin Harris was taken 12 hours ago at a park and Scott Turner was taken from the mall less than 6 hours ago.”

“Do these boys have anything in common?” Morgan asked out loud.

“Other than physical appearance and age group, these boys don’t have any similarities. They didn’t even go to the same school. As a matter of fact, David Hall was home-schooled.” replied Garcia.

“Garcia and I couldn’t find any common ground in the families’ educational, economic, or social backgrounds either” I added. “Once you guys take off, we’ll do a further dive into their personal histories.”

“The UnSub is already escalating, kidnapping from a private home and kidnapping from a crowded area within hours of each event is fairly drastic” Rossi stated.

“Maybe the Unsub is on a time frame? They could be feeling pressured and desperate” Emily questioned, trying to come up with some kind of initial profile.

Hotch already started standing up. “We’ll know more after analyzing the crime scenes and talking to local PD. Let’s head out.” The rest of the team followed, gathering their files and making an exit towards the door while Garcia headed for our office. Spencer lagged behind a bit and I already knew why. We have a little tradition of bidding farewell to one another before he takes off for a case.

I stood next to him, bumping my shoulder against his upper arm. “Don’t miss me too much while you are out there.”

“The more you remind me I have to leave, the more I want to stay here.” he grinned.

I snorted at his words, knowing that he was full of shit. There is nothing more that Reid loves than being out in the field. “Go be a hero and come back to me in one piece pretty boy.”

“Yes Ma’am.” he replied as he went to follow the team towards the elevator.

I swear that boy is immune to my teasing now. I miss seeing his face become flush, but I also enjoy the playful repartee we have now. I remember the first interaction I had with Spencer quite vividly. It truly was a comical moment.

“Everyone this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She will be working alongside Garcia.” Hotch stated as he introduced me to the team. I have already met him and Penelope prior to being presented to everyone else.

“Derek Morgan, pleasure to meet you.” Whoa. If tall, dark, and handsome was a person, Morgan would be fit for the role. He offered his hand, which I immediately took.

“The pleasure is all mine” I replied with a wide smile.

I directed my attention to a much older gentleman. “David Rossi” said the Italian man who reminded me of a mob boss.

“Charmed to meet you.” I shook his hand, surprised by the strength behind it. Those older bones are still working for him.

Next came the petite blonde, whose figure I was both envious and enamored with. “Jennifer Jareau, but everyone here calls me JJ for short.”

“In that case, please call me (Y/N/N).” I shook her hand, and became even more envious with how soft her skin was. She has got to tell me her secrets.

I focused on the brunette with shoulder-length hair. “Emily Prentiss”. My God, I think being attractive is a requirement for this team. She offered her hand to shake and her grip was firm. Note to self, forget about Rossi; don’t get on Emily’s bad side.

“Nice to meet you.”

I turned to the final individual and was blown away by his beauty. Yup, my previous thought has been confirmed. Only good-looking people are allowed pass these doors. His bone structure looked like it was sculpted by Roman artists. His body was lean and slender, reminding me of a runner’s physique. My eyes stared up to the softest hazel eyes I have ever seen.

“Dr. Spencer Reid.” he introduced. I offered my hand immediately, wanting to feel his skin against mine.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), but you already knew that,” I said softly, my hand still out. He just stared at it as if it was an anomaly.

“Uh-the amount of pathogens passed through a handshake is astounding. A high five transmit half the number. But even then, a kiss is much more safe.” he quickly stated as he nodded his head. I almost didn’t catch any of it. Partially because of the rapid speech, partially because I was staring at his lips.

“Hmm, that’s news to me. However, if a kiss is what you want…” I lowered my hand and took a step closer to him. My eyes slowly moved from his eyes to his mouth and then back up. He took a slight step back.

“N-N-No, that’s not—I-I mean that —uhh...” His face was flushed and his tongue shot out to run against his lips. His eyes quickly darted across the room, seeking some help. I felt a sense of pride knowing I made this man flustered.

“I’m just teasing Doc.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was frightened by me. Maybe he was, but the blush on his face and the way he kept staring gave me further information on him.

“Don’t mind Reid,” Morgan said, coming to the young man’s rescue. “He has a thing with germs.” He finished, a smirk plastered on his face. Well, I hope he soon develops a thing for something else. Or rather someone else.

I was just about to make another sly comment when Hotch interrupted. “Back to the case at hand.” He gave us all a pointed look. Right, I am at my first day at work. I’ll focus on hot doctors with hotter smiles and the hottest face at my own time.

“Yes sir,” Garcia stated, as she started pushing buttons on a remote. The TV turned on and pictures of three different women showed up on the screen. They all looked to be strangled to death. “You guys are needed in Toledo, Ohio.” Garcia goes on to describe the case while the team starts the early stages of conducting a profile.

“Wheels up in 30.” Hotch says and the everyone disperses. Garcia walked up to me and handed me some documents from the case file.

“C’mon cupcake, we gotta do some preliminary work to get the case going much faster.” I followed her to what she called the “bat cave”. I scanned the small room and immediately fell in love. Computers and monitors littered almost every inch of the place. I saw a lot of colorful knickknacks displayed on one side of the desk, knowing already who they belonged to. The area was endearing and had a cozy feel to it.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding. This place is a dream come true.” I am sure she can hear the awe in my voice.

“I know, right. Wait until you actually use it girlie, the framework on these things is out of this world.” I sat myself on a chair nearby and rolled in front of a screen.

“Alrighty. You can do some background checks on these girls while I gather more information from the police reports. Let me know if there are any commonalities among any of them. We’ll relay that info with the team.”

“Gotcha babe, I’ll have the information ready ASAP.” I responded, already typing away on the computer. I’m already starting to like it here.

*Later that day*

Garcia and I haven’t found much in common between the victims of the crimes, much to our dismay. I was left in the office to continue searching for important information on the girls while she went to fax some data to the precinct when the phone started to ring.

I quickly answered and put it on speaker. “(Y/L/N) at your humble service. How may I serve you?”

“Oh-uh is Garcia around” replied a high-pitched voice, which I immediately recognized as Reid. I don’t know whether or not I should be insulted that he wanted Penelope or pleased that I probably still have him flustered.

“She’s a bit pre-occupied at the moment. But rest assured I can find whatever you need Doc. Especially if you ask nicely.”

“Uh-I need you to pull up information on the mothers. We think they were all in the same sorority, however not necessarily at the same time. We need a list of all the members of the sorority from the time the mothers joined with a 3-year pre- and post-graduation.”

“No problemo sweetness. Anything else I can do for you? I have a lot of other services that can be helpful.” I stated, a teasing tone in my voice as I already set up my search.

“No-no, that’s all. Um thanks.” I can already picture the blush coating his cheeks as he stammered his response.

“Alright love, call me back if you need anything. Or if you change your mind.” I hung up the phone and started organizing the list in front of me.

And from then on, I have enjoyed pretty much all the moments I had with the BAU. It took some time, but Spencer now has accepted and even returned my little flirtations. We often get compared to Garcia and Morgan. But with a lot more sexual tension, at least on my end. I have to remind myself from time to time to calm down before I combust in the middle of a conference room or the bullpen. C'est la vie.

I made my way to the cavern of all things amazing and settled in front of my computers. Pen looked at me with a knowing expression on her face. “You’re gloomy.”

I pouted as I put my earpiece on. “I am not gloomy, I am horny,” I rebuked.

“How long has it been since you got some?”

“I’m not sure but it feels like I have not gotten any since the Stone Age,” I groaned out.

“I don’t know why you don’t just tell him how you feel,” she pointed her pink glittery pen in my direction, “I bet he would fuck you right here if you let him.”

And there goes my thought process, as always, overtaken by Spencer Reid. “Babe, please. This is not helping my situation.”

“Just telling you how it is.”

●●●

We have been sitting in front of these screens for hours. The team has made some progress but they’re missing an important piece to fit the puzzle. Garcia has been looking into the background of the neighbors when I heard a small stomach grumble coming from her direction. I let out a laugh as she huffed out “I am going to grab a snack from the breakroom, you want anything boo?”

“If it ain’t alcohol or chocolate, I don’t want it.”

“Noted,” she said as she left the room. I really hope she finds a couple of cupcakes or something.

I continued trying to get information on these missing kids when my headpiece played the Doctor Who theme song, informing me that Einstein was calling in. “Goddess of knowledge and wisdom at your disposal.”

“I didn’t know I had Athena at my fingertips.” How is it possible that nine words have short-circuited my brain just now? Is it the voice or the way he basically called me a Greek Deity? Probably both.

Of course I slyly responded, “Oh my Hephaestus, you have all of me at your fingertips.” I heard a chuckle and I immediately knew it belonged to Morgan. A slight blush crept onto my cheeks when I heard a random voice asking why Spencer called his girlfriend in the middle of a case.

“I should have mentioned that you were on speakerphone.”

“Naughty boy, you know I charge extra for groups.” Now this was followed by some choked out noises and a bunch of giggles. I could only assume the whole precinct was amused by my antics at this point.

“Can you ever forgive me?”

“I can, for a price.”

“A price?”

“Yes, a price that I would inform you of in private. Now the reason for your call…” I drew out. Thank goodness Garcia wasn’t here. I don’t need her looking at me as if I am a phone sex operator.

“I need you to check foster children between the ages of four and eight within a 25-mile radius. We are looking for a homosexual couple that were looking to adopt but were rejected. The names should be on multiple applications among different sites. Let me know what you find.”

“I’ll have that information at the palm of your hands soon” Meanwhile, I am over here wishing that I was at the palm of his hands.

“Thank you, my Goddess” I can’t help but smile when he says things like this. Since when were the roles reversed in our friendship?

“Anything for a gorgeous worshipper. TTYL.”

Garcia chose that moment to walk back in while I had this silly grin on my face. She stared at me and I already knew what she was going to say.

“If you don’t have a piece of chocolate or a cocktail on you, I am not talking.”

All she did was laugh at me.

●●●

The team was able to find all four boys safely. The UnSubs were a male couple who wanted to adopt but kept facing discrimination against the agencies. It is a shame that they felt they had to resort to kidnapping in order to have a family.

Now Garcia and I are scanning the notes the team faxed to us earlier today. They informed us that they would be back here in half an hour or so.

“Shoot, I didn’t think it would take this long to scan these damn files.” Garcia murmured. I looked over at her and saw a small stack of documents that still needed to be put into the system.

I walked over and grabbed the pile from her. “Go, I’ll take care of it from here doll.”

“Are you sure? I feel bad. You did your portion of the work already.”

“Don’t you have to be at the rehearsal in 20 minutes? How is the theater going to operate without their main lead?” I placed the documents on my side of the desk and moved to gather Garcia’s belongings. I picked up her purse and jacket before handing it to her, quickly pushing her towards the door. “I got this, think of it as an IOU.”

“Yes, yes, yes, I owe you big. Thank you sugar, see you tomorrow.” Garcia hurriedly exited the door and headed towards the elevator.

I looked towards the papers, a low groan leaving my mouth. The faster I go through this, the better.

●●●

I was just finished implementing all the documents into the computer when I heard a knock at the door. I turned around and saw Spencer’s head peeking through. “Evening handsome, to what do I owe this visit?”

“Garcia passed by me a while ago and informed me you were in here finishing some extra work. I wanted to check on you; see if you needed my help.”

“Thanks Doc, but you’re a few minutes too late. I already finished scanning the files. Besides, you’re not the best with technology, much less these computers.”

“Maybe not. But I am a fast learner and I pay close attention to detail.” Either my ears were playing a trick on me or Spencer’s voice lowered an octave or two.

I remembered what Penelope said earlier today and decided to just go for it. “I could collect on that price from earlier.” I leaned against the desk and stared into his eyes. C’mon Doc, pick up the hint. Rather, pick me up instead.

“Well I was thinking that I can get you dinner.” he said, a hint of excitement in his voice.

That’s great, but not what I had in mind. “I was hoping for something else” I looked into his eyes, then slowly trailed my eyes downwards. Kiss me. Kiss me. Touch me. Lick me. Fuck me. Kiss me.

Unfortunately, Spencer is not a mind reader. He lowered his head and looked slightly dejected. “Oh well umm—would you prefer to go to a theater?” Oh Doc, you sexy, naïve, intelligent, innocent man. I guess if you want something you have to do it yourself.

I sat on the edge of my desk. “Come here Spencer.”

His head perked up, slightly intrigued since I rarely call him by his name. He walked to where I was sitting but there was still space between us.

“Closer, I don’t bite.” Unless you want me to.

He moved closer to me and I was able to rest my hands on his shoulders. Thankfully the height of the table let us be more at level with one another.

I made sure to look into his eyes as I said “I am going to kiss you. If that isn’t something you want, tell me now.”

He was speechless. His mouth was moving but no sounds came out. If the circumstances were different I would have appreciated seeing his rattled expression once more. I waited a few seconds, but he still has yet to say anything.

“Spen-mmh” before I knew it, his mouth was upon mine. He gently cradled my face as his lips moved against my own. My eyes closed as I felt nothing but bliss. As cliché as it sounds, I was in paradise because of this kiss alone.

His tongue peeked and swiped against my lower lip, trying to have a taste of me. I was more than happy to grant him entrance, a moan leaving my body as his tongue touched mine.

All parts of me were trying to feel him. I had one hand in his hair while the other grabbed onto the back of his shirt. My chest was pressed against his while my legs lazily wrapped around his midsection. His scent was intoxicating to me. It was a coffee-like smell as if he just walked out of a café. He tasted so sweet, all I wanted to do was keep his mouth on mine. But my body needed air so I slowly pulled away.

He tried to catch his breath as his forehead rested against mine. “So you don’t want dinner?”

“Doc the only thing I am hungry for right now is you. We’ll get food afterward, alright?” Spencer nodded his head while licking his lips. My eyes hungrily followed the action and I just had to get another taste. I pulled him towards me, his hands once again holding onto my face. He was much more dominant with this kiss, and I was more than willing to give him the control. His hands then trailed down to my hips and pulled me closer to his pelvis. I jerked against him and was rewarded with a groan.

He squeezed me tighter as his lips broke away from mine once more. He placed a peck on my lips, then my cheek before trailing down my neck. I felt my body heat up as I released a small moan. Fucking hell, he is going to be the death of me and we barely did anything.

Spencer started to lightly nibble on my neck when I pulled him back by his hair. “It is summer and I am not wearing a turtleneck in 80° weather. If you’re gonna give me some hickeys, they better be on my chest.” He murmured something that I couldn’t quite comprehend before undoing the buttons of my blouse.

Hell, I am not the only one who is gonna be undressed so I started unbuttoning his dress shirt as well. It was a race to see who would get the other’s shirt off first. Of course I lost because my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. But when his warm lips kissed their way towards the middle of my cleavage, I felt like a fucking champion.

I tried my best to shimmy out of the sleeves of my blouse while Spencer attempted to take my bra off, his lips still leaving a love mark against my chest. Once we got rid of the shirt and the bra, his mouth immediately enveloped one of my nipples.

“Fuck” I yelped loudly, “a little warning next time Doc.”

“Sorry” he muttered as he continued to suck on my breast while palming the other between his dexterous fingers. That had to be the most insincere apology I have ever heard from him. An idea came across my head. I slowly removed his shirt, watching it pool on the floor. I then raked the nails of one hand across his chest while the other pulled against his hair. Hard. He retaliated by lightly biting my nipple. Fuck, the plan backfired. Abort mission, abort the damn mission.

Spencer let out a small chuckle as he pulled away from my breast, an audible pop leaving his mouth. My hands went to his face and I moved him up to look at me. His eyes were dilated and his mouth was swollen. His face was flush and he was taking deeper breaths than usual. He looked so beautiful like this.

He had a dorky smile on his face and I realized that I said the words out loud. I felt my face heat up fast and he swiftly commented “I’d never thought I’d see you be so thrown off because of me.”

He rested his hands against either side of the desk and just looked at me. “Shut up and kiss me.” I hissed, already missing the warmth of his skin against mine.

“Where do you want me to kiss you?” he asked. I was about to reply when he interrupted “Do you want me to kiss you on your lips? Or maybe you want me back on those beautiful breasts of yours?”

Have mercy on me, I never believed Spencer Reid could make me so wet just with his words. Sure, I thought of it, but I didn’t believe it would happen to me.

“Maybe you want me to go lower. Should I place my lips on that pussy of yours?” Oh my fuck, I never want this moment to end. I nodded my head so quickly, I could have sworn I given myself whiplash.

“I want to hear you say it,” he breathed out.

“Yes, yes, please. I want you to eat my pussy. Please.” I begged. Dignity be damned.

“That’s my good girl” How is it possible that he went from the dorky adorable doctor to this assertive, stimulating specimen in a matter of minutes? I didn’t think he had a sensual bone in his body. But I am glad to be proven wrong.

Spencer lowered himself to his knees while I clumsily attempted to rid myself of my skirt and panties. I lifted my lower body up as he pulled the clothing off of me. Penelope would have a field day if she knew that I was sitting butt naked on the desk with Spencer Reid between my legs. Hell, I am having a field day knowing this.

Spencer, being the teasing bastard that he has been for the past few minutes, started kissing my legs first. “That’s not where I said I wanted you to kiss me” I huffed out.

“Hush” was all he said as he continued the slow trail up, making sure to alternate between each leg. I was already breathing as if I have ran a marathon, my patience was waning at this point. Finally, he made his way to where I needed him most. He put his hands on my thighs and pushed them further apart.

My hands landed on top of his head, playing with the curls. “You’re comfortable down there Doc?” I snickered, loving the sight of his head between my legs. All he did was nip my inner thigh harshly. I shrieked at the action. I’m starting to think this man has a tiny biting fetish.

I wasn’t ready for when his tongue parted my folds. I squeaked as he teasingly lapped the arousal that had formed the second he walked into the room. I tried rolling my hips but his hands made me stay put on the desk. I never knew he could hold me down like this. I couldn’t even be mad because the pleasure he was giving me was incredible.

Spencer continued to tease me, his tongue never going where I needed it most. He made sure to explore as much as possible as leisurely as possible. “Spencer, please” I cried out. He let out a small hum, the vibration causing a shiver to rack my body.

His tongue finally entered me, much to my delight. No amount of imagination could have ever prepared me for the things this appendage can do to me. He continued this soft, flat movement that was driving me crazy. My hands tightened in his hair, hoping he would go a bit faster.

“You taste so good princess, I don’t want this to end.”

“That’s my Queen to you” I jested. He didn’t like that since he responded with a resounding smack against my outer thigh. Ouch, note to self, Spencer doesn’t like being teased during sexy times. Hmm. On second thought, continue to tease Spencer during sexy times.

I felt his finger probe my entrance, moving up and down before pushing inside of me. I let out a distressing whine as he started slowly moving his finger in and out of me, curling as he did so. His mouth was on my clit, sucking and kissing it as if he has done so all his life.

My body started heating up and trembling. I tried, and failed, to roll my hips against the movement. “Spe-Spencer” I wailed. He didn’t relent.

Spencer entered a second finger into me as his tongue gave small, flickering motions against my bundle of nerves. I had to move one hand to my mouth to prevent any loud noises from being heard outside the room. Shit, did we even lock the door?

That thought immediately left my mind as my core started to tighten. Spencer must have known that I was getting close to my orgasm because he moved his fingers more diligently within me. I felt his fingers curl as they pulled out, I felt his tongue lick thoroughly against my pearl, I felt my ecstasy rising within me. It took one more deep press of his fingers and a harsh suck for me to come all over his face. I bit down on my fingers as I moaned out loud.

“That was so much better then what I imagined” I panted out, the words barely coming out comprehensible. I had a giant smile decorating my face.

He pulled his face up, a smug grin gracing his face. “Is this what you were thinking about earlier this morning?” he taunted. I couldn’t even give him a smartass remark because I was too busy trying to come back to reality. He pulled his fingers out and held them in front of my face.

“Open” he ordered. I complied and he pushed his fingers inside of my mouth. “You look so pretty when you follow instructions well. See how good you taste.”

I pulled my head back, taking his fingers out of my mouth. “I bet I taste a lot better on that tongue of yours.”

He tangled his hand in my hair and pulled me to a kiss. I immediately opened and welcomed his tongue against mine. I was right, I do taste better on him. I let out a deep moan and pulled away far enough to gently bite down on his lower lip.

He looks at me, that devilish tongue of his running against his lower lip before entering my mouth once again. With his lips still on mine, he picked me up and move to sit on my desk chair. It was nothing short of a miracle that we managed not to fall on the floor.

I placed my hand on top of his erection through his slacks and he drew a quick intake of breath. I started palming him as I grinded myself against him. I pulled back as I whispered, “I need you, Spencer”.

“Y’know this is the most I have heard you call me by my name in any given moment we have been together.” He unzipped his slacks and pushed down his pants and boxers as much as he could with me on top of him.

I looked down, finally being able to see his cock. Is it possible to get aroused further through sight alone? Because I think I creamed myself again. God, I wish I could show him my oral skills, but we’ll save that for another time.

“Would you rather I call you by something else?” I asked, attempting to move my lower body so that it can align with his cock. I say attempt because Spencer currently had his hands on my thighs again.

“No, I like the way my name sounds as you moan it out. Don’t hide your pleasure from me this time.” He maneuvered my legs to rest upon the armrest on either side of the chair, leaving my pussy wide open for him.

I gave him an incredulous look. “Are you forgetting that we are at work?”

He started rubbing the tip of his cock against my lower lips. “I didn’t forget. I just don’t fucking care.” And with that, he slowly penetrated me.

We both groaned at the intrusion. He gradually started entering me as I adjusted to his size. Inch by inch, he gave me all of him until he was buried to the hilt. I took a moment to savor the feel of Spencer inside of me before I started grinding against him. He took that as a hint to begin thrusting.

He started slow, taking his time and having us enjoy the feeling of one another. “Your cunt is so fucking tight” he hissed into my ear and I gave out a loud whine.

“That’s because you have such a big cock, Doc” I managed to moan out. He smacked my ass before grabbing each cheek tightly in his hands. “I want you to call me by my name” he grits out.

“Spencer, baby please give it to me. I’ve been waiting for this Spencer, I’ve been waiting for you.” He started kissing my neck once more and my eyes started to closed. I wanted to focus on the pleasure he was giving me.

He tightly grabbed me, moving my hips along with his thrusts. I was close to being pushed over the edge once more. The only sounds occupying the room were our moans and skin smacking against skin as we chased our pleasure.

“Open your mouth” I heard him say. I opened my eyes to see his thumb positioned over my lips. I let out a small whimper as I sucked his digit earnestly. I made sure to coat his finger with a lot of saliva, knowing exactly what he was going to do with it when it was out of my mouth.

He pulled his thumb out and immediately placed it on my clit. I gave out an embarrassingly loud sob as he started moving his finger against me in soft circular motions. I placed my lips on his neck, trying to muffle the noise coming out of my throat.

Spencer quickly grabbed my hair and pulled my head away as he started to slow down. “How many times do I have to tell you that I want to hear your pleasure?” In that moment, Spencer controlled my mind, body, and soul.

“I’m sorry Spencer. I’ll be your good girl, please don’t stop.” He returned back to the previous pace and thrust into me even harder. We both started chasing our orgasms, not being able to hold back any longer. He was pounding into me relentlessly and I was loving it. I am sure that I am going to be sore after this.

“Come for me (Y/N), I want to feel this tight cunt squeeze around my cock.” Say less, I am already ahead of you. My eyes were rolling to the back of my head and I felt my pussy pulsate around him. With one last motion against his thumb, I cried out his name multiple times as I climaxed.

Spencer whispered my name as he continued pushing into me, chasing his own orgasm. He thrust a couple more times before quickly pulling out, spilling himself over my stomach. I panted as I laid my head against the crook of his neck. His fingers thrummed a slow rhythm upon my lower back.

“So about that dinner... do you want to get Indian food?”

“Yeah, I can go for some samosas right now.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #reid smut #mgg

2K notes · View notes

jeonsjiddies · 4 years

Text

apodyopsis (m) | jjk

summary- apodyopsis (n.) ; the act of mentally undressing someone

alternatively, Jungkook is a nude model in your art class

rating- explicit / 18+ word count- 12k pairing- jungkook x reader genre- smut Warnings- daddy kink, slight degrading?, mild health concerns, very light bdsm?, masturbation, oral (female and male receiving), rough sex, kind of dom!jungkook, a little name calling?, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it bb)

a/n: our lovechild is born! We worked so hard on this, we hope you love it as much as we do. Currently thanking my lucky stars that @blkjmn agreed to collab with me, and that she saved my life with that glorious sex scene because I can’t seem to stop writing mushy fluffy smut. I love you so much thank you for being by my side and co-writing this with me. <3

“There’s one last thing we need to discuss before you are signed, Mr. Jeon. Do we need to backtrack for a moment to review, or shall we continue on?” The business contractor asked, using his thumb and index finger to push his glasses up further onto his nose bridge.

Jungkook wasn’t registering a single word that left the man’s mouth. His eyes were glued to the fine print on the page that described the job he’d be keeping for likely most of his (young adult) life, or at least until he was able to successfully rid himself of the guilt that's been resting on his broad shoulders for the last ten years.

He would never be able to forget the way his mother’s face fell every time he was discharged from the hospital. Not only did she have no answers and a still sick child to take home, but she also had a weighty hospital bill to add to the others that she received about once a month. She worked her ass off to take care of him as best she could, even with the gigantic debt she kept under her belt for the entirety of his childhood.

All of this was hidden from Jungkook until he was told he had celiac disease at the age of ten. His symptoms had gotten worse the longer his condition remained unnoticed, even though he would complain to his mother of constant pain everyday, tearful eyes locking with hers as if begging for her to give him any sort of relief.

“Mommy, my stomach hurts!”

“I’m not hungry! It makes it worse to eat!”

“Can you please make it stop, mama?”

He cringes every time he thinks about what he must’ve put his mother through as a child, and how she always managed to push a smile even though she was fighting to make ends meet.

Even after all of that, he was hesitating on signing this contract because he was too shy? Bullshit. He’d be selfish if he were to deny this opportunity because of his underlying fear of being seen naked in front of a large audience of people.

He knew he had no real reason to be afraid, though. After constant teasing in school for being extremely thin due to his illness, he built up the courage to get himself a gym membership when his condition became less overbearing.

He ate more often, built up more muscle, and managed to become more confident in himself and his abilities.

So, what did he have to be nervous for?

Jungkook no longer had any issues with stripping himself down. His body was sculpted perfectly, and he had a massive dick to accompany the figure he had worked for so many years towards.

Sure, everything was all set for him, but not for his mom. Jungkook knew that she barely managed to make her rent last month.

He needed to sign this contract.

“Mr. Jeon?” Jungkok’s glossy eyes were blown wide. He hadn’t moved an inch in the past minute.

“Mr. Jeon…” The man rolled his eyes, obviously knowing that it would take a bit more than calling the young man’s name to get him out of whatever trance he’d put himself in. He slammed his fist down onto the table, and Jungkook’s eyes crossed for a moment before he jolted to his senses.

He cleared his throat, and immediately began sputtering apologies.

“I-I’m so sorry. I’m not quite sure what came over me, I-” The contractor held his hand up, effectively silencing the boy as he picked up the pen that sat to the right of him while offering it to Jungkook with a raised brow.

“If this is something that you are not going to take seriously, then you may escort yourself out of my office. If you’d like to begin your career in this field, then take this pen and sign this contract.” Jungkook didn’t hesitate in grabbing the pen from the man, immediately apologizing for the way he snatched it out of his grasp.

He gnawed on his bottom lip, eyes scanning over the words on the thin paper as if he hadn’t been in this chair reviewing them for the past three hours.

This job paid well, and he had nothing to risk.

Except for the probable denial of any office job he’d try to apply to.

Why would he want an office job anyway?

Probably because--

“Any day now, Mr. Jeon.” He cast an annoyed glance toward the man. Couldn’t he see that he was contemplating on signing the damn thing?

He sighed, stretched his neck from side to side, and lifted the pen to the paper with a shaking hand.

The moment he finished signing, the crumpled sheet was ripped from under his fingertips, and tucked away into the desk of who Jungkook really hoped wouldn’t be his boss.

“It’s nice to have you along, kid.” Jungkook smiled nervously.

“You’ve got a great look, but of course, nude modeling is about what’s under the clothes.” His face instantly began to pale as he gripped the armrests of the chair he sat in.

Was this old dude asking to see him naked? Right now?

“You can step inside of the bathroom behind me to change. There should be a robe hanging on the door. Put it on, meet me outside, and we’ll take a few pictures for your portfolio.”

Jungkook sat still in the chair, staring at the man across from him with those adorable eyes widened in slight panic.

He was trying to pull himself up so he wouldn’t look like a fumbling idiot, but he couldn’t move a limb.

There was no turning back now, and he was fully aware of that.

“Am I… am I supposed to be naked for the f-first photo shoot?” Jungkook asked, his voice weak.

The contractor raised an eyebrow. It was normal for newcomers to be nervous, but he couldn’t understand why it was so difficult for him to follow directions.

In due time, he supposed.

“No, Jungkook.” The contractor sighed, pressing his thumb and middle finger against his temples in distress. Jungkook noted that this was the first time the man had addressed him formally as well, so it was probably in his best interest to go get changed if he didn’t want to get fired before he officially started the job.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He said, standing from the chair as he looked over the contractor’s shoulder to the bathroom. It seemed to be decently sized, and he could really use some time alone to get his nerves settled before he had to… well, pose naked for the camera.

Well, not naked. Not this time. That’s what the contractor said.

He looked toward the man one last time, before he began pushing himself in the direction of the bathroom. Upon approaching it, he could pick up the smell of lavender coming from the candles that were lit inside.

He opened the door, and immediately turned around to close and lock it.

He checked to make sure the door was locked before he pulled his shirt over his head and carefully pulled each of his shoes off.

He checked once more as he unbuckled his pants.

He checked one final time as he threw his belt to the floor.

Jungkook slid his thumbs in between his hips and the fabric of the jeans as he tugged them down toward the ground. He had no issue with this as of yet, seeing as he was still in his boxers.

He pressed his body up against the wall, giving himself something to lean up against as he took his jeans off and threw them toward the pile of his clothes he created on the floor.

The boxers were all that were left.

“Come on, man.” He whispered to himself, glaring at his reflection in the mirror as he began to get annoyed at his own anxiousness.

It was just a couple of pictures, and he’d be covered by a robe. He was acting like a wreck for no reason.

He closed his eyes and yanked the boxers down in one swift motion, knowing that if he hesitated, he probably would’ve just left them on.

Jungkook shivered as the cold air went straight to his dick, and he almost knocked one of the candles over and sent the bathroom up into flames as he lunged for the robe that was near the door.

It was soft and fluffy, and it also carried the faint scent of the lavender that engulfed his senses. It was warm as well, like a heated towel.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad, then.

He noticed that there were a pair of flimsy sandals sitting near the door as he prepared to leave. He was never told to put them on, or to mess with them at all, but he’d rather not walk around with his bare feet, so he slid them on anyway.

He checked his reflection once more, adjusting the robe a bit so it hung loosely around his waist, and so more of his chest could be exposed.

Sure, he was nervous, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to put on a good show.

He ran his hands down his sides, purposely brushing them over his cock as he considered giving it a few quick pumps before he made his way outside.

That’d be sure to leave a great first impression, which was what he was going for, but it’d be obvious that he was touching himself because his face would blush bright red.

He reached down to grab his clothes, folding them somewhat neatly. He grabbed his shoes and sat them on top of the stack of clothes he’d made.

Worry began to bubble in his stomach once he stepped out of the bathroom to find himself alone in the large office room, but he quickly remembered that he was told to meet the guy outside.

He hummed a small tune as he took quick steps toward the office door, placing his large hand upon the knob and opening it slowly, just in case his boss (Jungkook decided to assume that’s who this man was going to become. It’s better to wish for the worst anyway, right?) was right in front of the door.

Once he didn’t feel any force being pressed against the door, he opened it carefully and shimmied his way out of the office. He pressed his back against it to close it, and this small action caught the attention of his boss, who was sitting on a small bench a few feet away from the office.

“Great! You’re all changed.” The man smiled gently at him, clapping his hands together as he stood up and quickly approached Jungkook.

Jungkook stumbled back a few steps, confused by this sudden change of behavior. Was it because he was finally complying, or was it because he was about to be used for profit?

Either way, he didn’t mind. It’d be a hell of a lot easier to work in a less stressful environment, so he’d take what he could get.

“Uh, yeah… I wasn’t sure of where to put my clothes,” Jungkook began, holding up his clothes as he spoke, “so I decided to—“

“Ah, thank you for the reminder!” The man spoke, retreating back toward the bench he sat on to fetch an unmarked black bookbag from behind it.

He handed it to Jungkook, who took it thankfully and with a small smile.

“When do I return this to you?” Jungkook asked, not bothering to look toward his boss as he spoke as he was busy stuffing his belongings into the bag.

“It’s yours to keep, son.” Jungkook closed the bag and stood up, tossing it lazily over one of his shoulders as he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh, thank you so much.” He smiled sincerely. He was especially thankful that it was unmarked, because if he were to wear the bag out in public, he’d hate for someone to actually read the company name and google it, only to find pictures of him covered with only a robe on the home page.

He shivered at the thought.

“The studio is actually on this floor, so we haven’t got far of a walk at all.” His boss began to walk, and Jungkook followed a few feet behind him as he began to survey his surroundings at each turn they took.

“Now, there will be a handful of people in this room with you. Other models, photographers, of course, lighting specialists, stylists, and a few possible employers.” Jungkook hummed as the man spoke, ignoring every word that was coming out of his mouth as his heart began to thud loudly in his chest.

He didn’t need this explanation, anyway. The average person knows a little something about how a photo shoot works.

Even though he was a considerable distance away from his boss, he was almost sure that he could hear the thudding in his chest.

“Every single one of the people waiting in this room are going to do their best to make you look good, so there’s no need to worry. Relax, and you focus on making the company look good.” He laughed throatily, and Jungkook laughed stiffly from behind him.

‘Make the company look good my ass,’ Jungkook thought.

He rolled his eyes, almost crashing directly into the short man in front of him as they abruptly stopped at a door tucked away into the corner of the hallway they were on.

“This is it. Do you have anything else to ask of me?” Jungkook hurriedly said no, his nerves being replaced by the excitement to show himself off a bit.

“Alright.” The man nodded once before he opened the door, and once again, Jungkook was slapped in the dick with a blast of cold air.

He raised his eyebrows in interest as he surveyed the few models that were scattered about the different sets that were spread apart in the room. One set was sexy and seductive, dripping in elements of crimson and black, another was a bit more fun, which used orange and yellow to contrast against the white, and Jungkook couldn’t even conjure up the words to describe the other sets.

He continued to watch the models pose as if this was natural for them, flinching every now and then at the bright light that would flash every time a picture was taken.

He also noted that all of the models were nude.

They seemed to be masters of their talents, so maybe Jungkook got to leave the robe on because he was an amateur?

“Shit.” Jungkook cursed under his breath. Another cool draft of wind ran through the room, and he scurried to look down and pull the robe over his thighs.

Jungkook heaved a sigh of relief once he successfully covered himself, and his boss quickly strolled over to him to grab the bag off of his shoulder. Jungkook immediately looked over to ask him what he was doing, but before he got the chance, he was being whisked away by a manicured hand.

Everything moved quickly, but this should’ve been what Jungkook was expecting. This wasn’t just about his money.

He was thrown onto a couch near the center of the room, which was white just like the walls.

As soon as his ass touched the couch cushions, there were at least four people crowding over him to add some blush to his cheeks, and add some hairspray to his hair.

He was startled, but he didn’t mind the chaotic environment. It reminded him very much of the hospital he frequented when he was younger, and the thought of him finally being able to help his mom out after so long brought a smile to his face.

After the clutter of bodies went away, Jungkook was left alone on the couch with a camera pointed directly at him.

He gulped, his mouth suddenly dry.

The man behind the camera snapped a few shots of Jungkook to test the quality of the photos, and once he was pleased with what he saw, he stared expectantly at Jungkook with a raised brow.

“Uh…” Jungkook began.

“Take your robe off.” He stated bluntly. Jungkook choked, and immediately looked to where he saw his boss last, but he was nowhere to be found.

That fucker.

“I—I thought that I—“

“You may want to be quick about it, too. Time is money, and the more pictures we take of you, the better your chances are at being promoted.” Jungkook sighed.

If there was one thing he needed, it was money.

Hell, that’s what he got the job for.

He slowly brought his hands down to the sash that was holding the robe together and undid it, tossing it next to him on the couch.

He smirked lightly when he heard a few of the women standing behind the photographer gasp, quickly scanning every one of their faces to see their shocked expressions.

Jungkook could read the women easily. They all bit their lips, winked, or waved flirtatiously as he made eye contact with them, except for one woman.

She smiled teasingly at him, although she was seemingly unimpressed with his level of confidence. She raised an eyebrow tauntingly, pretending as if she didn’t understand why everyone was reacting as if they’d never seen a penis before. Though her cool exterior radiated disinterest, Jungkook could see past her facade, her eyes gave everything away. He could see the desire in her y/e/c irises. Jungkook understood, he felt it too.

Jungkook returned the smile, oddly at ease by her presence. He absentmindedly licked his lips as he raked his eyes up and down the curves of her figure.

She wore a long sleeved shirt that hugged her frame perfectly, a tight skirt that rested a few inches above her knees, and a pair of black heels that made her legs look absolutely stunning from where Jungkook was sitting.

He was sure they’d still look delicious if he were to take a closer look, which he wouldn’t mind in the slightest.

His mind wandered, images of her naked body flashing behind his eyelids. He lost himself in his daydreams of kissing up her legs while she squirmed underneath him.

