#I wanna listen to some slam poetry now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

magess · 3 years ago

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Cyrano de Bergerac - McAvoy Edition

Thanks to Tumblr, I had seen this image. And learned that this image was from a production of Cyrano de Bergerac.

Several months ago, I saw the Peter Dinklage movie of the musical Cyrano, and then learned that this stage production with James was going to be in Brooklyn soon. So I thought, 1) I wanna see him kiss this man, 2) I wanna see what changes they have made to this story such that he is kissing Christian.

I have now just gotten back from seeing the play.

First, I think there are several things that the Jamie Lloyd production with James (hereafter: McAvoy production) does better. The story of Cyrano requires you as an audience to just accept a number of completely implausible things. Among them, love at first sight. Christian going along with this plan where Cyrano does all the talking for him. Roxane being unable to tell that Christian is not only not the man writing the letters but also not be able to tell that he isn't even the one TALKING at one point. And that Roxane is such the epitome of womanhood that both of these men will basically die without her affection.

Thing 1: Roxane is a person

This is pretty huge, actually. But in the Dinklage musical, she's just sort of there. She's pretty. Cyrano loves her because she was nice to him as a child when everyone else has been hateful to him and he's basically spent his life infatuated. But she's not really... great at anything? She's not outstandingly kind or smart or funny. She's just an object they are obsessed with.

In the McAvoy production, Roxane is a student. She's going to the university to learn about literature and poetry, and these intellectual pursuits are paramount for her. Everyone in the show is part of a poetry society, it seems. They all value the spoken word, Cyrano most of all.

She challenges men. She demands to be seen. It seemed to me like Roxane and Cyrano shared an interest in poetry that helped them meet on an intellectual level, not just an infatuation level.

Thing 2: The Energy

I had no idea what I was going to see, really. Was it going to be a rap musical?

Well, it did open with a rap battle, but there was a lot that wasn't rapid fire streams of words. It was, however, slam poetry all through. If you know how to do the Open Captions thing at a theater, I would suggest it for this show, because I honestly wanted captions just so I wouldn't miss what they were saying. The phrasings were all clever, it was just so fast, and in a Scottish accent, that I couldn't catch it all. And I love me some Scottish accent.

Cyrano's energy is wild. High passions. Funny. Serious. Angry. He runs the gamut.

There's a humor throughout that does not exist in the Dinklage production.

Thing 3: That Accent

Let James perform with his natural accent all the time. His voice is sex appeal all on its own. Seriously. There's a long soliloquy that's just him reciting how much he loves Roxane, and it's just sublime to listen to him say it.

Thing 4: Side Characters

There's a whole thing with the baker and lemon tarts...

Thing 5: Cyrano

This McAvoy's production asks you to believe that James McAvoy is ugly. They don't try to make him ugly. They just describe a nose so ugly and offensive that only insults can be said about it. And they expect you to suspend you disbelief rather than try to slap a fake nose on him and make him ugly.

The Things That Don't Work

Thing 1: Christian

I think the problem with Cyrano is Christian. He was a problem with the Dinklage production, too. Part of it, maybe a huge part of it, is that I fundamentally don't buy Love At First Sight. I believe in Sexual Attraction At First Sight, mostly because the world tells me that it happens. But no, with Christian it's love. Roxane knows in her bones that he's beautiful and kind and smart and poetic. And she's going to love him and marry him.

If he's that great, I sort of need him to BE THAT GREAT. The Dinklage Christian was... sweet. A good person, but not outstanding in any way. Just decent.

The McAvoy Christian was introduced as an asshole and became a witless moron. He was a genuinely stupid person who had no redeeming qualities. His only quality seemed to be a willingness to play into Cyrano's plan.

EDIT: Ok, I thought I was done with this, but I'm not. Christian is introduced in this production, like his first big scene, meeting Cyrano at the barracks. All the other soldiers tell him that Cyrano is sensitive about his nose and not to mention it if you don't want to get in a fight.

Christian GOES OUT OF HIS WAY to throw as many insults as he can at Cyrano as soon as he sees him, trying to provoke him. This is how he's presented. "Please, don't upset our good friend, who we all love dearly." "I'm going to insult this loser so hard, it's gonna be great!"

That's bully behavior. He goes out of his way trying to have a laugh and hurt the hero that, as the audience, we are already fond of. And I'm supposed to... what? Forgive him? Like him? Fuck that.

Not only does he lose all credibility with me in that instant, he loses all my generosity, all benefit of the doubt. Roxane thinks he must be a good man, and the first thing I really see him do is this?

No. Demerits. He's now in a hole he has to dig himself out of.

I also just don't think I liked the actor? I couldn't decide what his accent was supposed to be, but it made him sound like a fool on top of that malicious initial behavior.

Thing 2: That Kiss

I can't tell you how disappointing this is to say because I went to see this production because of that kiss. But really, I cannot tell you why it happened. The scene is during the final act, when their regiment has been ordered to a suicide mission. Cyrano has told Christian that he's been writing to Roxane several times a day and he wants to tell him about the final good-bye letter he's written.

Christian freaks out over how much they've been lying to her. And also Roxane has told him that his pretty surface doesn't matter to her because she's in love with the person inside, and he knows the person inside isn't him.

So they're having this emotional breakdown moment, and Christian asks "Is there a version of life where two men can live as one person?" He gives Cyrano a long look and then kisses him. It is a surprise to Cyrano. Painful for both of them. And then Christian basically runs off and dies.

And the problem is... I cannot square WHY Christian kisses him. If Christian is supposed to have fallen in love WITH CYRANO, when? When did that happen?

At one point Cyrano tells him that he loves him, but again, when? How did that come to be? Because so far all he's been doing is carrying Christian's sorry ass everywhere, protecting him, getting him a wife, keeping him from harm. Christian isn't so much a person as a puppy he was told to take care of.

And the thing is... the potential in that image is vast.

Imagine queering this story, such that Christian and Cyrano love each other and they also both love Roxane. Roxane thinks she loves Christian but actually loves Cyrano. When Christian dies, they're both crippled with grief, but only Cyrano knew who Christian really was because of the time they spent in the war together where their relationship actually developed. Roxane is grieving a lie and not being in love with Cyrano when she could be, because he never reveals the truth until the end.

It's MORE complicated but I feel like there's something juicy in this triangle of misunderstanding, hiding, lies, and love.

I thought the McAvoy production was going to do something like that story, but it didn't, it stuck mostly to the script, except for that curious kiss. The scenes are basically beat for beat the same as the Dinklage version, just with different words.

Thoughts

So now I think someone needs to take another run at this but really focus on making Christian as great as everyone thinks he is. He needs charisma and kindness and intelligence. In the McAvoy version's slam poetry setting, being unable to come up with poetry on the fly would be a skill that he conceivably could not have that Cyrano does, which does not also require that he be stupid.

Give me like... Jensen Ackles. Some ridiculously gorgeous man with maxed out charisma who is also kind. LET HIM BE KIND AND CHARMING WITH PEOPLE. I need to like him. *I* need to like him so I can believe that everyone else likes him.

Do the love triangle. I mean, it's RIGHT THERE. Christian even SAYS that he can talk to men but he can't talk to women. HE CAN TALK TO MEN. MAYBE HE WRITES CYRANO A LETTER, EVEN. And this is why Cyrano will know him in a way that Roxane won't ever. **And that someone was actually worth knowing.**

If you're in the NYC area, you should see if there are any tickets left!

#cyrano de bergerac #james mcavoy

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wensvol · 3 years ago

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do u ever think about suguru homeschooling miminana

YES ALL THE TIME! i’m homeschooled myself but only for a few years now so i don’t have a Complete image of it but have these headcanons anyway

they share a room together and he wakes them up each morning. geto lets them get dressed by themselves and when they come downstairs he’s already made breakfast and they all eat together. he always listens carefully to whatever crazy dreams they had and they love telling him about what they learned on their own.

he teaches them in non shaman subjects until twelve o’clock, which is when their break begins. mimiko is a star in math and nanako is already fluent in english and is starting to take a liking to slam poetry :)

during their break they ask geto if he needs anything because they love going out and running errands together. he trusts them enough to survive on their own but he always tells them to be careful anyway. oh and to call when they’re away for longer than an hour, just in case.

after that the shaman training starts. he helped them discover their cursed techniques and works on his own time on ways to improve them and put them to use. but that’s not always needed: they’re very creative themselves and often provoke each other to try out new things and discover their talents on the way

thanks to their schedule being quite loose but still clear they have a lot of insight and are taught from a young age how to plan and strategise correctly and beneficially. geto couldn’t be prouder of them.

when they turn twelve they announce they want to try cooking dinner for the three of them. geto is surprised, but allows it anyway. after one innocent fire they share a tasteful meal together.

geto keeps a journal and writes about their improvement. one time mimiko found it and read the parts that mentioned her and her sister’s name, carefully avoiding the parts in which a certain “satoru” was mentioned. she felt overwhelmed by geto’s love for them.

geto himself didn’t come from a loving home so he tries to give mimiko and nanako what he lacked; time and attention. and they give him love in return. it works flawlessly.

geto offered them a three day weekend because they work so hard but they refused. they love his lessons and are always eager to learn more. however, he demanded that they relax and rest too. on the weekends they play board games together and watch movies, sometimes at home but they all love the experience of going to the theater itself.

geto wanted to let them win and played it easy, but they’re so competitive he actually had to try hard as to keep part of his honour. however, he’s still unbeatable in uno.

because they’re around him so much, they start picking up some of his habits. nanako wore her hair like geto for a long time and mimiko picked up his sly sarcasm.

he spoils them. not only because he’s an incredible teacher, as soon as one of them mentions she wants a certain thing, he gets it for them. they promise each other to start denying gifts because it’s simply too much, but they don’t wanna disappoint him. as if they ever could.

that’s all for now! thank you for your ask, i love them so so much they truly warm my heart <3 i hope this satisfied you :)

#screaming and crying rn dad geto best geto #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk manga #jjk spoilers #geto #geto suguru #mimiko and nanako #nanako and mimiko #nanako hasaba #mimiko hasaba #satosugu #asks #jjk headcanons

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binniesthighs · 4 years ago

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what you heard | reader x changjin

a/n: hi. its missing changjin hours also now I am addicted to poly r/ship fics so here is what my brain came up with hehe (pic creds to OPs!)

what you heard | reader x changjin

Pairing: self insert, hwang hyunjin x gender neutral reader x seo changbin

Genre: smut w/ fluffy tones

Tags: poly r/ship, comfort fic, outdoors sex, friends to lovers, discovery of feelings, idiots in love, with a lil bit of comedy, college au, teehee switch!changbin, switch!hyunjin, switch!reader, they’re all kinda fighting for dominance muhaha (its those bestie vibes ahaha), bratty behavior on all sides, jinnie kinda flips a switch when he gets in the mood (hehe pun intended), spitroasing (r), unprotected sex (stay safe!), sex under the stars hehe, penetration and fingering (r), oral (r & m), face fucking, cumshot, cum eating, that good, good makin’ out, soft and intimate body touching hell yeah, fluffy ending

Word count: 6.8k

Recommended listening: what you heard by Sonder

If there was something that you and your two bestfriends were the best at, it was getting your heart broken.