What the hell is wrong with him? He was made to be the one receiving suggestive glances, but here he was, blatantly checking out the cute girl that was just trying to make him comfortable.

The girl broke eye contact with him, and he immediately looked away as well, squirming slightly in his seat as he felt his cock harden between his legs.

He made no effort to hide it, but he did close his legs a bit to make it less obvious.

He did not just get a boner because he made eye contact with a pretty girl.

Well, on the bright side, he didn’t have to worry about getting himself hard in the bathroom.

He glanced over in the lady’s direction once more, pouting once he noticed that she was no longer paying any attention to him, instead scribbling something down on a notepad she held in her small hands.

Why did he want her attention so bad?

“Alright,” The photographer began, bringing Jungkook back down to earth, “Keep it natural. The more relaxed you feel, the better your photos will turn out.” Jungkook nodded, a bit more eager than he should’ve been to begin his first session.

“Perfect!” The photographer yelled, snapping one last photo of Jungkook before he closed the lens of his camera and began to pack up his equipment.

Most of the other models and workers filed out already, and Jungkook was overly thankful that it would be his turn to leave this room next.

Jungkook thought the shoot went very well, as it was very easy for him to… keep himself encouraged throughout, thanks to that pretty lady.

He relaxed from his position, in which he was leaned forward, his elbows propped onto his knees as he smirked cockily at the camera.

He wasn’t sure of what to do just yet, waiting for his liar of a boss to make himself shown again.

Especially considering that the man had his clothes and shoes.

Jungkook sighed and closed his eyes, pressing his back into the couch as he breathed in and out slowly. He continued like this for a few moments, until he could hear heels tapping against the floor in his direction.

He opened one of his eyes, taking a peek at who was walking toward him.

Jungkook immediately sat up upon noticing that it was the woman with the sexy legs that kept his dick hard through the entirety of his shoot.

She approached him with a friendly smile, and Jungkook returned her sincerity with a smile of his own.

“Could I take a seat?” She motioned toward the empty spot on the couch next to him. Jungkook nodded once.

“Of course.” He moved over a bit, his cock swinging against his inner thigh as he did so.

It was then that he realized that he was absolutely naked still, so he grabbed the robe that laid over the arm of the couch and threw it on, as if the woman hadn’t already seen everything he had to offer— and more.

“Thank you!” She smiled at him. ”I’m Y/N.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I’m Jungkook.” She chuckled at this. Jungkook was confused as to what she found funny, maybe his name?

He gripped the robe between his fingers, nervously running the pads of them over the soft material as he pondered over what could’ve made the tempting woman in front of him giggle so sweetly.

“Why’re you laughing?” She noticed his nerves return, a knowing smirk on her lips as she watched the way he shyly avoided eye contact with her.

“I already know who you are, Mr. Jeon.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. It’s almost as if she knew she was enticing.

“You did some great work today, you know?” She flashed him an adorable smile again.

It was something about the way that ‘Mr. Jeon’ rolled off of her tongue that was driving Jungkook up the wall.

“Look, I know this may seem a bit forward, but you radiate great potential.” Jungkook nodded, thanking her quietly, as she pulled out that notepad that she was scribbling in when she was too busy to give him attention while he was posing sexily.

“I conduct an art class at a community center, and I’d love it if you were to drop by and model for me a bit, since you’ve gotten the swing of things fairly quickly.” She giggled, as she ripped out the page from the small book and handed it to him gently.

“Please, feel free to decline if you’re uncomfortable, but if you’d like to give it a try then give me a call.” She eyed him carefully as he picked up the paper and read over it.

“That’s my personal number, so you can call me whenever you’d like.” Something about that sentence put an image into Jungkook’s head.

“Alright, I’ll get out of your hair now.” She stood up, collecting her belongings as she did so.

“If I never run into you again, then it’s been a pleasure, Jungkook.” She proceeded to walk away, leaving him on the couch alone.

Jungkook lingered just outside the door of the art room, his stomach twisting with nerves. When he’d first been approached about modeling, he’d laughed it off. It started off with easy stuff, brand deals and commercial advertisements. How did he end up here? Posing nude in front of a group of strangers to pick apart his body for their art? This was the best paying gig he’d ever been presented with… the small advertising gigs had been a couple hundred at best but this one would put a sizable dent in his mother’s debt, easing her misfortune. Jungkook had to do this. For her.

He held his head high and strolled into the room with a confident air, any trace of his uneasiness washed away. He glanced around at the unfamiliar faces, carefully watching his every move. He smiled in a greeting, until his eyes landed on you. His face lit up at seeing your familiar face and your heart clenched at the sight. Should Jungkook have found comfort in your deceptively soft eyes? No. Did he? Absolutely. Your sharp tongue didn’t phase him too badly, not when he could see the tenderness in your eyes.

“Good morning, Mr. Jeon.” you smiled, extending your hand in an invitation.

Jungkook reached out, enveloping your small hand in his own larger one, shaking it professionally. He reveled at how soft your skin was.

“Good morning, Ms. Y/L/N.” he greeted. “Good morning, everyone.” he addressed the rest of the room. “Please call me Jungkook.”

“Alright. Jungkook here is going to be our model. Long gone are the days of fruit baskets. Here is where the fun begins.” you smirked, sending a raised eyebrow Jungkook’s way.

In spite of himself, Jungkook blushed under your suggestive gaze.

“Now, don’t forget that this is for art.” you emphasized. “The human body is a work of art and I expect you to treat it as such. Take this seriously. Okay?”

Most heads nodded automatically, a few older women rolled their eyes or stole looks from each other, mocking you. You were placing a young, muscular man in front of them without clothes. How did you expect them not to ogle?

“For this particular piece, we’re going to be exploring how to use charcoal to get those little details. Don’t forget your shading!” you chimed happily. “Ready, Jungkook?”

“I think so.” he smiled.

“Show us what you got.” you grinned, stepping back and sitting at your own easel.

Jungkook’s hands trembled a bit as he unbuttoned his shirt, trying his best to 1. Not look like a total basket case and 2. Not make it super sensual. Deft fingers worked their way down his shirt and soon the material was sliding off his body in a way he felt was unceremoniously, but judging from the mouths hanging open around the room, might’ve been a bit more enticing than he’d intended.

Jungkook’s chest was absolutely flawless, in your opinion. You were one of the few who managed to keep your tongue inside your mouth for the show, but that didn’t stop your eyes from wandering over his toned physique. Sure you’d seen him at his photography shoot, but he was wearing a robe and you were trying to be professional. Now, hidden behind your easel, you were free to really take him in.

His chiseled chest, the deep ridges of his toned abs, the smoothness of his skin, the light dusting of hair that teased its way under his jeans. He was a walking wet dream. Your mouth watered as your gaze followed the lines of his V. Jungkook popped open the button of his jeans, tugging the zipper down as well. You’d never been so entranced by a simple movement in your life. The man radiated sexual energy.

He shimmied his hips free of the denim, his every movement captivating his audience. Firm hip bones, luscious thick thighs, deliciously tanned skin were all slowly revealed as he tugged the jeans off in one fluid motion. Maybe he should be a stripper instead of a model… You shook the thought away, but it lingered. Jungkooks movements faltered for a moment, his eyes seeking yours for comfort. You smiled reassuringly at him, and that was all he needed to tug his boxers over his delicious thighs and let his glorious cock free.

“Holy shit.” you heard from somewhere behind you.

“He reminds me of a lover I once had in Prague. I’d sneak him into my hotel room and we’d make love until the sun came up. I miss being young.”

Jungkook coughed and brought his arm up to cover the flush spreading across his cheeks at the older woman’s inappropriate comment. You bit back a laugh.

“Alright Jungkook, just make yourself comfortable and we’ll start drawing you, okay?” you instructed, attempting to take his mind off of the earlier comment.

“Okay.” he nodded, settling himself on the stool you’d set out for him, resisting the urge to strike a pose he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold.

The room grew quiet save for the scratch of charcoal on canvas as the class began attempting to do justice to Jungkook’s beauty in their renditions of him. You began by tracing an outline of his body, opting not to attempt any details yet. The pink tint that rested upon the apple of your cheeks was hard to ignore, and you weren’t sure you could handle trying to get details of certain areas just yet.

You did your best to ignore the effect Jungkook’s naked body was having on your own fully clothed one. He was ethereal, beautiful, the kind of man you could lose yourself in. He had charisma, a way about him that just drew people in. Or maybe it was just you. Every time your eyes locked with his, it was like he was the only thing you could focus on. Everything else was obsolete.

Jungkook held a power over you that honestly scared you a little, and he didn’t even know he did. He didn’t understand how magnetic he was. Sure, he was sexy and he knew it. He’d obviously spent hours painstakingly sculpting his body to perfection, but it wasn’t even just his flawless physique, it wasn’t just his gorgeous, greek-god-like face. His power was inside of him, his strength, his determination, that spark in his gaze.

Jungkook was different from the rest, whether he realized it or not. He was special. Everything about him invited you in and coaxed you to give all of yourself to him. You couldn’t stop your thoughts from wondering as you lazily sketched the outline of him. How would his skin feel under your touch? Heat flooded your veins as you imagined what his touch might feel like in return. You shook these thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand and trying to see Jungkook as nothing more than art you were depicting. You were going to make certain you got every detail correct. And for that, you needed to focus.

Jungkook forced himself to look anywhere but at the people who were gawking at his naked frame. He couldn’t stop himself from watching you though. He found himself wondering what you thought of him. He wanted to see what you were doing on your canvas. He wanted you to look at him. As if reading his thoughts, you lifted your gaze and faltered when you found his already upon you. When your eyes met and he bit his lip in a nervous smile, you knew you were screwed.

The next time you saw Jungkook was a week later. Your class had nearly doubled in size as word spread of the toned man with the impressive cargo. You rolled your eyes to yourself but greeted your new arrivals with the same professional smile. You couldn’t blame them, not really. Would you have passed up the opportunity to see him naked again? Hell no. He was already undressed when you’d arrived, running late after a meeting with the program director congratulating you on your ability to gain interest in your class.

“Sorry I’m late!” you announced to the class, then to Jungkook specifically with an apologetic look.

“That’s alright dearie.” one of the older women commented, and you sent her a gracious smile.

“So! For those of you who are new, you can partner up with someone and observe or you can find your own Canvas located on the tables in the back. If you need any help please let me know, since you weren’t here for the introductory lessons.”

“Does she really think we’re here just to draw?” you heard a whisper from the back of the room.

“I know. I didn’t believe Karen when she told me an asian boy with a giant dong was modeling for her community center art class. I had to see for myself.” another voice giggled.

“If I were 15 years younger, I would climb that boy like a tree. I may be old enough to be his mother, but I could still give him a run for his money.”

“Mmm.. I wonder what he can do with those fingers. I bet he has stamina for days.”

You glanced up at Jungkook, who was actively trying to hide his discomfort, shifting a little on the stool as he attempted to stay still. You cleared your throat, loudly, sending a pointed look to the two women in the back.

“I just want to remind our newcomers that this class is about art, not objectification. Please remain respectful. If you can’t manage that, I’m sure you can manage to find the door.” you nearly hissed.

They shrugged sheepishly and grew quiet. You huffed in annoyance, glancing back at Jungkook again, who sent you an appreciative smile. You nodded, focusing on your canvas in front of you once more.

Once class was over and the others had filed out, you walked up to Jungkook as he was buttoning his jeans. He looked up from his task and greeted you with a warm smile.

“Hey, Y/N.” he grinned, apparently forgetting he still needed to put a shirt on.

You used every brain cell you had to keep yourself from staring at his chiseled chest.

“Hey Jungkook.” you smiled. “Are you okay? Did those women make you uncomfortable? I can ask them not to come back.”

“Oh it’s okay!” he assured you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I appreciate the offer but I don’t want to be a bother. It did make me kind of uncomfortable but they stopped so it’s okay.”

“Are you sure? They said some pretty inappropriate things.” you pressed.

“I don’t mind that what they said was inappropriate,” he explained, “it’s more that they were talking about me like I wasn’t even here. Like I was some sex doll or something. I don’t mind women finding me attractive, but I do have sustenance.”

“I get it. You shouldn’t be objectified while you’re doing your job.” you told him.

“Kind of hard to remind people I have dignity when I’m standing in front of them in all my naked glory. I can see how that might be distracting.” he winked playfully.

“Ah, there’s that cocky personality.” you threw back at him with a grin.

“Seriously though. Thank you for being on my side.” he told you sincerely.

Electricity shot through your body when he leaned in and gave you a gentle hug. You took a deep breath to steady yourself but that only resulted in breathing in the scent of him, musky and woodsy, yet sweet. It reminded you of cinnamon. It was intoxicating.

You desperately ignored the ache between your thighs and wrapped your arms around him to reciprocate his affections. His body seemed to relax against yours and the embrace lasted a little longer than a hug between mostly strangers should. He pulled away but held you at arms length to watch your features for a moment.

“See, now that’s the kind of look I don’t mind from a woman. Especially one as beautiful as you.” he smirked, turning and grabbing his shirt off the stool before sauntering away and shooting you a shit eating grin as you stand frozen in place.

You shot up, waking with a fright. Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath. Images flashing through your mind once more. Your subconscious thoughts led way to the hottest sex dream you’d ever experienced, and of course the star was your male model. You couldn’t stop picturing his mouth on you, his hands on you. You shook your head to clear it. Alone in your bed, you couldn’t get that cocky grin out of your mind. You tried to fight it, you really did. You tried to redirect your mind anywhere but his plump lips, his perfectly sculpted jaw, the way his warm skin felt against yours when he’d hugged you…

Shrouded in shame but overcome with desire, you let your hand dance down your stomach underneath the elastic of your pajama shorts, your fingers finding their way to your slit. You closed your eyes, imagining it was Jungkook’s fingers inside you instead. You pumped them slowly in and out of yourself.

“Ungh… fuck. Jungkook.” you whined, writhing against your fingers, trying to find that spot that drove you crazy.

You picked up the pace, letting your fingers find a delicious rhythm inside of you, wondering what it would feel like if it were Jungkook inside of you instead. His cock was so pretty. It took everything you had not to stand up and start sucking it every time you saw it.

“Jungkook.” left your lips as your whines got louder, moving your attention to circle at your clit with your juices as lubrication.

You wished you had a picture of him to look at while you pleasured yourself to the idea of him, but you let your imagination take control, replaying images from your dream, and creating new fantasies about the model with the sultry eyes. You were close, and the closer you got to the edge, the louder you became. You swore you could almost hear the faint sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing along with your own, but it must’ve been your imagination running wild.

Your orgasm crashed over you, Jungkook’s name leaving your lips repeatedly, like he was the only thought you could muster when your brain turned off and your high took over. You fucked yourself through it, soft whimpers leaving your mouth as you pulled your fingers out. You padded your way to the bathroom to wash up, climbing back into bed not nearly as satiated as you’d hoped to have been. You drifted to sleep anyway, thoughts of Jungkook and the hope of seeing him again soon on the forefront of your mind when unconsciousness took over.

Jungkook was early today, you noticed as you walked into the art room. You were the first two to have arrived, you wanted to make up for being late the previous week.

“Hey. What are you doing here so early?” you asked, setting your bag down as you made your way over to him.

“Needed to talk to you.” he responded, voice low and husky.

“Everything okay?” you asked, concern filling your chest.

“No. Everything is not okay.” he hissed, trapping you against the wall.

You shivered at the sudden change in his demeanor, at his body so close to yours, at the dominating tone of his voice.

“I’ve been horny as hell all week.” he grunted, rutting his hips into yours.

“O-oh.” was all you could muster for a response, your body immediately reacting to his movements and sending moisture to your core.

“Imagine my surprise when I got a call from you late Saturday night.” he smirked, lips ghosting over the hollow of your throat, allowing his cool breath to fan against the area. He watched your skin flush crimson and felt your heart rate pick up.

Saturday night? You hadn’t called him. Saturday night you were… oh.

“Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you sound when you’re moaning my name?” he teased, rolling his hips and pulling them back before pinning you to the wall with them once more, his erection pressed firmly against your aching heat.

“I-” you began to explain, but he cut you off.

“Fuck, the way you sound when you cum… I nearly came too. Listening to you fuck yourself for me. Tell me, what were you thinking about when your fingers sunk into that pretty little pussy? Was it my mouth?” he questioned, letting his lips graze along the shell of your ear.

“Was it my cock?” he ground his hardened member into you once more. “Maybe it was my tongue.” he mused, licking a bold stripe from the swell of your breasts to your collarbone.

A whimper was forced from your throat at his ministrations. You were hyper aware of every breath Jungkook took, feeling his body move against yours. You were also aware that at any moment, people were going to start filing through the door for class.

“Jungkook.” you breathed, a warning.

Or was it a promise?

Jungkook groaned, biting down on the side of your neck and sucking a purple bruise into the exposed flesh, then blowing cold air over the injured spot to soothe it. Your entire body shivered. Jungkook’s head turned as he heard footsteps approach the door. With a pointed look directly into your eyes, he stepped back from you and put much needed space between his body and yours, just in time for the first arrival to walk through the door.

You must’ve been a sight to behold, flushed and breathing heavily while pressed up against the wall. You hadn’t been able to make yourself move after Jungkook stepped away. He looked unbothered, but you were about to burst. You could feel your arousal slipping down your leg. You cursed yourself for wearing a skirt.

Jungkook, however, was thrilled with your outfit choice for the day. Especially since once you’d taken your seat at your easel, he had a front row view of your white lacy panties. Jungkook had already stripped naked for today’s modeling session, having put all of his effort into calming his dick down so he wasn’t hard in front of everyone. However, his efforts were moot when he noticed the dark wet patch imprinted on the ivory fabric that covered your heat.

Jungkook bit down on his lip, nearly drawing blood as his eyes latched onto your core. You shifted in your seat, attempting to press your thighs together to find some relief, an action which made Jungkook smirk to himself. Until his cock started reacting. In front of everyone. Jungkook wasn’t sure if he was more turned on or more embarrassed when he noticed your gaze unwavering on his hardening member. Your mouth hung open slightly, drool pooling at the edges. Jungkook chuckled to himself.

The other members of the class were just as astonished as you were, but Jungkook paid them no mind. All he could think about was getting inside of you. He couldn’t stop picturing the way your pupils had blown out just at his words, the way your breath hitched when he touched you. He bet you’d be so responsive when his fingers came to tease along your folds. He wondered how tight you were, if you’d be as loud as you were on the phone or even louder? Surely he could make you scream if you’d been that loud with just your own fingers?

Jungkook gave up trying to control his raging boner the moment he saw your arousal pooled at your core on display for him. Suddenly, he saw your hand sneak between your legs and tease along the ivory fabric. His gaze snapped up to your face, your eyes alight with mischief when they met his own. Your fingers pushed the damp fabric aside and began circling around your clit. Jungkook was the only one who could see from his position at the front of the room.

You were putting on a show for him, torturing him when he could do nothing about it. His eyes narrowed as he glared at you, but your face remained impassive, the epitome of feigned innocence. But like always, Jungkook saw the real you behind your heavy lidded gaze. You couldn’t hide from him, he could read you like an open book. There was nothing innocent about the way you were licking your lips, slowly dragging the swollen flesh between your teeth teasingly.

Your fingers spread your folds so Jungkook had a perfect view of your clit as you began rubbing it in slow circles. Jungkook’s eyes were glued to your bundle of nerves and the way your fingers teased at it. You gathered some of your slick to coat your fingers and lubricate them so they slid along your cunt with ease. Your digits were shiny, covered in your arousal. Jungkook nearly came when he watched in agony as you inserted two fingers into your entrance, pulling them back out and twisting them so he could watch the light reflect off your wetness. You stuck them in your mouth and sucked your juices off seductively before going back to your sketch.

Jungkook could not wait to punish your naughty behavior. He couldn’t wait to wipe that satisfied smirk off your face with an expert flick of his tongue. You had an attitude now, but once he was balls deep inside that soaking wet pussy he was sure you wouldn’t be quite so eager to tease him. You weren’t going to cum until you were crying and begging for it, he’d already made up his mind.

The minutes ticked by excruciatingly slow, each passing second felt like an eternity as Jungkook waited for class to be over. It felt like his dick twitched every time the little hand on the clock did. No matter what he did, no matter what he thought of, Jungkook could not get his erection to subside. His thoughts only led back to the lewd way you’d sucked your own arousal off your fingers.

Jungkook thought he might cry tears of joy when you finally dismissed the class with a chipper wave of your hand and a sweet smile. The second the last person walked out the door, Jungkook shut it and you heard the click of the lock echo throughout the empty room. You swallowed nervously, bending over to grab your bag, earning a hearty laugh from Jungkook.

“Oh baby girl… you really think I’m just going to let you leave after the little show you put on for me?” he purred, advancing toward you quickly until his body was flush against yours, breath tickling the space below your ear. “So naughty, teasing daddy like that.” he tsked.

His fingers trailed their way up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You shivered under his touch, though it was barely even there. His skin danced along yours, coming to rest at the curve of your breasts.

“Mmm… I think I’d like to taste these.” he grinned, suddenly yanking your tank top down so that both of your nipples were exposed to the bitter cold of the room.

A smirk played on his lips at the gasp that snuck its way past yours. His head dipped, and you thought he’d immediately take one of your nipples in his mouth, you were salivating over the thought of his warm, wet mouth on your perky buds. Instead, his pillow soft lips found yours, his tongue roaming along until you parted your lips and granted him access.

His tongue danced with yours as he brought his hips closer to grind into your aching center. You had never wanted anyone as badly as you wanted Jungkook. The man pressed against you had you brainless and ready to do anything he asked with a simple roll of his hips.

Jungkook decided he didn’t like being the only naked one, and pulled your shirt above your head. Were you shivering from the cold air or Jungkook’s predatory gaze? Hell if you knew. Jungkook’s nimble fingers had your bra unhooked in a suspiciously short amount of time but you paid that no mind. He flung it across the room and his mouth was on your breast in an instant. Slick tongue working against your erect nipple while the other was massaged by his large hand. Every movement of his tongue, every playful pinch of his forefinger and thumb against your sensitive skin was sending lightning bolts straight down to your heat.

Jungkook’s mouth left your breast with an audible “pop!” since he sucked the flesh as he pulled away, switching his efforts to the neglected side, this time mixing it up by grazing his teeth ever so softly along the most sensitive part. Soft whimpers left you and you effectively became putty in his hands... and mouth. His tongue darted out to give a final flick against your sensitive bud before his hot kisses descended south. He kissed along the expanse of your stomach, slowly working his way down, sucking and nibbling as he went to leave small bruises dotted over your skin. He flipped your skirt up, exposing the lacy white panties that had been taunting him for hours, and the dark wet patch where your arousal soaked through them. Jungkook let out a growl, ripping the ivory fabric from your body and tossing it aside, revealing your pussy to him.

“So fucking beautiful. Better than I’d imagined.” He praised.

Without warning, his tongue darted out and swiped along your folds. Your knees buckled but Jungkook’s strong arms held you up, hands on either of your hips to keep you still and pressed against the wall while he worked his tongue along your slit then against your throbbing clit.

“Shit!” You cried out, body jolting forward and hands coming to rest on his shoulders when his plump lips wrapped around the sensitive bundle and sucked harshly.

Jungkook showed no mercy, devouring your cunt like it was his death row meal, the final wish of a man with nothing to lose. He lapped at your juices as if it were the last thing he’d ever do. Your entire body was thrumming, shaking violently as your orgasm was wretched out of you with no warning.

His name fell from your lips like a prayer, or a curse, you weren’t sure. The only thing you could focus on was the blinding white euphoria his tongue had shoved you headfirst into. You would’ve collapsed if Jungkook hadn’t held you up, allowing you to slowly sink to your knees to meet his posture as your body twitched and shook at the aftermath of your mind blowing high. Your breathing ragged and your eyes wide, you watched the satisfied smile appear on his angelic face. Cocky bastard. Sexy, skilled, ridiculously beautiful cocky bastard.

“Still feeling like a tease?” Jungkook asked, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip as he raised an eyebrow at you. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, and all of his words sounded like another language at the moment.

“What?” You asked, causing him to laugh a bit at your clearly fucked out state of mind. Although the both of you were stripped down to almost nothing (save your skirt) and on your knees in the ground, it was clear who held the power between the two of you.

“You wanna taste yourself on my tongue?” He offered, already beginning to lean forward as he reached his arm out to pull your body closer to his, but you shook your head, an idea playing in the back of your head as you quickly conjured up a plan that’d have him weak and panting instead.

“I’d rather taste you on my own. Stand up.” You ordered.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by your cute attempt at telling him what to do as if he hadn’t successfully put you in your place a minute or two ago. He stood nonetheless, vaguely interested in whatever you had up your sleeve. His goal was to make you suffer, but he supposed you could have a bit of fun before he fucked you brainless over that desk that sat a few feet away from the two of you.

You shifted yourself around a bit, as did he, so he now had his back pressed against the wall. You sat submissively under him, although Jungkook was anything but while he had ravaged your sweetness with his tongue.

“You’re pretty with your thighs around my face, but there’s just something about you on your knees.” Jungkook teased, his cockiness never failing to make an appearance as he ran a hand through your hair in appreciation.

You hummed to thank him, a sly smile of your own playing on your lips as you slowly lifted your small hand up to his cock. This small action alone had him tensing up completely, hissing quietly as you squeezed your hand loosely against his length repeatedly until he had to intertwine his fingers with your locks and pull your head up.

“You’d better stop unless you want to walk out of this room with my cum dripping down your face.” He warned.

You shrugged, leaning forward a bit, placing your free hand on his thigh while you stroked his cock slowly, your eyes honing in on the clear liquid that leaked from the tip of his length. You licked your lips at the thought of swiping it away with your tongue, but you weren’t supposed to give in this easily. This wasn’t a part of your plan, but you’d give anything just to keep seeing the expression of pure ecstasy on his face.

You continued to stroke him with your hand, purposely digging your nails into his thigh to see if it’d bring a reaction out of him. A shiver ran from his spine to the tips of his toes as you did this, and you couldn’t help the giggle that slipped past your lips.

“You like a little pain?” You teased, narrowing your eyes at him in defiance as you stuck your tongue out, pressing it slowly against his shaft.

You licked a stripe from his balls to the angry tip, looking up at him through your lashes as you swiped the precum away like you originally intended.

It was just as salty as you expected it to be, but you didn’t mind at all. You closed your eyes as you brought your tongue back into your mouth, pressing your lips together and swallowing slowly as you allowed the taste of him to burn down your throat.

“You taste just as good as you look.” You commented seductively, pressing a chaste kiss to his cock head and swirling your tongue around it once more before you began to spread your lips over the expanse of his cock.

Now, you’d definitely had your experience with this sort of thing once or twice before, but Jungkook was big, and there was no way you were fitting your pretty mouth over all of him, no matter how desperately you wanted to. As much as you were dying to get all of him in your mouth, for your own safety and wellbeing, you opted to use your hand to continue to apply some relief to what you couldn’t quite reach with your mouth.

“Oh, shit. That’s so good, baby.” You weren’t sure if he was just in the moment, but your heart fluttered a bit at the pet name.

You hollowed your cheeks as you struggled to take more of him into your mouth. You gagged a handful of times, but Jungkook didn’t seem to mind. He even pulled all of your hair into his hands, using it as a sort of makeshift leash as he pushed you further down onto his cock, wanting to hear you gag on him again.

You worked quickly with your mouth, alternating the flicks of your wrists with your hand to keep Jungkook guessing. He had pressed his weight fully against the wall behind him, his leg twitching occasionally whenever you ‘accidentally’ dragged your teeth along the underside of his dick, not enough to cause any real harm, just enough to ignite a spark.

“Oh my God…” He whimpered.

You did yourself the favor of looking up at him while your mouth was stuffed full, your pussy spasming at the sight. His mouth was hung open in a silent moan, his eyes were screwed shut in pleasure, and a few of his sweaty black locks were stuck to his forehead. You figured you could make him cum just like this, but you’d rather be his personal cumbucket. Was it a bit selfish? Maybe, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. He looked absolutely delectable above you.

He cracked his eyes open just as you slid his cock out of your mouth, gathering up the saliva that built up while your lips were stretched around him and spitting it back out onto his manhood. You were deliberately slow with this, wanting him to feel it the moment it made contact with his head. You watched his face as your saliva spilled down onto his shaft, using this as lubrication as you continued to pump your fist against him.

You sank down further onto your knees, only able to give his balls a few licks with your tongue, and a short lived massage before you were yanked backward, head first. Your immediate reaction to this was a rough squeeze to his cock, since it was the only thing in your grasp at the moment. You let out a strangled groan as he clenched his jaw while looking down at you, cock standing at attention as he debated his next movement.

“Get the fuck up.” He commanded you, although he pulled you up off of the ground by the grip he had on your hair on his own.

He pressed your back to his chest, ensuring you felt every ripple of his muscles pressed against your naked skin. Making a path with his hand from your stomach, in between your breasts, then finally to your neck, he held you firmly against him, so you had no space between your flushed bodies. You felt every rise and fall of his toned chest, his breathing just as ragged as yours.

“I’m going to bend you over that desk there, alright?” He whispered into your ear, his cool breath fanning over your cheek as you nodded eagerly, just wanting him to follow through with his plan instead of telling you the process. After all, actions do speak louder than words.

“When I let you go, I want you to walk over there like a good little slut and bend over. Flip that skirt up and show me your cunt. Can you do that for me?” You felt his cock twitch against your inner thigh, and you nodded again with a quiet moan.

“Go.” He let you go with one word, watching you swiftly walk over toward the desk as he took his length in his right hand and stroked it quickly while approaching you with loud, threatening footsteps.

You weren’t sure how that was possible since he didn’t have shoes on, but it only excited you further. You complied with his orders easily, pressing your cheek against the cold surface of the desk. You hiked the skirt up a bit around your waist and wiggled your ass teasingly as you waited for him to come ravage you.

“You’re cute, but you’re so annoying.” He grunted from behind you, slapping both of your ass cheeks with his heavy hands, massaging them afterward before delivering two more harsh slaps.

“You work me up in front of a room full of people, and then try to collect your stuff afterward as if you weren’t practically begging me to use you? Bullshit.” He spanked your ass again, relishing in the way you hissed after every hit and gripped the edge of the desk tighter.

“I’m going to make a mess out of you, you know that?” He pressed his chest against your back, pushing his weight onto you as he whispered into your ear.

You nodded, his eyes scanning over the expanse of your back as his long fingers momentarily kneaded your muscles.

“What’re you waiting for, then?” You quipped, although your voice sounded a bit flat because of Jungkook’s body weight. He laughed as he pulled himself up off of you.

Silently, he grabbed his cock and lined it up with your pussy as he pressed the head against your tight hole. You moaned at this, inhaling sharply as he just barely slipped himself inside of you. You whimpered in defeat as he pulled out quickly afterward, not wanting to give you the time to savor the feeling of being stretched out by his length.

“I swear, if you wait any longer then I’m going to fuck myself on your dick.” You threatened shakily, to which he smirked at.

“Is that so?” He let go of his cock. “Be my guest, then.” He shrugged, although you couldn’t see him.

You turned around swiftly, beyond irritated at whatever game he was trying to play. You were turned on, and you wanted to be fucked silly, but he was acting like a brat.

“You know what? Fine, I will.” You challenged, looking over your shoulder at him to see the intrigued smile on his face.

You rolled your eyes, roughly grabbing his cock and pushing yourself back onto him hastily. Jungkook disapproved of this, landing a sharp slap to your right ass cheek he gripped your hips roughly. He held you securely, preventing you from sliding back any further onto his cock.

“You’d better slow down, sweetheart.” He warned shakily, his nails leaving small imprints on your skin as he moved his hands down to your ass. “I haven’t cum yet, and your little hole is so inviting.”

You gulped, although something about his threat to cum inside of you was one step closer to pushing you over the edge.

“Take it slowly. Take me in slowly, so I can feel you.” With this he let go of your ass, watching with lidded eyes as your arousal coated more than half of his manhood.

He licked his lips at this, loving the way your juices spilled onto him, and onto the desk. Perhaps he’d make you lick his cock clean afterwards. That’d be a sight to see.

Your hips stuttered before you could take the last few inches, which sent a gigantic boost to Jungkook’s ego. Of course, he knew he was big, but something about seeing you struggle to take him in fully even after you talked all of that shit previously was egging him on.

“You at your limit, baby?” He mocked you, and as soon as you tried to respond, your voice cracked.

He hummed, chuckling slightly as he slid his hands up from your ass to your back, scratching his stubby nails at your flesh before threading his fingers in your hair once more. He roughly yanked your head back with a malicious smile. Your body jolted at this, which sent the rest of his cock plunging into you in one go.

“God, that’s fucking it. Look at you, swallowing Daddy’s dick like a good girl. You look so pretty stuffed full like this.” You were incomprehensive, your entire being filled with thoughts of Jungkook pummeling your pussy out of existence.

“Not so eager to use that fucking mouth now, are you? Hm?” He asked, pulling your head back a bit further.

Your back was so arched that you could see the ceiling and a bit of his face, and this new position made it so much easier for his cock to brush against that spot that made you a mumbling mess.

“You should be ashamed, really.” He said, dropping his head down to look at your ass as he slowly began to work his hips against it. “Have you got anything to say for yourself?” You were taking him so well, but he couldn’t let his unbothered persona falter just yet.

“Well?” He let go of your hair, and you immediately dropped your head forward, your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as you struggled to hold yourself up on your elbows while he ruthlessly fucked you.

“You’re s-so fucking big.” You mumbled pathetically, causing Jungkook to twitch inside of you.

“I know. You like Daddy’s big fat cock inside that tight little pussy. Tell me, baby. Tell me how much you like it. Tell me how good you feel.” He pushed one of his hands down against your back, silently telling you to press your breasts against the desk. You obeyed, hissing as your nipples hardened instantly after making contact with the cool surface.

“I like—o-oh, oh shit.” Your jaw fell slack as Jungkook began to pick up the pace of his thrusts, his expert hips moving with such sharpness that you could feel it each time he pulled back a bit to fuck himself into you again. Although you didn’t do what he asked of you, he didn’t pressure you any further, his only goal to use you as his cute little cocksleeve.

“Spread your legs for me.” You immediately moved to follow his request, unable to balance yourself on your feet now. This was no problem, as Jungkook easily took a secure grip around your waist to keep you pressed against the desk.

“You feel so good around me like that, oh shit.” Jungkook whimpered, his tongue hanging out of his mouth slightly as he jabbed his fingers into your sides and pulled you onto the tips of your toes. You were startled at the sudden change, although it allowed for him to drive deeper inside of you.

“Put your hands on the edge of the desk now. Do it right fucking now.” He growled like some sort of feral animal. You scurried to follow his orders, just as he began to slam his cock so powerfully inside of your cunt that your hips banged against the metal desk with every other thrust, and you knew there would be bruises.

“F-fuck!” You screamed, and Jungkook responded quickly by throwing his hand messily over your mouth to quiet your moans.

“Shh, Y/N. We can’t let you get caught being a little slut.” He chuckled breathlessly, short moans and growls leaving the back of his throat as he continued to piston his hips in and out of you, your ass slapping against his abdomen every time the two of you connected. You were teetering over the edge, desperately wanting to lose control underneath him.

“I’m cumming, I’m gonna c—JUNGKOOK!” You yelled out in frustration as he slipped his cock out of you.

He grunted, pushing some of the clutter on the desk away before picking you up and setting you on top of it, so he could see your face.

“One,” He said, his voice raspy which caused you to shiver, “You’re not cumming unless I get to see your face when you do. Two,” He continued, slipping himself back into you with ease due to how fucking soaked you were, “You’re not cumming until you beg for it.” He reached for one of your legs and placed it over his shoulder, gripping onto it as he sustained the rapid pace of his manhood plunging into your inviting heat.

“I-I wanna cum, Daddy.” You whispered in defeat, a twinkle in Jungkook’s eyes as he was beginning to finally get you where he wanted you. You weren’t begging just yet, though, which was unfortunate for you because you wouldn’t get an orgasm, and Jungkook was going to cum inside you either way.

“You do, Princess?” He whispered back, still holding your leg while his other hand moved to the back of your head. He pressed your forehead against his, your noses bumping as Jungkook fucked you. You nodded, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes at having to hold your orgasm back.

“You aren’t begging for me, baby. Beg me to give you permission to cum on this dick.” You cried out weakly, knowing that you’d have to give in to his rules in order to achieve that sweet release. It was right in the tip of your tongue.

You placed your arms around his neck, hanging them there loosely as you gazed into his eyes, which were full of lust and carnal desire.

“Can I cum o-on your c-cock—a-ah!” You failed miserably to finish your sentence, as Jungkook began pistoning his cock inside of your cunt with such force that the desk began to screech against the ground a bit, knocking at one of the metal racks behind it.

“I’m so close to cumming, pretty girl. Talk fast.” He warned, thrusts quickly becoming unorganized. You nodded.

“Please let me cum! I-Iv’e learned my lesson, I swear I have! I’m so close Jungkook, p-please!” He grunted his approval, nodding once and delivering about a dozen more thrusts before he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, biting down on the skin there as he began to shoot rope after rope of his cum deep inside of your greedy cunt.

You came with him, your body tensing up for a few moments before your release smacked you like a bus, heavy and unapologetic. Due to the wild fuckfest the two of you had, though, a few utensils hit the ground, and a can of paint was wobbling on the edge of the rack that the desk was smashing against a few seconds ago. Jungkook finally lifted his head up, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. He placed one final kiss to your forehead before locking eye contact with you.

“I know for a fact that was the best fuck of your life.” You laughed, shaking your head at the fact that his cocky attitude would never settle. Not even after using up (what you assumed was) all of his stamina.

You didn’t mind it, though. In fact, you were starting to grow fond of it.

“It certainly was, but look at all the—“

The can of paint gave way to the pull of gravity, and tumbled to the ground with a deafening crack, the contents of the can flying out and splattering directly onto you and Jungkook. You knew what it was as soon as it hit your skin, and you immediately wondered why someone would leave a damn can of open paint on the top shelf.

It was brief, a big splash, so neither of you really had time to react to it. When you finally lifted your head up, Jungkook’s chest was covered in black paint, as were your legs and skirt. Seriously, the one fucking day you decide to wear pink?

“—Mess. Look at all the mess.” You finished your sentence with a giggle, thankful that you kept towels in the room during your classes. It’d never come out of your skirt, but at least you could wipe it off of your skin.

Your gaze met Jungkooks and you both burst out in a fit of giggles. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lit up when he laughed, the polar opposite of the domineering man who’d just rocked your world minutes before. This Jungkook was soft, open, lighter. His laughter was the most beautiful melody that had ever graced your ears and you wouldn’t have minded listening to it for a very long time. His joy was contagious, and you couldn’t stop the goofy smile from spreading across your lips as he wrapped his arms around you in a playful hug.

Though his touch still sent electricity through you, this was different. It was sweet and gentle. You let yourself melt in his embrace, drinking in the way he made you feel so secure, so wanted. You sighed happily. You grinned mischievously then, collecting some of the paint off of the surface of the desk and wiping a thick stripe of it across his cheek. He froze in shock then glared at you, a hint of a smile playing on those gorgeous lips.

He reached out to grab you, but you were too fast, shrieking in delight as you ran away from him. Jungkook chased you around the small art studio, his laughter floating through the air like your favorite song. His arms snaked around you and he pulled you close, rubbing his cheek against yours to spread the paint over your skin. Your giggles dissolved as he placed a tender kiss to your lips.

Pulling away and placing a peck on his nose, you began pulling your clothes back on. Jungkook watched you, admiring the way your body moved, how much sweeter you were once your attitude had been properly taken care of. You smiled at him over your shoulder, and he couldn’t recall a time when he’d ever seen such a beautiful smile on any other woman. He couldn’t recall seeing another woman who even compared to you.

Then realization brought a similar smile onto his own lips, and Jungkook thought to himself, that he just might have found the one.

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook x you #bts jungkook #jeon jeongguk

2K notes · View notes

just-jordie-things · 4 years

Text

Pesky Feelings - John B Routledge

word count: 4238 warnings: swearing, two oblivious lovesick idiots summary: thornton!reader and John B are your typical childhood best friends, which comes along with your typical angst of secretly being in love and not knowing how to admit it :) request: @killerwasteland: I'm here with another idea for a John b : avoiding him like the plague after confessing your feelings and him tryna get you to talk to him because you didn't even give him the chance to say whether he reciprocated the feelings (+ bonus points if they're childhood best friends + extra bonus points if she's topper's sister) (a/n): ok I love this, and also john b is a major dork of a bf ___

“Can we talk?” (y/n) had asked quietly, grabbing onto her friend’s wrist softly, hoping he wouldn’t freak out at those three dreaded words.

John B didn’t freak out, he simply nodded, and followed her away from the party, so that they could have some privacy. There was nothing that (y/n) could ever say to him that would freak him out.

She was his best friend, he loved her, and he trusted her with his life. So he remained calm as they found a decent spot to talk privately, where the music wasn’t loud, and no one could really see them and make judgmental assumptions.

(y/n) sucked in a deep breath, letting go of his wrist as her hands tangled together. It was a nervous tic of hers, one that John B recognized, but even still, he was calm as he placed his hands over hers soothingly.

“What’s up?” He asked, ever so laid back.

She was thankful that he was such an easy going guy, it definitely made what she was about to say next a little easier.

“I just… um I wanted to tell you that… that I…” She licks her lips as she trails off, anxiety bubbling up inside of her like water that was about to boil over a pot.

John B doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t want to rush her and make her more nervous than she clearly already was. But he couldn’t deny that he was on the edge of his seat, dying on the inside of curiosity. He does his best not to show it, though.

“Look you don’t have to say anything, or- or feel the same way I just wanted you to know how I feel and that I… I really like you,” Her eyes flicker up to his, glossy and apprehensive. “I like you as more than a friend” She said more clearly.

John B opened his mouth to reply, and it should have been an easy response, but it wasn’t. He froze up completely, his hands stiffening over her own and his eyes blowing wide as he stood their speechlessly.

But while he was too bashful to know what to say, the pit in (y/n’s) stomach was trying to swallow her whole, and suddenly she wished a hole would open up below her and just suck her into the earth, out of this situation.

“Oh my god,” She mumbled, realizing what she’d just done. “Oh my god, I- I’m so sorry-”

She started to back away, pulling her hands out of John B’s, eyes scanning over the party in hopes to find someone that she could flock to.

“Wait, (y/n)-”

“I’m gonna go- yeah- I’m gonna head out”

She’s speed walking away from him before he can find the lick of sense to grab her hand and pull her back towards him, hold onto her and never ever let go.

“(y/n)!” He called after her, but she just waved goodbye, and went into the crowd to tell her brother she was going home, with or without him.

He was the one with the car, but she would run all the way to the Figure Eight if she had to right now. ___

(y/n) rolled over in her bed, pushing her face into her pillow and letting out a frustrated cry. No words came out, it’s just that when she thought about that night, the amount of cringe she felt took over her whole body.

“Okay, calm down,” Kiara said through the speaker of her phone.

They’d been Facetiming for the last half hour or so, but it was difficult for (y/n) to focus on any of the topics they tried to talk about when her mind was constantly reminding her of the biggest failure she’s ever experienced.

“It’s not that bad, (y/n)” Kie added.

“Not that bad?” (y/n) repeated, lifting her head to look at the screen. “It’s terrible. He was my best friend- what the fuck was I thinking?”

“You had a bit to drink, alcohol is liquid courage you know,” Kiara said, only half-joking. “And he’d been holding your hand all night, (y/n/n), that’s reasonable evidence that he liked you back-”

“Not reasonable enough apparently!” (y/n) shrieked. “I can’t believe I actually thought he would ever like me-”

“Hey,” Topper came into the room without bothering to knock, an annoyed look on his face. “Could you keep it down? Rafe and I are trying to-”

“Get the fuck out,” (y/n) grumbled, chucking a stuffed animal from her at him. “I’m going through something” She added.

Topper rolled his eyes at her.

“Really? He was just a Pogue (y/n), I don’t get why you hang out with them”

They’d had this argument pretty much every day their whole lives. Topper could be a good brother sometimes, he’d pick up dinner for her, drive her to the keggers on the beach, and he was definitely protective of her. But that didn’t mean his personality had a gold star next to it.

He was definitely your average Kook, if not a little worse. It could really get under (y/n’s) skin at times, but recently she’d just decided to ignore it. It was much easier to ignore it anyways, because then it would go away.

“Get out” She repeated, throwing a pillow at him this time.

He didn’t say anything, just shook his head and left.

“Wow,” Kiara groaned through the phone. “He sucks”

“I know,” (y/n) agreed. “But he just doesn’t get it. He doesn’t know John B like I do. He doesn’t know any of you guys like I do”

Kiara understood that the Thornton siblings had a major disconnect when it came to who they spent their time with. Anyone with eyes could see the difference in character between (y/n) and Topper.

In fact, when people met (y/n), they expected the whole family to be as sweet and charismatic as her. But they were almost always left disappointed.

“You should just come talk to him,” Kiara said, getting back on topic. “No matter what happens, or what he says, you know that he’ll be understanding. He doesn’t want you to feel hurt or left out”

“I know,” (y/n) huffed. “I know I just.. I don’t think I can see him yet. It won’t feel the same for me like it does for him. He’ll say that nothing has to change but… it will. It will for me”

Kiara frowned, but she understood where her friend was coming from.

She just also knew that John B had to feel the same way. There was no way that he’d been sweet on her all this time and didn’t have feelings. She’d known the pair all their lives, and for as long as she’d known them, John B had a soft spot for the Kook girl. It was the one constant in the group.

“I should have just listened to the rule, and kept my mouth shut. No Pogue on Pogue macking. It’s there for a reason. This is the exact fucking reason- hold on I’m getting a call”

“From who?”

(y/n) stared at the screen for a moment, her heart melting at the picture that she’d set for John B’s contact. It was them when they were in middle school, they looked dorky and very out of style, but it was sweet. They were going to their first school dance, and their parents had begged them to take a picture before they went, this picture.

John B had eagerly thrown his arms around her, hugging her tightly like he always did. He had a big cheesy and toothy grin on his face, which was adorable when you looked at the rest of the picture, seeing his crooked bowtie.

(y/n) had hugged him back, a bit more warily, and the smile on her face was softer. You could see the blush on her cheeks when you really studied the picture.

“John B,” (y/n) answered after snapping out of her daze, and hit the decline call option. “Sorry, I’m back”

“What? Girl, why didn’t you answer?”

“Because, like I said, it’s weird now-”

“He was probably calling you to invite you to a late night ride on the boat,” Kiara said, always the voice of reason to everyone in the group.

Sometimes she was convinced she was the only one with any brain cells.

“You should call him back” She stated.

“No way, I’m gonna wait,” (y/n) replied. “I can’t talk to him right now, I’ll clam up, or stutter, and it’ll be embarrassing”

“Who cares?” Kiara half-shouted. “He obviously wants to talk to you”

“But what if its about-”

“Does it matter what it’s about?” Kiara cut her off, “Him wanting to talk to you is a good sign either way”

“Well, he’s been calling me all week” (y/n) admitted, looking away from the screen.

“All week? Jesus (y/n/n), you’re probably freaking the boy out-”

“I know!” (y/n) cried, shoving her face back into her pillow. “This is all so stupid. This is like- high school drama stupid. I feel like an idiot”

“No offense babe, but you are an idiot,” Kie giggled. “I love you, but you're so oblivious”

“Am I?” (y/n) muttered, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Yes, without a doubt,” Kiara said, still laughing light heartedly. “Do you even remember when I met you guys?”

Kiara had been a new student at Kildare Elementary in the second grade. The first day was always the worst, but luckily by recess, she met a nice boy with messy hair and a friendly smile.

They had been playing on the swingset together for a little while, asking the ridiculous questions you ask other seven year olds when you’re becoming friends. Most of their conversation had been about the Power Rangers, until another girl came up to the swings.

John B hopped off his immediately so the short (y/h/c) haired girl could swing. She’d thanked him with an equally friendly smile as she sat on the swing, and waited for him to push her because she hadn’t been very good at swinging up high like he was.

“This is Kiara, she’s new,” John B introduced. “And this is (y/n),” He told Kiara. “You can be friends with her too, but she’s my best friend, so you can’t have her”

(y/n) had giggled at that, but hopped off the swing so that she could hug the new girl.

“We can all be best friends,” She’d announced. “There’s nothing wrong with having two best friends”

John B had pouted for a bit, but as their playdates turned into the three of them, and eventually they met two other boys, he was okay with having other friends around.

As long as (y/n) always picked him to be partners in hide and seek, and as long as she always laid her sleeping bag next to his, then he wouldn’t complain.

The girls were Kooks, and the boys were Pogues, but all their lives, it hadn’t mattered. (y/n) had never really thought twice about it, even when her brother would be kind of a jerk, or when other Kooks would pick on the group in high school, she never second guessed her friendship with them, her love for them. They were all her best friends, John B had just always been something more than that. Something beyond best. He was priority number one, and looking back on it, she’d always loved him.

“Don’t you remember?” Kiara asked again, bringing (y/n) back from the memories of their early childhood together. “You’ve been attached at the hip since like, kindergarden,” She reminded with a laugh. “He didn’t even want to share you with anyone, and honestly, he still doesn’t. That night of the party? He dragged you with him everywhere”

“He just doesn’t like when girls hit on him” (y/n) shrugged nonchalantly.

“Yeah, but he can probably go to the bathroom on his own”

All night, John B had been filling up cups at the keg with one hand, and the other had been tangled in (y/n’s). He’d had a bit to drink, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to get more affectionate after three beets, so (y/n) hadn’t thought much of it.

And she wasn’t about to complain about a boy she liked holding her hand.

But even when Kiara took over running the keg, and the other Pogues hung out, dancing around and smoking together, his hand hadn’t let go of hers. He always had a good excuse.

He didn’t like when Touron girls hit on him, he didn’t want to lose her in the crowd, he wanted to make sure she was safe by his side, no matter what he’d say, (y/n) would go along with it. But that night had been different.

He started to take her with him towards the Chateau, and she’d stopped him once she realized where he was heading.

“John B, I wanna keep partying” She said with a pout.

“Yeah, I just have to pee” He’d replied, rather honest. Five drink John B was a pretty honest dude.

“Pee by yourself” (y/n) giggled as a cringe crossed her features. She started to take her hand out of his, but he was quick to grab hold of it again.

“Wait- no, I don’t wanna go alone” He whined, pulling her against his chest.

(y/n’s) pout remained, but she followed him anyways with a reluctant ‘fine’.

“I don’t wanna hold your hand while you pee though,” She’d told him once they got to the house. “That’s weird, and kinda gross”

“Fine” John B muttered like it bothered him, making her laugh.

“You’re such a weirdo John B,” She said, and stood outside the bathroom door as he went in. She quickly shut the door when he unzipped his pants, a shriek leaving her throat. “Close the fucking door you dork!” She yelled, slamming the door shut for him, bursting into a fit of giggles at how weird he was at five drinks.

He usually didn’t drink much at these things, he liked to keep an eye on the party, and man the keg to make sure everyone was being safe with their underage drinking.

But for some reason tonight was different.

JJ stumbled past (y/n), a girl on his arm, and he almost kept walking to the guest room before he realized it was (y/n) standing there.

“What are you doin’ inside?” He asked, while the pretty brunette Touron was macking on his neck.

“John B had to pee” (y/n) shrugged back at him, trying her best to keep eye contact with him, and not look at the girl who was furiously sucking on his neck.

“You guys are weird,” JJ said, shaking his head before continuing to lead his hookup to his designated room.

But he said one last thing to her before shutting the door behind him.

“Maybe you should tell him you’re in love with him”

(y/n) had laughed it off, just as John B came out of the bathroom, but the words sat at the front of her mind all night, until eventually, she thought ‘why not?’ and just went for it.

Huge mistake.

“I don’t know why I listened to JJ,” (y/n) muttered in irritation. “Idiotic”

(y/n’s) phone buzzed, and she clicked on the notification.

[ John Booker ] : please call me back?

She typed back some bullshit excuse that she was busy right now, but she’d try to call him later. It was a lie, she knew damn well she wasn’t going to call him.

“You’re looking at this all wrong” Kiara told her. “You’re only seeing things from your point of view, you need to think of it from John B’s”

“I did, it made me feel worse”

“Not really though. Did you ever wonder why he clung to you all night? Even when he went to the bathroom? Or why he doesn’t like other girls flirting with him?”

She brought up good points, and (y/n’s) heart skipped a beat as she listened, but she’d learned not to have too much hope when it came to other people’s feelings, because you never really know.

“I think you should call him back. Or go over, he’s home now I think”

“Kie, you have way too much faith in me,” She mumbled, picking at the blankets on her bed. “I think I’ve been scarred for life, I don’t think I’ll ever-”

She was cut off by a tapping on her window, but when she turned to see what it was, there was nothing there, so she ignored it and went back to Facetime.

“-I don’t think I’ll ever make a move again-” She finished, but there was another tap on the window.

Still nothing.

It was strange that it happened twice, but she didn’t feel like getting out of bed, so she pretended it was nothing.

“That’s kind of ridiculous, don’t you think?” Kiara teased. “Besides, who else would you make a move on anyways?”

“Hey” (y/n) mumbled, offended by the comment.

“Come on, there’s no one for you but John B, you can admit it,” Her friend laughed. “And there’s still a chance…”

Whatever she started to say, (y/n) couldn’t hear, because her phone lit up with a bunch of texts at once.

[ John Booker ] : i know you’re holed up in your room, would you come to the window already?

[ John Booker ] : i’m outside

[ John Booker ] : hurry up juliet

(y/n’s) heart nearly stopped in her chest.

“... and who knows? Maybe you just have to give him some time-”

“Oh my god, Kie-” (y/n) cut her off, scrambling off her bed.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“He’s here”

“Who?”

“John B, he’s here” (y/n) stated, and hurried over to her window.

Sure enough, standing outside two stories down, was John B, still throwing pebbles at her window like he was in some teen rom-com.

“Oh shit,” Kiara giggled. “Go talk to him!”

When John B reared back to throw another rock, he noticed (y/n) was there this time, and his whole face broke out into a grin.

“Finally!” He hollered, throwing his arms up in the air.

“Oh my god” (y/n) mumbled.

Kiara was still laughing through the phone while (y/n) unlocked her window and slid it open, leaning out of it as she looked down at him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She asked, making him bark out a laugh.

“You weren’t answering me! Now are you coming down or not?”

“I-” She started to say something, but he spoke up again.

“Don’t make me climb up there, Juliet” He said with a laugh.

“Stop calling me that,” (y/n) replied, but she couldn’t help the laugh she let out. “I’ll be down in just a second”

With that, she retreated into her room, staring at her phone, hoping Kiara would give her literally any advice right now.

“Just go talk to him, you dork,” Kiara said. “And call me later. Love you! Bye-!”

“Wait, Kie-!”

But her phone beeped as Kiara hung up, and she was left staring at her Facetime call log.

She stuffed her phone in her pocket as she went out the front door, and rounded the corner to the side of the house, where John B was sitting in her yard, waiting patiently for her arrival.

“Oh good,” He smiled as he saw her, standing up and brushing the grass off his shorts. “I thought I was gonna have to scale two stories, and last time I came over and did that I fell”

“Yeah, I remember,” (y/n) said with a soft chuckle. “I thought you died or something, you laid there for so long-”

“Why have you been avoiding me?” He said suddenly, cutting right to the reason he came over.

(y/n) froze up, anxiety flooding over her like a tidal wave.

“Did you… did you not mean it?” He asked in a quieter voice.

“Not mean it?” (y/n) mumbled back, her heart sinking in her chest as she thought about it. “Why would I say something like that and not mean it?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know what to think I mean- you say something like that and then you ran off and I haven’t seen you for a week”

“I- I’ve been busy” She mumbled uselessly.

It was pointless to lie to him, she’s known him her whole life, he could read her like a book. Any emotion she felt was like a headline on her forehead, easy for him to see and respond to.

“That’s bullshit,” He called her out, but he let out a small laugh after, letting her know he didn’t mean it to be hurtful. “But… don’t you want to know how I feel? About you?” He asked her, stepping closer.

“Um, not really” She answered, her hands beginning to wring together.

“Not really?” He laughed again in surprise.

(y/n) shook her head, her eyes meeting his, even though she felt small and bashful under his gaze. She knew it would be weird now, different, this is exactly how she expected to feel when she saw him again.

“No, I- I don’t want you to reject me, or pity me- we can just ignore it completely-” She started to explain herself, but John B laughed again, so she stopped. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because, for being my best friend, I really don’t understand you sometimes,” John B answered. “Why did you think I was going to reject you?”

(y/n’s) brows furrowed, and she gained some confidence from the annoyance she was currently feeling towards him. How dare he be a cheeky asshole right now? Couldn’t he see how terrible she felt? How anxious she felt?

“Because,” She argued. “I told you how I felt about you, and you didn’t say anything! Hell, you didn’t react at all”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“John B, that sucked,” She continued.

Might as well be honest with him now. If it was the answer he wanted, then fine. She had nothing left to lose right? She’d thrown all dignity out the window last weekend at the kegger. Why not her pride too?

“Do you know how embarrassing that was? I still want to be your friend, of course I do, but it was a mistake, I shouldn’t have-”

“You worry too much” John B said, and before she could react, probably by yelling some more, he crossed the space between them and kissed her.

She instantly swallowed her words and melted into his touch. All anxieties and worries that she’d ruined their friendship washed away, and all that mattered was him.

Her arms practically flew around his neck as she reached up on the tips of her toes to reach him properly. John B lost his balance at the sudden movements, stumbling for a moment, but he quickly stabilized them.

His hands cupped around her cheeks, keeping her close as their lips met again and again, and in all honestly, they both planned on standing outside all night and macking on each other. They’d waited this long.

John B’s lips were just so warm and welcoming, they were easy for her to get attached to, and probably addicted to.

“Hey! No macking on Pogues!”

Unfortunately, Topper ruined the good mood.

(y/n) whirled around, catching sight of her brother as he was heading to his car. She flipped him off, and stuck her tongue out for good measure. It made John B laugh, despite Topper’s usual asshole-ness.

Topper just returned the gesture, but got in his car and left anyway. (y/n) just hoped he was getting tired of keeping up the bad blood between the Figure Eight and The Cut.

When he left, she turned back to John B, a smile playing on her lips as she wrapped her small hands around his wrists.

“Now that he’s gone… wanna go inside and finish what we started?” She asked, only half teasing.

John B eagerly nodded, stealing another kiss from her.

“Abso-fuckin-lutely,” He said, and followed her out of the yard. “But later we have to go back to mine, I told JJ and Pope that we’d hang out later tonight after we settled… this” He explained, gesturing between them.

“Wow, you were that certain you were gonna get the girl, huh?” (y/n) joked.

As they went inside, he shut the door behind him, and immediately grabbed her by the hips, pulling her flush against his chest. The action made her cheeks flush red, and she bit her lip shyly.

“I mean, the girl did admit that she was hopelessly in love with me-”

“That’s not what I said-”

“And that she would just die if she couldn’t be with me, and she’s probably been waiting to kiss me for like, what has it been ten whole years?”

“John B,” (y/n) scolded, swatting half-heartedly at his chest. “I didn’t say any of that”

“Out loud,” He corrected. “You were definitely thinking it. I could tell”

She rolled her eyes as her hands took hold of the collar of his shirt.

“Just shut up and kiss me, dork” ___

xoxo ~ jordie

#outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #john b #john b x reader #john b routledge #john b routledge x reader #john b routledge imagine #john b routledge scenario #john b imagine

213 notes · View notes

hannahcoursey · 4 years

Text

Jealous Minds Part 2

Author: Hannahc56

Word Count: 3,391

Request: Hi! Can I put in a request for a dean x reader? Dean and the reader are friends with benefits and neither want a relationship because they’re too much pressure for both of them being hunters. But then during a case, YN runs into an old boyfriend and they actually had a great relationship and broke up because he had to move for work and they both got out to catch up and Dean is super jealous because he wants that same type of relationship with her. (Sorry if it’s too much. LOVE YOUR WORK!!!)

PART ONE

A few hours had passed and you found yourself eagerly waiting for Daryn to pull into the gravel parking lot of the motel. You had put on a nice pair of jeans, without blood or holes, and a nice black tank top. You’d popped in a pair of earrings you always had sitting in the bottom of your bag that you never got to wear. With a few quick swipes of mascara, you were as dolled up as you were going to get. It wasn’t much, but you felt alright and put together for once and a small part of yourself wish you could do this more often. It was nice to feel pretty every now and then, but your lifestyle didn’t call for a nice manicure or decent clothes. Loud pounding on the door pulled you out of your thoughts, as you took one more look at yourself in the mirror before running to open it. The smile fell off your lips when the door revealed Dean. His face was hard, it was obvious he was in deep thought. When he looked up and saw you, his expression softened. The two of you stood there while he took every inch of you in. A heat rose to your cheeks and you cleared your throat.

“Can I help you with something?” You asked, leaning your arm on the door. Dean’s eyes shot up to yours and he slightly shook his head.

“I-I just wanted to come and,” he hesitated, licking his lips, “Wish you good luck on your date.” He finished. You rolled your eyes and sighed.

“Funny, Dean. See ya.” You turned to shut the door, but his hand sprawled across it.

“No, I mean it,” He nodded, “I know how much you cared about Daryn, I-I hope that it goes alright.” He said, letting his hand fall away from the door. You stared at him, your brows crunched in confusion of what sort of scheme he was playing at. His eyes darted back and forth between yours as your brain searched for words to string together to respond. When you didn’t say anything, his eyes fell to the ground and he nodded slow. “You look nice.” He said, his lips in a tight smile, “Anyways, have fun.” He finished, before turning and walking away, leaving you standing in the doorway. You blinked, trying to process the words that’d just come from his lips. Your heart felt like a cinder block in your chest. You let your hand fall to the door knob and slowly pushed the door shut. You leaned against it, your mind running a million miles a minute. Across the room from you was a dusty mirror, only your reflection stared back at you. Why was your heart pounding in your chest? Why were you even going on this date? Was this even to be considered a date? Before you could answer any of the questions that rattled around in your mind, a loud knock from behind the door you were leaning against shook you out of the deep consciousness you’d fallen into with a jump. Maybe Dean was back - maybe he was going to tell you not to go, that the two of you would spend the rest of the night tangled up in the scratchy motel sheets, whispering throughout the night, stealing kisses on exposed skin. The thought alone had you ready to bolt out of your room to find him. You turned and opened the door, Dean’s name about to fall off your tongue, when your eyes fell on Daryn.

His eyes shimmered when he saw you, a smile lighting up his face. Your expression dropped for a moment, before you forced a smile. He pulled a small bouquet of roses from behind his back and flashed his picture perfect grin at you.

“Daryn, these are beautiful,” You shook your head and accepted the gesture, “You shouldn’t have.” You turned and set them down on the table beside you. He threw a hand up and waved.

“Hey, it’s the least I could do,” He laughed, as you pulled the door shut, locking it behind you. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at you as if he was memorizing every detail of your face. Color rose to your cheeks and you looked down. “You ready?” He asked, your eyes floating up to meet his again. You nodded and followed him as he walked over to his car, a new sporty car that surely was meant to be impressive. He walked with you to the passenger side and held open the door for you as you got in. Right as you sat down, you heard someone call your name from down the motel strip. You looked around, scanning for someone underneath the overhead flicking lights of the walkway until your gaze fell on Dean. He waved a hand at Daryn, who hesitantly waved in return.

“Have her back by midnight alright? Trust me, you don’t wanna see what she looks like when the fairy godmother’s spell wears off.” He laughed, throwing a wink in your direction sarcastically before turning towards the motel room door and walking in. Daryn pulled open the driver side door and slide in the low-riding seat. His eyebrows were crunched in confusion as he looked over at you.

“So, do you guys usually share rooms or?” He trailed off, the awkward tension in the air filling the small cabin quickly. You felt embarrassment rise to your face as you shook your head, trying to laugh it off.

“No, no, most definitely not, he just was probably grabbing something from the room, I guess,” You struggled to string together a sentence and rubbed your hands against your thighs nervously. Daryn let out a strangled laugh and started the car without saying anything more. You looked out your window, silently cursing the older Winchester as your heart fluttered at the thought of the things the two of you did behind locked motel room doors.

The ride to the bar was mostly quiet, the sound of the radio filling the spaces where neither of you could manage the right words to say. When you pulled up, Daryn escorted you to a booth in the corner. The place was packed. It was loud, lights strobing every second, making it hard for you to make out where you were walking, and you struggled to imagine how fun it would be to actually get drunk in this type of atmosphere. The bass music of the loud rap made your chest rumble and you found yourself yearning for a biker bar, squeezed between the boys at the bar while classic rock played from a jukebox.

“Y/N? Y/N/N?” Daryn said your name and you shook yourself out of your daydream.

“I-I am so sorry, was I spacing out?” You ran a hand through your hair and took a breath, letting out a light laugh, “Long day, you know how it goes.” You gave him a grin. He nodded and waved down the bartender before turning his attention back to you.

“I was just saying how great you looked tonight,” He said, his tone genuine and inviting. You couldn’t fight the smile that rose to your face thinking of the memories the two of you shared.

“Well thank you Daryn,” You tucked the hair behind your ears and leaned forward on the table, “You don’t look half bad yourself.” You beamed at him. Before he could answer, the bartender stepped up and asked for your orders.

“I’ll take a-” You began, but Daryn reached out and laid his hand on top of yours, effectively stopping you in your tracks.

“I’ll take a beer and the beautiful lady will have a Vodka Cranberry please, extra cranberry.” He told the bartender as she nodded and walked off. A feeling you couldn’t put a name to filled your chest. Was it nostalgia? Or was it disappointment? You flashed him a quick smile. “Not too bad for not seeing you for this long, I still remember your favorite drink.” He laughed, reaching over and grabbing your other hand with his other hand, focusing entirely on you.

“No, I’m impressed, that was pretty good. I gotta tell you though, I’m more of a whiskey bourbon kinda gal these past few years.” You said, trying not to visibly shiver as the thought of a Long Island Iced Tea hangover. His eyes grew wide for a moment before he let out a breath.

“Wow, you?” He shook his head, “Now that surprises me. You could hardly keep it down when we were younger.” He chuckled, bringing back memories of your high school days, sneaking around drinking your parents alcohol.

“Well yeah,” You snorted, “We were drinking rubbing alcohol it seemed like, we had the nastiest stuff.” You felt yourself thinking of all the times you’d use a fake ID to get the cheapest vodka you could find, only for it to taste twice as bad the second time later on in the night.

“Yeah, yeah, that led to some pretty rough nights,” He agreed, squeezing your hands softly, “But also some of the best nights too, you know?” He finished, his voice softening as his expression did. And there it was - that same pang in your chest. The more it happened, the more it began to feel like disappointment seeping through your lungs. He stared at you, his iri’s moving from your E/C eyes to your lips. You nodded and pulled your hands out of his, pretending to scratch the back of your neck. He leaned back in the booth, your mind grasping for things to talk about.

“So, what have you been up to? You were at State College for half the first year then disappeared off the face of the earth, no one knew where you went.” He pried, your heart sinking to the bottom of your chest. God, anything but that question. You cleared your throat and tried to force eye contact, but the topic proved too difficult.

“T-That’s a very fair question,” You let out a laugh that came out more like a sigh, “I-I just needed some time off, I traveled for a while,” You said slowly, which wasn;t necessarily a lie, “And just needed to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.” You finished, trying to tell him as much of the half truth that was possible without getting too much into the nitty-gritty. It was true, technically. You did travel while hunting monsters with the brothers and you did struggle with what you wanted to do for awhile; keep fighting the good fight or take a stab at the apple pie life. He nodded slow, as if he was ingesting what you were telling him and you prayed he wasn’t overanalyzing it too much. The holes in your story would be too large for him not to notice how it didn’t add up. “Anyways,” You scrambled to try to change the subject, “What made you want to become a ranger? I never would have pegged you for the type.” You asked right as the bartender brought over your drinks. He smiled while looking down the neck of his beer, thinking of his answer. Before he had the chance, you phone rang in your pocket. You struggled to get it out of the small compartment of your tight jeans and threw a hand up to him and he nodded. The phone vibrated as Dean’s name flashed across the screen. Throwing your legs off the side of the booth, you made your way outside to answer.

“Dean?” You tried, holding the phone to one ear while you pressed a hand over the other. Mumbles came through the other end that sounded like gibberish. “Dean, I can’t hear you, gimme a second.” You said, hoping he could make out your words better than you could of his. As soon as your reached the parlor doors to the outside, you called his name again through the phone. “Okay, sorry about that, what’s up?” You asked, shoving your hand in your pocket.

“Y/N,” Dean said, his voice raw, causing your heart to plummet, “Something’s wrong, you need to get back here,” He coughed, hardly audible on the other end.

“Dean, talk to me, what’s going on?” You asked, panic rising in your tone.

“J-Just come home,” He wheezed before the line went dead. Your hands shook slightly, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You turned on your heel and ran through the crowd, bumping into people and elbowing your way through them. When you reached Daryn, his soft expression had turned to a look of confusion.

“Daryn, I have to get back, something’s wrong.” You shook your head, trying to settle your hands as Daryn quickly got up from his seat and threw a few bills down next to your untouched drinks. Without making sure he was following, you raced back to the front doors, beelining to his car. When the both of your reached it, you strapped yourself in and he drove off, leaving dust in the rearview. The drive back to the motel felt like it took hours. When you pulled up to the strip, you noticed the Impala still sitting outside and your feet were on the ground before the car was in park. Your heartbeat thumped in your ears, your eyes scanning the surroundings. You noticed your motel room light was on. You turned to Daryn.

“Listen, I really appreciate you taking me out tonight and I-I’m sorry it had to be cut short, but I need to make sure everythings alright.” You rushed through your words while you managed to throw him a smile over your shoulder.

“Y/N, I can stay and make sure- '' He bega, but the thought of what unnatural force could be inflicting pain onto Dean was enough to make you cut his speech off short.

“No, no, I got it under control - I can call you, you still have the same number?” You spoke fast, trying to politely get to your motel room as quickly as possible. Daryn looked at a loss for words. To see him scrambling to try to spend another minute with you made your chest heavy with guilt, but this was Dean at stake. You turned before he could answer and opened the door so quick, you almost hit the wall behind it yourself. You were in fight mode, ready to rip apart whatever was wreaking havoc, ready to patch up Dean if he needed it, a million thoughts going through your head. Taking in the scene in front of you, the breath you had in your lungs slipped from your lips.

The room was dimly lit by dozens of small candles of all different colors and heights. On the table next to you was the beautiful bouquet from Daryn and a simple rose sitting next to it. Dean sat on the edge of the bed, nervously rubbing his hands down his thighs. Your hand fell to your chest as you took a deep breath in.

“Dean,” Your eyes filled with tears that you begged not to slip down your face, “You scared the shit outta me.” You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. Dean looked down at his hands.

“I-I know, I didn’t know how else to get you to come back,” He said, his voice low. You couldn’t believe the sight before you and you stood still, taking it all in. “Y/N, I should’ve done this a long time ago, but seeing you with Daryn” He said, shaking his head as he looked up at you, “ I couldn’t take it, watching you leave with him.” He stood up and crossed the small room to you, his hands picking up yours and rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand. “I don’t have the fast car and the big bouquet and all that crap - but the way I feel about you,” He struggled to find the words and you knew that all of the effort he’d already put into this gesture was big for him, “What I can offer you is to always be there for you, to always stitch you up, to make sure you’re not alone when you wake up in the mornings - We don’t have to do this stuff alone Y/N and we’re crazy for thinking we had to.” He shook his head and his warm hand cupped your cheek. “I wanna do this with you, I mean it.” He finished, his eyes anxiously looking into yours, waiting for your response. Even in this lighting, his eyes were bright and lively, his nose peppered with the freckles you’ve loved since you noticed them the day you met him. Bringing your hand up to his other cheek, you pulled him in, your lips colliding together as if it were the first time. His other hand found its way to the side of your head and his fingers tangled in your hair as he pulled you in, passion filling your every movement. You pulled away, a few tears making their way down your flush cheeks.

“I would love to Dean,” You leaned forward and pressed your forehead against his, “I’ve been in love with you since I laid eyes on you.” You smiled, your heart beating loudly at the confessions the two of you were sharing. He leaned back and pressed a kiss onto your forehead.

“God, me too sweetheart.” He mumbled into the kiss, before pulling away and taking in every inch of your face before letting go of your hands and moving to the bed. Out of a small plastic bag, he pulled out a few styrofoam containers. “Got you your favorite,” He spoke as he opened the containers, spreading them around the bed. Two burgers sat in their separate containers with fries, and a few slices of pie in the other. You walked over and sat on the bed with him as he laid the food out and sat next to you.

“Mhhh, bacon cheeseburger.” You took a deep breath in, the aroma of the greasy food filling the room. He rubbed your back, smiling.

“Extra bacon, the usual.” He laughed, still looking at you. You turned to him and kissed him once more, the feeling of his lips against yours making your heart drop to your toes. When you pulled away, his eyes were still shut, savoring every kiss the two of you shared.

“I am so in love with you, I hope you know.” You whispered, still close to his face. He blinked slow and a lazy grin crossed his features.

“I know.” He replied, his sarcasm causing you to throw your head back and let out a laugh.

“Good, I’m glad.” You replied, smacking his shoulder. He took a deep breath and looked at the candles around you.

“Now can I blow these out? It’s starting to smell like a friggin’ hallmark movie in here it’s nauseating.” He grumbled, your laugh filling the room as you shook your head at him.You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing as he went around to each of the candles and huffed them out.

You put on the tv and played the first movie that popped up and thought about all of the choices you’ve made in your life that got you to this exact moment. Life with the Winchester boys isn't for everyone. The life you lived was fast and dangerous, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. With Dean’s arms around you, shitty take out food in front of you and a whole life to share with him ahead, you found yourself filled with the sort of peace you didn’t think you’d ever get your hands on.

----

Hope you guys liked it! My requests are always open!

73 notes · View notes

jaehyun-eclipsed · 4 years

Text

Before I Met You | Seventeen

Updates: Sundays

Pairing: NCT (Jaehyun, Lucas, Mark, Jaemin, Johnny) X Reader/OC

Genre: Romance, Angst, Coming of Age

Summary: Four. There were four people before I fell in love with you… Here are their stories.

Author’s Note: Hi! Thank you so much for reading this far! This is definitely a long read so I am very grateful for your patience and willingness to continue following along with me. With this being the last chapter for Jaemin’s story, Johnny’s story should be starting next Sunday. However, I have a few things going on in the next couple weeks and so Johnny’s story will begin on 8/16. Additionally, if you have any feedback - what you like, what could be improved, etc. - please let me know! I am looking to make this story better! But anyway, without further ado, please enjoy the final installment of Jaemin’s story.

Before I Met You Masterlist

Prev | Next

“He just went downstairs. Should I do it?”

The hallway window on the other side of the house can be seen from my room. I watch Jaemin’s figure as he rounds the corner and heads downstairs towards the kitchen.

“It’s up to you,” my dad responds.

“Okay, I’ll call you back.”