Hopeless romantics you all were, in one way or another. In fact, it would take even more than your set of three hands to count the number of times that the three of you had come over with a broken heart, seeking ice cream, hugs, or plates to break.

Changbin was the kind to fall in love slowly, but when he did, it consumed him, and everything that he was. He would become convinced that there was no one better for him in the whole world. He would spend sleepless night writing songs and poetry about those who would occupy his mind. Changbin would write love letter after love letter to never send them, or to have them crinkled into papery balls, and slam-dunked into his waste bin. He would often joke that he was ready to love someone, but he just didn’t quite know how to. Under it all, you and Hyunjin knew that he must’ve been scared if they didn’t love him back.

Hyunjin fell in love with people at the drop of a hat. It was his “fatal flaw” as he liked to to joke about too. The gorgeous blond man would fall in love over hearts scribbled on coffee cups, smiles in passing, and compliments on days when he had caught the bus late. This man was the kind to sing love songs loudly in the shower no matter who heard him, and would often have a new crush by the week. Unlike Changbin, he had no fear when it came to confessing, but had even worse luck getting someone to take his words seriously. Hyunjin had too much love to give, and never received enough back.

You, on the other hand, delayed love for as long as you could, no matter how much that you would dream of it. Love came to you in the forms of movies and books, fictional characters and song lyrics. You wrote about the love you had to give in countless journals and on the back of sticky-notes that had been used on the front-side. Love was more of an abstract concept to you. It was never something that you could touch but rather dream about. However, while this wasn’t the worst way to view it all, you still thirsted for something more. A hand to hold, a warm body to tangle up in the sheets with you.

On this day in particular, you and your friends had gathered for a meeting: your “Unofficial Lonely Hearts Club” as you called it. You couldn’t recall who had called the meeting after the long week that you had, but it was likely what each of you had needed.

These nights would often start the same: the three of you shoved into Changbin’s pickup, windows down, night air in your lungs, some song on the stereo that Changbin had been into these days. The three of you lived in the typical college city nestled into the side of some mountainside--a stark contrast to where you had come from before. It was the kind of place where people went to forget about who they were before to become new people. For some reason, some crazy fraction of the people who moved there, never left.

First chance you got, you would move the hell out of there: a place full of so much heartbreak and disappointment…who could dare to stay?

Hyunjin stuck his hand out the window, making little waves with his palm in the wind. You wondered what he had been thinking of that night; if he was sad or if he was happy. After knowing him for nearly four years now, you knew there was nothing in the world that he deserved more than to feel all the warmth that he had conveyed to others. It was a crime that he never got it back.

Changbin’s free arm held to the handle above the car door frame, and he flexed and relaxed his muscles as he hung his fingers there. You too wondered what thoughts floated on his mind: if he was making up lyrics or if he was putting together some grad story or gesture only for it to never see the light of day. He too deserved all the love the world could offer.

Changbin’s car sped up the dirt road to the lookout spot where kids would go to get drunk, high, or possibly both. It was a dreary and empty Wednesday evening, and secretly you hoped that no other rambunctious students would be there to shatter bottles on the craggy rocks. His headlights lit the path ahead, and the car bounced on the rough road with dusty orange rocks. The higher you got to the mountainside, the more static-y the stereo would buzz until soon all that was left were broken lyrics.

There was one spot you liked particularly: it was a ledge that would jut out horizontally, giving a clear view to the whole of the land below: you would see the white lights from the nearby hospital, and the stadium lights from that god-awful football stadium that had sucked up your student loans. Further, you could see river on the edge of the city-line, and how it would ripple in dark blue sparkles under the moonlight.

Your two best friends would grab the blankets that were habitually kept in the backseat made of scratchy wool, but this only made them warmer. Changbin also kept a couple camping lamps in his car to light up the dark space of his cargo bed. The weight of your bodies would shake the space and make the car bounce a bit on its wheels when the three of you would cuddle up between eachother to take in the scene.

On nights like tonight, neither of you would say much, but just look out and feel it all. There was a kind of beauty in the simplicity of the way that everything seemed so still up there, or how time had appeared to stop somewhat. If you were lucky, you could hear the hoot of an owl, or some other critter rustling in the bushes.

Hyunjin was always the one to sit in the middle, and he would take turns resting his head upon your shoulder or Changbin’s sighing deeply into how they would rise and fall. You hugged your knees to yourself and wondered how many more times you would come up here with them, or if after graduation, it would happen at all. It was painful to consider, but you even wondered if they would be in your life at all after everything ended.

“I’m sick of being lonely.” Hyunjin said into the cold air. He shifted, looking both you and your other friend in the eyes. “Its depressing and exhausting.”

“What are you talking bout ‘Jin?” Changbin threw his hoodie over his head.

“I mean moping about people who don’t ever feel the same...feeling sad when it doesn’t go my way...I’m sick of it!! I just wanna like, give up!! Would it be so hard for me to just like, stop feeling??”

“Oh Jinnie...don’t be ridiculous. You can’t just stop falling in love with people. It’s impossible. Not just for you but...” You exhaled out, “...for all of us.”

“Yeeeah, I don’t think that you have much control over that.” Changbin agreed.

“No, seriously!! It’s shit!!”

You wrapped your arms around him lovingly, nuzzling into his shoulder to sooth him, “I know, I know.”

“Aren’t you guys sick of it?? The three of us must be cursed or something.”

Changbin laughed out his little trademark chuckle and ruffled up his friends blond locks. “You’re being dramatic again Hyunjin. It’s not that bad.”

“Psh! Says you who hasn’t gone on a date in months!”

“Hey!!”

You flicked both of your friends on the sides of their heads. “Cut it out, will you? We came up here to relax and forget all that stuff, remember?”

Hyunjin gave out a sign in his exasperation, turning to fiddle with his little Bluetooth speaker that had definitely seen better days. The last crickets of the season chirped in the early fall air, and the little device booted up with the tiny ringtone that you knew well.

“Anything we want to listen to in particular?”

“Whatever you feel like Jinnie.”

The little blue-white light of his phone illuminated his face, and Hyunjin picked a song that you had likely heard dozens of times before. It was from that artist that he had adored to bits, but only really listened to when he was feeling down.

“Oh Jinnie.” You hushed, then wrapped your arm around his wide shoulder. “No one deserves you.”

Changbin let his head fall on the other boy’s shoulder too. When the three of you were close like this with your body heat shared between you, it was cozier than anything imaginable. While you and your two friends weren’t the most touchy of people, there were still times when you could huddle up, and it was no secret that it felt safer than anything.

Hyunjin chuckled a bit, causing his shoulders to shake. “You know what they say in those movies about people who can’t find love after long?”

“What’s that?”

“They say, “By the time that we turn thirty, if neither of us have found love, lets just marry eachother.””

Changbin scoffed, “And you’re bringing this up why?”

“Well, I guess it wouldn’t be the most ridiculous idea if the three of us decided to do that, right? Seeing how the current trend is going?”

You exchanged adoring and teasing glances with Changbin over your adorably naïve friend.

“I think you’re missing something out of that equation Jin.”

His doe-eyes widened, “What’s that?”

“In all of those movies, it was usually two people who made that promise.”

“Two people, three people, what does it matter? As of right now, its looking like the only people that we’ve got is eachother.”

Hyunjin stretched out his hands into his sweater paws and made a little squeak when he cracked his back.

“What do you say?”

“Hm.” Changbin cleared his throat, “So you’re being serious?”

“What’s so crazy about it?” Convinced as ever, he counted out the points on his fingers, “We could all live together like we’ve always talked about, we’ll never be lonely and have someone to do things with, we don’t have to be second guessing ever, waiting for someone to call us back...we all already know eachother really well so there will be no surprises...”

“Oh, so you are being serious about it then?” You ruffled his hair up a bit, just to get a rise out of him like it usually would.

“I mean...it’s not like it would be hard...right?”

Changbin sucked at his teeth, “Mm. I guess not.”

“But isn’t a marriage supposed to be like, having kids, being in love, being...partners?” You added.

Hyunjin stammered with frantic hands, “W-well, we don’t have to do everything!! Marriage is so conventional these days, we don’t have to follow all the rules, especially since there will be the three of us anyway.”

Changbin sighed, casting his head up to the ocean-blue sky dotted with silvery constellations and the red blinking lights of airplanes overhead.

“You’re still forgetting something Jinnie.”

The blond tiled his head.

“The part about being in love?”

The tallest boy shied his hair behind his ear, then tucked his chin into one of the blankets.

“I mean...I know that I love you guys. I wouldn’t mind spending the time...”

Your chest buzzed with warmth hearing your friend say it for the first time. It previously had been somewhat of an unspoken phrase between the three of you, but now that he had said it out loud, it felt even more real.

“Awww, I love you too Jinnie.”

Changbin scoffed once more and picked with the fraying ends of the blanket. “I guess I do too.”

The cargo bed grew silent while the three of you chewed on the idea. The longer you thought about it, it started to make sense bit by bit. After all, through all the confusion and the broken hearts, ice cream and broken plates, your little group understood each other better than most. When there were tears to dry, each of you knew exactly what to do. You had loved them all along, you always had.

“I really love you guys...I think.” Hyunjin finally said, and linked his arms with yours and the other man’s.

“What are you doing getting all cheesy for, huh?” Changbin nudged him with a smirk.

“I don’t know, I guess I just never really thought about it like that before.”

“Like what?”

“Out of all the people that I’ve “loved” I don’t think that I’ve ever loved them like I have with you both.”

“What do you mean?” Under the swath of blankets, your knee nudged against his, and he jumped a bit from the feeling.

Both you and Changbin looked at him attentively and how his lip quivered, and soft eyes glistened from the glow of the lanterns.

“M-maybe all along...I’ve been in love with you?”

“Like, in love, in love?”

“I don’t know...maybe?” He rubbed his eyes like he would’ve had they been lured with sleep. “Maybe I’m just, making things up...I don’t know. It’s getting late.” He laughed out with a tentative breath, “I’m saying things that don’t make sense.”

Changbin looked out at the stretch of city lights as if he was contemplating the idea himself.

“I guess that it wouldn’t be impossible.” He said blankly.

“What!?” You tried to look at both of your best friends as seriously as you could. While your heart started racing, it was as if it was against your will.

“It’s kinda funny,” Changbin began, “The three of us always complain about how love never really comes our way when we’ve already got it...right here.”

Logically speaking, it made sense. You and your two best friends really did know eachother better than anyone else ever had. When you had met as scared little 1st years without a clue in the world how to be your own people. You had figured it all out together. The ways that you had showed love to each other had been a bit different--but it was still all the same. If you were to have not met them all those years ago, your life would’ve been drastically different. You couldn’t even picture it.

Perhaps in all of your little rambles in journals and daydreams, was what you were looking for...them?

“Maybe we were just looking in the wrong place?” You offered, and both of them shrugged.

“It’s possible.” Hyunjin pulled both of your arms closer to him, and rubbed his cheek into the top of your head, then Changbin’s dark curls. He giggled out, tackling the two of you to lay flat on the cargo bed. It crinkled with a plastic sounding thud, then he wrapped his legs up in both of yours the best that he could.

Under his arm, you choked a little from his tight grasp, but you eventually let yourself mold into the curves of his body and soak up his warmth. The scratchy wool tickled at your cold fingers, and you soon felt Changbin’s hand come searching for you under the blanket too. It was a bit startling at first, but he reached out to hold your arm, then rubbed small circles into it with his thumb where you rested them on Hyunjin’s chest.

It was as if he was a bit delirious, but Hyunjin chortled with laugher until he had lost his breath, and his lyrical sounding voice bounced off the cavern of the mountain and echoed up into space.

“Why do I...weirdly...kinda...wanna make out with you guys right now?”

Changbin pinched his friend with a teasing grin, “You mean it?”

Hyunjin pouted with his plush pink lips, “I thought we all just agreed that we were in love with eachother??”

“Jinnie...” You settled your head into the crook of his neck, right by his collarbones.

“Damn. Glad I’m not the only one.” Changbin bit a smirk into his lip, then propped himself up on his forearm to gain better ground on you and the other man.

Your fluttering heart beat it’s way up your throat and into your ears, and your two friends looked at you expectantly.

“O-outside? Right now?”

“Yeah, I guess. Why not?” Changbin traced his thumb and index under Hyunjin’s smooth jaw.

“Aha! So you admit that you want to too!!” Hyunjin beamed and tugged at the sleeves of your own hoodie.

“I-I didn’t say that...”

Hyunjin leaned over on his side to face you. “Y/n, how about lets make a deal. We try it out, see how it feels, if it feels weird, we stop and pretend it never happened?”

“I don’t know Jinnie...this seems pretty friendship ending to me.”

“Isn’t that the point?” Changbin said with a sly grin.

The tallest boy pleaded to you with nearly needy eyes. “I think that it would feel nice? Besides...none of us have really...felt that...in a while.”

Changbin’s creeping hands came surveying over Hyunjin’s deep green pullover, and the other boy shivered out a little feeling the touch.

Hyunjin’s own curious hands reached out to hold both sides of your face gingerly with pink fingertips.

“I know that I’d like to kiss you...if you’ll let me?”

Both of your friends waited for you as you took turns checking with both of them. The whole prospect was unimaginable, but now...with both of them in front of you, both more real than anything you could have ever thought up, it started to make all the sense in the world.

“What do you say?” Hyunjin asked with a dreamy air. It was chilly on that early fall evening, so he tucked up the blankets even higher. It was a simple gesture, but still held multitudes of his care.

“It doesn’t hurt to try...”

You felt your face pulled closer to his, and all at once his warmth flooded your lips. It was a strange feeling your friend’s lips on yours like this, but while it was new, it was comfortable. Your friend relaxed himself over you, smiling with the corners of his mouth, and slowly sucking at your lower lip like he didn’t want to startle you with anything too fast. His glossy lips stuck with his favored strawberry flavored Chapstick, and you only wanted to taste more. He hummed with a little happy sound, and his larger hands nearly covered your whole face where he helped tilt your head a little so that he could gift deeper kisses to it.

Beside him, Changbin shook with a sigh watching the two of you, a different kind of passion growing within him seeing the two of the people that he loved most do something like this. He was a bit unsure at first, but he tucked back his friend’s blonde edges to free the skin of his neck, then sucked little kisses there too. He to was careful, and didn’t want to leave marks, but rather feel the way that Hyunjin’s skin dotted with goosebumps from the feeling and then let kitten-sounding whimpers go from the pressure on his neck.

While the night itself was nearly too cold to bear, the three of your bodies heated instantly, and you nearly felt as if the sweater that kept you warm was even too much. Hyunjin parted his lips slightly to enter your mouth with his tongue, and it was a feeling so indulgent that you tried to hide from your friend how good he could make you feel out of your own embarrassment.

Your name slithered from his lips to yours, and you tucked your hands under his sweater, finding Changbin’s hands there too on the other boy’s bare skin. Hyunjin flinched from feeling both sets of hands on his muscles. His abs flared from the attention, and he accidentally bit into your lip feeling the cold pads of fingers on him.

Now that you had one taste of him your body could only crave more.

Changbin tilted Hyunjin’s gasping and swollen lips to his own where he took his own turn gifting the other boy his affection. Hyunjin pressed his whole chest into the other man in an attempt to get closer and Changbin’s hands splayed across his back to hold him tightly. The two of them giggled a bit as they roughly worked their way around each other’s mouths. Changbin, a little smaller in the other man’s wide and long arms appeared to swim in him, and the two of them melted between the thick fabric of their clothes.

Once more your hands went journeying up Hyunjin’s shirt, and you ran your fingers over every curve and twist of his back: from the little dimples above his hips, his ribs, his sweeping shoulder blades and each swelling bit of fleshy dorsal muscle you could get your hands on. You had never realized how curious you had been for him in this way, but it delighted you to feel him this close.

Legs became anxious under the wool blankets, and tangled up with little regard for personal space, and hips writhed asking for attention that had been kept for them for far too long.

Changbin moved down Hyunjin’s jaw to give him more kisses to his tender neck, sucking harder this time to imprint little purple marks. You had never taken Changbin to be one to do so, but something told you that he was one to take pride in those that he loved, and wanted them to be his only.

“B-Bin...” Hyunjin’s voice wavered, no longer loud enough to bounce off the rocks surrounding you.

From the way that Changbin kissed the other boy, you instantly craved for him to do the same for you. Across the width of your gorgeous blond friend, you tossed around Changbin’s dark and curly strands, and soaked up his warmth to your hand cracking from the cold.

You called out for him too, and found your hips grinding into Hyunjin’s back, becoming more impatient by the moment. The way that both of them touched you, and each other was...different. There was no fear, no heartbreak, no uncertainty or loneliness. When you thought of it later, it was if the three of you could actually heal from it all for the first time.

Changbin’s eyes softened hearing you beg for him, and he helped you slide closer to him.

“Hm. You’re so cute.” He muttered before filling your mouth with his own kisses. Changbin appeared to channel everything that he had in him to give to you--it was no surprise considering the romantic that he was. He was attentive and slow; rough at first, but then melting into something much more infatuating. Hyunjin took his turn swiping his hands up and down your thighs, kneading into the skin, and then tucking up your sweater. He shimmied down your body, pressing soft lips into your belly to make you tremble from the pleasant gesture. He made his way up higher, up to your chest where he exposed even more skin to the cold, but was sure to make up for it by keeping the blankets close.

Changbin swiped his thumb over both of your lips, smiling as he did so.

“Have I ever told you that you’re really breathtaking?” He said with a tone so sultry it was a bit laughable.

“I don’t think so?”

He too took a greedy hand down your chest where Hyunjin nipped lightly, admiring the way that you had looked under the moonlight. He brought his fingers back to your lips, giving you a tiny and accidental taste of his fingertips, then promptly resumed the kisses that you had asked for.

Hyunjin worked his way back up your body, stopping at last to lap lightly into your neck with tiny fleeting love bites and delighted in the way that he could see them fade onto your skin--almost like you and him were a matching set now.

Changbin broke his lips from yours, creating a tiny wet sound with a thin string of his saliva on your your bottom lip.

Hyunjin played with the elastic of your sweatpants, gasping out a bit once he saw your legs rub together in the absence of friction. His eyes wandered slowly to his other friend who had grinded his hips down into the cargo bed with a quivering length.

“Are we about to do what I think we are?” He asked, both thrilled and shocked.

“Seems like it.” Changbin said simply after going to caress the other man’s cheek.

“Damn. I was not expecting this night to go like this.” Your voice shook, either from anticipation, or from the cold--you couldn’t quite tell.

“Me neither...but I’m not mad about it.”

“Friendship offically ruined?” Hyunjin said with a mischievous little smile.

The breeze blew through, wrapped up in the smell of the crisp mountain air. Hyunjin’s little speaker played on with his songs that you still knew the names of. There wasn’t too much light, just the glow from the inside of Changbin’s car and his lanterns, but it was just enough to take in your friends fully--the ones that you had cared for so much, you didn’t even known how much you had. While you would’ve been worried about getting caught on that Wednesday night, this mattered little.

“I’d say so.” You answered, and it was exactly what they had wanted to hear.

The three of you opted to keep your tops on to fight off the elements, but under the covers, you each jiggled off pairs of joggers, jeans and sweatpants. The car bounced once more as the three of you readjusted. As soon as bare legs intertwined and the thin fabric of undergarments got thrown into the mix, you each got louder and more desperate for wandering touches that could quell your desires.

With twisted and oversized socks, Hyunjin straddled both sides of Changbin’s head, letting the other man palm the outline of his dick and squeeze at it harshly until he shivered over the smaller man’s frame.

“Damn Jin...” Changbin groaned seeing the other’s length. “You’ve been packing and didn’t feel like sharing?”

“S-shut up.” Hyunjin whined as the other teased him.

You worked bite after bite down Changbin’s torso, sucking lightly, then harder. After long, you found that it tickled him a little--this knowledge you would save for another time.

He wore baggy boxers which hid the full girth of his dick that swelled with his erection that bopped and only appeared to grow larger once you and released him. Thick veins wrapped around his length, and his tip flared where you grabbed him into your palm.

“I could say the same to you, Bin.” You teased your friend.

Hyunjin turned to see for himself, laughing out, seeing the way that it looked in your smaller hand.

“Bin, what the fuck?”

“...Intimidated are you?”

The other boy tossed his head back, hair getting caught in his hoodie. “No...”

Changbin snapped the elastic to Hyunjin’s briefs just because he liked the sound, then pulled the other’s member out to pump at the considerable length with his fist. The blonde boy choked out a gasp at the strong grip, and Changbin dug his fingers around the other’s waist to bring in him closer.

“What me to suck this pretty dick of yours?”

“Do I even need to answer that question?” Hyunjin snarked.

Further down, you worked your own hand around Changbin’s cock which you had lathered at first with your spit. Obscene sounds of the liquid cupped in your hand, then you worked your mouth down to his gloriously thick thighs. Something overtook you then, and all you wanted to to was ravage them, make them all yours, mark them as yours, and make the quiver all because of you.