I hang up the phone and grab my nearly full water bottle to go down to the kitchen. Booming thunder makes me jump as I grab the doorknob. The sky is gray – gloomy from the intermittent rain all Sunday morning. My heart begins pounding.

Come on, Y/N, it’s going to be fine. It’s just a question. You’re not even asking him out. You just want to find out how he feels… And if it goes well, THEN maybe we’ll ask him out.

Jaemin is filling up his water bottle. He’s wearing an over-sized t-shirt and basketball shorts and his hair looks a bit disheveled as if he woke up not too long ago. He obviously didn’t have any plans to go out today.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

His gaze drops down to my lower body, scanning up and down my legs. My body freezes halfway to the water dispenser, breath hitching in my throat as I open my mouth to say something. The seconds have slowed down. The individual drops from the occasionally leaky kitchen faucet splash against the sink. The turning of textbook pages echoes from the dining room. My mouth has gone dry.

Do it.

“I think we should do it this way,” Jia says from the neighboring room.

Never mind, don’t do it.

Jaemin looks right past me and walks away without another word.

I let out a sigh of relief and take a large gulp of water, mentally kicking myself for being such a wimp.

Well so much for that.

“You chickened out,” Dad says immediately upon answering my second call.

“I can’t… I can’t do it,” I say in between laughs. “I couldn’t do it! And also, Jia is downstairs!”

To my surprise, he imitates how the brief exchange occurred exactly.

“Yeah, that’s basically what happened! I said, ‘hi!’ and then I felt my heart pounding in my chest and thought, ‘Just say hey and ask him.’ Then I thought, ‘No! Don’t do it!’” I continue nervously laughing. “This must be terrifying for guys!” I exclaim.

“Yes. That’s why a lot of these things happen. They intend to do it, but fear overcomes them,” he responds.

“Okay, we’ll have to try again later. I thought about going outside to ask him, but he doesn’t have his keys…”

“And be in the rain?”

I pause for a moment. “That sounds so dramatic, but yeah! If he doesn’t have his keys and something goes badly, and I leave first, he’s going to get locked out. Then I’ll have to go out and say, ‘Sorry, didn’t mean for you to get locked out.’”

“Right. ‘Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to lock you out just because you said ‘no,’” he says sarcastically.

“Exactly! Now I’m thinking about how Lucas did it because he was probably like, ‘One, two, three, go!’”

“Right, but he didn’t have to say anything.”

“True, but it still could have been a rejection.”

“That’s true, but it’s still a little bit easier.”

All Lucas had to do was see how I reacted to him taking my hand. Granted, it would’ve been a little bit more difficult for me to turn him down given that grabbing my hand didn’t exactly give me too many options unless I wanted to cause a scene.

A flash of lightning adds a brief hint of silvery blue to the gray sky. Within a few seconds, rain starts pelting against the window.

“It’s raining again,” I eventually remark. “There aren’t many people around, it seems.”

“It seems like it would be a good day to do it then. Few people are around.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s in his room by himself. Do you think this is a good idea?”

“It’s up to you.”

“I honestly have nothing to lose.”

“You’re right. You don’t.”

“And if I don’t ask, then I lose out on ever knowing.”

“Okay, I’m going to get off the phone so that I don’t influence you either way.”

“Wait!”

“Bye!”

“Wait, I –”

Great, now what do I do? I should just do it. This is ridiculous.

I begin pacing throughout my room and bathroom, occasionally looking in the mirror to repeat words of encouragement to myself.

“You can do this.”

No, you can’t. You can’t do this.

Oh my God, yes, you can! This is dumb, Y/N. You have nothing to lose.

Yes, you do. You guys are decent friends now. If you do this and he says ‘no,’ he might not talk to you anymore.

Oh, who cares? He’s probably moving into an apartment. It’s not like we’re going to talk much next year anyway. I may not even see him.

I look at the clock as a wave of nausea washes over me. It’s fifteen minutes past two.

“Okay, you’re going to do it in five minutes.”

Oh my God, what are you doing?

My breathing increases until I start to hyperventilate. A jumble of panicked and incomplete thoughts runs through my head, quickly jumping from optimism to pessimism in the same sentence. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best. He’s going to say – don’t worry about that – maybe he wo – he’s going to say “no.” My heart races and I run into the bathroom, opening the toilet seat as I fear I might actually throw up.

Holy shit. I didn’t realize that people were actually serious when they say that they’re so nervous they could throw up. They didn’t make that up.

In a surprising moment of clarity, my facial expression changes to one of displeasure as I am feeling slightly scornful of my behavior.

What are you freaking out about? It’s nothing.

“Forget it,” I mumble to myself.

I open the door and begin making confident strides towards Jaemin’s room. The soft strumming of a guitar makes me feel somewhat at ease. Okay, he’s not busy. He’s playing the guitar so he’s probably relaxed. Taking a deep breath, I lift my hand and just as my fist is about to come into contact with his door...

Ha! Nope!

I’m light on my toes as I run back to my room. I press my back against my door and slowly slide down until I’m sitting on the floor, huffing as I chastise myself for being so scared.

“Holy shit. Why are you such a chicken?” I say between gritted teeth.

I resume the nervous pacing and mental swearing of how ridiculous the whole situation is. You’ve been preparing for this for two weeks! You’re not even asking him out! You’re just asking him what’s going on! A disappointed sigh escapes my lips as I think back to being so ready to do this and now that it’s finally time, I am chickening out. But in the back of my mind, I know that I’ll really kick myself this summer if I don’t do it. Jaemin and I don’t text as casual friends so the likelihood that we would text during the summer is basically zero.

I want to know.

I have to know.

I need an ending.

But what if he says ‘no’?

Who cares if he says, ‘no’? Frankly, I don’t really care what the answer is. Obviously it would be better if he says ‘yes’, but if he says ‘no,’ at least I’ll know. It will be over and I can move on with my life. He’s probably going to say ‘no’ anyway.

The thoughts become a bit more demeaning and I begin picturing a pro wrestler screaming profanities at me in an attempt to use reverse psychology to get me to do something.

Y/N, stop being such a wuss. You’re not weak.

Fuck it.

For the umpteenth time, I open my door and march down the hall. With one last deep breath, I gently knock on the door three times. The sound of the guitar suddenly stops and I wait.

And wait.

What the fuck?

There’s a small voice, almost like someone is saying, “Hello?”

Did he just say, “hello?” to someone possibly knocking on his door? Jaemin, do you expect people to shout through the door? Can’t you just get up and open it?

I cross my arms and frown when I hear the guitar starting up again.

Dude, what the hell? I know you heard me knocking!

Suddenly, the nervousness that so desperately wanted to initiate my flight response has been replaced with annoyance. Perhaps the annoyance is still out of nervousness, but I digress. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy and I had to work up a lot of courage to do it. However, I did not expect to have this obstacle – which is really more of a logistical obstacle than a practical one.

I knock again.

After another moment, someone begins fumbling around inside and the door is cracked open, revealing a confused Jaemin.

Finally.

“Uh, hi,” he says.

I forgo the greeting and look at him blankly.

“Did you knock twice?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“I said ‘hello’ like three times.”

What the hell? Who does that?

“Oh, well I didn’t hear you,” I say.

I ball my hand into a fist, pressing my nails into the flesh to help distract me from my nervousness. “Are you alone?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah…” he responds slowly.

I press my lips together. “I need to ask you something.”

“Okay…” he says, waiting expectantly.

“Can I come in for a second?”

“Sure.”

He pulls open the door and I step inside, reaching behind my back with an arm to grab the doorknob and step backwards to use my entire body to push the door closed.

Their room is a mess. A dirty knife balanced on top of an open peanut butter jar, clothes strewn over the bed posts, unmade beds – it’s definitely a boys’ room.

“Um…” I shift my gaze to the floor, knowing he’s watching me, anticipating what I’m going to say – likely something about me confessing my love for him.

I sigh and swallow my fear.

“So…” I begin, “Have we just been dancing around in circles or… do you actually want to dance with me?”

He looks blankly at me. “What…?”

Jesus.

“Uh – I – I –”

God, I have to clarify?!

I try to rephrase the question without directly mentioning what I’m really trying to ask. Ha. I guess I’m the one dancing around now.

“Have we just been dancing around the issue or…?”

“Um… what are you asking exactly?” he asks, his forehead creasing.

Shit. Do I have to straight up ask you if you like me? I don’t wanna do that. How do you not understand my question?

“Do you not understand my question?” I ask.

That was a stupid question.

“No, like… dancing…? What do you mean?” he asks.

“It’s metaphorical,” I remark.

Seriously, Y/N? “It’s metaphorical?” That’s what you tell him?

“For what?”

For what? What do you mean “for what?” Jaemin, I know you’re not this stupid. You might be slow, but you’re not stupid.

I sigh again. “Um… I don’t know what’s been going on for the past –”

“Oh!” His eyes widen as if he’s suddenly come to the realization of what I’ve been trying to ask. “I thought we were just friends at that point…” he says slowly. “I’m just a friendly person…”

The fuck?

“Oh.” My mouth is agape, trying to process what he just said. “Okay…”

“Yeah, I’m just a friendly guy. So feel free to be friendly…” he says, making nervous hand gestures to the air.

I feel like I was just hit with a brick. You were just being “friendly,” huh? You really might want to rethink what the definition of “friendly” is.

“Okay, I just needed to know,” I say, my tone level due to shock and inability to comprehend the present scene.

“Okay, yeah, that’s cool.” He presses his lips together and nods to himself a few times. “So I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, sorry,” I say as I grab the door handle and smile with a slightly embarrassed look on my face.

“It’s okay.”

My back slams against my door with a loud thud and my heart is still pounding from the residual adrenaline. I run my hands over my face and let out a loud sigh.

“I can’t believe I just did that.”

My mind begins replaying the scene over and over again – Jaemin’s facial expressions, his weird hand gestures to defend his stance, his relative calmness despite my clear interrogation. The word “friendly” plays like a broken record.

Friendly? No one does that when they’re just being “friendly.” Jaemin, do I have to throw a dictionary at your head? Friendly means affable... cordial… genial… NICE. Friendly does not mean flirting. Friendly does not mean making sexual innuendos and holding a girl from behind to help her shoot pool. Actually, you work in C++, don’t you, Jaemin? I can put it in code for you!

Friendly == being nice, giving me a stamp to mail a letter that one time because I didn’t have one

Friendly != flirting, thigh touching, anything Jaemin does

There! No, that is obviously not how you write code – because I don’t know how to write code – but I know the equality operators so you should too!

There are a couple things that I am fairly confident of now. First, Jaemin now realizes that I thought that he liked me. And second, even though I didn’t explicitly say anything, he knows I like him. So there goes my dignity.

But both of those things should have been known by him months ago – given his character. He’s smart, quick-witted, and very observant. Or at least, he’s supposed to be – though I’m guessing he was just playing stupid. There’s no way he didn’t know he was flirting.

I send a 911 text to Mark and within five minutes, he’s calling me.

“He said what?!” Mark exclaims.

“He said, ‘I thought we were just friends at that point… I was just being friendly because I’m a friendly guy… So feel free to be friendly.’ And then he did this weird thing with his hands, like pushing them out like he was presenting something.”

“Yo! Why does he sound so defensive? He keeps repeating himself. ‘I was just being friendly.’ ‘I’m a friendly guy.’”

“That didn’t even occur to me. But you’re right. He used that word like four times within twenty seconds.”

“I knew this guy was trash! But he’s totally lying to you.”

The answer doesn’t make any logical sense. It explains absolutely nothing. It can’t explain any of the behavior – staring, offering physics help, asking me for physics help when I’m the one who needs it, teaching me how to play pool, Jeno’s teasing when I was around...

“Because if it were me,” Mark continues, “and I didn’t actually like you, I wouldn’t say it like that. I’d probably say something like, ‘I’m so sorry if my actions came off that way, but I don’t like you like that.’”

Mark makes a good point and it irks me more than I realized. I didn’t get a straightforward “no.” Obviously I can infer what “just being friendly” means. It means “no.” But why can’t you just say that? If I had received a straight “no,” it still wouldn’t have made any sense and I’d still agree with Mark and think Jaemin was lying. But at least it wouldn’t be an even more confusing excuse.

“But I also wouldn’t be trying to touch you and make dirty jokes either… ‘cause that’d be weird if I didn’t like you.”

I chuckle. “Thank you, Mark. I know I can always count on you to provide some logic.”

“Anytime.”

“I think you’re right though… I don’t believe him either. His answer doesn’t line up with his actions.”

“I’m sorry that happened, Y/N. Are you okay though?”

It’s funny. I was so busy trying to do a bunch of mental gymnastics to figure out the Jaemin puzzle that I hadn’t even thought about my own feelings.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Technically, I got rejected, but I’m not devastated or anything. I guess I’m just irritated and confused. It’s like when you’re doing a jigsaw puzzle and you have one more piece, but you happened to get one of the defective puzzles so the last piece doesn’t fit.”

“Yeah… I just wanted to check. I know you’re not that outwardly emotional, but I know that doesn’t mean you don’t experience them. But still, I’d be mad if I were you.”

“Well, if there was any possibility of Jaemin and me remaining friends during the rest of college, I think I just threw that out the window,” I say with a nervous laugh.

“He doesn’t deserve your friendship anyway,” Mark responds bitterly. “Didn’t you say that Jeno defended you or something?”

“Um, I could only assume he was.”

“Do you think that Jeno might like you?”

Jeno’s voice rings through my ears. From the time he sounded like he confronted Jaemin to that warning when I was writing a letter in the next room.

“Are you just leading her on? She’s a nice girl, Jaemin.”

“You know that she’s right over there, right?”

“It – it crossed my mind, but I didn’t really consider it too seriously.”

“Why else would he bother defending you if he didn’t?”

“Because he disagrees with his roommate’s sense of morality?” I ask half-sarcastically.

“Ha!” Mark begins laughing. “You really think he thinks about that?”

“Hey! I think about that kind of stuff!”

“Yeah, but most people aren’t you, Y/N! And you still chose to hang out with the guy even though you knew he had a girlfriend.”

I put my hands up in defense even though Mark can’t see me. “In my defense, I was not the one doing anything.”

“My point is, it’s an iffy line. But anyway, that would also explain the staring. Maybe he likes you, but he knows you and Jaemin like each other, so he’s not going to do anything. But if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have said any that stuff anyway.”

Jeno’s purpose for staring at me was still a mystery. My instinct was telling me that Mark might be right, but I’ll never find out.

Well, I suppose I could ask Jeno, but I’m not about to put myself through that again.

It’s times like these where I wish I could read minds. I want to know what both of them have been thinking. But I know one thing for sure: Jaemin won’t be forgetting me any time soon.

I just hope I don’t get written off as a psychopath like Jisu. While I didn’t sit outside his room to wait to talk to him, what I did wasn’t exactly any better. Granted, I’m not his ex.

“Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I misread his –”

“No, no, I’m cutting you off right there,” Mark interjects. “There’s no way you misread any of that. And didn’t he like you before you had any real interest in him? You only started to like him because of what he was doing.”

“Hm, you’re right. I didn’t have any feelings at the beginning. Nothing to cloud my mind.”

“Trust yourself, Y/N. I know your intuition is top notch.”

For the next few days, I was wracking my brain, going over the problem many times from many different perspectives to see if any of them could make a logical and coherent story. Unfortunately, they didn’t. I hadn’t run into Jaemin since my little confrontation, but I also hadn’t been spending as much time downstairs studying, choosing to stay in my room at night.

Jaemin was actively avoiding me. I’d seen him on the edge of campus a couple times and each time, he’d realize I was there and walk to the next block to cross the street instead. My best guess is that he’s embarrassed, which is understandable. There’s no doubt that any future interaction with him is going to be awkward. I certainly feel awkward at the prospect of even having to say hi to him, but surprisingly, my dignity is pretty intact.

As soon as Jaemin gave me his answer, I just dropped him. I stopped trying to listen in on his conversations. I stopped trying to be in places where he would conveniently see me. I just stopped because there was no reason to put in anymore effort. He gave me his answer and even though it didn’t make any sense, that was that. There was nothing else left to do. It was done.

After a week of evading every possible chance to run into me, Jaemin started waving to greet me again. He wouldn’t come up to talk to me, but he wasn’t going out of his way to avoid me either.

Finals were approaching and I returned to my normal spot in the dining room. And just when I thought I could live my life peacefully with the bare minimum for interacting, Jaemin decides to throw in another wrench.

Jaemin is talking to one of the other residents when I walk into the kitchen to get some water. He looks at me and waves. I offer him a polite nod in return.

“Did you watch?”

I jump in surprise upon realizing Jaemin is talking to me.

Watch? Watch what? Oh… He’s talking about The Flash.

“Oh. No, I haven’t.”

“You find out his secret identity.”

“Oh! Who is it?”

“I’m not going to tell you!”

“Fine, I’ll just go online and read about it.”

“What the…?” he says in disbelief.

“I gotta study for chemistry! Barry can wait!”

He exchanges a few more words with the other resident and then walks over to me. “You have to watch the episode. It’s the best one of the season!”

Oh so we’re cool now? And you’re just going to act like nothing happened?

“I’ll see about checking it out later. I gotta finish up some things first.”

He nods in agreement and before stepping out of the room he says, “Yeah, me too. But let me know when you watch it. I wanna know what you think!”

There’s a weird expression on my face as I watch him leave. I knew we weren’t going to be friends and honestly, if he decided never to talk to me ever again, I probably wouldn’t have cared. Leaving it at a polite wave would’ve been fine! In fact, saying nothing is much easier! And now he wants to act like nothing happened and essentially gave me an invitation to start up another conversation with him. Jaemin! Make up your mind!

I stand alone in my room; it’s bare, with the exception of the provided furnishings. Jia had moved out a day earlier after finishing her finals. A nostalgic sigh falls from my lips as I reflect on the year. Despite it not having the ending I wanted, it was good. I had started to feel a little more comfortable being away from home, classes were better, I made more friends, and to top it all off, I was a lot more confident than I thought.

After checking for any last items, I slowly close my door for the final time of my sophomore year. A small smile creeps onto my face as I walk down the hall, still grateful for the experiences I had in this house. At the very least, Jaemin’s story will be a good one for the books.

Right as I walk by Jaemin’s room, the door flies open and Jaemin is standing there in the doorway. I casually greet him and continue on my way to my car. He returns my greeting and I hear him shut his door and start to follow me down the stairs.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

I look up at the ceiling and roll my eyes.

Whoever you are up there, what are you doing? What kind of fucking timing is this?

In an effort to break the very likely awkward silence as we walk down the stairs, I decide to say something of no consequence.

“You have a final?” I ask over my shoulder.

“Yeah,” he responds. “Are you finished with finals?”

“Yeah, I’m actually moving out right now.”

“Oh, are you going home?”

“No, I’m going home on Sunday.”

“Oh, so where are you moving to?”

And you care… why?

“Uh…” I hesitate. “Do you mean next year?”

“No, where are you moving into now?”

“Oh! I’m going to a relative’s house right now.”

“Oh okay.” He turns to head in the other direction, but looks over his shoulder and offers a small smile. “I’ll see you later.”

Seriously? I wasn’t going to say anything to you before leaving and just my luck, we walk out together.

I had waited and planned in order to get my defined ending so that I could finally stop. Except it wasn’t defined. It was the exact opposite and I didn’t really believe him. And as I watch him walk towards campus, I realize how bittersweet the ending actually is.

Jaemin was my last goodbye of my sophomore year.

Prev | Next

Before I Met You Masterlist Masterlist

#jung jaehyun #mark lee #na jaemin #nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct dream #wayv #superm #jaehyun #nct jaehyun #nct mark #nct lucas #lucas wong #wong yukhei #nct jaemin #before i met you

8 notes · View notes

the-roanoke-society · 5 years

Note

What's the story behind the Agents of Sass and Class tag? How did Seraphim and Succubus meet within the society even tho they were from two COMPLETELY different agent circles? P.S I love you, bitch. 💖💖💖

now you did get the initial beginning down pretty square—seraphim had heard, on the periphery, that oh, we had a new necromancer, and man, her origin story was equal parts bizarre and intriguing (with the normal touches of tragedy that seemed to paint the narratives of everyone at the estate from time time—but such is the human and non-human condition of this plane, unfortunately).

let’s talk about it.

between the emotional aftermath of enoch’s abrupt departure, the city in the hills, all on top of routine missions that she was still being handed from lilith, there was a lot that seraphim missed. it wasn’t because of apathy. it was because of exhaustion. (and then there was still the matter of agent whiskey, of statesman. she was… still working on figuring that part out. but jack loved a good chase. and a good fuck.)

a large part of that was succubus’s training and entire initiation. but even as it was, for some reason seraphim couldn’t quite discern, lilith had been very keen on the senior agent being at least a bit aware that she was around.

very keen.

“hey, it’s—clementine. right?”

those were her first words to her. she’d overheard poltergeist a few days ago, talking to wendigo and mothman about his newest recruit. that he’d done the grave test, as he’d done with other field agents in training before her.

seraphim didn’t hate him. not exactly. but he reminded her so much of john who sparked such a deep anger and hurt inside of her that it was difficult for her to physically be around him for long. and it broke her heart to see another person being spiritually shattered in this way.

she’d pivoted abruptly, leaving the lounge before any of the three had seen her. fuming.

we aren’t wild horses. this is all so goddamn unnecessary and exhausting.

it didn’t feel like they were being broken and remade into something better. it just felt like breaking.

looking back, seraphim was grateful that rae had let her carefully lead her to one of the stools by the center island, get her tissues, a wet towel for her face, and food that was actually plated. she was hardly the first person seraphim had seen weeping in an odd place in the manor, although crying in front of an open fridge was a first.

clementine wasn’t clementine for long. soon enough, she was raeanna. then rae. but a lot about her was… guarded. that first conversation in the kitchen that night was very much a weird kind of dance. seraphim had to learn where to press, where not to press. the shapes of what she was willing to share versus what she wasn’t. and succubus, for her part, had only a vague idea of who seraphim even was.

“my name’s morgan. uh, seraphim’s my handle. it’s nice to finally meet you.”

an exorcist, fine, a senior agent of apparent high regard, sure, but succubus didn’t know her and didn’t exactly relish the idea of a sleepover-tier get-to-know-you conversation in the middle of the night with the witch that poltergeist had constantly used as a standard to decimate her confidence.

the closeness and seamlessness they share as a duo on the field wasn’t formed overnight.

but it was engendered in one.

because succubus found that for the life of her, she couldn’t withstand the barrage of kindness.

they ran into each other a few times after that, always in passing. succubus still had her training to finish, and seraphim had her normal fieldwork.

but one day, shortly after succubus had finally graduated out of poltergeist’s authority to become an agent in her own right, lilith called seraphim into her office. all of her usual calm smile and gentle—if not a little suspicious—demeanor.

“morgan! there you are! i see the color’s gotten back into your face since you came home. did mr. daniels have something to do with that? … aaannnddd look, now there’s even more pink there, i’m taking that as a yes.”

“lil, please. look, did you need to ask me something? i’m assuming you called me up here for a reason.” seraphim took a seat in one of the plush armchairs on the other side of lilith’s desk, watching her superior thoughtfully twirl a red apple in the space above an open hand. it had a bite out of it.

“you know me well. i did have something that i wanted to assign you, and agent succubus.”

“agent? oh, she got through training! thank god, i was scared that adam was going to run her off, or worse, and—wait, both of us?” seraphim lifted one brow. it wasn’t that she’d been hit with dread, but she’d never worked with rae afield before. she wasn’t sure what to expect.

“yes, she’s become quite the gifted necromancer under ‘geist’s—particular brand of tutelage. … morgan, would you like an apple, or are you just jealous that you haven’t quite mastered the art of object levitation?”

seraphim sighed. “both, if i’m honest, but joe’s been teaching me energy manipulation.” she caught the apple that lilith tossed to her from a bowl on the small table behind her and eyed the manila folder she slid onto her desk towards her. “granted, it’s not like i have a separate universe at my hands. our magic doesn’t look the same. but it’s…” her voice softened. another sigh. this one was sadder. “… it’s nice to be able to explore what i can do. after everything. you never really stop learning, i guess. not really.” she poked at the folder. “but uh, i’m a little bit more curious about that, ma’am.”

lilith smiled kindly. she’d have to speak with mothman later, see what exactly they’d been up to. “we’ve had—reports,” she began, flipping open the folder. seraphim took a bite out of her apple, reaching forward to touch one of the photographs that was on top of a stack of scanned newspaper clippings. “of something interesting happening around the outsides of las vegas.”

seraphim picked the picture up, frowning at it. “uh—lil, uhm, what, what am i looking at?” she spoke around the apple bits in her mouth. the only distinct shapes she could make out in the photo were the mountains in the distance and a police cruiser. but this black blur in the middle…

whatever it was, it was massive. easily at least ten, twelve feet, comparing it to the car. big, dark, and—were those antlers?

“we’re not a hundred percent sure. but we’re afraid that given the damage its caused and an uptick in insomnia and night terrors around the part of the city where it’s been sighted, it may be something demonic.”

“which is why you’re sending me. okay, i follow you.”

“we also think it might not be completely alive in the traditional sense.”

“… it’s not what now?”

lilith rubbing her hands together. not a good sign. “we don’t think it’s—living. no mundane weapons seem to slow it down, which isn’t necessarily a huge surprise, but other members from the nevada office that were dispatched had similar misfortune. granted, their specializations aren’t quite like yours, or like rae’s, and we’re wondering if maybe we just need an approach with… let’s say a dynamic more like the one you two have.”

“lil…”

“i don’t mean anything as shallow as a game of holy versus unholy. i only mean that both of you are walking different sides of the same road, going the same way. you have a decent handle on being, as luca has said, a ‘light-bringer,’ and rae makes a weapon out of darkness. between the two of you, this thing doesn’t stand a chance, and the vegas mayor will, once again, owe me a debt.”

“uh, once again?” why was it that she consistently left lilith’s office with more questions than answers?

“it’s a long story, i’ll tell you when you get back. now go find rae, please, i’d like to speak with her. take this file with you to review. our dear darling quetzl just got back from visiting his mother, he’ll fly you out tomorrow morning at six a.m. sharp.”

“yes ma’am.” seraphim bit down on her apple, holding it in her mouth as she used both hands to shift through the file.

this would make for some interesting afternoon reading, but first, to find succubus…

* * *

“did you eat breakfast?” seraphim asked the next morning, hoping that a pair of dark capris and a light grey button-up wouldn’t end up being too hot for the desert. she couldn’t bring herself to just wear a tank-top. she didn’t like how people looked at her scars.

“… what?” succubus was rubbing sleep out of her eyes, almost tripping up the steps into the jet. almost. “oh shit—uhm, no, i opted to get as much sleep as possible. kind of regretting it.”

“what, sleeping in or not eating anything?” seraphim got up into the plane first, slinging her duffel bag upwards onto the rack over their seats.

the good witch—which seraphim thought was a fuckin’ weird name for a plane—was one of the nicer jets in roanoke’s hangar. the flight from kentucky to nevada wouldn’t be tremendously long, but it’d give them a few hours to rest, and if seraphim had her way, to be better friends.

this would be the first time they’d be stuck together for an extended period, and she wasn’t sure what to expect.

succubus laughed, and readily handed her own bag to seraphim’s outstretched hand. “both.”

“then boy do i have a surprise for you two!” seraphim and succubus both jumped at the booming voice of quetzl, who was the most intense morning person seraphim had ever met. all dark eyes, dark smiles and a demeanor that could be likened to a nuclear reactor.

before either of them could quiet react he’d already stuffed pop tarts into their hands—smores flavor into seraphim’s, strawberry into succubus’s. “you’re welcome. now please, go sit down, i’ve got to radio phoenix and get him to open the hangar up for us, but as soon as the gate’s up, we’re outta here!”

and as soon as they sat down: “dude do you want to trade? that one’s my favorite.”

“seriously? hell yeah, that one’s my favorite too.”

okay. off to a good start.

but seraphim closed her eyes as soon as they hit cruising altitude—she’d watched succubus take out a worn copy of carrie, and had to hide her smile—and when she opened them again, it was to the tune of quetzl’s voice over the p.a. system. “ladies! and—other ladies! all of the two ladies on board. we’ll be landing on the airstrip by our nevada compatriots here in like, thirty minutes. we’ll be right on the outskirts of henderson, which means around a thirty minute drive to the site that lilith wanted you to investigate first. so please return your seats to the upright position, do the thing with the tray tables, you’ve been on a plane before, just don’t run around the cabin, that’s literally it. … thank you for your patronage.”

succubus rolled her eyes. “is he always like this?”

seraphim laughed in response. “welcome to air quetzl. never boring, and sometimes just—real fuckin’ annoying.”

“better annoying than boring, though?”

the senior agent hummed, nodding. “i—yeah. better annoying than boring.”

* * *

agent tahoe met them in the hangar. blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and all six feet of her like a ray of sunshine. seraphim thought she was going to bruise her knuckles with the strength of her grip. where the hell does lilith keep finding all these morning people?

“seraphim! good to see you again, look how long your hair’s gotten! and you must be our newest crowned, agent succubus! i’m senior agent tahoe. our ah, staff’s stretched a bit thin at the moment, what with all the monster bullshit, but don’t worry, i’ll be the one making sure you get to where you need to g—“

“emilia! baaaabe! how’s it hangin’?”

“… clark.”

her tone went deadpan and succubus was trying desperately to keep some sense of professionalism.

“oh come on, you’re not still mad at me, are you?”

“if you two will follow me, our ride’s waiting in the garage juuuuust down this corridor here—“

“oh sweet, what did boss man upstairs lend us?”

“i said you two. meaning them. you are going straight inside where someone can keep an eye on you. and don’t touch anything.”

“emilia!”

“go fucking upstairs.” but all the venom in her voice disappeared when she turned back to the team at her shoulders, following close behind her. “in all seriousness, we’re really glad y’all are here. whatever this thing it, it broke jarbridge’s legs, compound fractures, too. i mean, she passed out, which is good, she says she doesn’t even remember it happening, but i’m pretty sure lovelock’s gonna have to take some kind of sabbatical, you know how squeamish he is around blood…”

succubus glanced at seraphim once. her face was a little pale.

but seraphim just put a warm hand on her shoulder, and leaned closer to her. “hey. this asshole hasn’t met us yet. we got this.”

* * *

tahoe was the kind of woman where, if you didn’t make any attempt to steer the conversation, she could talk gore and guts for literal hours (seraphim had heard her do it enough times before).

once they’d gotten into a shiny black falcon coup (that, despite how clean it looked, was straight out of 1975) seraphim watched succubus’s face become more and more drawn.

she’d survived poltergeist. that spoke volumes in and of itself. but even the confidence bred from that firewalking brand of training, well…

seraphim remembered her first mission solo, without enoch at her side. all she had to do was envision that bright yellow doorway on lincoln street and it all came flooding back, visceral but short-lived. the nervousness. the fear. and for her, at least, an acute case of being overwhelmed.

but then… poltergeist hadn’t left.

would it have been so bad if he did leave, really?

seraphim shook her head. “—emilia! emilia. uhm. look, now, you know i love a war story as much as the next agent, but ah, rae looked a little confused as to why you were being so cold to clark, and frankly, i am too, i thought you two had patched things up?”

if there was one thing tahoe liked talking about more than body horror—it was her exes.

succubus didn’t want to let on that her heart was in her throat, and she had her hands balled into fists in her lap so no one could tell they were shaking. what had she gotten herself into? double compound fractures? were her bones about to see the light of day as well? she suppressed a shudder.

she loved bones. she loved her own bones. she loved them most when they were safely under her skin like they were supposed to be.

but succubus also loved gossip, and seraphim, as it turned out, was an excellent enabler.

also turned out that quetzl was just as awful to date as succubus had judged beforehand, according to tahoe. “and okay, i’ll concede that maybe i shouldn’t have been looking through his phone but damnit, rae, it was my own sister! like, both of my sisters! who does that?”

* * *

their arrival point was hardly anything climactic—although ‘cinematic’ was still a word that seraphim would’ve used. in a very regional gothic sort of way. the sun was high by that point, not a cloud in the sky and it was so blue that it hurt her eyes. she could see roaring vegas in the distance as she stood by the front of the coup, taking a drag off of her cigarette. her usual pre-mission ritual these days.

“i didn’t know you smoked,” succubus said quietly, but even as soft as her voice was, seraphim jumped anyway, coughing. “oh shit, sorry, i didn’t mean t—“

“it’s okay! it’s okay. it’s a gross habit. i keep telling lilith i’ll quit, but…” she stared at it in the v of her fingers, shrugged, and then took one long final inhale before flicking upwards, snapping her fingers, and—where the hell did it go? “i don’t know. i don’t have a lot of motivation to stop. and anyway, that’s not why we’re here, we’re here!” with a grand flourish, she turned, motioning to the spread of desert before them. “to catch a monster.”

succubus grinned. “i do like the sound of that.”

“hell yeah you do! we are the fuckin’ veil!” tahoe had a mapped spread out over the car’s hood, covered in various markings. “shit, iiiiii am utter garbage at location work, i wish jarbridge was out of medical already—“ she laughed. “man she’s probably high as a kite right now anyway. she’d be useless. okay, look just—you two come over here.”

seraphim and succumbs watched at her shoulders as she pointed with one black-painted nail to a part of the map marked with three sharpie x’s, all in a triangle and all on the other side of a low, craggy ridge about a mile or so from where the dirt roadside where they’d parked. “based off of all the intel we’ve been able to gather, we think that it’s home base is right around here. now, it’s daytime, and this thing is one nocturnal son of a bitch, so the strategy is to get a jump on him on his home turf. catch him with pants down, or whatever.”

succubus hummed, “oh, now those are my favorite kind of missions—“

tahoe lifted her eyebrows. “remind me to ask you some questions when this is all over and we get celebratory shots on the strip or something. now!” in a few wide strides she was at the trunk, popping the lid with the wave of a hand as she walked. “these are yours.” she handed seraphim her usual pistol, and succubus a standard issue handgun marked by the roanoke insignia and a few sigils she couldn’t quite recognize.

“there’s my baby!”

“uh, morgan, what kinds of babies have you been around…?” but seraphim was too busy taking practice swings with a large wooden bat, embedded with nails, wrapped in barbed wire and prayer beads.

“rae, meet virgil. virgil, rae. most trustworthy man i’ve ever met.”

succubus lifted her eyebrows in approval. “will, uh, i get one of those—?”

seraphim had the audacity to wink. “if you make one yourself. i’ll tell you virgil’s story over all those shots tahoe said she was going to buy us here in a second.”

but tahoe was back studying the map. something about her posture was different. her back straighter, her lips in a tighter line. there was a beat before she lifted her eyes to the agents, sighing. “i wish there was something more i could give you. anything more. but this is it.” another short exhale. “we don’t know what, exactly, this is. but you two are going to be the best crack at it that we’ve taken so far. if things get hairy, just head back here. i’ll stay here with the ride. my office is a button-press away. don’t—“ she swallowed. seraphim felt nervousness tug at the base of her stomach. this wasn’t like emilia. “don’t be scared to bail out. might’ve saved jarbridge her legs. i’ll be here, okay? comm’s on. you’ve got your specs. call me beep me, whatever.”

succubus lifted a hand, reflexively tracing the frames that rested across the bridge of her nose.

“… good luck.”

seraphim had one hand on the top of the holster strapped across her thigh, the other on virgil’s base. he rested easily across the width of her shoulders. she knew where the grooves were to keep the barbs from digging into her work jacket (although a few still did anyway). succubus realized the weird straps of leather stretching across seraphim’s back were just another holster as she took one more swing, then popped the back into the curved sockets. “we won’t let you down, em. rae—stay at my shoulder.”

but she waited until they were a ways down, making their own path through the sand before she kept going: “—but when i say get behind me, get behind me.”

succubus frowned. “what, you think i can’t handle it?”

“rae—“

“no, no, please, enlighten me.” they didn’t stop walking. their path started to descend down, and succubus could see the rocky edge they’d have to hike over to get to the triangle marked on tahoe’s map. she wondered if it’d be like the monster movies she’d watched as a kid; would there be a cave? a dark, yawning maw on a hillside, looking like it’s full of nothing but pitch, like how sophie walked into the cavern in howl’s moving castle?

seraphim didn’t answer immediately, but then: “this is our first time. not to make this sound all euphemistic and shit, but i’d prefer if you didn’t, i don’t know, get a part of your neck bitten out, get your bones broken—y’know. work stuff.”

succubus blew out a breath. “right. … right. i, uh. i’m—“

“don’t.” seraphim smiled. succubus realized how easy it looked, sliding onto her countenance.

it didn’t make sense.

she’d seen this same woman look absolutely haunted when she thought no one was looking.

“i’m here to act as guardian angel. this is a part of your training.” and softer: “… and mine, too.”

“hmm?”

“nothin’. just stay close, okay?”

“‘kay.”

* * *

the rest of the walk was fairly quietly. seraphim kept singing under her breath, but succubus couldn’t make out anything familiar. she thought she heard something like “it’s rainin’ tacos…”

they came up on top of the ridge, and succubus squinted, staring down. it was a sheer drop, and while it wasn’t like they were on top of the grand canyon, she was pretty sure a fall from this height could kill someone. or at least make sure they never walked again. seraphim whistled lowly, motioning off to the left. “looks like there’s a path that goes down.” her voice was soft, but solid. “if i had to guess, we’re probably standing on top of this thing’s house. ten bucks says there’s a cave or something similar down there.”

“deal.”

and as it turned out, there was a cave.

well—‘cave’ might’ve been too kind of a descriptor.

to seraphim it looked more like a giant had straight up just clawed a huge whole into the side of the rock. the entrance was marked by sharpened, jagged stones that looked too much like teeth for her liking.

they approached painfully slowly. as soon as the ground had evened out, seraphim had drawn her pistol, and succubus mimicked the movement. but there was no sound, nothing, save for the wind whistling over the ridge.

“look like about how you expected?”

“with a bit more cacti, yeah. and the police cruiser is a surprise.”

the saguaro looked like they belonged there, but that car did not. seraphim wondered if it was the same one she’d seen in the photo lilith had shown her, but this one had definitely been through the wringer.

all the windows had been shattered. the sun caught the shards of glass that surrounded it, making it look like someone had spilled stars onto the sand. it was covered in dents, the place where the engine was had been hit downward (whatever engine there had been was now probably less engine and more just… car parts scattered underneath the cruiser), but what caught her eye the most was a set of six long lines dug along the length of one side.

claw marks? teeth marks? it was anyone’s guess.

—oh. and we’re about to find out.

succubus suppressed a shiver underneath a full sun. “what do we do?” she whispered. she could see seraphim’s jaw working, brows furrowed.

“should’ve brought a grenade…” a short sigh. “well, too late now, and this isn’t exactly joe’s last d and d campaign. i don’t think charging in there is a good idea. we have no idea of the layout, and ‘strength in numbers’ doesn’t apply to every situation, especially not ones like this.” she lifted a hand and ran it along her chin. “… okay. okay. i have an idea.”

“what’s the idea?”

“you go wait by the cruiser. i’m gonna whistle and try to draw it out.”

“… are you being serious?”

seraphim grinned and it looked borderline maniacal. “sure am. something tells me it might have a weakness to sunlight, hence why we only see it at night. if it is demonic, like lilith thinks, i’ll be able to bind it. and if it’s undead—also like lilith thinks—then you’ll just dispatch it.” she nodded to the handgun at succubus’s hip. “those bullets are holy. should do the trick. now get over there. i’m going to see if i can pull off a tom and jerry, get the jump on it from behind if we can just lure it out.”

so. succubus found herself on her knees behind the front part of the cruiser, sheltering behind the busted metal. she watched as seraphim had walked a far, wide circle, coming back to the ridge face and slowly edging her way along the rock, her spine pressed as flat against the stone as it would go. virgil, abandoned for the moment to make space, leaned against the rock some ways away. succubus was already regretting that decision.

it felt like ages passed as she side-stepped. side-stepped. side-stepped. side-stepped again.

until finally seraphim was close to the cave’s mouth. but she didn’t draw her gun again, like succubus had expected. it stayed holstered alongside her thigh. but she did roll up her sleeves to reveal—were those tattoos? where had those come from? succubus couldn’t remember seeing them before. had she found time to mark herself somehow?

but she didn’t have enough time to ponder. because seraphim met her eyes, nodded once, and turned her neck.

there it came, a whistle, low, long and, succubus reasoned if she could hear it from all the way behind the police car, loud. seraphim abruptly jerked back, flattening herself again. her palm spread wide against the stone, trying to feel the vibrations of movement, the vibrations of anything.

but an entire minute passed. then two. then five.

seraphim blew some air into her cheeks, and with trembling legs, finally began walking back towards the car. “look, rae, i think maybe the recon team got the wr—“

it came so quickly that seraphim immediately collapsed to her knees. it was a high-pitched banshee wail of a shriek, so cacophonous and blaring that even when succubus jammed the heels of her hands over the shell curves of her ears it did nothing to soften the sound. she screwed her eyes shut, and just as abruptly as it started, it was done. when she opened them, trying to remember how to breathe, how inhaling and exhaling felt, seraphim had collapsed onto her rear on the other end of the cruiser.

succubus swallowed. “what. the fuck. was that.” her voice was quiet. a jet plane would have been quiet in comparison to what they’d just heard.

seraphim had no color in her face and couldn’t immediately answer. “… okay. that’s uh. probably the target. i apologize, i completely gave in to the monkey brain flight-or-fight response there and didn’t pick the right one.”

“i don’t know if i necessarily agree.” they stared at each other for a few beats of silence. both were afraid to move. it wasn’t something either of them were trying to hide that moment. “—what do we do now?”

seraphim took a breath, her mouth moving to answer, but was interrupted by—succubus didn’t know how to describe it, not straight away. it had different parts, all moving and all happening so close together it was hard to pick them apart. the whoosh of air, the clean cut of metal on metal, that short of shink noise that a knife made up against a whetstone. succubus blinked.

she thought she’d seen sparks between them.

literal sparks, as if the side of the car had been hit with something.

her mind was trying to catch up.

… are those claws?

the fingertips—nails, talons, claws, all of them—of a hand (‘hand’ was a generous descriptor in this instance) were sticking out of the side of the car. not opening the door. they were sticking out having gone through the outer frame of the cruiser.

tap. … tap tap.

succubus was going to be sick.

taptaptaptaptaptaptap—

seraphim abruptly fell backwards as the half of the car she’d been leaning against was wrenched back, and she found herself staring upwards, right into the face of the monster of the photograph.

“jesus christ you are so much uglier up close.”

“morgan for fuck’s sake—!“

succubus was reaching, grabbing, trying to grasp her pant leg, something as this thing let out another scream. it threw the chunk of cruiser down where seraphim had been lying in partial shock just seconds earlier. the crash was deafening and before seraphim quite knew what was happening, she was sprinting across the sand with her elbow in a grip that was almost bone-crushing.

“run!”

it didn’t matter that they were armed. it was too close too fast. there was no time. no space. it was on them like–what was it poltergeist had liked to say? white on rice.

that thing didn’t have to make a noise, they could both hear the hoofbeats behind them, could see the too-long, too-prickled shadow catching up to overtake theirs on the desert ground.

“what the fuck! what the fuck! shit!” succubus wasn’t leading them back to tahoe, then there’d be three dead agents instead of just two, and she absolutely believed that there was for sure going to be two.

“—i have another idea!”

“oh fucking great!”

“no no no, this one’ll work i’m positive!”

“isn’t that what you said last time?!”

“if you remember correctly, i said no such thing! trust me, old school always works! let me go on three, okay? one—three!”

succubus hadn’t planned on turning around, but then the—demon? zombie? old forgotten demigod or someone’s bastard offspring? who knew?—started to make a new sound. she ran until its shadow wasn’t touching anything in her sight, ending up back against the ridge. only then did she turn.

… wow.

what she hadn’t seen was seraphim pulling off what she’d honestly considered a hail mary.

they couldn’t outrun it. in the time it would take them to draw their guns, it probably would’ve sliced them open at the elbows. and as any necromancer, or exorcist, or witch, or sorcerer can tell you: it’s very, very difficult to concentrate enough to do anything, let alone put up a decent defense or guard, when you’re actively being chased and doing the opposite of gaining ground.

not for seraphim, anyway.

not yet.

as soon as succubus’s grip released from her arm with a push, seraphim dropped like dead weight onto her back and prayed—prayed very, very hard, and focused, just like she’d been taught.

she forced her elbows to meet, right up to her wrists, as she was very, very narrowly missed being stepped on (which would’ve been lethal—apparently she’d missed the velociraptor feet the first go-around). and as she did so, the marks on her arms made a shape—a circle, decorated with smaller symbols, around and around and around…

a seal.

“a capite ad calcem.”

from head to heel.

freeze, motherfucker.

succubus turned in time to see the target upheld over seraphim, who was flat on her spine against the dirt, directly underneath it. it almost looked like it was being suspended by the thinnest strands of razor wire—succubus kept catching glints as it thrashed, and something black began to ooze out of it.

seraphim had some drip right onto her flushed cheeks, struggling a bit to keep the seal intact.

succubus began to understand why poltergeist had brought her up so often. for a beat, she could only stare.

and with a bit of surprise, she realized she didn’t feel envy, or any kind of spite—because that’s just what adam would have wanted, isn’t it? to break a thing before it got a chance to breathe?—she felt awe.

she felt pride.

which quickly melted into panic as soon as seraphim’s voice cut through her haze, upped a pitch in the chaos. “rae? buddy? a little help? this dude’s—oh shit, no you do not, asshole mcgee—just a smidge stronger than i first thought. show me what you’ve got! deport this fucker!”

every line blazed into a brightness that hurt her to look at for too long, and it suddenly all snapped into place. every single thing poltergeist had taught her, flooding back. perhaps her learning retention was better than she thought.

as another of the monster’s cries echoed against the ridge wall—this one perhaps a bit more pain than rage—she ran closer.

those were petrov lines—which meant that was an azrael seal. azrael was an archangel who had special dominion over retribution; his marks (and succubus understood that oh, those are what seraphim had on her arms, i just couldn’t recognize them in broken pieces—) aided in trapping demonic entities that had manifested onto the physical plane. this was one of the first seals that seraphim had been taught, and for good reason.

okay. so a demon.

but petrov lines, those only appeared for beings that were demonic just in part. something that came from some of the in-between worlds, an underworld that was a hell but not a hell.

something that succubus merely recognized as undead.

fuck, it’s both.

but succubus suddenly felt a surge of confidence at the light of the lines, and she lifted her hands, gun forgotten, darkness already beginning to twine out from her elbows, down to her wrists. she stalked, predatory, and seraphim tried to both watch her partner and keep this thing under control.

she may not have seen succubus’s hand motions, the intricate movements of her fingers in rapid succession followed by a definitive slicing motion.

but she heard her, speaking in the same tongue she had.

“ad initium—asshole!”

seraphim watched as cords of black intertwined with the lightlines, and kept watching as they found the creature’s neck.

it was both forces together that bore themselves down and quite literally razored the being into little chunks. no more black fell on seraphim’s face. it simply dissipated, as if it had turned to ash.

what was it that lilith had said?

walking different sides of the same road.

it took about a minute for it to disappear completely, and when it did, for about as long, neither agent moved. seraphim was exhausted. muscle fatigue manifested as tremors in her arms. she stared up at an empty sky as succubus slowly walked towards her, finally kneeling down by her side.

“… you good?”

“… yeah. you good?”

“yeah.”

“groovy.”

seraphim closed her eyes. she could’ve fallen asleep if she hadn’t started to hear distant yelling: “oh my god what did you two DO?!” tahoe was scrambling down towards them, yelling, looking equal parts horrified and elated. “i heard—oh my god, i—morgan, rae, you’re alive, you’re both alive, hallelujah, and no bones! morgan, what the fuck is all over your face? whose blood is that? is that blood? holy shit i can’t believe you—woah woah!” she caught succubus as she flopped off to the one side, threatening to collapse. “rae. rae, stay away. morgan. … morgan!”

she slapped the exorcist on the bicep, and the exorcist in question swore but in a much more whiney tone than she’d originally meant, to which tahoe just quipped: “oh walk it off you big baby. we’ll have a beta team come out and cleanse this area, it’s still tainted, which means if you’re gonna faint, you can’t do it here. c’mon now, up we go—“

succubus, as a newer recruit, had the luxury of tahoe’s arm around her waist, helping her to stagger to her feet. seraphim had a few false starts before she managed to first roll up onto her knees, then finally, to stand. her first few steps were shaky. but she shook her head, blinked a few times, and glanced over at succubus and tahoe walking back towards the car.

and they grew steadier, as she went.

around thirty minutes later, time found them all sitting at the bar of a classic, neon-tinged greasy spoon diner, complete with black-and-white checkered floors and a jukebox in the corner that apparently knew three songs: rocketman, dancing queen, and under pressure.

not a bad mix, honestly.

“ladies!” tahoe was the first to lift her shot glass. the three of them swirled with some cheap well tequila, given a pink sheen from the lights. “what do we want to toast to?”

“… uhm.” seraphim mumbled, staring at her glass. “weee… should toast toooo…”

“… new friendships?” succubus had spoken so softly that at first, seraphim wasn’t sure she’d heard her. but once she understood, she grinned, broadly.

“to new friendships—and to the first of many victories.” succubus smiled back at her. … i think i could really like it here.

“cheers!”

their glasses clinked to the tune of sir elton john, crooning softly: “and i think it’s gonna be a long long time… and i think it’s gonna be a long long time…”

#the roanoke society #agent succubus #agent seraphim #agents of sass & class #agent quetzl #agent tahoe #agent lovelock #lilith #agent poltergeist #once upon a time in nevada #(what's this? morgan actually created content? the madness!)

13 notes · View notes

wardencommanderrodimiss · 5 years

Text

Witches, Chapter 3: the difference between yokai and the fae is like the difference between Pokemon and Ultra Beasts which is “fuck if I know but now I’m afraid that I’m spending too long hung up on the ‘what’s a yokai’ point because unlike Ultra Beasts, yokai are not going to be relevant to the plot moving forward beyond this case”

We’ll call it worldbuilding, and setting the atmosphere of “there is even more than what we know beyond the scope of our main characters,” we’ll go with that.

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

Ms Athena Cykes, Attorney-at-Law, throws a policeman into Apollo like she’s an Olympic athlete throwing a hammer, and once she’s helped Apollo back off the ground and he’s introduced himself as her coworker – making her zero for two on decent introductions – she grabs him by the arm and makes him sprint along with her away from the scene of her crime. “Maybe he’ll just, y’know, have forgotten that happened,” she says, releasing Apollo halfway up the hill to the manor and letting him gasp for breath. “Just a little bit of head trauma to smooth things over?” She frowns, hanging her head slightly, her eyes turning toward the ground. “I didn’t mean to do that. It’s a reflex I have if someone grabs me suddenly.”

“I’ll remember to not do that,” Apollo says, his hands on his knees, trying and failing to recall the last time he ever sprinted uphill, “but I think that’s still a… problem.” Of felony level, or maybe misdemeanor if she’s lucky and the prosecution is charitable to the reflex argument.

“Maybe we can say a yokai did it,” Athena says. “Since there’s so many around anyway and all the locals are talking about that.”

“Yeah, our client’s daughter has already mistaken me for a red-horned demon,” Apollo says. “You might be next to get the yokai treatment.”

Athena tilts her head to the side and stares at him. Her eyes are blue, blue enough that Apollo would have to concentrate to see if they change color. “I mean, your horns aren’t red,” she says, “but I can see where it’s coming from.”

Sometimes Apollo wonders why he bothers. “But we’ve got our client’s problem to sort out first,” Athena says brightly, and Apollo pushes himself back upright. “Did you meet him? Gimme the details, rápido!”

He fills her in on his conversation with Mayor Tenma and all of the village folklore that he’s heard; she shows him a one-sheet special edition of the village newspaper, just printed, displaying a photograph of something resembling Tenma Taro flying through the air. “You don’t think it’s actually a supernatural murder case, do you?” she asks.

“I…” Apollo finds it easier to stare at the manor than to meet Athena’s eyes. “I – of course not!”

Athena raises an eyebrow.

In the manor foyer, they meet the caretaker, a petty pickpocket who tries to steal Apollo’s bracelet and is watching wrestling, or would be if the match hadn’t been postponed after the Amazing Nine-Tails’ failed to show up. They don’t get a chance to ask the caretaker what he saw; Athena chases him off by yelling when he makes a very suspicious remark about their wallets. And she complained about his Chords of Steel.

At the crime scene, he expects to see Ema, powdering the scene with Snackoos and her search for fingerprints, at home amidst the weirdness of the scene – but the familiar lab coat is nowhere in sight. No one is, when they cast their first look around the room, Athena yelping in horror at the feathers and bloody footprints, but before they have any time to investigate, they are ambushed by a man in a blinding white suit. After about a minute of circular arguing and a threat to arrest them, he finally introduces himself as “Detective Bobby Fulbright, champion of our good citizens and defender of justice!”

Yep, he wishes it was Ema here. Ema would just let them into the crime scene, but Athena has to talk circles around Fulbright to get him to concede. And it isn’t that Fulbright is particularly difficult to tie up in knots, either – it’s just another hassle that Apollo isn’t used to and didn’t expect. (He shouldn’t have expected to find Ema on every ridiculous case he takes, but there had seemed a precedent.)

The door in the back of the Fox Chamber is the entrance to the so-called Forbidden Chamber, where Tenma Taro is said to be sealed away. There’s a heavy lock with no keyhole sealing the doors tight, and though he remembers Jinxie mentioning a warding charm on the door, Apollo sees nothing of the sort in the room. Besides one overturned chair, there doesn’t seem to have been a struggle. Beneath the chair lies a piece of bloodied cloth, which they can only investigate when Athena has lied to Fulbright to get him out of the room. “Hey, detective, did you hear?” she calls across the room, and she had barely let Apollo in on her plan before launching into it, but that question coupled with that grin of hers says everything Apollo needs to know. “Down on Yokai Lane, there was a red-horned demon threatening a teenage girl!”

There’s no way he’s going to believe—

“Why didn’t you say something sooner? In justice we trust!”

He rushes from the room, and Athena turns her sharp smug grin on Apollo. “That was… kinda easy, actually.” She isn’t frightening – that isn’t the right word – but she’s clever and clearly has no reservations about picking at a weakness she sees, and she sees Fulbright’s. No wonder Phoenix hired her. “Now we can really investigate!”

“Unless he comes back and arrests me for being a demon,” Apollo says. “Thanks a lot for that, by the way, tossing me under the bus there.”

“¡De nada!”

While they move the chair and scramble to otherwise search the scene, tugging again on the Forbidden Chamber doors, opening the window, and Athena kneeling and nearly sticking her head beneath the coffee table, she explains Widget, the strange little electronic she wears around her neck. Apollo had spotted its screen changing colors and making faces and hadn’t thought much more of it. Apparently it’s a high-tech mood ring that sometimes just shouts things, in combination with a computer, that can also take pictures, and she scans in a three-dimensional visualization of the crime scene “just in case. You never know what comes in handy, and Fulbright seems like a bit of a dunce so who knows if or when we’ll get a crime scene photo.”

“It’s really just all advanced technology?” Apollo asks. “That it can vocalize your mood?”

“What else?” the robotic voice chirps, and Athena nods and continues, “What do you think I’m gonna tell you? That it’s magic?”

She doesn’t plainly laugh at him, but she still looks amused, and Apollo swallows what little pride he has left after a year at the Wright Anything Agency and says, “Uh, maybe?”

“Mr Wright asked the same thing, actually,” she says. “If it was magic, or a merger of magic and tech. I guess it makes sense you’d ask the same! You do work together, after all!”

Once, Apollo would have taken it as a compliment to be compared to Phoenix Wright. He doesn’t feel that charitable now. “But on the subject of magic – you know that Mr Wright is…”

How to describe Mr Wright, anyway? He’s enough of an enigma personally, without the fae factor. And then – fae-adjacent is how Klavier describes him, the riddle of a man who wasn’t stolen as a child, never made a deal, never had it in their blood, and still ended up marked by the handprints of half a dozen fae. They’re petty and scary and selfish; the curses make sense. The whole package?

“Oh, the thing with his eyes?” Athena asks. “Where he can, like, see ghosts and stuff?”

“Sort of,” Apollo says. “Actually not really, but you’ve got the overall spirit of it.” She squats down and picks up one of the feathers, spinning it in her fingers and frowning. “Wait – he just – showed you that his eyes change color and you accepted what he said about why that happens?”

“Well, yeah,” Athena says. She sets the feather down and her mouth twists disgustedly at the blood soaked and dried into the carpet. “I could hear that he’s sincere, everything he said about magic. And now we have a giant mutant bird or a monster committing murder, so.”

“I’d personally consider a giant mutant bird to be a monster.”

Athena hears Fulbright returning before Apollo does and they feign innocence, like they’ve just been examining the alderman’s old wrestling trophies all this time. Apollo almost feels bad for the detective, having been sent on a futile demon-hunt – he doesn’t appear to have connected Apollo to Athena’s words and Apollo is infinitely grateful for it – and arriving back only for Athena to manipulate him into giving up information again. This time, he’s apparently been so confused by it all that he unprompted offers them a warning about the prosecution.

If they were fae, or a witch, fine. If the warning was that there was just some sort of magic, uncertain in origin but obviously present – fine. Fine. (Obviously not fine, but liveable. The kind of thing he’s faced before.)

“A convicted – are you joking?”

Athena winces and claps a hand to the ear that is closer to Apollo. Fulbright isn’t fazed by his scream. “Not at all! By order of the Chief Prosecutor himself, so there’s not much room to question it!”

(Apparently Phoenix’s counterpart over at the Prosecutors Office is as batshit as he is. Wait, isn’t that Edgeworth? Apollo has met him and didn’t think—)

“That’s completely nuts!” Apollo says. He tries to swallow the shout but it still comes out as an indignant squawk. Athena wisely has not removed her hand from her ear and takes a step away. “What justification – even the Chief Prosecutor – a convicted killer—”

(In his head he is already composing a text to Klavier that consists only of question marks. Good fucking luck to Klavier to figure out what he’s referring to.)

“Killer he might be, but he’s also a master of psychology. Who better for the job of proving to everyone that yokai are nothing but figments of the imagination, and no fake creature committed this murder?”

Apollo imagines what Ema would have to say about this: the dead-eyed look on her face, the “maybe it will still be better than working with the fop,” and probably not nearly such a staunch conviction that it couldn’t have been magic. They saw Kristoph collapse together, found Trucy’s mother’s mitamah, and met Gourdy. She knows.

“This prosecutor,” Athena says softly, all her bravado and enthusiasm of barely two minutes ago gone. “His name wouldn’t happen to be Blackquill, would it?”

“That he would be!” Fulbright says, with far too much cheer for the fact that they are discussing the way the Prosecutors Office has been twisted inside and out. “Simon Blackquill. So you have heard of him?”

“Yeah,” Athena mumbles, rubbing her arm like a sudden chill has come over her. “You could say that.”

Maybe when she was studying psychology she looked up prosecutors of her profession, but that doesn’t entirely account for the haunted look on her face, and the way Apollo feels just that much colder, too.

“I still wish I had gotten to try on the Amazing Nine-Tails’ mask,” Athena says. “I want to see what kind of magic powers it gives you!”

“That’s probably just a story,” Apollo says. Probably. “And you shouldn’t go around sticking your head in the evidence, anyway.”

The breeze has a bite to it and the shadows are long by the time they make it back to the office. Their investigation found them plenty more clues, none of which piece together, and more testimony leading to dead ends. The manor caretaker, Filch, is lying about something; the mayor’s aide, L’Belle, is lying about even more, brimming with red and an apparent preoccupation with Tenma Taro; and the mayor himself tried to lie and pretend he wasn’t being blackmailed into pushing for the municipal merger. And Apollo doesn’t have Trucy, Ema, and Klavier to count on. He has Athena to count on, as much as he can when she is stepping behind the bench as a barred lawyer for the first time, and they have whatever the hell is happening on the prosecution’s side to battle against.

“I bet Fulbright took it away so that he can get magic powers from it,” Athena says.

“I bet Fulbright took it because he’s the detective in charge of the scene and it might have something to do with the murder.”

“Apollo,” Athena says with a whine. “You are no fun.”

“I’m not supposed to be fun! We’re supposed to be solving a crime!”

She and Trucy would enjoy working together. The trouble is whether anyone would actually get defended without someone to keep them pointed at the goal.

The office door is unlocked as always, but the lights are on and Phoenix, in jeans and a t-shirt and no shoes, is lying upside-down with his legs hooked over the back of the couch and his head hanging off the side, on the phone. Apparently he has given up all concerns on making a good first couple impressions on Athena as her boss in a formal capacity. This doesn’t surprise Apollo. That he complains about having back pain and then continues to sit like this doesn’t surprise Apollo either.

“Yeah,” Phoenix says, his eyes turning toward the two of them and then back to the ceiling. “I know, but you know I’m very good at keeping secrets. Which – no, that’s not my pitch to get security clearance, that’s my pitch for you to just tell me even though I don’t have clearance t—” He sits up slowly, laboriously, and saying nothing, obviously being chewed out by whoever is on the other end of the line. “I know, I know. I get it. I’m just telling you that solving a cold case where I’m not allowed to know much more than the defendant’s name is not going to be a cakewalk.” Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he adds, “But the kids are back and don’t look happy, so I think I should deal with that first. – Uh-huh, yeah. We’ll see. Talk to you tomorrow.”

The phone cracks against the coffee table when he tosses it down. Athena winces. “Hey, Apollo,” Phoenix says lightly. “Athena. I finally caught a cab and got your luggage home.”

“I, uh.” She stands with her shoulders slumped for barely a moment before she pops back up, hands on her hips. “Sorry? Sorry that I can’t lie and say I’m sorry for leaving because I’m not. I’ve never gotten to help with an investigation before, and I got to see a crime scene with all the blood” – why does she sound excited about that? – “and everything!”

“Yeah, I won’t begrudge you that.” Is that sarcastic, or bitter, or does he actually mean it? Apollo can’t tell, still can’t read the man unless he lets him, and right now, Phoenix isn’t letting him through. “Good to get field experience. How’s the case coming?”

“You guessed right,” Apollo says. “Unhappily. If our client isn’t the killer, a giant bird yokai might be, and I have no idea how we are going to indict that.”

“Have you actually seen that yokai, or just some apparent evidence of yokai?” Phoenix asks. Athena taps her necklace and it projects a holographic screen with her crime scene scan. She points out the feathers and bloody footprints with real enthusiasm. Phoenix sits forward, a deep frown sending creases up his forehead. “So it might be a yokai, and it might be someone trying to trick you into thinking it’s a yokai.”

“That’s what the detective believes,” Apollo says. “That monsters aren’t real.”

“There’s also this photograph!” Athena says, shoving the newspaper under Phoenix’s nose, through the projected screen. “Someone saw it flying!”

“Did either of you see that?” he asks, accepting it from her and quickly scanning the front page. “Or anything yokai-like?”

“Trucy’s friend Jinxie who found the body said she saw it fleeing the room,” Apollo says. “And she and Trucy and I all saw -- I think it was probably a person in a Tenma Taro costume? Way back before the murder, during the festival. The village people say that it can steal your soul if it looks you in the eye.”

“That’s bullshit,” Phoenix says, holding up one finger. “I obviously don’t know much about souls” – the frown has returned to his face, his tired eyes turning up to Apollo – “but I’m pretty damn sure it’s not that easy.”

“I’d hoped as much,” Apollo says. Athena now has her head cocked, like an owl trying to listen intently for its prey, the entire year that she hasn’t been around. “Have you ever been to Nine-Tails Vale, Mr Wright? Have you ever seen a yokai?”

“I’ve gone up a few times with Trucy.” He opens up the newspaper but turns it over again too fast to have actually read anything. “Wanted to make sure it was safe for her and Jinxie to be hanging around there, so I’ve looked around and never seen anything – maybe they’re on a different wavelength than fae things.” He grins and his eyes flash blue. “Or maybe they’re just the stories that my grandparents leveraged to threaten me into going to bed.” Athena laughs and Phoenix raises an eyebrow. “No? Neither of you had that experience?”

Athena shrugs. Apollo shakes his head. (Dhurke didn’t need to use boogeymen to keep Apollo and Nahyuta in line. The regime’s very real soldiers were more than enough of a danger to keep them close. Datz was the one with outlandish stories, but those never had a moral or purpose, and Nahyuta liked them because there was absolutely no way he could see what was coming next.)

“So we’re still where we started, not knowing what’s real and what isn’t,” Apollo says. What must Athena think, them talking so seriously about yokai? And Apollo had tried to tell her earlier this afternoon that he didn’t believe Tenma Taro is the killer. “Couldn’t some of the yokai be fae creatures? There’s—” He remembers, a bolt from the blue, one of the puzzles that Trucy dumped on his head with no forewarning. “Like, kitsunes. Isn’t that—”

Phoenix sighs for a very long time. “Yeah. If we try to create taxonomic classifications we’re gonna be here all night. Words don’t actually mean anything, and in my head I put them more on the fae side, shapeshifters of any sort, even kitsunes and tanuki and—”

“Tanuki!” Athena grabs Apollo’s arm. “That’s it, Apollo! The caretaker, Mr Filch – he looks like a tanuki, and in the Fox Chamber there were those statues—” She releases him to turn Widget’s projection of the scene toward the door, the statues, one broken, flanking both sides. “That’s got to mean something! I’ve put it together! I’m connecting the dots!”

“I don’t think you are,” Apollo says.

“I’m connecting them!”

“Hey.” Phoenix shrugs. “Shooting in the dark sometimes gets me somewhere. Don’t bank on it, but you never know.” Standing, he puts his back to them and heads for a bookshelf. “You’ve got some evidence and witness testimony, at least?”

“And no idea how it fits together,” Apollo says, and then, with Athena looking at him and Phoenix here with them, it feels like an admission of failure, a plea for help that he doesn’t need, because he’s pulled it together with only vague advice from Phoenix before. “So same as ever.”

“Oh,” Athena says. “So this is how cases are supposed to go?”

“Maybe not ‘supposed to’,” Apollo says, “but it’s how it always ends up being.”

“If yokai are anything,” Phoenix says, still focused on the bookshelf, pulling one book down, “they’re other strange things that got tossed out of the Court and fell through the cracks.”

Apollo doesn’t know why he thought Phoenix was actually listening to him. It’s a step forward and then two steps diagonally back any time he feels like Phoenix is anything of a mentor or a guide or someone to lean on.

“Exile’s a common enough fae punishment; over the centuries there’s probably been plenty of things that can’t go back to the Twilight Realm but never start to blend in here.”

“Centuries?” Athena repeats. “How long do the fae live? And wait, what’s the Twilight Realm? Do you—” She turns to Apollo. “Do you know what he’s talking about? You’ve been over all this?”

“There’s been some cases where it’s come up,” Phoenix says.

“And he always tells me after the fact,” Apollo adds.

Phoenix doesn’t acknowledge that statement, but he doesn’t try and object to it, either. Athena’s frown is deepening. Apollo doesn’t like this look on her face, the one where she looks like she’s staring straight down into his heart and is disappointed to find out how rocky his relationship with Phoenix actually is. She should get used to that feeling of disappointment that happens around him.

“Twilight Realm is – Faeryland, you’d call it,” Phoenix says. “And I’m not actually sure about their lifespans. I don’t know if they know. Usually they just cut each other down in their prime in power struggles.”

Athena’s entire posture collapses, her hands sliding off her hips and her shoulders slumping. “Oh,” she says. “That’s very sad.” And she’s blinking rapidly, like to stave off tears, and already Apollo has noticed – how could he not? – that she wears her entire heart on her sleeve, ready to show almost every emotion almost all at once.

“I suppose,” Phoenix says. He looks back at them over his hunched shoulders, something sheepish blinking across his face, like he’s never considered that angle. When he turns, he has a book open across one palm. “Mia and her mother wrote a lot of things down,” he says, a statement out of nowhere that maybe, if Apollo is lucky, will tie back to something they were talking about. “Tried to keep track of lots of things, denizens of the Court and exiles and all. Most of it gives me migraines if I look at it, but Mia made some notes in the margins and one of the things I thought I remembered – which I was right—” He squints down at the pages and then raises it toward his face. “Fuck, do I need glasses?”

Athena’s lips are pursed, her cheeks puffed out, a grin and a laugh swallowed.

“Some of the weirdest little things that get thrown out of the Court don’t land properly. They aren’t as humanoid as the true fae, they can’t marry in with humans and fade away – they can’t ever fully physically be here. Not quite corporeal, blinking in and out. And—” Again, he raises the book back to his nose. “And definitely would avoid someone like me who’s rubbed elbows with all seven of the fae royals from the past two generations.”

“She scribbled all that in the margins for you?” Athena asks. “That was nice.”

Phoenix laughs. “Not all of it,” he says. “We talked – a lot, about everything, in the early days.” The sad, wistful look in his eyes is one Apollo has seen a few times before. It’s the softest he ever looks. “Most of that was part of it, but I needed to jog my memory again with any little thing.”

“Oh, yeah,” Athena says. “Of course. Makes perfect sense – that’s psychology.” Phoenix chuckles, but like the wheel of her emotions that she’s already displayed, Athena moves past the cheer of having an answer and getting to name-drop her favorite subject, and once again turns up sadness. “I can’t imagine, though. Losing your home and then just being stuck, just, lingering, and you’re trapped in between and don’t have anywhere to belong.”

“Are you tearing up again?” Apollo asks.

“I wish there was a way to help,” she continues, wiping her eyes, but not quickly enough. “You know? Like even if they’re monsters – were they always? I’d probably be grumpy too if that happened to me.”

Psychoanalysis of yokai is not where Apollo thought this day would end up.

“One challenge at a time, Athena,” Phoenix says. He sets the book down on the bookshelf but doesn’t slot it back into place. “I know you became a lawyer to save people – exactly what you said, that if being a defense attorney was a way to help people, and your ability could help with that, then you knew you had to.” Even while deflating a little at his first comment, a grin starts to spread across her face, and there’s something almost like envy curling tight in Apollo’s chest, that there was something more than a blessing on her eye that drew him to her, that he remembers this about her, cares to remember. “But that doesn’t have to be everyone and everything, all at once. Damian Tenma is your client. Don’t worry about the yokai beyond what ones might have been involved in the case.”

Athena nods, her chin jutting out. “Tomorrow, Mr Tenma,” she says. “And the next day, everyone else!”

Phoenix closes his eyes and his eyebrows raise like he’s trying to roll his eyes behind the lids. “It’s a start,” he says.

#roddy fanfics #fae au tag #fic: the witches of los angeles

5 notes · View notes

latinegro · 5 years

Text

Sketchy

I am a brilliant asshole and not in a good way. I’m always putting myself in a situation that sounds great at first, but as it happens, it’s not so great at all.

I put the pencil on the paper and I begin to outline the basic layout of my model. Myra is laying on the couch in front of me. It’s old couch too, she’s probably the best thing that has happened on that couch in years.

She posed herself in a particular way so that the contours of her curves can be accentuated. I nervously erase the first mistake I make. It’s been a very long time since I’ve drawn a nude model. I’m acting like I’ve never sketched a naked woman before, it’s really not that hard. But, this is absolutely the first time I’ve drawn a woman that I’m acquainted with. It doesn’t help that I find her to be one of the sexiest women I know.

I can feel my heart racing because I know what I’m doing is wrong. I know that I shouldn’t be doing this but an opportunity presented itself and I had to take it. It does sound selfish but in a way, it really isn’t. First of all, the artist in me will not allow me to call this whole thing off. Secondly, I try to tell myself that she’s not a hot woman that I have been attracted to for a while but rather a future portrait for a client. I take a few deep breaths so I can maintain my concentration. Nervousness will only lead to a shaky hand and that’s not good for any sketch.

But, of course, I had to open my big mouth. I’m a writer at heart and by trade. I can describe what she looks like the best way I can use words and adjectives not with this damn pencil that I’m pretending was my hand going down those beautiful thick brown legs of hers. The thing is, I used to draw fairly regularly. I was one of those kids that would be so annoyingly good at drawing anything that I felt I didn’t need those pretentious art classes. I could freehand any comic book cover I see. I could draw anything or anyone if they were standing in front of me. My only weakness was I could never draw anything as I good as I wanted to from memory. My measurements were always wrong, at least that was what I was told.

At the end of the day it wasn’t big deal to me because no matter how good I was at drawing, my heart wasn’t in it. I didn’t love it like other people love it and that’s probably why I didn’t take it as seriously. I felt much more at ease using words to describe anything. I can perfectly describe how beautiful Myra is. She’s like a brown-skinned Athena from Themyscira that Wonder Woman would never talk about. Myra is the reason some would believe that God exists. When scientists talk about how we’re all made from stardust, they had Myra in mind.

I need to focus.

I have the basic shell of her body that fits perfectly on my old couch that should seat three people comfortably. Her black curly hair may be a problem for me. Myra chooses to wear it natural which makes her even more attractive but if I don’t shade it correctly this whole drawing would look like a caricature. But, alas, her big brown eyes look past me. She stares off into space truly hoping that I’m capturing this moment and indeed I am catching this very moment of her looking past me. I will consider that to be my fault. I may be good with writing words but actually speaking them to women is another thing entirely.

I met Myra first but I lacked the basic courage to kick it to her. We ended up being a little less than friends but more than just passing acquaintances. Of course, when Jules met her it was all downhill from there. I was always happy for them but mad at myself. Jules is a decent guy and when they first got together, all they did was fuck. Yes, I know that is normal because if it were me, I would hope that she would break me every damn day.

Another mistake. I may need a better eraser.

I get up and she asks, “Everything OK?”

“Sure, I just have to get another eraser,” I answer. She shrugs her bare shoulders as I walk to the desk and open the drawer. Jules is the real artist in all this. He’s one half of the team behind the independent Black comic book, The Insiders. We met at the NY Comic Con years ago and Jules and I became fast friends. Through the years we created our own comic book universe that has a plethora of characters. The excitement for this project is palpable because we’re building something important. In our universe, there are no meaningless black characters created for the sole purpose of being sidekicks. Together we’ve molded superheroes that matter; superheroes that look like us. There is a true meaning behind every page and we’re ready to take the industry by storm.

Jules has tons of different art supplies in this desk that it’s hard to keep track of all of it. But, at least I know where the erasers are. He stores most of his art supplies in my apartment since it has become our default workspace. It’s just easier this way since both of our day jobs make it hard to be the creators we are. We need a place to work and bounce our ideas off of each other. I pick one a small eraser and close the drawer. Before I walk away from the desk, my eyes focus on one of the sketches he was working on from issue #3. One thing about working with friends is, at times, it’s hard to come to a real agreement on the philosophy of a particular story. I really don’t think that the splash on page 11 is necessary but clearly, he’s working on it anyway.

I walk back to my chair and I smile at Myra before I sit down. I grab my pad and I keep going. My eyes scan slowly scan her from left to right. She’s laying on her right side with her right arm holding up her head and her left arm resting on her hip. Her breasts are a perfect size. They don’t sag at all and her tummy is a result of a lot of gym work. No visible stretch marks and no tattoos. This makes this sketch easier than what I originally anticipated.