Your fingernails dug into the fleshy and squishy skin, and Changbin moaned out forcefully feeling the sting.

“Feels good?” You asked with a wicked grin, then returned to sucking bruises into the inner parts of his thighs.

“You’re gonna...gonna distract me.” He sighed out, still jerking the other boy away.

Hyunjin swiped away the other man’s curly bangs so he could see him fully. He guided his length over Changbin’s mouth, teeth clenched with a tight exhale once he felt the warmth of the other’s tongue lapping up the sides of his shaft.

Your teasing was enough, and you finally granted your friend what he wanted. With a girth as wide as he had, it was somewhat of a challenge, but a challenge that you gleefully expected. He had puffed up your cheeks fully, and you could barely take in half is length without it testing the back of your throat. Still, you focused your breath coming out of your nose, and swallowed him down deeper. Your eyes wetted from the simulation to your gag reflex, but you held on for as long as you could. At last, your wish was granted, and his marked up thighs shook just for you.

“Bin...fuck.” The blond shuddered upon coaxing himself fully into his friend’s mouth. He moaned out sinfully feeling the twist of the other man’s tongue.

To give yourself a moment’s pause, you stopped, gasping over your friend’s slit, teasing your tongue around his head, dipping down to the place where he dripped with beads of precum.

Changbin laughed out breathily, swearing easily and calling out your name too with a rasp to his tone. “S-shit...”

“Getting too distracted?” Hyunjin purred, seeing the other man made a wreck by you. “What about me?”

“S-sorry.” Changbin admitted, wetting his lips and taking back Hyunjin’s cock into his hollowed cheeks.

As you swallowed around him, your friend rutted his hips just slightly, his lust overtaking him.

“Oh fuck, just like that, mm--” Hyunjin cooed, getting lost in his own ecstasy with head thrown back, and his sweater paws melting down to Changbin’s quaking chest where he supported himself.

You worked your hand and mouth up and down around the pulsating vein’s of your best friend’s length, lazily letting him feel your flattened tongue, then switching to let him feel the tightness of your throat.

Hyunjin sighed out heavily as looked down at his friend who had taken him so well. It was almost as if he felt cheated from the crappy head that he had been getting in dirty bathrooms and semi-public dressing rooms. It was dangerous in the way that Changbin would stroke him languidly, then let his drool wet his tip.

Further down your hips, the pent up heat from your own sex ached on the cool plastic of the cargo bed, and you grinded your hips down for any simulation you could get.

The blonde man whimpered out after long, feeling even hazier the longer that Changbin continued on. “Binnie...you’re...feels really--fuck--so, good...”

It was as if the words hand been a trigger for him, but your friend pulled his length for your mouth, panting out like a dog, while also robbing Hyunjin of all feeling.

“Don’t-don’t wanna cum yet...” He laughed out, “I was really fucking close.”

Hyunjin pouted, then turning back and look at you with a bit of your own saliva running down your neck.

“Your turn now.” He nearly whispered, then crawled down the other man’s body to jerk at him lightly.

“Jin! I-I--” He clenched his teeth.

“Lay down, y/n. Is there any way that you want it?”

“A-anything. Anything that you want to do. I-I don’t care.” You begged, falling under his spell.

“Aw. Cute.” He added once he had seen the purple marks on Changbin’s thighs.

You fell back under the two of them, opening yourself up for them to do as they wished. First, Hyunjin crept down your body with as much care as he could--beautiful in the way the he looked close to you like this.

Hyunjin’s hand cascaded down your chest, then belly, all the way down to your own twitching and wetted sex, and you keened directly into his touch.

“Wouldn’t you like my fingers? Filling you up...” He asked softly, finally sinking down far enough so that you could feel his words swirl over your exposed arousal, then pressing light kisses into you. “...as deep as you can take it?”

“Mm-yes.” You squeaked, opening your legs further for him.

Your other friend settled beside you, tilting your chin nearer to him. Just barely, his lips grazed over you, breathing in your air with his hooded eyes glued to your weakened form under the hands of the other boy.

“You’re that excited?” Hyunjin mocked, “We’ve barely touched you.”

“Quit talking and just get to fucking me, got it?” You demanded, mustering all of your strength.

“Oh-ho! I didn’t take you for one to bite back.”

Changbin bit a proud little smile into your lip, wrapping his arms around you. The blond man then toyed with your entrance, licking his fingers, wetting them, then pushed them slowly into your needy hole.

“Ahhh, look at that, so fucking tight around my fingers, You want it that bad?”

His long and lithe digits filled you up where he started to thrust them in and out, using his free hand to push your jolting thighs back. Your right hand traversed it’s way under the blankets which you had readjusted, all the way down to Changbin’s leaking length which still blushed red. You wrapped around him carefully, promising his to lips that you would go easy on him.

As Hyunjin curled his fingers, the other man then reached down to rub at you fervently, matching the pace at which Hyunjin flicked his wrist. Your hips lurched feeling the combination of each sensation, and you cried out loudly for the two of them--the sound itself bounced off that empty space where the three of you existed, almost as if you were calling out for the whole starry sky to hear you.

“I-I think that we were really missing out on something...” You joked with an airy breath and both of your friends joined you.

Changbin’s teeth caught his lip as your hand squeezed and twisted, and you could see with every ounce of restraint that he had, he was holding back.

“Way to make me want to fuck you sideways, huh?” He said with a little grin, observing the size difference between your hand and his member.

Your back arched when Hyunjin reached in even deeper, and you dissolved into the pleasure that he brought you--an amazing kind of all-consuming feeling that shattered your will, and sent you mewling out into your other friends mouth.

“I-I can’t wait anymore,” You begged, clawing right into Hyunjin’s golden trellises.

Changbin scooched up quickly, taking half of the blankets with him, thankfully giving the other boy a nod when he let him be the one to use your entrance. With his brutish hands, he flipped you to your stomach, and hiked up your hips too, cold fingers holding them in place. Hyunjin kneeled permitting you access to his cock which as softened slightly, so he pumped himself back into place with his eyes holding yours.

At first, Changbin teased you with his tip, adding pressure to your twitching hole, then guided himself in bit...by bit.

The blonde tapped his dick to your lips, holding firmly the back of your neck as you took him in and choked out at the way that the other stretched your walls. Changbin grabbed at your ass in handfuls starting slowly, grinding his hips in little circles to simulate you deeper.

“Hm. Who would have known that your pretty little hole would be so perfect for me? Guess we really were missing out on something.”

Hyunjin growled lowly feeling his cock slide down to the back of your throat, brows crossed, and the bottom of his hoodie resting just above his hips.

“Squeeze my leg if it becomes too much, okay? ...I’m gonna fuck your mouth, okay?”

You nodded best you could, and he started to thrust carefully, every few seconds you would hold his member to drag it against the sides of your cheeks, causing him to huff out loudly at the fleshy bits of your mouth.

Changbin quickened his pace, doubling over your back as he lost himself in you, grunting out in his rhythm. From both sides, your best friends used you, resorting to something much more feral as they edged themselves closer. From the motions, the car rocked back and fourth like a bed and it’s headboard.

You too felt the tension build deeply in your core, and it begged with reckless abandon at your dizzy mind that drew itself closer and closer into the feeling of being utterly all theirs.

In many ways, you guessed that you always had been--while it had been unspoken at the time. Now, having the two of them wholly like this under the silver sheen of the moon, the cold biting at your skin, then furiously met with your heat, you could no longer see them as the two broken souls whom you had bonded with at first. They were now everything, everything that you had wished and hoped for.

Even now that you had become much more to each other, there was nothing that could take away the closeness that you had shared with them.

“F-fuck--gonna cum--” Changbin announced while he pounded frantically. The other man rolled his hips into your mouth quicker too, seeking the same kind of release.

“Y/n?” He said with a broken breath, and you muffled out a moan to let him know that you were nearly there too.

“Oh shit, oh shit--”

Changbin grunted out, with a bit of panic to his voice, forcefully removed himself from you seconds before he spilled his white seed onto your hole, then sending it dripping down your leg.

“Oh fuck--s-sorry--” He gasped out, still jerking his cock while he pulsed.

“Bin!! What the fuck??” Hyunjin yelled out, his words quickly turned into mumbles of nonsense when you took him down as deeply as you could manage without gagging, focusing only on him even though your sex ached feeling so empty.

When he had come down after a few moments, Changbin took to fucking your walls once more with his thick fingers, not even caring that he had fucked his white warmth back into you at the same time. Meanwhile, he returned to rubbing of your sensitive flesh, trying to replace the feeling he had robbed you of.

“Cum for me baby, cum for me.”

On cue, you came in waves, shuddering over Changbin’s fingers slicked with his cum, just as your other friend released down your throat and the warm liquid painted your tongue.

His blissful moans turned into light chuckles as he milked himself into your mouth, giving you every last drop. Changbin drove you further, overstimulating you to the point where your knees nearly gave out, and you had to beg him to slow.

After each of your bodies collapsed weakly to the bed of blankets and rejected clothing, you drew the covers back up over yourselves, feeling the cold seep in once more. Both of your friends kissed perfect adoring kisses into your raw lips, tasting the both of themselves on your skin. While your thighs still stuck with your friend’s cum, it didn’t matter as much now that you had huddled up cozily into their arms.

“Bin, you asshole!!” Hyunjin jested, and flicked the other boy’s forehead. “You fucking finished before you were supposed to!!”

“What the hell was I supposed to do?? I’d already edged myself enough!!”

“You could’ve tried!!”

“Whatever, it felt fucking amazing, don’t blame me.” He added with a smug smirk, “You felt fucking amazing, y/n.”

“Did it feel good for you too, y/n?” Hyunjin gingerly asked, falling right back to his soft and adorable composure that you knew well.

“Like Bin said, it was fucking amazing.”

“So we all agree then? We won’t forget that this happened?”

You gave Hyunjin a little nod to say yes, and your group of three hugged eachother even closer. You hadn’t noticed it, but at some point, Hyunjin’s music had turned off.

“So, this means that we’re like, a thing now?” Changbin asked, playing with the drawstring to your hoodie.

You peppered Hyunjin’s forehead with a tiny kiss. “I’d like to be.”

He nuzzled into the crook of your neck and reached out for Changbin across the expanse. “Me too.”

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @lunarskzzz

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sarahjkl82-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Artistic Instinct: Chapter 5

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 4,700 (yup, the words ran away from me!)

Warnings: Language.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something!This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

Art washes away from the soul, the dust of everyday life

Pablo Picasso

Chapter 5

Golden sunlight streams down in ribbons upon your hair, setting fire to the natural red highlights and causing the wrought iron railing to cast beautiful shadows across the floor. Marcus sits with you upon your hotel balcony in the late morning sunshine. You are now, a little more comfy, wearing your airport clothes- the high-waisted, wide-legged jeans and a mustard yellow and cream breton top that does everything to highlight the rise and fall of your curves.