I draw carefully. My pencil tries to mimic everything that my eyes absorb. I cannot believe that Julius’ wife is laying on this couch modeling for me. She wants this to be a present for him on their upcoming anniversary. Has it been two years already? It must be. That’s was around the time we decided to build this whole comic book company together. He’s the artist and I’m the writer. Now, look at me, doing a sketch that I may be getting more pleasure from than she is. Granted, this probably a bad idea, but how can I deny her this. I tried to convince her that perhaps it would be a better idea to dress up as a sexy gender bender of Grand Admiral Thrawn and I would make sure to get the colors right. She denied that, but I can, at least, convince myself that I tried to get her to wear the most clothes as possible.

I scan her navel trying to make sure that I can get the correct dimensions and diameter of the belly button ring. It looks like a small little pendant that sparkles from the light coming from the ceiling fan above. I scan further past her navel toward her vagina. Her legs are slightly crossed with her left leg slightly bent downward covering her right. It casts a shadow from the light.

My pencil breaks. Shit, was I pressing down that hard? She chuckles, “Having trouble?”

“Not at all,” I reply as I grab the extra pencil next to me. I want to try to be as emotionless as possible. Mentally I’m shaking my head. How did you get into this Zander? I will tell you how; I was cocky. I thought that I could talk enough shit in hopes to just flirt a little and now... my partner’s wife is my living room, nude.

Did I mention I was a brilliant asshole and not in a good way?

I remember staying over their townhouse in Brooklyn one night and while I have wondered what is that she does that allows her to own such a place, that was the night I got a glance of how skillful she was.

It was a late night of partying and they offered me a room to crash. I was so drunk that night that I just passed out as soon as I hit the bed. It must of been an hour or two later when I really had to use the bathroom. I got up and there was a long hallway that I had to navigate despite my lightheadedness. As I begin to walk down the general direction of what I thought was the bathroom, I hear noises. I slowly passed the room where it coming from and that is when I catch a glimpse of her reverse cowgirl riding Jules in a way that made me realize that twerking needs to a sport. I tried not to voyeur too long and thank God I had to piss, but all I remember was my heart beating so much that I felt it in my dick.

I need to continue on her legs and feet. I really do hate drawing feet. I can never get the right angle. I need to take my time and make sure the curvatures are correct. Shadowing will also be a problem. The lighting is pretty decent in here but I will need to at least need to define her curves with some type of shadow.

I can’t even imagine actually inking this. The good thing is that I can scan this into the computer and work on all the coloring there. I assume she wants it colored. Actually, I never asked. “Did you want this sketch in color?” I do my best to look at her eyes when I converse with her.

“Hm, You know, I think that would be a nice touch. Sure, if you can do it. But I will take one in black and white, just in case,” Myra chuckles a bit. I think she knows that coloring may be a tad difficult for me. Not only do I have to make sure that I color inside the lines, but how do I get her exact skin tone?

Then it hits me. I put the pencil down and I look at her. “So, I have an idea and it’s totally ok if you’re not willing to do it.”

“What would that be?”

I’m nervous to even suggest it. “You know what? Never mind. It’s a dumb idea. I don’t even know why I would even think of such a thing.”

“Just tell me.”

I take a deep breath, “Ok so, I want to get the shade of color just right and once I scan this in into the laptop I will need to..”

Myra laughs, “Zander, just spit it out.”

“I need to take a picture of you so that I can match your skin tone with the RGB color code.” I look down at my unfinished sketch as soon as I said it.

“You sly little devil!” Myra sits up and looks at me with a surprised look on her face as if she caught me red handed.

“What do you mean?” I ask

“Why the fuck you lyin?” She asks in a sing-songy manner. “You just want a nude picture of me!” I honestly can’t tell if she’s being serious or not, but she’s absolutely telling the truth. See how much of a brilliant bastard I am? This is how I get myself into trouble and once again I feel my heart coming through my dick.

“I mean, I would delete it as soon as I got the color correct.” Which is a lie.

“I don’t know about that. In all honesty, you can just take pictures of me with my clothes on and then screen-grab the color.” She was totally right about that. I hadn’t thought about it. Then she continues, “The reason why I am asking you to do this sketch is because I do trust you. That is why I never said anything to Jules when I saw you peeping into our room that night.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask nervously. I was never sure if she actually saw me and I assumed that since no one said anything that perhaps we were all just drunk. Of course, I cannot forget that after I went to the bathroom I returned to continue my voyeurism. Shit.

Myra gives me a smirk, “Please, do not insult my intelligence. I know you’ve seen me naked before and I am quite comfortable with my body. So I will save you more embarrassment by saying that I do want this drawing to come out correctly. So I will allow you to take a picture but I want you to delete the picture in front of me.”

I pull out my iPhone from my pocket and ask her to return to her original pose. Myra is right about this but I don’t care right now. Even if I delete all the photos from my device and the cloud, I will still have her body burned into my brain. If not, there is always the original copy of this sketch… for portfolio purposes of course. I take a few pictures with and without the flash.

Myra smiles and asks, “How many photos do you plan on taking?” I want to explain lighting and such but then she cuts me off, “I hope you have enough space on the cloud for all of these.”

I freeze, “Um…”

“I am not stupid, Zander. I fully expect you to find a way to try to keep pictures of me. Just know that…”

Bang. Bang.

We both look up. There’s a knock on the door. I look at Myra as she gets up quickly and covers herself with a robe I gave her.

“Who is it?” I ask cautiously.

“It’s Jules. Dude, let me in. We need to talk…about everything.”

Shit. I put my face in my palm. This could be four years and three issues down the drain.

#smut

2 notes · View notes

haeroniel-doliet · 3 years

Text

Hnghhh why does it require e f f o r t and p a t i e n c e and p r a c t i c e to get good at art????? I need to be good immediately and things i want to see appear at a snap of my fingers.......

Read more for what became an accidental full rant about why ive yet to post anything besides that one thing idkkkk

Aka im TRYING to be good and practice little by little but its BORING and difficult to not get immediate reward.... Also because for whatever reason i really dont wanna watch tutorials so im tryna be all self taught kinda and im OBVIOUSLY making a lot of mistakes like its part of the process but its FRUSTRATING

Basically im on my 6th??? Idk restart attempt at the same fennec portrait and its. Okay. Its at a point where im like nice as long as i suffer over the details here itll be decent ish. Probably.

But its not REWARDING.....

I know i want to do screencaps and character and face studies to get to the point of good art i wish i could be but .... I also just wanna draw like fun fic scenes and silly doodles of characters like some of the cool artists i follow do but i CANT because im not GOOD ENOUGH yet. ;(((((((

Yea i could post sketches or whatver i manage in a night but like who the fuck wants to follow that? Nah... I just idk. I DONT KNOW i dont know what my art goals are (i do, but DO I??)

My brain also obviously doesnt work very well visually which is GREAT so like, any original work its a lot like 'i'll know its right when i see it' but getting next to no other direction and you just gotta be like right. Okay uhhh my anatomy skills are stunted from when i was like 16?? Perspective?? Detail?? WHATS THE COLOR SCHEME

Never mind that i just... Dont understand the program or brushes that well idk why. Krita should be good and im too stressed to experiment different softwares.... BLEGH

i just. Part of me aches to go back to traditional for a bit but i just, dont have the means to make the scale of work i want ro produce with traditional materials yknow?? Maybe i should try just sketching scanning and then lining on computer again idk. At least for some of these face things.

Ok so my GOAL is to always have a very recognizable face. Like. I guess i cant hold myself to photorealism standards because hahahhah id die! But like, i want the face to be looked at and go ah yes! Its that guy! That actress! My friend! Me! Whoever! But like, recognizable. Because i know i CAN thats what i do! Thats all ive been good at !!!!

And like yeah i could hone that, yknow? Work on face studies and mini portraits of all my favourite actors and scenes and shit. Cool right?? Yeahh that could be sickaroni macaroni. People like faces they can recognize and good refined work. I can do that

But i want to be MORE

Id love love love to make like. Scenic paintings. Concept art level atmosphere and color and light and presence and as tory telling yknow?? Id like to substitute the literally colorless fog inside my head into vivid scenes. Id like to try and take the fics that in my head are set in ??? Space with some movement here and there and just idk emotions? Into fleshed out SCENES with backdrops and accurate anatomy and WEIGHT and like, everything incredible that i admire in true art.

But thats hard, yknow? I havent really ever done backgrounds and what i have have been so flat. I dont KNOW how to do that (here i would be willing to have a teacher i think but. Im tired. I cant even seek out a short term therapist for myself how am i gonna find the kind of teacher i want?? Because of course i want them to teach me how to achieve whata inside my dreams and not what they know how to do ykno)

Yeah so i want to try and paint screencaps in the meantime. See if i cant struggle my way to fit this putty of skill into a square box. Like i think i can paint. Digitally? Somewhat idk?? Maybe if i just. Keep trying itll work out?? Start with simpler ones and build up to complexity??

But also. If im juat trying to get myself to love art again, why am i trying to throw myself in the deep end of struggling with something im not good at?? Shouldnt i be just refining what i already know? Like. A character! Standing. Maybe in a cooler pose if going crazy. Refining basic anatomy. How does fabric work? How does hair work? Can i make expressions seem realistic?

Next step, could i make a picture of someone without direct reference?? Like. Could i draw maybe a wee dinluke holding eachother or whatever and like. Just. Do it?? Without doing a version of photoshopping two pics of the actors through art together. Idk.

Also NONE of this makes sense to anyone outside my head and im SORRY

Like i dont even have a resolution at the end here!!! Im just FRUSTRATED!!!

I wanna draw, i wanna have results and success and rewarding experiences. But i also want ro challenge myself and do super complex shit and like really push myself to learn impressive difficult shit and be proud of down the line.

Im so tired. I cant even feel ok drawing without having someone on call with me to alleviate the immense pressure of frustration and anxiety and stress and struggle!!

I just. Wanna enjoy it

Okay fine i need to find a show or smth to 'watch'

And tomorrow? I might whip out a sketchbook thats been last used 8 years ago and. Ignore everything in it hahhaha its bad

But no im gonna. Im gonna draw scenes. With minimal reference

I might make a face collage i definitely wanna for pascal and mar camel

But im gonna put PENCIL to PAPER and get to the roots of MY HAND CAN DRAW just give her a chance, and get your brain outta the game.

Ok so fuck me this rant has to end here or ill never stop

If you read this (i dont expect ANYONE to have) send me like a message or whatever lol imma need to ask if youre ok <3

#art woes #ended up being way too long OOPS #im just really TIRED and FRUSTRATED #take a peek in my brain #bless this mess or whatever

0 notes

eliehasmoved · 6 years

Text

just too good to be true [1/7] - teen wolf/thiam

Pairing/Characters: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken, Corey Bryant/Mason Hewitt, past Liam Dunbar/Hayden Romero, Tracy Stewart, Brett Talbot Word Count: 7186 Rating/Warning(s): Teen. Swearing and smoking. Summary: Liam has the worst luck when it comes to girls. Things just keep crashing and burning. Mason tries to convince him that maybe it’s time to come out, to date a guy instead, but his best friend won’t hear it. So he and Corey decide to find him the ultimate date, someone who’s exactly his type—snarky, tendency to punch people, and tough enough to put up with their volatile friend. Bad boy Theo Raeken is the perfect fit, despite his murky past and caustic personality. And the fact that he won’t do it for free. What could go wrong? One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || AO3 Movie AU Fest Day 1 - Romance/Comedy: 10 Things I Hate About You

“Liam,” Mason says, exasperated.

Liam blinks, dragging himself from his thoughts and back to the present. His character’s just been shot in the head and is lying at the base of the hill in a heap. He winces. “Sorry.”

The other team traipses past his body, and promptly closes in on Mason’s character, cornering him behind a rusted car and executing him. The screen fades to black, and GAME OVER flashes brightly on the screen before them a moment later. Mason sighs.

“Man, that’s the third time you’ve spaced out,” he says. He returns them to the menu, hovering over FIND MATCH, before ultimately deciding against it and setting the controller on the floor. He levels a concern look at his best friend. “What’s up with you tonight?”

“I’m just out of it, I guess,” Liam shrugs. There’s really no guesswork involved, really. He feels like shit, and he has for weeks. The Cyclones have been doing great and are three games away from Championships, his grades are decent, and he’s heard back from all three colleges he applied to. By all means, he should be happy.

But there’s this ache in his chest that’s anything but.

The discomfort must be obvious on his face. He can see the way Mason’s brows knit together in a frown, and he knows the words are coming before he’s even opened his mouth.

“Is this about Hayden?”

Liam groans, leaning his head back and thumping it against his mattress. “Girls suck.” Corey snorts, loudly. Liam can just barely see him from where he’s sitting at the head of the bed, nose tucked into a book. “What? They do! Or maybe I’m just cursed.”

Dating is absolutely the worst social custom known to man. He has no idea who came up with it or why, but he wishes he could travel back in time to punch them in the face. Repeatedly. He’s sure it’d be therapeutic at this point. Because dating? It’s just not working out for him.

Corey’s eyes flick up to meet his, and one brow raises. “It’s been three weeks,” the other boy says, unimpressed. “You should probably stop moping.”

Liam frowns at him. “I dated her for almost a year!”

“And you dated Malia for like, three months, then you moped for another two,” Mason points, and the miserable boy shoots him a glare. Are they really ganging up on him about his spectacularly awful love life? “And before that—”

“You saw Kira for maybe two weeks. And kissed her once.” Liam doesn’t dare look up, he can hear the smug grin in Corey’s voice.

“What’s your point?” He crosses his arms with a huff. “Because you’re just making mine: girls suck.”

He watches Mason exchange a glance with Corey over his foot board, before the look on his face turns sympathetic in a way that sets off warning bells. Liam knows that look. He’s seen it before, many many times. Usually when he’s done something stupid, or Mason’s explaining something to him that he should probably get by now. Or the rare times where Mason tries to convince him—

Uh oh.

His best friend smiles softly. “Maybe it’s time you stop kidding yourself with the whole straight thing, Li.”

Liam hunches his shoulders, scowling. “Mason.”

The other boy shrugs, the picture of innocence. “I’m just saying, this hasn’t been working out for you. And we’re kind of tired of seeing you get your heart broken.”

“So we were thinking, if you were to step outside your comfort zone…”

Liam shakes his head. “Not happening.”

“Liam,” Mason says, and it’s so patient that something twists uncomfortably in his chest. His best friend reaches out, placing a hand over his. “You’ve been hiding half of yourself all of high school, man. And I get it, okay? I do.”

“You don’t,” Liam interrupts, shaking his head. He lets out a hollow laugh, and nearly pulls his hand away. How many times have they had this same argument? “Your parents were happy for you when you came out. Your mom bought you a car like it was your fucking birthday, or something.”

Mason’s lips pull into a thin smile. “It wasn’t that easy, you know.”

“For either of us,” Corey adds, and Liam’s brain helpfully supplies a memory of the quieter boy sleeping in the guest room at the Hewitts for a week after he’d told his parents they’d started dating last year. They’d settled things in time, but it’s still a raw wound for the guy.

He sighs. “I know. I’m sorry. I just—You know my parents. Between my dad and the lacrosse team, I...I can’t. I want to, really. I do. But I just can’t.” He busies himself with picking at a loose strand of carpet, voice lowering. “I haven’t even told them Hayden and I broke up yet.”

Mason’s shoulders deflate a little. “Yeah, we know.” He breathes out slowly, almost sadly, then picks up his controller, offering Liam a reassuring smile. “You wanna play another?”

Relief washes over him at the change in subject, the tightness in his chest melting away in the face of his best friend’s warmth. He grins, hands reaching for his discarded remote. “Definitely! And I promise to pull my weight this time.”

He settles back against his bed, gaze settling on the screen as Mason snorts, pressing the button to get them started. He’s so focused on the game starting and getting a jump on the other team, he misses the way the other two boys exchange looks again, this time far more determinedly.

“You really think this is going to work?” Corey asks. He makes a face, pushing his food around his tray. It’s Monday, which means mystery meat is on the menu.

Mason chances a look over his shoulder to see where Liam’s at in line, then turns back, grinning at his boyfriend. “Definitely! It’s no use us telling him it’s time to date a guy. He’ll think we’re biased. He needs to hear it from someone interested in him.”

He props open his lunch box, sliding out a large sub and two apples. One goes to Corey, and once he’s pulled apart the sandwich, two thirds of it follows. Mason takes a bite of his piece, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Oka’ tho,” he says, and Corey makes a face at him. He pauses, taking the time to swallow before he keeps going. “Okay, so, we need someone he’ll be interested in. Someone his type, who’ll help break him out of his shell.”

“Right,” Corey nods, biting into his sandwich and sighing happily. He loves the Hewitts’ tuna sandwiches. Or, well, their cook’s anyway. “Boxes to tick off?”

“Well, for starters,” Mason hums, holding up a finger to start counting, “he has to be hot. I’m not setting my best friend up with just anyone.”

“Mhm.”

“Also, most importantly, it needs to be someone who can handle Liam’s… difficult personality.”

“Mhmm.”

“They’ll have to keep him on his toes, obviously. So a quick wit, or a sense of humour would help. Oh! And so far all his girlfriends have sort of had this thing about punching him in the face as a meet-cute?”

“Violent tendencies,” Corey adds, shuddering as he remembers Malia.

“Equally volatile personality,” Mason corrects him, tone bright and chipper. He waggles his four fingers in the air for emphasis.

“I feel like that shouldn’t be a box.” The hungry teen stuffs the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth. He swallows it down in seconds, reaching for the apple while Mason stares, open-mouthed.

“Where do you put it, honestly?” Corey just shrugs at him, and he shakes his head affectionately before checking to see Liam’s progress. His meeting with Coach had gone on just long enough that he’d joined them right when the line was busiest. “Anyway. Got any ideas where to start?”

His boyfriend devours a chunk of apple, then nods his head at someone over Mason’s right shoulder. “What about him?”

Mason glances behind him, scanning the cafeteria. He doesn’t really need to, as he knows who Corey’s talking about the second he spots him, sitting at the very back. His black t-shirt hugs his broad shoulders tightly, and there’s a cigarette tucked behind his pierced ear. His feet are propped up on the table, large black combat boots sitting dangerously close to Tracy Stewart’s lunch tray. Leaning off-kilter in his chair, he’s flicking peas across the table at Josh Diaz, who’s attempting to catch them in his mouth.

Mason spins back so fast his neck protests the attempted whiplash with a painful twinge. “Theo Raeken? Really, babe?” He hisses, lowering his voice. “You know he’s a criminal, right?”

“So they say,” Corey shrugs. “We don’t actually know what happened last year.”

Mason looks unimpressed. “They say he lit a deputy on fire.”

“Parrish looked fine at assembly last month.”

“They also say he tried to poison Tracy—and electrocuted Josh. And this was before he dropped out of school!”

Corey’s gaze slides past Mason, and when it returns, it’s his turn to look unperturbed. “Yet they’ve hung out with him all year since he’s been back. So, probably just rumors.”

“You haven’t,” Mason points out, but even that doesn’t faze him.

His boyfriend just shrugs. “You know I stopped hanging out with him sophomore year.”

“Yeah, because he was a bad influence!” He cries, throwing his hands up. Two girls at the table to their left shoot him a nasty look, and he frowns at them before returning his attention to Corey. “You’re not really selling him here.”

“Okay, forget his reputation for a minute. He’s hot,” Corey says, holding up a finger. “He’s an asshole, so not only can he put up with our tinier asshole, but he’s sarcastic and sort of thinks he’s funny. Also, he’ll pick a fight with literally anyone.” He’s holding up all four fingers Mason had earlier.

“I thought you said that shouldn’t be a box,” he frowns, but he can already feel his resolve crumbling.

“You listed it, not me.”

Mason rolls his eyes, then turns to sneak another look at their intended target. Theo’s feet are still up, but he’s no longer throwing food. Instead, his arms are folded behind his head as he leans back in his chair, perched precariously on two legs, and he’s smirking as he watches Tracy and Josh argue about something.

“How do we even know if he’s interested?” Mason asks, brows knitting together thoughtfully. “In guys, I mean.”

“Oh, he’s interested,” Corey says weakly, and it’s the tone that makes his boyfriend whip back around for the second time in as many minutes. It’s embarrassed. The moment he spots the pink creeping across his cheeks, Mason’s mouth drops open.

“Oh my god. You didn’t.”

Corey’s lips press together tightly, then pop as he laughs nervously, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “It was just once. I was still unsure, still questioning. I wanted—I was curious what it’d be like to kiss a guy, and he offered.” His shoulders tuck in tighter, and he folds his hands into a heap on the table in front of him.

“So you’re picking the school bad boy based on the fact that he was your first kiss?” Mason groans, slumping forward. His forehead smacks against the table, and his voice is muffled as he says: “This is a terrible idea. But it’s not the worst idea.”

“That’s because I’m right,” Corey says happily, reaching across the table to hover over Mason’s apple. “Are you going to eat that?”

“Knock yourself out,” he mutters. “I know I want to.”

Mason waits until AP Biology to make the first move, because it’s the only class the four of them have together. He thinks about cornering him after school, because he knows Theo leaves early and he could catch him on the way out, but he also knows he’d prefer to have as many witnesses as possible, just in case he says the wrong thing and he gets murdered.

Thankfully, because it’s Monday, they’re doing a lab. Mrs. Finch always starts the week with a lab, so Mason heads for the back row the moment he steps foot in class. It means that he continues past his boyfriend and best friend as they take up their usual seats. He knows it won’t look entirely suspicious that he’s choosing not to sit with them, because one of them always gets pulled away to pair off with another classmate. Typically it’s Hayden, but, well...

It’s only when he reaches his destination that Liam looks back and shoots Mason a confused look. Which promptly switches outright shock when Theo Raeken slides into his preferred seat, directly to his left. Liam probably thinks he’s gone insane. Mason thinks he’s probably right.

They both sit in complete silence as Finch begins the lesson, instructing them to start by turning on the burners in the middle of the table. When it flares to life between them with a flame that Mason thinks is just a tad too tall, Theo finally speaks.

“So,” he says, skimming a finger through the flame quick enough to avoid being burned without even looking at it. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Hewitt?”

The fact that he’s staring directly at him, unblinking, makes Mason want to pack up and leave. Immediately. Every instinct in his fragile, non-sport playing body is telling him this is a terrible idea. He stomps on all of them, willing a smile to his lips. This is for Liam’s benefit.

“You’re always alone for labs,” Mason tells him as nonchalantly as possible, shrugging. “I figured I’d offer you a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

“We both know I can ace Biology with my eyes closed,” Theo says, and the look he’s wearing can only be described as predatory. His voice drops dangerously low. “So, want to tell me what you’re really doing here?”

Deep breaths, Mason. You got this.

“Sooo,” he says, and curses how stupid he sounds. “You see my friend over there, Liam?”

Theo doesn’t glance over, merely raises a brow. So Mason presses on.

“Well, see, he’s a little down on his luck lately. He went through a rough breakup a little while ago, and he’s been pretty down in the dumps.” Mason fights the urge to wince at every absolutely cliche thing coming out of his mouth, but it just keeps coming, unbidden. “So, my boyfriend and I were thinking, maybe you could, ah—”

The other brow raises, and the corners of his lips tilt upwards slightly. “Help him get lucky?”

Mason chokes, sucks in too much air to recover, and promptly starts coughing. Theo laughs, while the younger boy doubles over, wheezing as he tries to settle himself. By the time he’s done, Mrs. Finch is standing next to their table.

“Everything alright, Mason?” She asks, suspicious gaze flickering between the two boys. Mason nods wordlessly. “Good. Then you should probably start your lab; you’re already behind.”

And with that, she walks off to hover over someone else. Mason glances up, and sees Corey and Liam staring back at him in concern. His boyfriend shoots him a puzzled what are you doing look while his best friend’s looking at him like he might as well have grown another head. Mason smiles back awkwardly, waving.

As for the older boy, it seems he’s already lost his attention—he’s started mixing things together in a beaker. Crap.

“I was thinking,” Mason tries again, scooting his stool closer. He doesn’t miss the way Theo’s shoulders tense. “You could take him out.”

“I think putting the poor bastard out of his misery’s a little extreme, don’t you?”

He knows from the way his upper lip curls that he’s kidding, but Mason still rushes to correct himself. “No! I mean like, on a date.”

Theo swirls the blue liquid in the container with a thin stick, then flicks it dry, placing the beaker on top of the flame. They lick up the sides, absolutely too high for whatever experiment it is they’re running. Mason stares, wide-eyed, and Theo seems to realize this because he’s reaching forward a moment later to turn it down.

He sets a timer on his phone, then turns to face Mason, expression neutral. “So, you want me to date him?”

“Yes,” Mason nods.

“Me?” Theo points at himself for emphasis, then tosses a thumb in Liam’s direction. “And the anger management case?”

“Yes.” He can feel the tick in his jaw as he presses his lips together, trying not to react to the jab at his best friend.

The older boy smirks, and there’s a dangerous twinkle in his eyes. “What’s in it for me?”

Mason blinks. He hadn’t expected that. “What?”

Theo crosses his arms behind his head, leaning back. His foot hooks underneath the bar on Mason’s stool, allowing him to balance on the back legs of his own. “What makes taking Dunbar out on a date worth my time, exactly?”

“He’s a fantastic guy, and you’d be helping him out? Do you need another reason?” He sort of wishes he’d sent Corey to talk to him, because his patience is thinning by the second.

“You’re just not really selling him to me,” Theo shrugs, and he looks incredibly pleased with himself when Mason responds with a scowl. On second thought, it’s probably better he didn’t send Corey. He feels as thought he’d be way too entertained they’d used the same phrase, and he’d simply never live it down.

Mason’s eyes drift towards his boyfriend, and as if he can feel the weight of his gaze, Corey glances over his shoulder a moment later to meet him. He offers him a reassuring grin, and a secretive thumbs up once he’s sure Liam’s not looking. Mason smiles, softly, before his attention is dragged to the far right. To Tracy and Josh’s table. They too, are watching the exchange, but with curious frowns and quiet whispers.

Mason watches as a ten dollar bill slips from one hand to the other, and a small light goes off in his head. He turns back to Theo, grinning ear to ear.

“What if I paid you?”

It wipes the smirk right off the older boy’s face, and he drops forward onto all four stool legs with a thump. “Excuse me?”

“To take him on a date. What if I paid you to do it?” Mason asks. The gears are spinning in his head. This could work.

“You know prostitution illegal, right?” Theo deadpans.

He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “That’s not—I mean—” Theo barks out a laugh, and he stumbles his way through an explanation. “Dates are expensive! When you factor in dinner, movies, popcorn, drinks…”

The smirk returns. “Sounds pretty lowkey. What kind of boring date do you take me for, Hewitt?”

Mason frowns. “That’s what Corey and I do on Thursdays…”

“My point exactly.” The alarm on Theo’s phone goes off, and he moves to take the beaker off the fire, extinguishing it with the flick of a switch. He smiles when he sees that it’s turned green, so Mason assumes he’s done it correctly. Which, given that Theo’s top of this class, he probably has. He clears his throat.

“A hundred dollars.”

Theo freezes with his hand halfway to his phone. He shoots Mason an impressed look, both eyebrows raised again. “Per date?”

“Of course.”

“You sure you’re not pimping out your best friend to me? Using Mommy and Daddy’s money? Because that’s kind of what this sounds like.” The smirk turns shit-eating at this point, and Mason feels the last ounce of his patience with the asshole evaporate. His eyes narrow.

“That’s my final offer. Take it or leave it.”

Theo’s finger swipes the alarm into silence, and then his hand reaches towards Mason in offering. “You’ve got your man.”

They shake on it.

Dunbar’s damn good at lacrosse. Logically, Theo figures he’d have to be, given that the guy’s team captain. From what he’s heard, he blew everybody else out of the water after transferring his sophomore year, and impressed Coach Finstock enough that he made him Scott’s assistant captain, who took a shine to him almost immediately.

Theo ignores the twinge of bitterness the thought produces, trying to focus on the younger boy as he darts between his teammates, weaving in and out. He’s fast, and light on his feet. Given that Theo has very little interest in the sport, and was sort of busy spiralling his junior year, this is actually the first time he’s seen the kid play.

He’s impressed, even if it’s only practice.

By the time the sun’s hanging low on the horizon, the Cyclones are packing up. From his spot halfway up the bleachers, Theo watches as a good portion of them head for the showers, while a few make a direct beeline for the parking lot. Liam, however, stays. Despite the fact that he was the first one on the pitch, he runs his own drills after his team has cleared out. There’s an excited little flutter in his stomach. Kid’s got stamina.

He stands, stretching languidly, then makes his way down the steps.

Theo knows the moment Liam spots him, mid-swing, because his shoulders lock up and his shot doesn’t hit the net with as much force as the ones before. He sees blue eyes flick his way for just a split-second, but then he’s picking up another ball with his stick and whipping it. It hits the net with a loud whump, and Theo smirks.

“Hell of a swing, Dunbar,” he says, crossing his arms and leaning against the post.

“Thanks.” His response is gruff, and he dips to pick up another ball. When he lifts his lacrosse stick again, Liam raises a brow at him. “You sure you wanna stand there?”

Theo shrugs one shoulder. “I trust you.”

“You don’t even know me,” he frowns.

Oh, this is gonna be fun. Theo’s grin turns wolfish, and he pushes off the goalpost, coming to stand in front of Liam. He’s shorter than he expected—the difference isn’t much, but it’s enough for Theo’s head to tilt down slightly. “I’d certainly like to.” His voice comes out husky, and he doesn’t even attempt subtlety as his eyes flicker to the younger boy’s lips.

Liam’s grip tightens on his lacrosse stick, and his eyes widen, bright with surprise. They’re a gorgeous blue. “What?”

“Well, I noticed you had a hard time in Biology this morning. I take it it’s not your strong suit?” Theo licks his lips, taking a half-step forward into Liam’s personal space, watching with satisfaction as his gaze slides down to widen on them, before snapping back up. Theo doesn’t bother giving him time to answer before he breezes on. “I came to offer my services. Thought you might benefit from some private lessons.”

Liam’s gaze narrow slowly, his frown deepening with every second. “Are you...Are you hitting on me?”

The older boy laughs, breathy and light. This close, it ruffles the disheveled bangs on Liam’s forehead. “Glad you noticed, Dunbar,” he winks, leaning closer. He’s only a breath away, now, and he reaches out to tap the lacrosse stick. “So, what do you say? You game for a little one-on-one?”

This time, when Liam’s eyes widen, Theo can see a flash of panic in them. His cheeks flush to match his rapidly reddening ears, and the shorter boy stumbles back. “I don’t—I don’t know what gave you the idea that was interested,” Liam scowls, and the way he says it sounds like he’s implying something else entirely. He stumbles through the rest of the refusal messily, panicked; the pitch of his voice increasing as he steps further away from Theo. “I’m not. That’s—you’re not my—I’m, uh—”

The end of his lacrosse stick catches on the field, and he nearly trips backwards. His voice is shaky as he says, “No, thank you!” And then scurries off the pitch.

Theo is left blinking after him, brows slowly lowering into a frown. What the fuck just happened? Sure, he’d been a little aggressive off the starting line, but that sort of thing nearly always got him what he wanted—who he wanted. He’s hot, and he knows it; knows exactly how to play it to his advantage. Knows how to turn on the charm and sweet-talk his way in, or out, of anything.

Which means that either Dunbar is blind, or…

He catches sight of Mason and Corey hovering in the shadows by the bleachers, and anger bubbles up in his chest. He stomps across the field, and watches the way the couple exchanges slightly panicked looks at his approach. Good. His hands ball into fists at his side.

“So,” Mason starts, making a face, “How’d it go?’

“Spectacularly,” Theo spits, and it’s all venom. Corey reaches out to wrap his fingers around his boyfriend’s wrist, offering support.

“I take it he said no?”

“Oh, he didn’t just say no. He said he wasn’t interested. At all.” Theo’s voice drops dangerously low, and they both huddle together as he steps closer.

“We said he was down on his luck,” Mason points out, mouth quirking up into an awkward smile.

“Yeah, but you sort of failed to mention he wasn’t gay!”

Corey winces. “Mason,” he says patiently, shooting a look at his boyfriend. “What did you tell Theo when you asked for his help?”

“Not enough, clearly,” the older teen growls. “Look, I’m not sure what you two are playing at here, but I want no part in it, okay?”

Mason holds up his hands in defense, palms flat. “I’m sorry,” he pulls a face. “I didn’t tell you that he wasn’t comfortable with his sexuality, because that’s kind of the point of all this.” Mason gestures to all of him, and Theo scowls.

“Excuse me?”

The boy closes his eyes and sighs, heavily. When he opens them, he looks far more determined. Like maybe he’s grown a backbone in the last six seconds. “Every one of Liam’s relationships has crashed and burned in the last two years. And they’ve been with girls that have fit a pretty specific type. And so, since I’ve been trying to get him to come out for years, I thought finding him a guy that fit that type that was also hot—”

Theo glowers despite the compliment. “I’m not forcing myself on your friend just because you think it’s time he came out. If he’s not ready, that’s his decision—not yours.”

“He’s ready, trust me,” Mason says. “He’s just afraid of what his dad will think.”

“And the lacrosse team,” Corey adds.

“Aren’t you on the lacrosse team?” Theo frowns, looking at the uniform the boy’s wearing.

“Yeah, but I fly under the radar,” he shrugs. “People don’t really tend to notice me.”

Theo opens his mouth to tell them that they’re both idiots, but Mason gets there first. “Look,” the boy starts, taking a deep breath. “I get that this makes things a little more complicated.” Theo snorts, but stays silent. “But I get the feeling you’re the kind of guy that likes a challenge.”

He could say no. He could walk away right now, and be done with this whole ridiculous plan of theirs. It could easily blow up in all their faces, and Theo knows full well he’d take the blame. Taking the next step in this dance would be stupid. But he thinks of the way Liam’s eyes had looked at him, so blue and so bright under the field lights; the way they’d flickered to his lips ever so briefly. He thinks of the way his pretty face had flushed when Theo had stepped too close, and finds himself wondering what it would look like if he really tried to make the boy blush.

Theo shrugs, crossing his arms and smirking. “And money.”

Mason’s whole face lights up with a grin. “My man!” Corey shakes his head, smiling fondly. “He just needs a little push, okay? Trust me, I know Liam better than anyone and—”

This time, Corey’s eyes brighten, and he claps his hands together, smiling. “Mason, that’s it!”

“What?” They both look at the quiet boy, frowning.

“You know him best. You know what his favourite movies are, what games he plays, what his favourite food is,” Corey says. “You’re Theo’s in with Liam! You can coach him into being the perfect date.”

“What makes you think I need help with that?” Theo huffs, mildly offended.

Mason looks unimpressed. “The fact that you just struck out?” Corey asks.

He scowls, looking between the two. After a moment, he rolls his eyes, and they both grin excitedly. He wonders, probably not for the first time, what the hell he’s gotten himself into.

Despite his best efforts to evade them, Mason and Corey corner him three times that week for Dunbar 101 lessons. First, Mason finds him smoking behind the gym during his free period on Tuesday, and awkwardly stands there waiting for him to tell Tracy and Josh to leave.

“You know smoking’s bad for you, right?” Mason wrinkles his nose.

Theo snorts, raising a brow. “Is it? Must’ve missed the memo.”

“Liam hates the smell of it.”

“Most people do.” He takes a long drag of the cigarette, blowing it in Mason’s direction. He glowers, crossing his arms. “You’ve got until this is done, teach. Better get talking.”

On Wednesday, Corey shows up in his study hall. Theo’s never seen him here before, and from the way Josh frowns at him over his chemistry textbook, he knows he’s not supposed to be here. But they seem to be the only ones that notice as the kid shuffles into class and takes a seat with them, smiling warmly.

When the quiet boy waves at Josh across the table, he looks mildly uncomfortable and raises his book to block her view of him. Theo fights the grin that tugs at the corner of his lips.

It disappears when Corey slides a piece of paper towards him, covering the essay outline he’s meant to be doing for his history class. The one he’s redone several times, because he just can’t seem to get it right. He stares down at the list in front of him. It’s split into several sections. Movies. Games. Books. Bands. “What is this?”

“His favourite stuff,” Corey says, keeping his voice low. “Figured you might want something a little more tangible than just what Mason tells you, so I sat with him and wrote down everything he could think of.”

Theo shoots him a look. “You’re both insane. You know that, right?”

It doesn’t dampen the boy’s smile. He simply hums good-naturedly, and cracks open the notebook he’d pulled the list from, twirling a pen in his right hand. He pauses with the tip barely touching the page, and glances at the older boy. “What? It’s study hall.” Corey nods at the list. “Get studying.”

Theo rolls his eyes, but doesn’t go back to his term paper for the rest of the period.

When he survives Thursday and Friday unbothered, he figures maybe they’ll leave him in peace with the knowledge he has and let him figure out the rest himself. But he’s never been that lucky and he knows it.

He’s not even at school when he gets cornered next, and it’s in the place he least expects it.

Saturday’s his shift at the bakery. They’re closed on Sundays, and while his sister was convinced one day off a week was enough for her, he’d insisted that her chore day wasn’t exactly a day off. So he’d offered to keep it open on Saturdays, to capitalize on all those hungry teenagers out and about in the warm weather, and give her a day to actually relax.

He hears the bell above the door ding, but knows that Tracy is puttering around out front, so he thinks nothing of it. At least until she appears in the doorway, face pinched like she’s uncomfortable. He straightens, frowning at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s here to see you.”

Theo frowns, and waits, expecting her to elaborate. When she simply stares back at him, he rolls his eyes and holds out the tube of icing towards her. She takes it from with a gleeful twinkle in her eyes. “Try not to eat all of it this time. It’s for the cupcakes, not your face.”

She snorts, slipping past him and bumping him with her hip to get him out of the way. As he makes for door, he glances back to see her swipe at the tube with her thumb, sticking chocolate icing into her mouth. “Tracy!”

“Okay, okay,” she mutters, and then continues where he’d left off. He wipes his hands on his apron and steps through the curtain to the front of the shop.

“Welcome to Queen of Tarts,” Theo says, “How can I—”

Mason stands there, face pressed against the display as he stares at all the cakes and pastries, grinning ear to ear. It stops him in his tracks, and he groans. “What are you doing here?”

“These are awesome!” Mason says, voice muffled by the glass. “Did you seriously make all these yourself?”

“You’re smudging the display case,” Theo snaps. Fingerprints are a damn bitch to clean from that thing. Mason pulls his eyes away, and they flicker up to meet him.

A laugh bubbles from his throat. “Oh, man! You know this totally ruins your bad boy image, right?”

“Shut up,” he glares, taking a menacing step towards the other boy. He shrinks back, looking panicked as his hands fly up at his sides, defensively.

“Just kidding!” Mason’s smile turns shaky.

“What do you want?” Theo tries again, this time sounding far less patient.

“I was just leaving the store across the street and getting into my car when I saw the sign out front.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder for emphasis. “Your sister’s name is under it.”

“That sometimes happens when someone owns a business.”

Mason beams at him. “Really? That’s awesome!”

Theo resists the urge to groan. “Was there a point to this visit, or did you come over just to annoy me?”

The grin widens dramatically, and Theo knows he’s in trouble. “Well, you see, I haven’t got a musical bone in my body. But my buddy Liam sure does. And on Saturdays, he works at Strings and Things to earn some cash for his dream guitar.”

His eyes narrow. They both know that music store is directly across the street. “I’m working.”

“I noticed.” Mason looks him up and down, then pulls his wallet from his pocket. “How much for a box of those butter tarts? They’re like, the house special, right?”

“And Liam’s favourite,” Theo points out, tone hesitant. Mason’s eyes glitter with joy, and the hair on the back of his neck stands up. “Twenty dollars.”

He brandishes the correct bill. “I also noticed you do deliveries,” Mason continues, pointing at the sign on the counter that does, in fact, say they deliver upon request.

Theo’s face twists into a scowl. “You wouldn’t.”

Mason’s smile is anything but innocent as he places a second bill on the counter. Theo stares at it for a moment, wishing for all the world that looks could kill, before sighing. He unties the apron, whipping it angrily onto the back counter and grabbing a take away box. Theo piles twelve tarts into it, then glances over his shoulder. “Hey, Tracy? I’ll be right back. Delivery!”

“Whatever, T.”

He rolls his eyes, muttering: “At least she’s free help.”

“I can watch the counter for you,” Mason says cheerfully.

“Just don’t fucking touch anything,” Theo growls, then stomps out of the store. He crosses the street in a huff, barely taking the time to check for traffic, and winces at the happy little jingle that greets him inside the opposite store.

He’s never actually been in here before, despite working across the street for over a year and a half now. The place is bigger than he expects. There’s two rows of tables on either side of him, with a lane straight down the middle of the store. The boxes atop are filled with records to his left, and CDs to his right. There’s tons of recording equipment along one wall, while guitars of all shapes and colours hang down the other.

There’s only a handful of people in the store, but he spots Liam almost immediately. He’s talking animatedly to an older woman by a drum set in the very back. He’s not too far from the counter, but Theo figures he can walk up, drop the box off, and get out unnoticed.

He’s halfway there when he’s reminded that today is not his lucky day.

There’s a young girl looking at a small, black three-quarter acoustic guitar with her mother to his right. “Don’t you want something a little more...girly, sweetheart?” She asks, frowning down at her daughter. “What about the one there, with the flowers?”

“No! I want this one!” The girl shouts, stomping her foot and tugging on her mother’s perfectly manicured hand. The move’s a little aggressive, and clearly catches the woman off-guard, because she stumbles after her—and knocks her bony elbow right into Theo’s ribs.

He inhales sharply, balancing the box in one hand as best he can, swaying on his feet. Pain flares in his left hip as it smacks into the table, wobbling the box of CDs, and Theo curses. “Fuck! Watch it, will you?”

The woman gives him a dirty look, hands flying to cover her daughter’s ears. “Such inappropriate language when children are around.”

“I’m sure she’s heard worse from you and your husband,” he smirks, and the woman flushes. He can’t tell if it’s anger or embarrassment. He doesn’t care.

“Everything all right over here?” A voice says tightly. Theo’s eyes find Liam’s blue ones narrowed at him, and far closer than he was a moment ago. His arms are crossed, and he’s looking between the two.

“This young man knocked into me very rudely,” the woman says hotly, pulling her daughter against her. The little girl giggles.

“Actually, she—” Theo starts, but Liam shoots him an even dirtier look that the lady that has his mouth clamping shut.

“Sorry about him,” Liam says to the woman a split-second later, smiling kindly as he turns to face her. “He’s not great with people.”

“Obviously.” Her tone is clipped, and Theo resists the urge to upend the box of tarts on her.

“How about a ten percent discount for the trouble?” Liam smiles, hands on his knees as he bends over to look at the little girl. “You want the black one, right?”

“Yes, please!” The girl says before her mother can object. The woman’s scowling again, and Theo finds a sick sort of satisfaction in watching the way she glares at the back of Liam’s head as he plucks the guitar off the wall. She doesn’t say a word as she follows him to the counter to pay, not even a thank you as he hands her the receipt and wishes her a good day.

It’s not until they’re out of the store that Theo realizes the old woman has vanished, leaving them alone. Shit.

Liam stops two feet from him, hands shoved into his pockets.

“You know she bumped into me, right?” Theo defends himself, though he’s not sure why.

“I know,” Liam says. “Why do you think I went with the kid’s choice instead of hers?”

Theo fights the urge to smile. “Thanks, Dunbar.”

Liam ignores it, choosing instead to frown at him, tilting his head in a way that sort of reminds Theo of a puppy. “What are you doing here?”

He holds out the box in his right hand. “Delivery.”

Cautiously, Liam takes it from him, gaze scanning over the label. “This is from the place across the street.” His eyes flick up, assessing. “You work there?”

“Yeah,” Theo nods. Then adds, though he’s not sure why: “My sister owns it.”

Liam considers him a moment, then half-shrugs, flipping the box open. His eyes widen immediately with wonder, and he slams the box shut. This time, when he looks at Theo, there’s something like awe written on his face. “These are my favourite. How did you…?”

When Theo opens his mouth, it’s to tell the truth. After all, the kid would be pretty stupid not to put two and two together when his best friend had left maybe ten minutes ago, and then Theo had waltzed in with his preferred treat, when he’s literally never stepped foot in here.

Instead, something else comes out. “I’ve seen you in the shop before. I help out on weeknights, sometimes, in the back. I...I wanted to apologize for the other day. I was out of line.”

Liam stares at him, blinking, and Theo hopes like hell that unlike him, the shorter boy has actually crossed the damn street before. He hopes there’s some traction to his lie, because otherwise he’s about to embarass himself horribly. And he actually cares that he might.

“Oh. Well, thanks,” Liam says finally, and Theo lets go of the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He watches him shift awkwardly from one foot to another. “So, um, is that it?”

The words tumblr forth before he can stop them. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

The awkward look sours immediately. “You’re apologizing for hitting on me by hitting on me again? Really?”

Theo’s hands fly up at his sides defensively. “No! No, that’s—I’m not hitting on you this time, I swear.” Liam looks unsure. “I promise. I just… I got caught up in the moment, and thought it would be fun to mess with you. But I was serious about offering my help with Biology, okay?”

The other boy’s forehead pinches into a frown. He can see the suspicion written clearly across his face. “Why?”

Theo bites at the inside of his cheek, fighting the words. Corey’s list hovers in the back of his mind, taunting him. A moment later, they’re slipping past his lips with a sigh. “I need your help, too. I’ve got a term paper due in a couple weeks, and I’ve barely written the opening paragraph.”

“Really?” He snickers. “You’re having trouble bullshitting an essay?”

“It’s not an essay. It’s a History paper.”

This catches Liam’s attention. Theo watches as his eyes brighten, his lips curving into a smile. “I love History!”

“Really?” Theo parrots, smirking. “Wouldn’t have figured, what with you being top of our class.”

Liam’s giving that considering look again, head tilted. His eyes flicker to the box of tarts in his hands, then back up. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Theo blinks, hiding a hopeful tone.

“I’ll help you write your paper, if you help me pass Biology.”

The smile that stretches across his lips is genuine this time. “Deal.”

#thiam #thiammovieaufest #eliewrites #fic: just too good to be true #the link keeps fucking up #but i'm too tired to fix it #so here you go

21 notes · View notes

romancandlemagazine · 4 years

Text

An Interview with Matt Weber

The term ‘street photographer’ gets bandied around a lot these days, but most of the time all it means is someone who once took a photograph of a busker. Matt Weber, on the other hand, is one photographer who definitely does deserve that title. He’s been lurking the lesser-seen localities of New York since the early 1980s, and is just as active today as he was thirty years ago.

Using the powers of the internet age I fired him over a few questions, and by some stroke of luck, he answered back. Here’s what he had to say on photography, driving taxis and why New York isn’t quite what it used to be…

Alright Matt, how’s it going?

I am OK… photography has been the best thing for me emotionally, but not financially. Most photographers these days are being hard pressed to find a way to make a decent living off of their work. The few who are doing well should count their blessings.

When was it that you started taking photographs?

As a kid in 1968, but then I took a twelve year break in 1972 and didn’t really get back into it till 1984.

What was it that made you pick the camera up again in the 80s?

I was tired of seeing amazing things and not being able to photograph them. I kept saying, “Man I gotta get a camera!”

You shot photographs for a long time whilst working as a taxi driver. How did you work this? Would you intentionally take fares to areas where you knew would be better for photographs?

I took people anywhere and I never refused a fare unless they appeared very threatening. When I ended up in what was still considered a ghetto, I was on the prowl for pictures. Since I had been a wild driver (hot rods) when I was young, I didn’t mind being in any bad area because I would run ten red lights if necessary, and I had a bulletproof partition which helped me feel a lot safer if I had the wrong people in my car.

Was the bulletproof partition ever put to use?

Yes, but it’s difficult to be sure if I would have just been robbed or if it also saved my life.

I’ve always thought being a taxi driver sounded like a pretty interesting job — a good way of seeing things and talking to people. Are my predictions right, or is it just another boring job?

It is a very boring job, but I found the camera made it much better. I wasn’t only looking for the next fare to wave their arm in the air; I was looking for the next image!

Where are your favourite places in New York to take photos?

These days there are few places which haven’t been gentrified. Coney Island is always a fun place to shoot, but it is quickly losing most of its original flavour.

I don’t know much about New York but I’ve heard a lot of people say it’s changed a lot in the last twenty years — maybe a mix of Mayor Giuliani and 9/11. As someone who’s been there since the ‘80s, how do you think it’s changed?

The main thing is that before 1985 anybody could afford an apartment in NYC. Now you need to be 100% bonafide with all your papers and money in perfect order. When I was young you just had to hand $150 to a landlord or super and he handed you a set of keys! It was just a handshake and you were a tenant. Therefore the city contained all sorts of characters and was a lot better to document, but it was dangerous too. Now it’s safe and dull. I’m not sure what is better sometimes.

What was it like back when you first started taking pictures? Do you think people’s attitudes to being photographed are different now?

No… New Yorkers are still uptight unless you approach them with a big smile, and then a good portion of them can be disarmed. Attitude goes a long way.

You’ve photographed some fairly wild moments. Has anyone ever turned sour and gone after you?

Yes, I have been attacked and threatened too many times to count. It can leave me doubting myself for a few hours or even a couple of days, but not longer.

What is it that you’re looking for when you’re walking around with your camera?

If I knew I would tell you, but the beauty of the city streets is that there is always the possibility of something coming together at any minute.

Are there certain things you wouldn’t photograph?

I avoid shooting midgets and people with terrible birth defects, but I reserve the right to shoot anything. One has to be comfortable with what they do. If I see a person whose face has been badly burned, I would never photograph that person, unless the burns occurred in a newsworthy situation and I was doing a story on that.

Do you go out intentionally to take pictures, or have you just always got your camera with you anyway?

I have always had a camera since 1989… I have missed a few potentially epic images when I was unprepared.

Do you follow other photographers much? Who else do you like?

Due to the internet there are too many to mention. I watch the work of over twenty people, most of whom I have become friends with. The classic guys from the twentieth century are still the best teachers — Frank, Winogrand and Evans are the obvious ones.

Is it always New York? Do you take pictures anywhere else?

I always have my camera with me, but I haven’t had a car lately so my road trips are less frequent, which is a drag.

Do you ever think you’ll stop?

Death or a major stroke could do the trick.

What do you get up to when you’re not taking pictures?

Watch too much football. Watch too many terrible movies on HBO while I scan my negatives each night.

Wrapping this up now, have you got any words of wisdom you’d like to share?

Shoot what you like otherwise the whole thing will be pointless…

See more of Matt’s photographs over on his website.

#Matt Weber #Photographer #Interview #Street Photography #Interviews

0 notes

howtomakequickmoneynet · 4 years

Text

Make Cash Whereas You Are Sick: 6 Methods to Cowl Your Payments

The runny nose. The scratchy throat. The general pain. Yes, it probably isn't just Allergies. Given the recent outbreak of a new coronavirus, COVID-19, these symptoms could be accompanied by an additional dose of anxiety, topped off by a little mass hysteria. Regardless of the nature of your suffering, you should stay at home and practice good hygiene to avoid spreading. Many employers encourage their employees to work from home when they are not feeling well. But a significant portion of American workers - and gig workers in particular - cannot take their jobs home and do not have the luxury of paid sick leave. Uber recently sent a memo to his drivers entitled "A memory of the corona virus" in which he advised them to stay at home when they were sick and to disinfect their vehicles regularly. Uber's long-awaited response to the corona virus. Most of their drivers cannot afford to take even a day off. pic.twitter.com/n4W3v41F6F - The Rideshare Dude (@ 1RideshareDude) February 29, 2020 A passenger tweeted a picture of the memo and found that "most of their drivers can't afford to take a day off". The problem goes beyond the gig economy. ON study The Economic Policy Institute shows that 64% of all private sector employees receive paid sick leave. For low-wage workers, this number drops to 27%. The reality is that a day with missing wages could mean saving food, medicine - or missing out on a bill altogether, the study said. Here are some ways to close the holes if you have to miss the job.

6 ways to earn money on sick leave

If you're faced with the difficult decision of staying home from a job without paid sick leave, there are a few options. Below are several ways to make money quickly without needing excessive manual labor. So hopefully you can rest on your day off and still earn rent. 1. Perform the micro-tasks for the mechanical Turk Mechanical Turk or Mturk is an on-demand task platform and the fastest way to do it Earn money with Amazon. Every day, thousands of human intelligence tasks (HITs) are set by people who want to outsource small work blocks. Every task is different. One could be audio transcription - another the organization of spreadsheets. Quick surveys are also popular. Michael Naab shared advice and what strategies he used on average $ 500 a month on Mturk. First create one Mturk worker account and wait for verification. (It took me a day. Some users reported Reddits Mturk Advisory Board that it can take up to a few weeks.) Beginners earn about $ 10 to $ 20 a day doing light work and learning the ropes, while advanced users like Naab earn up to $ 15 an hour. 2. Selling things online If you are stuck at home, you may suddenly feel the urge to start spring cleaning. As you refresh your excavations, you are certain to find some unused items that you can use to make decent money if you find the right place to sell them. Fortunately, there are many Websites where you can sell your items online. Some websites like Facebook marketplaceYou need to meet someone to complete the sale. In this case, use your time best to create a well-made list with an informative description and high quality photos. When you feel better, meet up for the transaction. A solid exception - called Decluttr - does not require human contact. The website specializes in the purchase of technology, particularly laptops, cell phones, video games and Blu-rays. In many cases, you can scan the barcodes of your items with your smartphone, get an offer immediately and then send them. After receiving your package, the company will deposit the money the next day directly. 3. User test websites Websites should be very user friendly. So simply loud The User Is Drunk founder Richard Littauerthat a drunk person should be able to navigate in it. That means you should be able to swing websites with user tests in your overwhelmed discomfort. Repeating Littauer's business success definitely takes time. Try faster money UserTesting and TryMyUI. Both companies will ask you to visit certain websites, do some tasks, and record your thoughts. Each test takes about 10 to 20 minutes and earns you at least $ 10. 4. Be paid to watch TV Take a box of Kleenex, a couple of snacks, plenty of liquid and turn it on The office. Except this time, you can get paid. Not really. USDish accepted Applications for a office Binge-Watcher and pays the lucky person $ 1,000. Application deadline is March 16. If you miss the deadline, watch out for similar promotions, which are usually seasonal. Other options include signing up for market research sites like Swagbucks and InboxDollars. You will also be paid to watch videos and television from your smartphone. Every time you complete a task, Swagbucks gives you points that you can redeem for gift cards between $ 5 and $ 25. You can make money at InboxDollars. These two options do not pay your bills yourself, but in combination with other strategies your earnings. 5. Win a video game tournament If your idea of a sick day is bundled up on the couch or at your desk to play games, step in one of these online video game tournaments should be a breeze. Small amateur tournaments are available to adults in most states. (Note that Arizona, Iowa, and Louisiana prohibit money price competitions.)And even though they're for amateurs, you still need some serious skills to win. Tournaments for console and PC games - often fighting, sports and MOBA titles - are published daily on GamerSaloon, World Gaming, Players & # 39; Lounge and similar websites. Prices range from $ 2.50 to $ 500 per game. 6. Apply for a grant for modest needs It turns out that your illness is more serious than you thought. Your sick day turns into a week, maybe two, and you've exhausted all the quick money-making strategies you can. There is still hope. Depending on your situation, the nonprofit association Modest needs could help. When Emilia Chape had an unexpected $ 2,000 dentist bill, The organization was able to find relief through a self-help grant. Modest Needs does not pay out cash. After determining your needs, the company will contact the seller and pay on your behalf. The organization helps with a lot more than unexpected bills. It specifically encourages workers who miss a wage due to unpaid leave to apply for assistance. "In such documentable emergency situations, Modest Needs would consider paying a one-time monthly monthly bill for your household," the website says. Adam Hardy is an employee of The Penny Hoarder. He deals with gig economy, entrepreneurship and unique ways to make money. Read hisLatest articles hereor say hello on Twitter @hardyjournalism. Ready to stop worrying about money? Get the Penny Hoarder Daily Privacy Policy Read the full article

0 notes

raindrops-on-the-roof · 7 years

Text

Tenshi

Hey everyone! This is just the first chapter of a fanfiction I’m writing for miraculous! It, as well as the second and third chapters, are avaliable under the name “Tenshi”. Please give it a read if you want to!

Summary: In which Nino is smart and everyone else is just slow.

“Pay attention! Open your eyes!” Nino yelled, wanting to slap him and hug him at the same time. “She’s literally right there? How are you so blind? What is this?”

Also, how does Gabriel Agreste know so much? “Nathalie, find me all of this girl’s friends.” Nathalie frowned at him. “Sir, that could take a while -”

“Do it!”

Adrien doesn’t understand. In general. “Why do you keep bringing this up? It was just a cat pun!” He hoped Nino didn’t notice how sweaty he was.

Alya is somehow, surprisingly, miraculously, as clueless as ever. “What are you saying, Nino? That they- ” She waved an arm vaguely in their direction, her eyes dead on him - “are meant to be Ladybug and Chat Noir?”

Tikki is tired, in every way that a parent dealing with an overdramatic teenager is. “MARINETTE! I have been patient with you, but this is as far as your stupidity goes!”

And Marinette is just… normal. “I… uh…” She rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. He glared at her. “I’m sorry.”

Let’s see if I can make this work.

Look who’s back, back again with more shit lmao

So this stems off the end of the “Miraculous Ladybug Episode - My Birthday Party | Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir” thing on Youtube. Don’t get excited, it’s not actually a new episode, but you should totally check it out anyway.

Anyways, enjoy

Tenshi

“I can’t wait till Saturday!”

Marinette closed her diary and placed it back in its handmade container before setting the trap. Tikki, her kwami, flew up from her purse as she stood back and took a deep breath.

“What did you write about this time, Marinette?” Tikki chirped, whizzing to look her in the eye.

She smiled at her friend. “Oh, Tikki, I wrote about my birthday! Mum said I could have friends over, remember? Of course, I’ll invite Alya, I mean that’s obvious, and Rose and Juleka, and maybe Ivan and Myléne because of course Myléne will come if Ivan does and– “

“Wait!” Tikki interrupted, waving her hands in an attempt to slow her rambling. Marinette, however, continued.

“–Oh, my gosh, what if Adrien comes! Imagine that, Tikki!” She grabbed Tikki and shook her a little while the kwami sighed, knowing she’d lost her. “I’ll need to plan it for when there’s a break in his schedule!”

Marinette frantically pulled down her (incredibly) detailed Adrien timetable to check that his Saturday was free. She scanned the days leading up to it. “Okay, Tikki!” She cried, excited. “Today is Tuesday!” She whapped the sheet with a cane. “So obviously today is his first of two– “She stuck two fingers in the air for emphasis– “free days of the week, the other being Thursday.”

Tikki nodded absentmindedly, trying to look as though she was paying attention. Honestly, by now, she was used to Marinette’s rants about Adrien, as she had watched the bluenette’s feelings go from disgust to curiosity to full-blown obsession.

Honestly, Tikki was starting to get worried about it, not that she’d ever tell the girl that.

Obsession with anything was never healthy, and looking around Marinette’s bedroom, Tikki could see the evidence of hers. Posters, doodles, little notes, and the most obvious thing; the schedule. She didn’t know and didn’t want to know how Marinette managed to get her hands on that information.

Zoning back into the conversation, Tikki noticed that Marinette was nearing the end of a rant about what days Adrien was free, noting that she had been talking for about five minutes.

“Marinette!” Tikki interrupted, sounding scolding. “What is the point?”

Marinette looked at Tikki as if she had two heads. “My point is… ah…” She waved her cane about as she thought. “… What were we talking about again?”

Tikki shook her head in exasperation. “Can Adrien come to your party this Saturday?”

Marinette’s eyes darted to the schedule before nodding her head in happy affirmation. “Yes! He can!” She started dancing around her room in excitement.

Tikki giggled at her antics, stopping suddenly when Marinette’s face grew horrified. “Marinette? What is it?”

She collapsed on her bed dramatically. “Oh, Tikki, what am I going to wear? What is he going to wear? What if he wears some super stylish awesome clothes his dad designed specifically for the party? What if I wear something gross and disgusting and he thinks it looks awful? I think I’d just about die from embarrassment!” Marinette groaned from her position face down on the bed. “What am I going to do?”

Tikki, well versed in the ways of the teenaged mind, was the voice of reason. “Marinette, you haven’t even asked him yet.”

Marinette looked up at Tikki, looking yet more horrified. “Oh my gosh, Tikki, how am I going to ask him?” She started groaning into her duvet again.

Tikki had to stop this before she got the ball rolling once again. “Won’t Nino help you? He’s been quite kind in the past, and now that he and Alya are… something, you would be able to catch him alone.”

Marinette looked up at Tikki again, but with a completely different expression. “Tikki, you’re a genius! I’ll call Alya right now!”

Tikki rubbed her temples. “Don’t you think you should make a list of the people you want to invite?”

“Ah, yes, more amazingly amazing good ideas from Tikki!”

Marinette tore a piece of paper from her ideas book before scribbling the names down, tapping her pen on the table occasionally before writing something, or crossing something out, before showing Tikki her list. “Tada! I decided on Alya, Rose, Juleka, Ivan, Myléne, Kim, Max and Alix! Of course, Nino and Adrien are there too.” She pointed to their names as she said them.

Tikki noticed but didn’t comment on the hearts drawn around Adrien’s name, nor the fact the Chloé Bourgeois and Sabrina Raincomprix’s names were crossed out. Instead, she was supportive. “That sounds great, Marinette! Now you can call Alya!”

Marinette nodded happily before picking up her phone and dialling Alya’s number in record time.

“Hey, girl! What’s going on?”

“Just a whole lot of planning, actually! Are you busy?”

“Uh, Marinette, have you seen the time?” Alya sounded like she was trying not to laugh.

It was 8:10 pm on a Tuesday night. Marinette had not started her homework.

“Oh no! ThankyousomuchAlyaI’lltalktoyousoonbye!” Marinette slammed her phone down on her bed and ripped her homework out of her bag. She had to get started if she wanted a decent night’s sleep.

Tikki giggled again, feeling happy albeit guilty for forgetting about her work. “Well, the quicker you finish the work, the quicker we can go back to planning.”

“Right!”

ひらがな！

愛していますよ！

Unfortunately, Marinette did not finish her homework until 11 pm that night and by then was exhausted and practically flew into her bed without changing or taking out her hair. Tikki, though exhausted herself, took a little bit longer.

Staring at Marinette’s sleeping form, the kwami sighed. The girl’s naivety was really starting to worry her along with her obsession and Tikki worried that, when faced with a difficult decision, her Ladybug would fall.

She shook her head. She knew better than to dwell on such things. Everything would work out.

Tikki floated slowly over beside Marinette and pulled out her pigtails slowly, trying not to wake her. One day she’d be faced with something bigger than her, and Tikki knew that Marinette could not fail her. Wayzz’s master had not been wrong about a ladybug in thousands of years. Everything would be okay.

She hoped.

奇跡的

よかたですよ

The next day, Marinette (of course) woke up late for school. She sprinted down the stairs with Tikki in her purse and quickly kissed her both her parents goodbye before tripping over her feet and falling face first through the door onto the pavement outside. Tikki stifled a giggle but stayed hidden as Alya ran up from the side.

“Again, Marinette?” Alya helped her up before dusting her off. “Hurry, we’re gonna be late!”

Marinette started laughing before grabbing her hand and pulling her along. “I need to talk to you!”

“Can it wait? Madame Mendeleiev is going to slaughter us!” Alya cried, starting to pant.

They rounded the corner to the school.

Marinette hesitated. “Well… Yes, of course, it can!” They both jumped up the stairs, taking two at a time before getting into the building.

“Wait.” Alya stuck an arm out to stop Marinette bursting into the class. “We need to fix ourselves up and enter gracefully.”

Marinette looked at Alya. Her hair was windswept and her glasses were askew. Marinette knew she probably looked similar. “Right!”

Tikki, feeling a bit battered, shook her head in Marinette’s purse, feeling a little discombobulated. Peeking out, she watched them fix each other up before they swept into class. Luckily, they were only a few minutes late and Madame Mendeleiev only told them to take their seats.

As soon as Marinette stepped into the classroom, Tikki could feel Plagg. It wasn’t something she could stop, and of course, she was used to it. She had a small idea of who had the ring, as Adrien had not yet been akumatised; however, it was not unheard of for a miraculous holder to become an akuma, and a regular civilian could easily avoid akumatisation with the ability to control their emotions.

Besides, Chat Noirs in the past had never been that lucky.

Tikki decided to take a nap. It would be a few hours before anything interesting happened, anyway.

奇跡的

よかたですよ

She woke up to the sound of Marinette’s frantic whispering to Alya.

“But Alya, how do you think he’ll react to my invitation? Do you think he’ll hate it? Oh my God, he will, won’t he?” She groaned. “This is the end of my life!”

Tikki could picture the pity smile on Alya’s beautiful face.

“Girl, you know he won’t.” She said, sounding like she was trying not to laugh. “Besides, you have to actually ask him first.”

“I know, I know…” Marinette stared at the blond mop in front of her, who seemed to be lost in thought.

Alya hesitated before touching her arm gently. “You know, Marinette… Do you think you’ll actually be able to ask him?”

Tikki hoped she remembered her suggestion. Luckily, that was the case.

“I was going to ask Nino for help!” Alya’s smile turned forced. Marinette noticed immediately. “What is it?”

“Nothing, nothing!” Alya tried to convince Marinette, who looked more worried by the second. “It’s just… I mean… Will you need me there?”

Marinette suddenly forgot all about the party. “Alya, is there something wrong between you and Nino? You seemed so close before…”

Alya pursed her lips. She didn’t want to talk about this, not now, not when he was right there and breathing and being perfect for her if she wasn’t so-

“Alya?” She immediately plastered on a smile. Marinette looked extremely concerned, remembering the way their personalities clicked so well while they were locked in the cage.

Alya couldn’t tell her, the words drowning her lungs, blocking her throat, stilling her tongue. “No, girl, don’t worry about me! I’ll totally have your back.”

Marinette smiled and thanked her, but Alya could tell this wasn’t the end of the conversation, and Marinette knew that she would have to seek out Nino herself. She couldn’t ask Alya for help after that reaction.

The bell rang, startling the two, and apparently Adrien, who fell out of his chair in front of her. Alya snorted and Nino burst out laughing.

“You right there, dude? Your head was totally in the clouds the entire class,” Nino said through his laughter. Alya was trying to hide her giggling, and Marinette was trying to find something to do with her hands.

Adrien rolled his eyes at Nino and sent Alya a look before grinning at Marinette. “At least you’re polite enough not to laugh.”

Marinette could feel her knees weaken at the way his eyes shined when he smiled and was suddenly speaking. “Ah! Yes! You are very nice! … I mean me! I am very nice! Marinette! That is me!” Smooth.

Adrien looked confused while Alya’s quiet giggling turned into full-blown laughter, struggling for air with tears in her eyes. Nino winced a bit while Adrien’s face went from confused to amused, saying “Thanks, I think?” before picking up his bag and walking out of the classroom for lunch.

Marinette put her head in her hands as soon as he left. Alya, finally calming down now, wiped away a tear of mirth before patting her on the back. “Come on girl, that wasn’t as bad as last week.”

Marinette groaned while that sent Nino into more laughter. “Oh man, that was great! You were… Um…” Alya’s glare cut him off and he quickly made himself scarce.

She sighed and patted Marinette on the back while the girl in question took some deep breaths. Finally, she stood up. “Let’s go. Did you see where Nino went?”

Alya smiled sheepishly. “No, sorry.” She glanced at the ceiling. “It’s Thursday, right? I don’t think he’d go home today, he has physics after lunch. He’s probably in the library.”

Marinette lifted her chin determinedly and strutted out of the room, her show of false bravado prompting Alya to join her as they walked towards the library. Alya was a little suspicious of her confidence but supposed that talking to Nino about Adrien wasn’t as nerve-wracking as talking to the boy in question was.

At least, for Marinette.

Alya was shaken out of her thoughts as Marinette stopped at the entrance to the library. She took a deep breath and pushed the heavy doors open.

The Collège Françoise Dupont library was the pride and joy of the school. With the 500 hardwood shelves stacked with books and papers of all subjects, it was not unheard of for the students of universities and other colleges around Paris to join the usual students in the library.

However, a big library meant it took Marinette over half of lunch to find Nino, with Alya getting steadily more restless.

Alya was struggling to think of an excuse to run, finding herself unable to come up with a reason to avoid seeing him. She could not see him, not outside of having to, she couldn’t -

“Nino! Finally,” Marinette cried, getting a withering look from a nearby student. “We’ve spent almost all of our break trying to find you,” she said, quieter.

Nino, who had glanced up at the shout, frowned in confusion. “We?”

Marinette pursed her lips and reached behind her, dragging Alya to stand beside her with surprisingly strong arms, Nino noticed. “Alya and I.”

Nino looked shocked for a split second before smoothing it over with a kind smile at Marinette. “Well, what can I help you with?”

“I… um…” Alya elbowed her in the side. Tikki was wide awake.

Nino waited patiently, knowing she’d get through her hesitations. She had only been hesitant around her when she wanted to know something about Adrien - that is until she asked.

Marinette sat down next to Nino, before turning her chair to sit right in front of him and leaning forward. “IwantAdrientocometomyparty!” Marinette whisper-shouted into his ear. Alya rolled her eyes and Nino smiling fondly. “You, uh, wanna repeat that?”

Marinette took a deep breath before staring Nino dead in the eyes. “I want Adrien to come to my party, it’s on Saturday at.. I don’t know where yet, the park? And it’d be really cool if he could come! What if he bought me a present! Oh my goodness, I -”

“Woah, woah, Marinette,” Nino said, holding his hands up to stop her ranting. “What do you want me to do about this?”

Marinette paused her ranting before saying, “Well, of course, I want you to ask him for me,”

Nino considered her carefully, weighing the pros and cons. Of course, the cons were obvious: Adrien probably wouldn’t be allowed to go, therefore making Marinette worry about why he didn’t come, he hated her, etc. But if he was allowed…

Well, that could open whole new doors to their relationship. Of course, he and Alya (separately) could con them together.

Alya…

No, he wouldn’t think anything more of it. He would ask him, for Marinette’s sake.

He leaned forward and stared her straight in the face, mimicking her perfectly. “Marinette, for your sake, I will…” He trailed off, his eyes having found their way to her earrings - red with black spots.

“You will? Thank you!” She flung forward to hug him, almost shoving him off his chair.

“No problem,” He muttered, wrapping his arms around her. Still, his mind focused on her ladybug-spotted earrings. He never knew she was a fan…

Effectively ripping his attention back to reality, Marinette let go and stood up quickly. “Wait, Marinette,” He called as she was about to leave. “He might not be allowed to go because of his father. Please don’t get your hopes up too high.”

Marinette nodded sharply, still beaming, and Nino knew that his words hadn’t quite gotten through to her.

Still, he would ask. He knew that Adrien would probably like to go, but if his dad said no, he wouldn’t push it. Nino had to change that.

Watching the girls leave, Nino stood up too. He had work to do.

奇跡的

よかたですよ

Adrien took a deep breath of fresh air before walking down the well-polished stairs of Collège Françoise Dupont. His day, as was usual, had been rather unlucky, and his brand new shirt was sporting the evidence: a rather large splatter of tomato sauce dead in the centre. His dad wouldn’t be pleased.

Shaking his head, he was about to get into his car when -

“Yo! Adrien! Wait a sec, dude!” Adrien smiled apologetically at the Gorilla before turning to see Nino quickly descending the stairs, his arm outstretched. “I need to ask you something.”

Adrien grinned. “Sure. What’s up?”

Nino sighed. “It’s Marinette. She wants you to come to her birthday party.” He stared at the ground. “I tried to tell her that you probably wouldn’t be allowed, but she didn’t listen -”

“Woah,” Adrien said, putting his hand on Nino’s shoulder. “It’s okay, I’ll ask my Dad.”

Nino ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, I know you will, and he’ll say no, just like he always does. You always have the worst luck with these things.”

Adrien smirked, and Nino knew the pun was coming before he even said anything. “Like a black cat, huh?”

Nino froze. Not what he expected. “Um, what?”

Adrien shook his head, still with a grin on his face. “Inside joke.”

Nino stared for a little longer than was polite, making Adrien clear his throat uncomfortably. “Uh, so, I’ll ask my Dad and see how it goes, alright?”

Nino cleared his throat. “Yeah, sure. Hey, you know what this means, right?”

Adrien rolled his eyes before they found the top of the stairs. “This again? Nino, you’d have to be crazy if you think she’d like me.” Nino took the opportunity to search out the silver ring on his finger.

“T-trust me, bro. She totally has the hots for you.” The ring had the outline of six dots - five smaller, one large.

Adrien shook his head before a grunt from his bodyguard made him wince. “Sorry, Nino, I really have to get going, or I’ll be late for practice.”

Nino stared blankly at the black limousine as it sped away, comparing Adrien’s appearance and behaviour to that of Paris’s beloved black cat. Finding too many similarities for it to be considered normal, he sighed and ran his hand through his hair, wishing he’d never noticed.

Okay you guys but don’t expect a legit schedule from me I wrote this in like two weeks around school okay thanks bye

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous: tales of ladybug and chat noir #cat noir #chat noir #marinette cheng #marinette #adrien agreste #adrien #nino lahiffe #nino #alya #djwifi

6 notes · View notes

strainofthestress · 7 years

Text

Fanfic: Reunions, Citadel Pt. 3

Hey guys! So, this one I felt like I actually found somewhat of a groove on! I'm still trying to treat the Liara/Traynor pairing I have with appropriate delicacy, I really like it, and really want you guys too! So, I figured it was finally time they moved things along a bit. Also, I totally wanted to write these characters going to a WW2 style club. In my mind, there are a lot of similarities between WW2 and the Reaper wars.

As always, I love reblogs! Reblogs, messages, and likes really help me to know what you guys want, as well as keep the enthusiasm up for writing. I’ll admit, with my daily schedule being a lot more busy recently, finding the motivation and time for writing has been difficult. So, while I don’t mean to shamelessly plug, I’m shamelessly plugging: your feedback helps me keep writing.

Alright, I’m done. Enjoy!!!

Shepard’s Apartment, 1930

“Shepard! How was your workout?”

Tali stood up from the weapons bench in the oversized bedroom in the apartment, pieces of a shotgun lying disassembled on the table before her. Shepard was standing in the doorway, sweat dripping off the tip of his nose, his shirtless torso glistening under the lights of the room - Tali’s eyes lingered for longer than normal. The downstairs bedroom had been turned into Shepard’s personal gym, years of military and N7 training dictating that, no matter how relaxed he was, he could never afford to give his body a chance to rebelliously atrophe. Not that Tali was complaining, certainly not as she watched the way his torso moved as he walked into the room, still out of breath.

“Good, good. Think I’m getting a little weaker, but that’s what shore leave is for, isn’t it?”