He watches each tiny twitch of your face as you read notes from the meeting- your full lips pout and brow furrow as your gaze flits backwards and forwards over the words, making connections and drawing together the different pieces of information that you’d gathered from that meeting. Marcus tries to smother a chuckle when you unthinkingly roll your eyes and shake your head at the point where some idiot tried talking over you in the meeting and he can fully read from his position that you have scrawled TWAT across your notes in reference to that mediocre white man.

It’s at this sound, that you look up, “What’s up?” you ask tiredly, smiling amusedly in his direction.

“You’ve got such an expressive face as you read- I swear, it’s like your muscles are reliving all of the faces you wanted to pull in the meeting. You managed that jerk well in there.”

“I’ve been managing cockwombles like him my entire life. They’re fucking insidious,” you say turning your eyes back towards the screen, shaking your head at the memory of the all the arseholes who have gone before and all those who were yet to come. “If they had anything to actually offer, I’d accept it; but they just parrot shit back at you - the same shit that came out of your own mouth moments earlier - as if it is their fucking own, enlightened idea!”

“I can imagine.This level of work, even in the art fraud department, is such an old boys’ club,” he agrees, pursing his lips in annoyance of the invisible barriers that you must have come up against.

Nodding in agreement, you add with your head tilting to one side as you take the agent in, ��You don’t seem to fall into that category, Marcus. You even handed the reins over to me in there- I should have just been your lackey today, not the one doing all the speaking. I appreciate you treating me like an equal.”

Rolling his shoulders and stretching the sides of his neck, Marcus looks off into the distance as he slightly straightens up in his seat, “My Mamá firmly entrenched the value of every human being in me, regardless of their gender. I don’t wanna bring it up again, and certainly never wanna upset you, but you should be my role in the team. Your aptitude for this role far outweighs mine,” he grins and turns towards you, “There’s a part of me that feels like a mediocre white man around you.”

“Well, at least you have decent enough manners not to mansplain my ideas back at me!” you laugh, hugely enjoying your boss’ company on that narrow balcony.

“You know, I didn’t recognise you wearing civvies in the airport? I was absolutely kicking myself for not taking a ride with you to the airport.”

“Yeah, I get that. After seeing me suited and booted, it must have been a shock to see a jet-lagged, middle-aged man in old jeans and a hoodie,” Marcus humbly chuckles, shaking his head.

“Are you digging?” Your eyebrow arches high on your brow as you interrogate him teasingly.

“What do you mean digging?” Marcus furrows his brows as his eyes widen innocently.

“Digging for a compliment, you daft thing!”

“Hah, no! I meant it honestly. Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror and don’t even know the reflection that stares back at me,” he replies, shaking his head sadly.

“Pssh, you have nothing to worry about. Some of us can only dream of looking as put together as you. I generally look as though I crawled through an art studio backwards even if I use an iron and put make-up on- in fact, scratch that- I look worse if I iron and put effort into how I look,” you exhale despairingly at the memory of all the other immaculate recruits and your general throw-it-on, it’ll-do appearance. “Everyone else in my family is so incredibly smart- immaculate even- and yet, I stick out like a sore thumb. Like I didn’t quite pass the expectations of what it takes to be an adult. I swear that’s the reason my aunties think I’m not married.”

Marcus huffs a gentle laugh, “I think that’s a big part of it for me. For the amount of grey in my hair and the creases in my skin, I’m not where I expected to be at this point in my life.”

“Where did you expect to be, Marcus?” You cock your head to one side, listening intently.

A buzz suddenly emerges from your phone:

« On est en bas! »

“Ah they’re downstairs- but do not think for one second that this conversation is over,” you wag your finger in Marcus’ direction as you gather your belongings, “We will continue this later.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Marcus mock salutes you and clicks his heels together as he rises from his chair with a huge crunch from his knees, “See, what did I tell ya? Old. I’m gonna grab my things.”

Grabbing your trusty rucksack from the floor of the balcony as Marcus departs, you feel almost reluctant to leave the balcony and the conversation that you were having with him. Since he’d helped you through the anxiety attack prior to re-entering your old workplace, the two of you had found an ease in being around each other. Whilst you are dreaming of spending a day chatting with Marcus, he’s already back with a small smile and a soft look about his eyes as he catches you staring into space.

Walking through the hotel, Marcus and you could be thought of as any pair of friends on holiday with your giggles and gentle jibes towards each other as you walk down endless corridors to find the exit. There is no way that anyone would have said that you had met barely twenty-four hours before or that you were there as business associates with the easy air you treat each other. After crossing the elegant lobby, you finally reach the doors to the outside world, a wave of relief coursing through you to see that you didn’t have to make a decision as to which way to open the door as there is someone to do it for you.

As you reach their car, Jacques takes off his seatbelt and makes to get out of the car but Marcus waves him off, opening the door for you to jump into one of the back seats.

“Oh you weren’t kidding about the stickiness,” you mercilessly tease the pair sitting in the front seats. Élodie responds by sliding her front seat back as far as it can go and you yelp in surprise at the sudden crushing of your legs, slamming your fist on her headrest in mock anger.

“Please excuse the children, Marcus,” Jacques shakes his head and sighs deeply but Élodie reaches over and squeezes her husband’s thigh in a way that makes him yelp and laugh in the same breath.

Marcus and you catch each other’s eyes and grin at the playfulness. You might be here on business but at least you can enjoy yourselves at the same time. The stresses of the morning slowly ebbing from your mind, you stretch out, resting your head against the cool glass of the window and allow the hum of the car engine and gentle chatter to surround you, lulling you off to the sleep you had missed out on the night before.

✪✪✪✪✪

Something is tenderly brushing against your cheek and you instinctively nuzzle into the warm touch as your eyes start to open and the world begins to regain its focus, “Hey, sleepyhead! We’re here,” Marcus murmurs as he strokes your cheek with his thumb to rouse you from your slumber.

“Shit. Sorry. Sorry,” you rub your eyes with your knuckles trying to rid yourself of the embarrassment of snuggling the fingers of your new boss, noticing that Élodie and Jacques have already left the car.

“No worries, your snores were pretty cute,” the agent teases you gently with a lopsided grin crossing his face.

“Lies! I don’t snore.” you exclaim indignantly at the accusations, but glad he hasn’t focussed on your reaction to him caressing your cheek, as your faculties start to kick in, reaching for the door handle to escape Marcus’ jokey impressions of your snores.

The mountain air in Grenoble strokes its icy fingertips against your neck, making you wrap the woolly softness of your cardigan more tightly around yourself. You notice Marcus also zipping up a black leather jacket over his hoodie. In the open boot of his car, Jacques concentrates on making a roll up next to a small bag of resources for you - cotton gloves, sample pots, tweezers and magnifying glasses.

“s'il vous plait, Marcus. Before we do anything else, I need to borrow your muscles,” Élodie announces to him, “We need coffee, and if I know that woman standing next to you, she will be in need of one, too!”

At Élodie’s statement, you watch Marcus’ face crease into a small smile, flashing that lovely dimple, as he crosses his arms across his chest. You wonder whether he's protecting his clothes from your next caffeine hit or trying to steel himself for the latest cheeky wink coming from Élodie. A slightly raised eyebrow is sent in your direction as his boots softly stride behind the clack of her heels upon the pavement.

A waft of tobacco drifts through the air as Jacques lights up as you watch his wife and your boss walk off in the direction of coffee.

“You left us, Nush,” Jacques scratches his nose as he looks at you through a cloud of smoke he has exhaled, “You disappeared. Literally, disappeared to the point that none of us could track you down.

“I mean, it is testament to what an incredible agent you are that you can just make yourself that invisible but…” he takes another inhale of the cigarette as he turns his shoulders to mirror your position, “But you weren’t even there for Jasper’s funeral.”

Silent rivers course down your face, “Please, Jacques. Don’t make me do this now. I can’t do this right now. Let me find my feet before we get into all of this. This is my first job since everything,” your hands trembling as you gesture wildly in the air. “I want to explain. I missed you both so much but I can’t right now. It isn’t the right time.”

Nothing more is said between the two of you as you both sit silently next to each other. Jacques nods contemplatively whilst he carries on sucking at his cigarette for comfort and release from the tension that has built upon his face. In the relative safety of the car boot, as he reaches across what feels like a chasm between you to pat your thigh, you can see the hurt searing through his eyes.

How did Imanage to destroy so much?

✪✪✪✪✪

Marcus wonders how you are doing. He keeps looking back at you until you fade from his sight just to make sure that you are ok. He swears that he saw your shoulders and head drop as they seem to whenever you’re reminded of whatever those ghosts are that you haven’t managed yet to lay to rest.

“She’ll be ok with Jacques. Those two are like brother and sister, you needn't worry,” Élodie pats Marcus’ arm as she points in front of her, nodding towards a cafe. Seeing a small tic in his jaw, she adds with a small smile, “She’s special to you, non?”

After Marcus holds the door for Élodie, he shoves his hands in his pockets and pauses before saying, “Yeah. She is. I don’t think in all my years of working as an agent, that I’ve ever met someone like Anushka. Listening to her speak about art and the various different forgeries… it just transports me to a place... I’m not just in the museum seeing the original masterpieces. It’s not even just that I can see those pieces in front of me. Just by her words bringing them alive, I become part of the art. Her passion and knowledge is infectious and she cannot help but to enthuse everyone around- she is truly gifted.”

“Anushka is incredibly talented. She was born to be in the role but I would say that’s not the only way that you think she’s special,” Élodie gently analyses as she squeezes Marcus’ arm seeing a moment of panic cross his face- she tries to swallow down a laugh at how he looks like a little boy caught with his hand in the biscuit tin, “Don’t worry, I won’t say a word to Nush- she can be a bit like a wild animal at times. It can take time to earn her trust. The 5 Eyes team is separate from Mi5, non?”

Marcus’ brow furrows, “Yes, we work under slightly separate parameters as we work across five agencies across the world- sort of similar to Interpol. Why d’ya ask?”

“Ok, so if you were to start anything with her- if anything were to be allowed to develop between the two of you, could it result in disciplinary action or her losing her role? Hang on,” she pauses as the assistant behind the glass shelf raises their eyebrows in Élodie’s direction, alerting her that it is time to order, « Bonjour, quatre cafés s’il vous plaît »

Marcus adds « Et je voudrais deux pain aux raisins aussi, s’il vous plaît. »

“Oh, I didn’t realise that you spoke a little French- a man of many talents,” Élodie teases with a wink as she grabs her purse from her bag, “And let me guess, the food is to try to stop Nush from burning herself or you? That woman is a nightmare with drinks.”

Reaching across Élodie,who is about to tap her card to pay, Marcus passes the cashier a couple of notes that more than cover the total, grabs the coffees and goes to leave, holding the door open with his elbow. “Why d’you wanna know about how interdepartmental relationships are viewed?”