A slightly nervous laugh came from behind the mask and glowing disk of Tali’s helmet. Shepard walked into the room, throwing his workout towel onto the bed before stripping down, unaware of the avid observer he had directly behind him watching his every move. He turned the shower on, stepping into it as he talked to Tali, running the shampoo through his hair and relishing in the consistently hot water – such a nice relief from the Spartan conditions of even the newest military starships.

“So… what do you want to do for the rest of the evening?”

“I don’t know. I’m as free as the dust on the solar wind.”

“You’re what?”

“Have I still not shown you that vid?”

“What vid?”

“Remind me, next time I say that, to show it to you. It’s essentially the movie of my adolescence.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. The question still stands, what to do tonight.”

“Hmmm, let me see.”

Tali pulled up her omnitool, swiping through popular locations and activities nearby as Shepard finished with the Shower. While Shepard toweled off and stepped into the closet, Tali found a particularly interesting entry.

“It says here there’s a particularly popular bar location nearby! Looks like it’s within walking distance, on the other side of silverspun.”

“Oh? And what makes this so popular?”

“Well…” more omnitool scrolling “it looks like its favored by a lot of soldiers back for shore leave, says it has a ‘Human 20th Century’ theme to it, whatever that means. Food is rated well… they serve dextro and levo… and looks like drinks are half off tonight.”

Shepard had walked out of the closet and perched himself on the bed, looking over Tali’s shoulder at the entry, his eyes quickly scanning back and forth over the text and pictures.

“Well, half off drinks and a bunch of soldiers? What could possibly go wrong?”

Tali rolled her eyes, standing up to lean herself on the doorway while watching Shepard, the Spectre now sorting through his clothes to pull out his liberty uniform.

“I have absolutely no idea. Not like you would either.”

“Excuse me, Ms. Vas Normandy, I seem to remember there was a time on Illium when we were fighting the Collectors that you found yourself rather intoxicated as well.”

“That was an entirely scientific endeavor.”

“Oh really.”

“One hundred percent. I needed to see how my new suit breathalyzers were working. And the emergency inductor port.”

“That straw-looking thing?”

“It’s an emergency inductor port, John. We’ve been over this.”

“I still say it’s a Straw.”

“Well, when you design complex modifications to some of the most advanced envirosuit technology in the galaxy, you can call it whatever you want to.”

“Then it will be called a straw.”

Tali rolled her eyes again, deeper this time, and Shepard laughed at her exasperated sigh as she stood up and walked back over to the weapons bench, leaving John to fiddle with the belt of his liberty uniform.

Silversun Hotel, Room 3215, 2000 Hours

“Liara? Liaaarraaa?”

Traynor’s sing-song call sounded through the room as she knocked on the door, the layout now quite familiar as she let herself in. The room was, as always, in perfect order, Liara’s scant list of belongings neatly tucked away in every cabinet, closet, and shelf in the place. While Traynor herself appreciated a certain degree of cleanliness, she could not help but admire the disciplined spotlessness of the Asari’s living spaces at all times – I guess you grow into that after a hundred.

Liara walked out from the bedroom, this time in pink sweatpants, a white silk shirt and, most notably, lime-green fuzzy slippers, smiling radiantly as she entered the room. Though seeing Liara in this state was becoming less and less uncommon for Samantha, it still took her by surprise to see the business-like, aloof, secretive Asari from the Normandy transformed into such a friendly, kind face. While on the one hand it made her wonder what her friend was like before the war, before shepard; it also brought to mind an image of Liara standing in the same outfit instructing galactic politicians how to maneuver their governments to avoid an intergalactic war. A snicker rose and was quickly suppressed.

“Samantha! How nice to see you!”

“You too, Liara. I like the slippers.”

“Thank-you. A gift from Tali, though I admit I do question her sense of color sometimes. They’re quite comfy, though. So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, I was wondering if you’d like to… you know… go somewhere?”

The effort it took to get the words out of her mouth clearly showed on Sam as her eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of concentration and confusion. Silence hung between the Asari and the Human for a heartbeat or two, but while it was only the time Liara needed to take a breath to make a response, Sam nonetheless heard the silence of centuries and barely gave Liara time to think about what had been asked before she continued.

“You see, there’s this cool club I found which supposedly has an Earth, 20th century theme to it. And, I don’t know if you know this, but I actually got a history minor in university, which means I know a decent amount about that time period. So, I’d really like to go, but nobody likes going to the club or even a restaurant by themselves, so I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?”

Liara smiled as Traynor continued as fast as her mouth could move, barely stopping herself from panting for being out of breath at the end of her plea. The asari’s smile broadened as Sam looked up, her eyes full of something roughly akin to a sad child asking for a treat.

“Of course, Sam, I’d love to come with you. Besides, I think I’ve figured out what you’re doing.”

Like a trapdoor Traynor’s heart plummeted at the words, her mind searching for what her heart already knew about just what exactly she was doing. With sweaty and shaking palms she wracked her brain for anything which Liara could find out, her conscious thought skipping over all the blue-tinted dreams and the times she woke up having accidentally fallen asleep on Liara.

“And… and what might that be?”

“You’ve done such a good job of trying to hide it, but I think I finally figured it out.”

Heartbeats hung in the air like helium balloons.

“You want me to be your… how do humans say, wingman?”

Sam’s brain missed a beat as her brain processed the unexpected word. While she didn’t know what word it was exactly that she was expecting, she knew for a fact that ‘wingman’ was not it. Her mouth opened and shut as she tried to piece together a response, a deep sense of regret filling her, despite her utter ignorance as to its cause. Laughing slightly at her friend’s apparent confusion Liara continued.

“I know humans have a custom of taking a friend with them to a bar to find a… companion, for the night. If I am made to understand correctly, this is usually somebody that they’re quite close to, their best friend. And yes, Sam, I would love to be your wingman.”

As Liara continued Traynor got a hold of her senses, reigning in her flapping mouth and pulling her brain back to the domain of comprehensible, conscious thought. As she spoke, the anticipation which had turned to disappointment transformed again into frustration and she found herself trying not to let her voice slip to aggression/

“You know, Liara, I wasn’t going to ask that. Truth be told, I’m not really looking to pick just anybody up tonight, but thank-you for the offer. Would you still be open to come as a friend?”

It was now Liara’s turn to furrow her brows and squint at Traynor as though examining a specimen. It was clear from the movement of her eyes that the destruction of her assumed solution to Traynor’s recent behavior was puzzling to her to put it mildly. While still struggling to reconcile all the observed instances she could remember – the seats too small, the conversations too long, the pleasant nights continuing clear to morning and the times waking up having accidentally fallen asleep with her friend – she still managed a response.

“I would be… glad to do so. Give me a minute to go get dressed then we can leave immediately.”

Excerpt from “Alliance Uniforms in the Reaper Wars”, Page 273

Due to the capture of Earth during the initial Reaper attack, it became necessary for the Alliance Military to relocate their recruit training facilities from Earth, for obvious reasons. Their location of choice ended up being a set of empty lots on the tip of the Citadel arms, in Zakera ward. While they had already located “Gunner’s Mate A-School” on the ward, this was a facility designed to handle 3,000 personnel a year, rather than the 3,000,000 recruits gained during the war. As such, the “Alliance Recruit Training Command, Citadel” was formed.

With the large influx of Alliance service members, often with little more than the clothes on their back and a will to fight, the alliance felt it necessary to develop a “Liberty Uniform” – a uniform neither as formal as the Alliance Class Alpha Dress Uniform nor as militarized and Rugged as the standard Star Ship Service Uniform. The Result, was the Alliance Class Bravo Dress Uniform, colloquially known as the “Liberty Jacket”.

This uniform utilized the same trousers and shoes as the Alpha’s, however the jacket was changed to be both more comfortable and less formal. It was a waist-length coat, being fastened around the waist by a large belt similar to the Service Uniform’s. The side panels were made of black, elastic material for wearer comfort, and the front and back panel were made of standard Alliance Twill blue fabric. It was closed via 3 internal closure magnets, and sported the symbol of either the Alliance Navy or Alliance Marine Corps on the right breast. While the front panel was to be worn closed by regulation, service members commonly opened it in casual settings, such as social affairs and the barracks, to cool off. It had a stand-up collar, and was a long sleeve uniform, with no sleeve rolling authorized.

Rather than the standard Gold trim around the seams and for the logo, the alliance opted instead to utilize a cheaper slate grey fabric, giving the uniform a much more subdued appearance, deemed more fit for public socializing. Officers wore their rank on special grey shoulder boards, and enlisted service members sewed their rank onto the upper part of their sleeve, as on their Alphas. The uniform was worn with a black Beret, displaying the Systems Alliance Logo, but this was an often-omitted item, with service members claiming that “if [they] only had to wear it outside, then they should never wear it on the citadel, since the entire space station is inside.”

There were few variations on the basic uniform, but one notable modification was the addition of a red and white stripe down the white sleeve by the N7 corps, a change which – while never officially sanctioned nor allowed – was allowed to continue nonetheless.

This uniform was seen most commonly around ARTCC, with recruits often having no other clothes to wear besides their other uniforms. Closer to the presidium and Alliance Docks, the Service and Dress uniform was more common – service members often saving space by neglecting to pack the uniform. Furthermore, many service members took liberty where they could, often taking advantage of a 4-5 hour port call, and thus never taking the time to change into the appropriate liberty uniform.

Zakera Ward, Coming Home (nightclub), 2100 Hours

The club was stuffed in one of the more crowded streets this part of the Citadel, sandwiched between two larger complexes, its doorway no wider than 10 feet and with no windows leading in. The brilliant blue holo sign which stuck into the street with the image of a classic pin-up girl underneath was almost lost amidst all the sound and light of a modern causeway. None of this reduced the popularity of the joint, however, the line of service members and their respective dates waiting to get in stretching so far down the lane that it was the other, larger establishments that tended to get lost behind the human wall of impatience, youthful enthusiasm, and frenetic compulsion to enjoy what could be the last moments on the Citadel.

Inside, a small hallway about 15 feet inside, windows of soldiers’ clubs from WW1 clear to the modern era lining the wall. The hallway opened up to reveal a large rectangular room, at least 50 feet deep and 40 wide with the hallway exiting in the bottom right corner. Immediately to the right of the exit was a classic bar, the counters made of polished glass over brushed aluminum, glasses hanging from modern post racks as the Turian, Human, and Asari bar tenders jumped left and right to accompany all the orders coming through the tenants. Young men and women scrambled over each-other, shoving and cajoling to present their credit-chits to the bar tenders, those sitting on the round post-stools getting pushed and manhandled by the throng, not maliciously but certainly without much consideration for their well-being.

The neons from the bar shone onto the polished black floor as the room transitioned to the table-seating area, approximately 20 round tables of varying sizes positioned around the small space. Bathed in a warm white light from lighted globes hung above, with red accent lights shining from the corners, patrons of every race and age could be seen laughing, eating, enjoying what looked like some wonderfully prepared food. Tables ranged from grizzled veterans, sitting more quietly than the rest swilling around old memories in their whisky glasses, to young recruits, boisterously bragging about their basic training exploits and the honors and glories they would seize when the reapers finally got ahold of them. The din was nearly deafening, every person screaming to be heard over the next, but the broad smiles and boisterous laughs gave the tumultuous sound a wholesome air of, if not happiness, at the very least excitement and friendship.

Beyond the tables was the dance floor, wide and covered in what looked like actual wood, a rarity on the Citadel. The band-stand was right next to the dancefloor, and on it an odd fusion of earth 20th century instruments and citadel races serenated the space with swing music. There were Turians on the upright base and guitar; Asari on the piano, a clarinet, a saxophone, and two trombones; Humans on trumpet and the remaining winds; and a very energetic Hanar skillfully playing the drums. They wailed on big band classics, their interpretations far from straight reproductions, but the energy and atmosphere of the century long past being brought nonetheless to this space station club. Patrons stood in groups of two to ten around the tables, conversing and

Throngs of people danced and undulated on the dance floor, some swinging as they had seen in videos, others skilled in the dance, and others just moving as the music seemed to compel them to. It was a great mixing pot, even more so than the tables, as dancers trading partners beamed at complete strangers as they all sought to escape the war which raged outside. Alliance soldiers danced with Asari commandos, Turians two-stepped with Batarians.

Lining the walls of the club was additional seating, small booths with dividers between them where the more reserved guests could find their seats. The constituency here was slightly older than the rest of the club, though largely no different than the rest of the club: soldiers and survivors looking for solace amidst the sundering of the galaxy. But instead of yelling at each other across the table they leaned towards each other, conversations in confidence staying so even with the volume. They watched the dancefloor with interest and bemused smiles, memories of their own dancing supplanting the people in front of them, memories moving and swaying with the melodies as they once had themselves.

The effect was not lost on Shepard and Tali as they walked in, Shepard sporting the subdued blues and greys of the Liberty uniform that many of the other soldiers in the joint were wearing, the red and white stripe on his arm getting a few raised eyebrows and hasty salutes as he and Tali walked towards the bar. They managed to find two tables, the combination of a Quarian (of whom she was one of five among the roughly 150 people inside) and an N7 quickly garnering enough respect and curiosity to win them a couple of stools. Drinks soon in hand, Tali and John turned and watched the spectacle before them from the bar.

“Well, Tali, this place certainly doesn’t lack for interest.”

“You’re telling me you don’t like it?”

John laughed. “Not at all, I think it’s great. I just never thought I’d hear swing music in a Citadel club, that’s all.”

“Is that what this is? I’ve never heard it before, but I think I like it.”

“Yeah. Some people just call it classical, but really it’s swing. Big Band, if you wanted to get picky. My dad used to play it on the freighter. He had learned the clarinet for long space journeys, said it kept some of the deep-space restlessness away. Ultimately, there wasn’t much music to play from the modern era, so he bought a big book of Benny Goodman songs and just let them wail.”

“I never knew that, John. Is that why you picked up the piano?”

“Not quite, but it’s probably why I was open to it.”

The piano player in the background jumped into a particularly aggressive lick as Tali spoke, both she and John looking up to watch as they heard the army of notes march up and back down the keyboard in melodious order.

“So, can you play that?”

“That? Sadly, no. I might have had time on deployments, but not that much time.”

“I’ll bet you could if you tried.”

The two watched as the band played, the musicians making eye contact with one another as the song pushed forwards with high-tempo energy. Tali spoke first.

“This is nice to see. Everybody relaxing for a bit.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s something that Quarians aren’t too good at. We’re always worried about something – which ship is going to fall apart next, where to get our next load of supplies, where to go on pilgrimage, even who married who on the ship, that we forget to just… relax, sometimes. It’s nice to see everybody taking some time before heading back out there.”

John smiled, finishing his drink in one last swig, before placing it down on the bar, standing up and grasping Tali’s arm. She looked at him, her eyes growing slightly with surprise as he beamed at her. It was a sight which she was not as used to as she’d like – her N7 outfitted in his dashing blue and black uniform, smiling down at her in an expression of absolute and utter enjoyment. Someday, after the war, this will be the norm, not the surprise. John walked Tali out, through the tables, a few service members recognizing the two as they walked, standing up, reaching out to give the legendary commander a reverent slap on the back, until they were both on the entrance to the dance floor. He put an arm around her waist, another gripping her hand and holding it mid-way up their bodies.

“Well, then let’s make sure this Quarian remembers.”

With that they started moving to the music, Shepard’s steps and movements at first foreign to Tali but quickly something she could respond to, at least somewhat gracefully. They moved into the crowd, getting lost in the sea of blue and black jackets, smiles seeking to forget the war for a night of loud music and good company, joining the masses dancing as the world fell apart.

Zakera Ward, Coming Home (nightclub), 2130 Hours

“Well that wait was long enough.”

“Indeed. But by the sounds of it, well worth it.”

Sam and Liara walked into the club, Sam fiddling nervously with her uniform as Liara walked elegantly in her dress, the outside a deep iridescent purple, a center panel of a textured red-pink fabric running from the top of the high collar clear to the hem. She had kept her usual gloves, the tops reaching to the middle of her upper arm, but the dress was shorter than most of her formal wear, stopping mid-calf rather than full-length. While the change gave her a less formal appearance, it served practical purposes as well – The Shadow Broker being all too aware of the number of assassinations and fights which happen in nightclubs across the Citadel. A far ways from the naïve archeologist of years ago, or even the fledgling information broker on Illium, Liara now found herself fighting the compulsion to look over her shoulder, her eyes shrewdly squinting in each new room she entered as she identified its exits, entrances, and security systems. A subcompact pistol was strapped to her thigh.

For the large part, though, her newly developed near-paranoia rarely prevented her from enjoying herself, and this was no exception. Her face lit up at the loud din of laughter and joy, her foot tapping imperceptibly at the alien music which had such a strong rhythm and energy of life about it. Sam trailed behind her as the Asari slipped through the crowd as silk through fingers, elegantly swapping her credit chit for a small martini glass of a rainbow colored drink, a sip of which only broadened her smile. Sam was slightly lost among the crowd, the crowd of soldiers, sailors, and marines around the bar absorbing her in a sea of black, gold, and grey. Eventually, though, the Specialist pushed her way past and stood with Liara on the outside wall, watching the scene as they found one of the few cocktail tables distributed around the seating area and set their drinks down, leaning in to talk to each other.

“You said this is Earth Classical Music, Sam?”

“Yes. Well, no. Well… kind of. Technically classical is a few hundred years before this. But a lot of people don’t differentiate, so by most people’s definition, this is classical, yes.”

“I admit, I quite like the sound of it. It has a nice energy to it.”

Sam watched Liara as she listened, her cerulean eyes closed as her head bobbed softly to the clarinet solo which was flowing across the audience like a particularly energetic stream. Her elegant shoulders moved in the dress, shifting her entire form as small movements built into a miniscule dance, more an undulation than a full dance, but energetic and appreciative of the sounds nonetheless. Sam felt her stomach turn over as she watched, the low nerves which she had been feeling from the moment she knocked on Liara’s door returning in full force, filling her stomach with butterflies and gymnasts.

Why on earth am I nervous? This is a nightclub, relax! Just, let loose.

True. So do it.

Do what?

Relax.

I can’t.

Why not?

Because… well, I don’t know. But I can’t.

Perhaps this is an answer to the first question? Why you’re nervous.

Shut up.

Liara opened her eyes, turning to look at Sam, who hastily took a sip of her drink before smiling broadly at the Asari, though the creases at her eyes spoke to the force it took to smile. A quizzical look came over T’soni’s face before she smiled at Sam, an earnest look of enjoyment and joy in her eyes that rarely graced them aboard the Normandy.

“Come on Sam, you look tense. I do believe that’s my job.”

“What, being tense? I’m not tense. I’m fine. Very relaxed.”

One of Liara’s eyebrows raised as the corner of her mouth curled up in unabashed amusement.

“Specialist Traynor, you are worse at lying than even The Commander. It doesn’t even take an information broker to know when you’re not telling the truth.”

Sam looked intently into Liara’s eyes, the raised eyebrows and challenging expression eating away at her resistance until she closed hers, laughing softly through her nose as she conceded with a hung head. Her lips curled up in a small smile as she looked up, Liara’s expression becoming even kinder and friendlier than before. Sam’s stomach did a few more somersaults for good measure.

“I know, Liara. I just… don’t know what has me so tense.”

“That is puzzling. Couldn’t be the entire galaxy burning under the threat of total extinction?”

Liara laughed as she spoke and Sam followed suit, but it soon became apparent that Traynor’s laugh was hollow, hiding deep thought and desperate introspection as she searched herself to figure out just why exactly she was tense.

Before her search could come to fruition, Liara walked forwards, grabbing her hand, sending electricity through her entire body. Startled, Sam looked up at Liara while her stomach went crazy and she found a slight haze invading her brain and obscuring her thoughts.

“Finish your drink, Sam. It’s impossible to stay tense when dancing.”

Smiling, almost uncontrollably, Traynor grabbed her glass and finished it all in one go, swept away by the Asari as soon as her glass was safely on the table. A change had thoroughly come over Liara, the normally reserved if not quiet Asari now energetic, excited, full of energy and enthusiasm. Quick steps took Liara and Samantha to the dance floor, where Liara stood on the side, eyes squinting as she watched the other dancers for 20 seconds before grabbing Traynor, putting both arms around her and perfectly mirroring the dance of the couple besides them.

“Wow, Liara, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody learn to dance so quickly.”

“It’s pattern recognition, a staple in both archeology and information brokering. Dancing is just a series of steps repeated with few variations. Identify the base steps, start with those, then add flourishes…”

To punctuate her sentence Liara grabbed Traynor, dipping the human deeply and holding her there before quickly bringing her back to her feet. A tingling sensation came over Traynor as she saw a slight mass effect field materialize around her, Liara’s motions effortless as Traynor dropped in mass. Samantha laughed as she was whirled back up, grabbing onto Liara again as the two continued dancing. Sam’s steps were clumsy, untrained, and while Liara’s were as well they were becoming competent much faster than Sam’s. On more than a few occasions Sam found herself tripping on her own feet or Liara’s, the Asari’s arms grasping her tighter to catch her fall. While she didn’t admit it to herself consciously, the feeling of Liara catching her was definitely a comforting one for her.

“I have to say, Liara, you seem much more… energetic, tonight.”

A quizzical look pulled an eyebrow up as Liara guided the two through a change-step to the newer, more energetic song behind them.

“How so?”

“Well, normally you’re… relaxed? No, that’s not right. Quiet? No… Composed. I guess that’s the best way I would describe it. And tonight you’re… well, I don’t want to say you’re not composed, you always are, you just are acting so…”

“Young?”

“That’s… not the word I would use to describe it, but…”

“It’s alright Sam, I know what you mean. I used to go to dance clubs a lot when I was younger, still in college. I stopped once I began working in the archaeology field, and there was never really time as an information broker. To be in one again, all the energy, all the joy, the music… it makes me feel at least 35 years younger, and I’m not even that old!”

A tinkling laugh from Liara lit up Traynor’s mind as she laughed too, the two continuing to dance as their feet got more and more experienced, Traynor’s trips and mistakes becoming less and less frequent. As a break in songs came Sam reached up, un-doing the top fastener of your jacket, the top corner of the closure panel folding down to reveal the lighter inner-lining, as much to make her seem more relaxed as to cool off.

“Is it ever weird for you?”

“Is what odd?”

“Being with humans who are so short lived when Asari live so long?”

Liara’s face darkened momentarily before an expression of thoughtfulness overtook the cloud. Her eyes squinted as she worked to put her response into the correct words, and after a few moments she responded.

“Not really, no. While, yes, Asari live longer than almost any species, we experience time in the same way as everybody else. Thus, while we may have more life, we live the same moments as you do, see the same things. An Asari at full maturity is much the same as a Human or Turian at full maturity, so while I may have more years behind me than you or Joker or Garrus, I am no more or less wisened. Though perhaps Joker was a bad example to use.”

Samantha smiled, the answer relieving some of the tension which she had felt at the beginning of the night as the two women gripped each other, swaying with the music as the hours of the night melted away.

Zakera Ward, Coming Home (nightclub), 2330 Hours

“Liara?”

“Shepard?”

“Traynor?”

“Tali?”

The four looked at each-other, dumbstruck as they stood in front of the bar, four drinks being placed in shocked hands. The shock wore off quickly and the four walked over to the seating area, grabbing a seat as they sipped their drinks. Shepard spoke first.

“What brings you two here?”

Traynor looked at Liara, who was beaming, though her cheeks were more blue than usual as a combination of the alcohol and the exertion of dancing. It truly was as though a small transformation had come over the young Asari, and Traynor couldn’t help but smile whenever she saw it.

“Oh, you know Shepard, just wanted a night on the town. You two?”

Tali responded. “Same. Found this place on my omnitool, thought it would be fun to try.”

“Us as well!”

Quickly the conversation continued, Shepard talking to Traynor and Liara to Tali. Samantha and Traynor laughed at the club, finding out they both knew more about swing music than the average patron as they threw names and songs around, both lighting up with each new song the band played in a string of classics. While the two talked commonly, they knew each other more on a professional level than a deeper friend level, though many of those barriers were broken down through their conversation by common interest and social lubrication. They laughed at the new recruits that flooded the establishment, their high-and-tight haircuts and enthusiastic youthfulness, told stories of their own times gone by. Tali and Liara meanwhile caught up on what had happened since they had last seen each other, the three days since the battle with the clone keeping both apart by busy schedules and occasionally differing interests. They caught up quickly, leaning close to each other and laughing earnestly and pleasantly.

After some time, and with no intentional signal, they all simultaneously decided to switch partners, the seating arrangement changing quickly as Shepard moved to talk to Liara and Tali to Traynor. Tali and Traynor had interacted closely on quite a few projects, and were fond of each other, but their friendship was not nearly as deep as that between Tali and Liara. Nonetheless, they found there was plenty conversation in the easy-going environment of the night.

“So, Sam, what brings you out with Liara?”

“Oh, you know, just going for a night out…. As friends.”

Traynor added the last bit hastily, immediately mentally cursing herself for adding such an awkward annex to a perfectly fine statement. Tali picked up on the timing as well, an eyebrow raised silently inside her helmet, Samantha seeing the silhouette of one eye become slightly taller than the other.

“Oh really?”

“Honestly, Tali, I swear! I don’t have a lot of friends on the crew, and most of them are off doing more… drunken, activities. Liara’s nice to go out with, more level-headed, mature. I did most of my drinking in college, thank-you, no need to repeat that again.”

“Is that really all, Sam?”

Tali’s voice was laden with accusatory sarcasm, her helmet angering forward as she levelled Traynor with a shrouded glance which would be improved only by glasses seated at the bridge of her nose.

“Tali! Yes, it is! Of course it is!”

Traynor gave Tali a light slap as she smiled at the ludicrous suggestion and laughed nervously. The two continued talking, but as they did so Traynor’s mind began running in the background, an internal dialogue of which she was not aware beginning to bring a conclusion of which she had been unaware for some time to the surface. Meanwhile, Shepard and Liara’s conversation had taken a similar turn.

“… so then I called him a ‘Big Stupid Jellyfish’ and stormed out with Javik. The look on everybody’s face… priceless.”

Liara shook her head with amusement as she covered her mouth, the laughter from the story threatening to forcibly remove her drink from her mouth.

“Oh shepard… you never cease to amuse.”

“Thank-you, thank-you. I try, you know. To be amusing. So, what brings you here with Traynor?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on Liara, I know you don’t normally go out. I feel like you spend most of your nights in with either a book or some top secret report or the other which could destabilize the entire galaxy.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Liara’s indigo blush gave away that, not only did she know exactly what Shepard was talking about, but knew that he was entirely correct.

“So, given how obvious it is that I’m right, what exactly brings you out with Ms. Traynor?”

“She… invited, me out. Rather than being as reclusive as I normally am, I figured there’s no harm in letting myself live a little bit.”

John’s skeptical squint told Liara just how much he was buying of her story, and she suspected it amounted to an unfortunately small amount. Suddenly, his face turned into a wide Grin, and he shook his head while endearingly clapping Liara on the shoulder.

“Come on, I’ll grill you about this later.”

Looking to the rest of the table, John continued.

“Anybody up for more dancing?”

Zakera Ward, Outside of Coming Home, 0210

The four friends had poured themselves down onto a bench after the club had closed, the stream of pairs and partners scattering, some looking for more activities before calling it a night, others heading straight back to their homes. A steady stream of blue and black uniforms was flowing back towards the barracks, a collection of young men and women, faces flushed from the excitement of the evening, untested and untried by the trials they couldn’t conceive of that were waiting for them. As sailors and marines have always done they traveled in groups of three to five, wildly gesturing and gesticulating as they told stories from their first tour of the night club. A few were walking with a partner, whether they walked in with them or just out, their heads bent together, quietly talking and laughing with each other. Outside the door there was a group of couples, hands joined as one was pulled inexorably back to service and the other back to the rest of their life. There were surprise kisses, long hugs, longing backwards glances, all the hallmarks of the end of a wartime night out. There were some officers and NCO’s among the mix, but they all separated themselves from the group, aware of the situation their rank would put themselves and the rest of the soldiers in.

Shepard had unbuttoned his jacket entirely, a red flush filling his cheeks from both the dancing and the drinks – he had lost count. Traynor had followed suit, but donned her beret in an odd act of formality, the headgear falling off her head at a cockeyed angle which only served to improve her image of a mildly disheveled devil-may-care attitude. Liara’s gloves had long since come off, tucked neatly in one of Sam’s pockets, her face also flushed and a constant grin affixed to her face. While she was not entirely drunk, she suspected that over the course of the night she had consumed more alcohol than she had in a while, and the world was assuredly spinning faster than it should to her eyes. While Tali’s complexion was hidden behind her helmet, her speech was decidedly slurred, the fabric wrapping her suit slightly off-kilter.

Shepard turned to Liara, smiling as he spoke, his speech quiet, as if discussing matters in confidence, but nonetheless slightly slurred.

“So, wait, you’re telling me you two fell asleep on each other? Multiple times?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. A few.”

“And you watch movies together on a couch. The same couch?”

“Yes, Shepard, I’ve told you this before.”

“And drink tea while talking for hours on the Presidium?”

“When I can spare the time, yes.”

“I’m not the only one who sees it, am I?”

Liara looked at Shepard with a slightly inebriated quizzical look, but eventually comprehension dawned slowly in her eyes.

“Well, I thought I did. I thought Samantha was trying to get me to be her wingman, a companion humans have for night’s out of special confidence and friendship, no? But, upon asking her, she said this is not the case.”

Shepard’s laugh was louder than he had intended, and a few people nearby looked over. He kept laughing quite hard, soon bent over and clutching his stomach through the hard chuckles. Slowly, he regained his composure.

“Liara! No, that’s not it at all!”

“Well then, Commander, I fail to see what it is you’re hinting at!”

Shepard shook his head, equal parts amazed, slightly disappointed, and amused.

“I don’t want to ruin it for you. Just… keep an open mind, alright?”

Tali, meanwhile, talking to Traynor, was a little bit less subtle.

“So, you’re telling me you two cuddle while watching movies, lose track of time with each other, and sit oddly close together even when there’s plenty of space? You go out to nightclubs together, arrange breakfast dates, and have spent the majority of your free time on the station together?”

“Yeah, why? Is something wrong with that?”

Tali shook her head, muttering “Keelah” under her breath. When she looked up, she put a hand on Samantha’s shoulder.

“Do I need to spell this out for you, or are you going to figure it out on your own?”

“Honestly, Tali, I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

Tali stared Samantha in the eyes as she spoke.

“Sam, you love her. It’s as clear as a misaligned drive core!”

Traynor stared at Tali in disbelief, her brain slowed slightly by the beverages she had enjoyed throughout the night, but the internal dialogue which had been trying to surface through the music and dancing finally broke through to the surface of her conscious thought.

Wait, what?!

Yeah, haven’t you figured that out yet?

No… No! I hadn’t! I just thought we were… that we… I don’t know what I thought!

Tell me it doesn’t make sense and we’ll reevaluate, but… come on Sam. You know it’s true.

You love her Sam.

I guess I do…

You totally do.

Who would have thought?

Clearly not you!

“I’ll leave you with that one, Sam, I think Shepard and I are going to take a car home.”

Traynor was shaken from her internal thought processes as Tali spoke to her. Shepard and Liara were standing next to them, Tali’s arm around Shepard’s waist and his around her shoulders. Liara stood to Traynor’s right, and suddenly she was aware of the miniscule distance between them. She turned to Tali.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. Of course. Get home safe!”

“You two also. You coming to Joker’s party?”

“You mean the one at your guys’ place that he invited everybody for? Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Wonderful. Good night!”

The two pairs of people walked away from each other, heading in opposite directions. Liara and traynor walked side by side, mere centimeters separating their hands. Liara turned to Traynor, speaking first.

“Samantha, do you… are you…”

The two stopped shortly after starting, joining the group of couples saying goodnight outside the club. Liara, being slightly taller than Samantha, looked down slightly as the two looked into each-other’s eyes, neither being aware – and certainly not acknowledging – the fact that barely two centimeters stood between them.

“What, Liara?”

“Nothing. Shepard just… said something to me. And it had me thinking.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Which is alarming. I’m normally the one who knows more.”

“I know, it’s a bit annoying, if I do say so.”

“Is it? Either way, I had just… I don’t know.”

Concern clouded Traynor’s face as she watched the confusion on Liara’s. It was so unlike her to lose her words that the pauses and breaks in her speech immediately concerned Sam. So often had she heard her voice, full of conviction and direction espouse facts which no person had any right to know, that to hear her now so confused and puzzled made Sam immediately uneasy.

Samantha’s face too was furrowed in the brow, Tali’s comments sitting heavily in the back of her mind as she mused over them. Memory after memory replayed in her mind’s eye as she reviewed the evidence, testing the hypothesis against the observations like any good technician would. What she found was consistent with Tali’s claim, from her and Liara’s interactions to her own feelings and reactions to Liara, but it was a prospect which was so large, so unusual for her, that she didn’t quite know how to process it.

It wasn’t that Traynor hadn’t loved in the past, there was a string of broken hearts and summer flings behind her which attested quite the opposite. She had experienced her fair share of hook ups and break-ups, of going steady and breaking things off. But through all of it, no matter how much she ardently denied it, her kind-hearted nature to adverse to the concept to let it be put to words, they had never been able to keep up with her. She had dated in college, but they could never understand what she was working on. She had played the field in Alliance R&D, but none of them had shared her vision. For her, work was her life – a character attribute that played as much as a defect as a strength depending on the moment. And for her partner to not be able to keep pace there was a fatal flaw. But here? Here was an Asari whose intelligence and competence Sam questioned if she could keep up. Self-assuredness had rarely been a problem for her, but her own abilities were thrown into doubt in the shadow of The Shadow Broker. And not only that, she was kind, caring, too big hearted for the galaxy she kept together.

Liara had hung her head, the silence in the moments Sam had taken to think ringing in her ears. While she would not describe herself as lost or confused, Shepard’s comments had certainly left her disoriented. Her heart was something she had learned to guard carefully. From the jokes and cajoling of the archeological team to the ruthless world of the information broker, she had earned bruises and scars which had wizened her more than she would like. There had been times, in her younger years, when she had loved and laughed openly. But with Saren, the Reapers, the Collectors, the galaxy falling to flame around her, those times had seemed long past. Sure, her friendship with Sam had grown, and it was one of the most pleasant things about her life on The Normandy, but she struggled to admit the point it had gotten to. She felt odd, a deep guilt, to be building a friendship, perhaps more, hopefully more, in a galaxy so stripped and stained by pain. More than that, she wasn’t certain if that’s what it was. It had been so long since she had opened up like that, short in years but eternities in experience, that she questioned even what she was feeling. Liara didn’t like not feeling.

Traynor looked up at the Asari, Liara’s head bowed as her eyes were closed in thought.

“Liara?”

“Yes, Samantha?”

“I have a question.”

“I think I do too.”

Traynor steeled herself. Three breathes, then ask, Sam. You need to know, now. After what Tali said… there can be no more room for doubt.

The two spoke over each other.

“Liara, is there anything between us?”

“Samantha, are you interested in me?”

The two took a step back, the shock at the similarity of their questions obvious in their surprise. Liara spoke first.

“You first.”

“No, you.”

“Sam, please?”

Samatha sighed, taking a deep breath.

“Alright. Liara, is there anything between us? Like, not friends? Beyond… friends?”

Two cerulean eyes looked at Samantha, the human’s face quivering as the stress of the question, and the risk of the answer – both affirmative and negative – hung in the air over her head. Liara’s face broke into a smile, not as wide nor as joyous as Samantha would have hoped for, but open, vulnerable, honest. The reply was honest, tentative.

“You know, Sam, I’ve been asking myself the same thing. To be honest, I don’t know. I’ve never been good at dealing with things, feelings, like this. But were I to guess, I would say yes, there is.”

A breath of relief came from Sam, who was surprised to learn that she had even been holding it. She looked at Liara, an immediate flame lit inside her heart once the caution was paid off. She felt the heat of joy and love grow inside her chest, her mind hopelessly trying to temper it with the voice of reason, but the warmth spread through her nonetheless. She realized just how long it had been developing, the relief of hearing Liara’s response releasing the emotional tension within her like a bow string. Her smile was open, wider than her mouth could comfortably form, and her eyes lit up, sparkling with the image of Liara in front of her.

With little notice she jumped forwards, her hands behind Liara’s head. She pulled her in for a kiss. Liara squeaked softly in surprise, not ready for the reaction, her body tensing as she felt Sam pull her forwards. In a fraction of a second Liara relaxed into it, taking notice of the smooth texture of Sam’s lips on hers, the warmth of them, the sweet taste they left.

Not a second later Samantha released Liara, opening her eyes as she panted, out of breath. Liara blinked a few times in surprise, her mouth agape with shock before forming into a bashful smile, her cheeks becoming the color of oceans as she recovered what bits of her composure she could. Traynor’s cheeks were flushed as she spoke.

A few young recruits in the background hooted and cheered, Traynor smiled and laughed as she turned to them and waved, one of them mounting a park bench and yelling “Oo’rah!” as loud as he could before his comrades, laughing, pulled him down.

“You know, Liara, that’s good enough for me.”

“Clearly.”

The two women laughed, turning to walk back to their hotel, shoulder to shoulder with their hands brushing into each other. Silence sat between them, neither awkward nor comfortable, but pleasantly optimistic. After a few moments, Traynor spoke.

“I know you need some time, Liara, I think I might too. But, if there is anything here, I’d like to find it. Can we take things slow, see where they grow, and keep an open mind?”

“I think I’d like that, very much. It’d be nice to have something beautiful in all this.”

The two walked, chatting intermittently, back to their hotel room. Slowly, their hands found each other, just as they had.

#Mass Effect #mass effect 3 #mass effect fic #mass effect fanfiction #John Shepard #Commander Shepard #shep x tali #Tali Zorah #mshepard #Talimance

4 notes · View notes