The creases on Marcus’ brow deepen as yet another hint of whatever plagues your past troubles his mind due to Élodie’s words, “It is not my story to tell, and I’m not sure I even have half of the facts but please be gentle with her. Come what may between the two of you.”

“Oh, look who’s come to join us!” Looking up after a sharp nudge to his ribs alerted him to speak no further, Marcus sees Jacques tucking a piece of hair that had fallen in front of your eyes behind your ear, then pulling your hunched shoulders into a side on shoulder hug as Élodie grabs a coffee and mocks throwing it in your direction, to which you stick your tongue out. You are so busy messing around with the pair of them that you don’t notice the tenderness in Marcus’ eyes or the smile that creeps across his face as he watches how your friends behave around you.

“So are we ready to look at a slab of meat? I hope you’re not a vegetarian, Marcus,” Jacques chuckles freely at the thought of the tall, broad American becoming queasy at a graphic painting depicting the decomposition of a piece of carrion.

“Oh no, I love rare steak far too much, and I’ve spent way too long researching art to be weirded out by a bit of expressionism,” Marcus adds before taking a long gulp of coffee, “I must admit that I’m not terribly confident in my knowledge of Soutine other than he liked painting rotting meat.”

Jacques smiles and gestures his head in your direction, “Nush- time to shine, chérie.”

“So - Soutine was a Russian painter, who made massive contributions to the Expressionist movement whilst based in Paris. I don’t want to teach you to suck eggs so please tell me to shut up if you already know it but expressionism was a modernist movement, initially in poetry and painting, originating in Germany at the beginning of the 20th century. Its typical trait was to present the world solely from a subjective perspective, distorting it radically for emotional effect in order to evoke moods or ideas. Expressionist artists sought to express the meaning of emotional experience rather than physical reality so you needn’t worry about the depictions of rotting meat as it isn’t like an anatomical drawing you’d find in a copy of Grey’s Anatomy or anything.”

Pausing to draw a breath, you look up to check Marcus’ face- that you aren’t boring him to death- and see two dark eyes, flecked with amber, that are entirely focussed on you. His entranced gaze makes you shift awkwardly, eyes dancing around the street to try and focus on something other than him under the sheer intensity but you decide to continue, “He’s quite an interesting character in regards to our case as he was good friends with Modigliani, who we know is another one with multiple fraudulencies of his works as well as our link we made in the meeting that our main faked pieces being sold by our group are by European Jews.

“Soutine seldom showed his works, but he did take part in the important exhibition The Origins and Development of International Independent Art held at the Galerie nationale du Jeu de Paume in 1937 in Paris, where he was at last hailed as a great painter but sadly soon afterwards, France was invaded by German troops and obviously as a Jew, Soutine had to escape from the French capital and hide in order to avoid arrest by the Gestapo. He moved from one place to another and was sometimes forced to seek shelter in forests, sleeping outdoors. Suffering from a stomach ulcer and bleeding badly, he left a safe hiding place for Paris in order to undergo emergency surgery, which ultimately failed to save his life.

“The main thing that you two need to know,” you add as you reaffix your focus and run your eyes between Marcus and Jacques, ”Is that Paul Guillaume was the main dealer of his work. Straight after World War 1, he was Soutine’s biggest cheerleader and landed him a major deal with the American collector, Albert C Barnes. If you manage to track it back to either of them, you’re pretty much at ground zero- back at Soutine’s own easel- and don’t need to worry much about further certification of validity as it being one of his pieces.”

Standing in the street in front of the cafe, you discuss between the four of you who will focus on which part of the checking for verification of the piece.

Marcus and Jacques decide to focus on the provenance of the piece and to be honest, you’re relieved to be free from the paperwork trail. The idea of searching through the records of previous ownership, fills you with utter dread at missing something that would prove that it was a fake. You’d hope that each piece could be instantly traceable back to the moment where the original had been removed from the easel by the artist but that is so often far from the truth of the situation as records are often lost or aren’t even kept in the first place with only a handshake to move the piece to the newest owner. When certain disreputable organisations or untrustworthy governments seek to obscure the origins of pieces, it is nothing but doors being slammed in your face and labyrinths created from lies and deliberate obfuscation.

“Ok, so Nush and I will collect samples from the piece. I’ll then use the microscope to check the samples for any irregularities in the craquelure in the craquelure while madam here uses the stereo microscope to check the layers of paint,” Élodie gestures towards you, passing a plastic case over containing your equipment. “Obviously we won’t be able to do an x-rays, infrared or mass spectrometry tests as they aren’t so portable but if we cannot confidently say the painting isn’t a forgery, then I suggest we get a courier to take it back to Lyon for us.”

“Agreed, I think that would be the best use of everyone’s talents here,” Marcus replies, nodding, “Are we far from the auction house?” to build up a more 3D picture of the piece. D’accord??” Élodie checks as she grabs a coffee and starts to walk off in the direction of the auction house with Jacques beating a steady path behind her.

With a small gesture of his hand, Marcus waves you forward and as you take a step in the same direction as your friends, a small white paper bag with a telltale sticky stain seeping through that you hadn’t noticed being held out, taps you gently against the soft curve of your tummy. With a confused look knitting across your face.

Marcus boyishly grins back at you as he takes a bite out of his pastry, “Last set of clean clothes, gotta take calculated risks with you around.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Slightly arched windows with flaking grey paint allow a small amount of crisp mountain light to trickle into the mellow gloom of the Aladdin's cave that stretch out in front of Marcus’ eyes. As far as his eyes can see, gilt framed pictures playing out a multitude of scenes from people’s lives- some more parochial and some edging to the more abstract- bedeck the walls. A goat playing a violin, a horse in a field and a lady all in blue with sad eyes and a nose twisted closer to her ears are all jostling for positions in the party on his senses. Every single nerve in his body tingles with excitement at the treasures surrounding him on all sides. The busy-ness did not stop at the walls as every surface of the room was covered in objets d’art with exquisitely fashioned chairs, tables and armoires creating an increasingly impossible maze to step through across the floor. Even the exposed beams of the ceiling felt the need to be a part of this gentle assault upon the eyes, protruding above his head, lending an elegant set of vertebrae to the room.

Marcus thinks he’s hiding his giddiness well until he catches Anushka looking at him with an amused grin upon her face. He goes to respond but initially struggles to find the words to explain the eagerness that is written across his face, his mouth stretched in a childlike grin, eyes lit up and hands that tremble and flex with anticipation. A small smile from her and the light squeeze upon his arm told Marcus that he needn’t worry about explaining anything. Even though the touch was slight and momentary, it cut through the overstimulation of the room and it takes every bit of self control he owns to not throw his arms around her and hug her tightly. Don’t mess this one up too, Pike.

Reopening his eyes, an elegant chignon of hair and high cheekbones makes its way through the clutter of Marcus’ thoughts and extends a delicate, papery hand in greeting. The owner seems to glide through the objects around her, obviously confident of the dead ends and exit points between the items as she leads you to a small office where a tidy pile of papers and a small computer await your services.

«Madame, comprenez-vous que l'utilisation de ces méthodes scientifiques ne peut que prouver que le tableau est un faux? On ne peut pas prouver si une pièce est authentique.» Madam, do you understand that using these scientific methods cannot prove if a painting is a fake? rubbing his brow, Jacques tries to explain to the owner of the auction house, «Même si les résultats de tous les tests scientifiques indiquent qu'il n'y a pas de tromperie dans l'œuvre d'art, nous ne pouvons pas dire sans l'ombre d'un doute qu'il ne s'agit pas simplement d'un cas d'un faussaire dépassant la détection scientifique.» Even if the results of these scientific tests show that there is not a forgery in this work of art, we cannot say without a shadow of doubt that there is not simply a case of a forger out-pacing scientific detection.

Marcus nods in agreement with the agent’s words. He hates the dishonesty of it all- the obviously incredibly talented painters creating mimicries and mockeries of the original pieces. As the owner spins out of the room, Jacques notices the frown painted on Marcus’ face and the tic in his jaw as he starts to flick through the portfolio of papers in front of him.

“Hey, what happened to the giddy boy in the sweetshop back there?” Jacques teases, gently punching him on his shoulder.

Rubbing his fingers along the side of his nose before scratching the patchy scruff that lines the edge of his jaw, Marcus smiles, “Hah! That obvious, eh? Just, kinda wishing that we weren’t even necessary.”

“Yeah, it is irritating but it does pay my mortgage,”Jacques chuckles deeply, “And to be honest without it, I wouldn’t have met that woman in that lock up over there and convinced her that she should marry me or have my baby.”

A pang of jealousy hit Marcus hard, “You’ve done well then. Mine just pays a mortgage on a place in DC that I won’t even be living in for the next couple of years.”

“Never wanted to or the opportunity never arose?” Jacques quizzes not lifting his eyes as he reads through documents.

“Your setup with Élodie is something I’d love to have,” he nods sadly, “Just have one failed marriage - due to her infidelity and lack of wish to try and work things out, and a failed engagement as she was in love with another man - to my name. No, I’d love to have that vulnerability and affection with someone again. Kinda feels like a pipe dream now- not sure anyone would want to take on someone with such a creased up, greying ol’man.”

“Hah, have you forgotten my wife’s quite genuinely visceral reaction to meeting you?” Jacques laughs heartily, rolling his eyes at the mere suggestion from Marcus, “Believe me, you do not have anything to worry about there. It’ll happen. Usually- in fact, always, when you least expect it.”

With a soft huff and a slight lift from the left side of his lips, Jacques strains to hear Marcus’ whisper, “I truly hope so.”

“Hang on, whose name was it that we were looking for that would pretty much guarantee authenticity?”

Jacques’ face creases in concentration as he tries to rack his brains for the names Nush had provided earlier, “Bof...Paul something-or-the-other French and Albert something-or-the-other American, I think.”

“Hmmm, I think I’ve a document here with both of their names on it… Shall we go share it with the ladies?”

«Bonne idée. On y va. » Good idea. Let’s go.

Grabbing the pile of documents from the polished walnut bureau, there’s a sweet bubble of excitement building in Marcus’ tummy. Try as he might to convince himself that it was on account of being out of the tiny office and back around an exquisite masterpiece from the early twentieth century, deep down he knew there was another sweeter, more ancient and primal reason that made him want to be in the lock up.

My beautiful taglist: @astroboots @silverwolf319 @lunaserenade @danniburgh @leonieb @mrsparknuts @sirowsky @yespolkadotkitty @agirllovespancakes @tardisfangurl @mouthymandalorian @the-ginger-hedge-witch @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

If you’d like to be added or dropped from the tag list or have any thoughts, thots or suggestions, please do get in touch! I don’t bite hard 🥰

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x oc #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #the mentalist fanfic #pedro pascal #josé pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal#jose pedro balmaceda pascal #ppascaledit

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herearethelegends · 3 years ago

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THANKS for tagging me @steve-keychain you know you're the best!!

Last song: Okay, technically the last song I listened to was some classical bs but before that it was "Speed of Sound" by Coldplay

Last movie: I've been on a movie binge this week so I'm gonna give you the last four I've seen, you're welcome

1) I saw The Batman in theaters (for the third time) on Friday

2) finally watched CODA on Monday and it was fantastic, what an emotional rollercoaster

3) I double dipped and saw 2 today (I'm on spring break so I have all the time in the world right now, baby), first was Everything Everywhere All At Once, and all I can say is you all should know by now how I feel about A24 and this is no different, this movie DELIVERED on all fronts and you absolutely should go see it, it made me feel like my brain was melting out of my ears and yes that's a compliment

4) Then I drove to a whole other theater to watch You Won't Be Alone, a dark and depressing folk horror - I liked it, Noomi Rapace did her thing and was awesome as usual

Last book: Technically it's one I listened to, I recently finished With the Fire on High by Elizabeth Acevedo. I decided to listen to it after finishing The Poet X also by her and I definitely recommend her if you're into slam poetry bc damn! Her shit cuts deep. Right now I'm listening to Matilda as read by Kate Winslet and I'm having a good time

I tag @thestarmaker, @the-way-to-the-dawn, and anyone else if you wanna or not that's cool too! I don't interact anymore

#i accidentally posted this on the wrong blog at first so if you're seeing this twice that's why!#this is fuuun i don't do fun stuff on this blog anymore do i #thank you!#personal #answer

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sugako · 4 years ago

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hoodie pt.2

pairing: tendou x reader synopsis: tendou isn’t ready to be with you without his top quite yet, but he still needs you in the meantime warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, light angst, established relationship, D/s dynamic, mentions of overstimulation, slight breeding kink, oral (female receiving), rough sex, choking, spanking, slight size kink, creampie, toy use a/n: wheww

The next day Satori came home with a small assortment of heart-shaped chocolates he had made for you at work. After greeting him with a long kiss and tight embrace you let him go so he could change and shower. You sat on the short couch, skimming through a poetry book that had been collecting dust on the coffee table for months.

Silently, Satori snuggled up next to you. He had always been surprised that you never jumped even when he tried to sneak up on you. Instead, you would simply fall into his warm embrace.

“How’s it going?” He hummed into the crook of your neck.

“‘M, good. This is a cute book. How was work?” You tossed the book on the table and leaned back against the armrest of the couch, pulling him on top of you.

“Great, like always, but I missed you more than usual today. I talked to Wonder Boy today.”

He didn’t want to admit how pent up he was, especially after last night, but it seemed you were too with the way that your legs were wrapped around his hips. You were wearing the short dress he loved so much. Illuminated by the early evening sun you glowed under him wonderfully.

Your lips found his, immediately falling into a steady rhythm. As usual, you let him take the lead. It was one of your favorite parts of him. He was so confident in himself and so full of genuine energy. Chest heaving you pulled away. His mouth found purchase along your collarbone, leaving small nips and soft kisses.

“How is he?” You squeak out.

“Needed a bit of a pep talk, but he’s doing very well I’m sure.”

“That’s good.” You sighed, barely able to hold a simple conversation.

His deep chuckle sent a shiver down your spine.

“It really is,” he grinned down at you and stood. “Let’s move to the bed, puppy. I don’t want to wash the cushions for the fifth time in two weeks.”

You blushed and pouted, but sat up, taking his hand.

“Last time wasn’t my fault.” You mumbled.

“What was that, princess?” He asked in that sing-songy tone you knew too well.

“L-last time…” You couldn’t even finish before he tossed you toward the bed.

“Speak up.” He ordered. “Last time, you what? I made you cum so many times you couldn’t hold my cum inside you like a good girl. And you made a mess all over the nice cushion cover.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you nodded slowly. The skirt of your dress was hiked up high enough that your pink panties were just barely peeking out. You shrunk back into the soft pillow as he settled beside you on the bed.

“But you’ve already been punished for that!” He giggled, brushing his fingers against your cheek. “And you’ve been such a good girl lately. So nice, asking how I’m doing. I really appreciate it.”

You smiled softly up at him.

“I love you, Satori.” You whispered.

“I love you too, y/n.”

He placed a small kiss on your forehead. The gentle moment was broken as his large hands snaked up your body, tearing the dress over your head. He pulled away the soft bralette next, then the panties. The moment you were exposed below him, his mouth was attached to yours again. His hands roamed up and down the length of your torso like he was trying to memorize every crease, bump, and smooth expanse of skin.

His knee, free by his high-hemmed athletic shorts, dug up into your dripping center. He moaned into your skin as he bit down hard on your shoulder. You let out a sharp cry, arching against his touch.

“So wet already.”

You whimpered, trying to muster up the words.

“All for you.” You breathed as he slowly moved his knee away.

“Mhmm, I know, princess.” He licked over the bright red spot where he had just sunk his teeth. “Can’t wait to taste you.”

You knew he meant it too, as he quickly shimmied down the bed and spread your legs. He licked and nipped up both of your thighs. By the time he made it to your cunt you were quivering under his grasp.

He wasted no more time teasing you as he immediately went in on your clit, lapping up your juices as he went. Two of his long, slender fingers eased inside of you and curled forward immediately. The lewd noises and his deep eyes steadily trained on you made you cry out. Against your body’s will, you kept your hips in place.

“S-satori! Gonna… ah!”

He wordlessly hummed into you, working your clit and pumping his curled fingers in and out of you mercilessly. The vibrations from small moans from the back of his throat in response to your high-pitched whines and curses sent you over the edge. He stilled his fingers inside your clenching cunt, but softly lapped you through the racking orgasm that overtook your body. You gushed around him, the waves of your bliss clamping around his fingers still inside of you.

You fell back into the bed, hazy. Once your body had totally stilled he took his soaked fingers out of your dripping cunt. He moved up your body, the noticeable bulge in his pants pushing against your stomach as he straddled you.

You could only stare up, mouth half-open as you gasped for air, as he put his fingertips into his mouth. He pulled them out, humming. He just barely separated his fingers, forcing you to look at the lewd stretch of milky cum that connected his digits.

“Taste yourself.” He lowered his fingers to your mouth. You took them without hesitation. “Suck for me.” He loomed over you, pushing his fingers to the back of your throat. You sucked tightly until he pulled himself from your mouth. “Good girl.”

He leaned back down to sloppily kiss you with his still-damp face. Tasting yourself against his lips always made you swoon, and you felt he understood this too well. Finally, he pulled away.

“Roll over, hands and knees.” Satori pushed you to your side, and you shakily got into position.

“Yes, sir.” With your muted tone he normally would’ve made you speak up, but he was being soft tonight.

You listened in anticipation as he stripped away his pants and underwear. Suddenly, you remembered your conversation and became worried he was only doing this so you couldn’t see him. Even so, you hadn’t heard his sweater come off. You didn’t want him to feel forced.

“Ready, princess?” His tone shook you from your thoughts. He grabbed your hips and dragged you back to him. The hem of his sweater brushed against your back and you felt strangely relieved.

Truthfully, while you had laid out so vulnerable with your face away from him, he had considered it. In the end, he had decided he didn’t want to reveal himself with you like this. He realized that he could flip you over again, but at this point, you just looked too good with your ass up and chest pressed into the soft sheets. He also knew that you would want him to be comfortable and only do it when he truly felt okay, and right now, he wasn’t ready.

His cock slid against your wet, throbbing folds, teasing your sensitive clit.

“Yes, please, please, want you…” You stuttered, a mess under him.

“I’m gonna fuck you hard today, okay, sweetheart?”

You bristled in excitement. He only called you sweetheart when he was going to be especially rough.

“Uh-huh, yeah, okay.”

He lined himself and quickly slid in. His hand came up to clamp around your throat as you clenched around him.

“A-ah… so big…” You whined.

The hand around your neck tightened. His other hand came down in a hard slap against your ass, propelling you forward. You clenched around him and whimpered into the mattress.

“Nu-uh, wanna hear everything, okay?” His hand pulled your head back from the bed.

“Yes.”

“Good.” You could hear the grin in his voice.

At once his hips began a harsh and rough pace against you. He moved his hand away from your neck to grip your hips. Using the leverage he fucked himself harder into you. The cries from the back of your throat, the wet slapping noises coming from where his cock met your cunt, and the gentle creak of the bed only drove him to go harder and faster.

The tip of cock brushed up against your cervix with each stroke. His hips slammed into you with each fast and deep thrust. Your body was shaking as it tried to keep you propped up. His hands, bruising your hips, did most of the support work.

“You wanna cum?” His ask was more of a request, you knew.

“Can I?” You begged, voice heavily glazed over. You also knew he liked when you asked.

“Want you to cum all over my cock.”

You nodded, one half of your face pressed into the comforter to keep yourself propped up. As you made an effort to stop clenching so hard around him, you heard a gentle hum. In all your post-orgasmic bliss you hadn’t heard him pull out the small vibe from the toybox. While he was quite naturally gifted with his fingers, he knew you could cum fast and hard with a few taps from a vibe.

He reached around and pressed it lightly against you. Satori relished in the way you clamped down around him at once. His own strokes were getting uneven and a bit slower. Your second orgasm didn’t take long for you to reach.

The experience of you crushing his fingers in your tight hole was amazing, but watching and feeling as you milked his cock dry was beyond compare. The way you fluttered around him had him whining out your name and his own string of curses and he finally unloaded into you. His cock twitched inside you as you trembled under him even as he finished left him breathless.

The warmth from his cum coating your walls filled you as you finally rested into the bed, keeping your ass up. He stayed inside you as long as he possibly could and only slipped out at the last moment. You sighed, feeling empty. Some mixed slick trailed just barely down the inside of your thigh. Satori held his breath as he admired his work - your dripping cunt, his cum as it began to leak from your pulsing hole, your perfect red behind.

“Be right back.” He whispered hoarsely.

He quickly scampered off the bed to get a warm wash towel. You rested, lying down on your stomach. He was back in a moment, telling you to roll onto your back, and wiping you down.

“Good job,” he whispered, kissing your temple. “I started a bath.” He laid beside you, towel tossed into the hamper, holding your head in his large hands. You nuzzled into the soft fabric of his sweater.

“Thank you, Satori.”

#tendou x reader #tendo x reader #satori tendo x reader

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rightsockjin · 4 years ago

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Hi, can i request 21 and Yoongi please?

Here you go! I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Collage AU! Yoongi and you are in the same psychology class and he really can not stand you...

Rating: K+

Genre: FLuffY flufF Fluff... It’s fluff. but like a lil..

This was really fun to write and I can’t wait until I get to write the rest! Please send in an ask if you want to request a prompt!

Prompt list

She’s just so obnoxious,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Then stop talking to her,” Joon said with a shrug as he turned the page of his book.

Waves of frustration ran through him. He didn’t really think that Joon wasn’t looking at him. He knew he was overreacting but he needed to blow off steam.

“I can’t,” he groaned for what felt like the millionth time.

“Why?”

Questions.

That was what Joon was made up of.

Whats and whens and whys.

Yoongi, being the introvert he was, usually wasn’t fond of people like this but Kim Namjoon had been an exception.

He’d never tell him that though.

It was too fun to roll his eyes at his -

Fr-

Frien-

Fr-fr-

*cough* friend *cough*

He did just that before running a hand through his dark hair.

“If I had a 500 won for every time you ask a question-“

“You’d be rolling in money- yeah I know,” Joon said, still not looking up. Carefully, he highlighted a sentence.

Yoongi watched as the perfect yellow line appeared against the slightly beige page filled with poetry.

Namjoon was anal about things like his notes and books and writing.

Yoongi on the other hand, wrote like a kindergartener and didn’t give a single shit.

Still... It was kind of satisfying to watch him highlight words.

“Still, I don’t see why you keep in contact with her if she gets on your nerves.”

Yoongi scoffed.

How many times must he explain?

“Because!”

When he didn’t continue, Namjoon finally glanced up through his lashes as if this would be enough to egg him on to continue.

Yoongi raised his eyebrows, daring him to ask another question as he crossed his arms.

With an exasperated sigh, Namjoon grabbed a bookmark from his pence bag that was carefully coordinated by color and stuck it between the pages before he closed it and set it aside on the table they were sharing to study.

Study, being a loose explanation for their presence on campus since Yoongi had only set his multiple psychology books on the surface of the table and hasn’t touched them since he sat down half an hour ago.

“I‘ll bite,” Joon said, a smirk on his face as he straightened and pushed his glasses on the bridge of his tiny nose.

Yoongi smiled and waited for his Fr-Joon to ask him to continue.

Hey, he may be an introvert, but he had feelings and emotions that he wanted to get off his chest and Namjoon was a fantastic listener.

He never took his sarcasm to heart.

This is one of the many reasons that Yoongi liked...

Anyway-

“Because of what, Yoongi?”

A dopey smile graced Namjoon’s face as he rested his round cheeks on his knuckles.

This is what he was talking about.

Full attention bitch!

“Because,” Yoongi said once again as if it was an inconvenience to speak at all, “she’s the smartest person in my psyc classes! I refuse to acquaint myself with anyone who isn’t level with my intellect.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes tapping his long fingers against his dimples cheek.

“Big words for such a small man,” he said before breaking out into high pitched giggles.

“You know what isn’t small?” Yoongi challenged.

“Your ego-“

“My dick- awe come on man! Just once let me have my fun,” Yoongi groaned slamming a hand on one of the biggest and heaviest books he had.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the library aid glare in his direction.

He smiled and waved cheekily but shrunk into himself slightly before he turned back to Joon and his infuriating smile.

“You look like a big baby in those overalls,” Yoongi said when he couldn’t think of a good comeback.

Namjoon smiled and leaned back, his hands threaded in his hair.

“That’s the aesthetic I was going for.”

Stupid tree hugger.

Yoongi opened his mouth to say something else.

Probably something about his obnoxious habit of tapping his pens on the table when a chair was pulled up on his left quickly followed by one on his right.

Hoseok and Seokjin

Or as he liked to refer to them in his head-

Icarus and Narcissist

-weren’t exactly his friends rather, they were Namjoon’s friends but he tolerated them on most days as long as they didn’t come on too strong.

Today was one of those days that they got on his nerves instantly.

“Yo,” Hoseok half yelled, getting an annoyed “shh” from the library aid, his chair turned so the back was facing the table and his legs were spread on either side.

“How’s it going,” Seokjin added.

“Did your class end early?” Namjoon asked, looking down at his watch in confusion.

“Nah,” Hoseok answered looking at Seokjin mischievously.

“We snuck out of the lecture half way through.”

Namjoon scrunched his nose in distaste while shooting the library aid an awkward smile at Hoseok’s loudness.

“That is so irresponsible Hobi! Don’t expect me to stay up with you two all night for the next test like I did last time-“

“Oh don’t start with the lectures Namjoonie,” Hoseok groaned.

“We just snuck out of one, we clearly don’t want to listen to boring people drone on and on and on....”

“I hope you have fun failing your next exam.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Hoseok said clearly unbothered, “you said that last time as well.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. He’d never told Namjoon but that Hoseok really struck a nerve with him.

He was always relying on Namjoon to make sure he passed his classes since all of them were in the same minor- music.

He never did anything on his own and in general, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel he was using him.

Maybe he was jealous.

But nope that wasn’t it Yoongi didn’t do feelings aside from annoyance.

“Whatever,” Joon said, turning his attention back to Yoongi, “anyway, can’t you just- I don’t know, talk to her minimally?”

“Talk to who?” Seokjin asked curiously.

“Her?” Hoseok added, his eyes wide.

“Does Yoongles have a girlfriend?”

“Thanks a lot,” Yoongi said, staring directly at Namjoon with a ‘look at what you did’ expression.

Namjoon shrugged and blushed.

That was another thing.

Namjoon didn’t have a single filter.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Yoongi clarifies.

“I have a nemeses,” he said, his fist clenching on the table and his eyebrows connecting.

A slight silence followed after that.

Then like dominos, Hoseok burst out laughing, closely followed by Jin and then finally by Namjoon.

Yoongi felt his cheeks warm as the boys raucously laughed. Hoseok slapping his leg, Namjoon covering his mouth and Seokjin rocking in his chair.

“Wha-well she is! She’s like... top of my class! It’s always between me and her and it’s gone to her head!”

“Ah- Uh- a nemesis?” Hoseok asked between explosive laughter.

“Or like arch-enemy,” Yoongi said with a thoughtful sigh, accepting his fate as the boys laughed louder.

Even Namjoon, who was just as anal about following the rules- which Yoongi guesses had something to do with the pretty Library aid was laughing his full belly laugh.

“An arch-enemy?” Seokjin asked for clarity.

Yoongi nodded.

“She’s like my mortal enemy,” he finished.

Yeah

That felt right.

It was a couple more seconds in which the aid glared in their direction and their laughter died down.

Yoongi waited patiently for them to quiet so he could continue. Might as well. They all knew now.

When they finally did, Namjoon noticed the way the aid was looking at them and blushed, hiding in his oversized hoodie.

“Don’t you think that’s a little over the top?” Seokjin asked, whipping a tear from the corner of his eye.

“No.” He answered simply.

And he wasn’t.

You were everything he couldn’t stand.

You were inquisitive like Namjoon.

You were overtly loud like Hoseok.

And you were as full of yourself as Seokjin.

And on top of that, you were a genius?

You had all of their worst qualities, and

He.

Couldn’t.

Stand.

You.

Namjoon cleared his throat then, drawing his attention back to the group.

He looked flummoxed.

“Maybe we should go eat or something... I’m starting to feel bad for the people studying.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok giggles looking in the direction that Namjoon kept glancing in.

“It has nothing to do with the death glares that glasses is giving us, right?”

He pointed over at the aid who was indeed shooting daggers in their directions

“No!” Namjoon said instantly.

“It’s just that the library is supposed to be a quiet place for studying-“

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist English boy,” Hoseok said.

Yoongi scoffed.

“The best you could come up with was English boy?”

“Well I’m not an English boy,” Hoseok answered dramatically swooning.

“Clearly,” Namjoon murmured, putting his stuff in his satchel.

Yoongi began to pack up as well. He really had planned on getting some reading done while he was hanging out with Joon but he quite obviously got side tracked.

He’d have to do it later.

“So where do we wanna eat, gang?” Hoseok asked, standing up.

“I think I’m gonna pass,” Yoongi said, realizing that he hadn’t started on the paper he was supposed to do yesterday either for his music theory class.

“Awe no,” Hoseok moaned grabbing Yoongi’s shoulders, “it’s all of us or none of us!”

Yoongi huffed and pushed his arms off of him, “then I guess it’s none of us. I have a shit ton of homework to do and you people distract me.”

Namjoon crossed his bag over his chest and squinted at him.

“But hyung,” Namjoon began, “you’re the one who asked to meet in the first place.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s really not that hard,” you said as you spread your perfect color coded notes all over the table that you and Yoongi were working on.

Then your computer

And your pens that were sorted by thickness and color.

And your textbooks.

When you were done, Yoongi only had about a quarter of the space you had.

Given, he just had his laptop and a single notebook-

No pen though.

It was still rude how you had taken the entirety of the space available for BOTH of you.

“It’s rooted in the way that humans tend to identify with colors and pictures. We can’t help but to interpret art in a way that speaks to us which is why it’s so useful for therapy.”

“I know that,” Yoongi snapped with a roll of his eyes, “I just don’t know if it’s the most useful strategy when it comes to someone who’s never been in therapy before.”

He bit at his thumb in thought.

“Why wouldn’t it be? It would take a lot of pressure off of the psychologist and the patient so they don’t feel cornered into talking about their feelings.”

“Well what if the patient is uncomfortable with their art work? Or they have no interest in drawing or music? How would you go about that?”

Yeah.

Art therapy was great.

Honestly, that’s the branch that Yoongi wanted to study and had chosen the topic for that exact reason.

He just hadn’t expected you to choose it as well.

Now, he was trying-

And failing

-At trying to discredit the practice.

“You have them look or listen instead. Then they can just write what they feel. It’s simple Yoongi.”

He grunted, leaning back against his chair.

“Okay fine. Put that into the powerpoint,” he conceded.

“I will.”

You booted up your computer and he lost himself in the sound of the keys you pressed.

On his screen, he could see the shared PowerPoint and her cursor moving. He’d done maybe two of the slides on it because you were so over the top controlling that he’d given up trying to contribute.

“Hey Yoongi,” you said as you continued to type.

He peeked up at the sound of your voice from behind his screen.

“Can I ask you an uncomfortable question?”

Yoongi’s blood ran cold.

She seemed to take his lack of negation as confirmation.

“How long have you been in love with me?”

How long had he-

Had he-

Wha-what?

Were you kidding?

Yoongi laughed. Obviously it was a joke.

But you stopped typing and looked over at Yoongi.

Your hands were folded on the table next to your notebook.

Your glasses rested on the tip of your nose.

Your bun was messy. Strands of hair framed your face.

The top button of your white shirt was undone.

You weren’t amused.

“Wait,” he leaned forward, slapping his hands on the table and leaning forward, “you’re not serious are you?”

With a single finger, you pushed the black frames up slowly.

Tiredly.

“I am.”

How could someone misread him so badly?

Yoongi took a deep breath.

“Y/N,” deep breath, “I am not in love with you.”

With a soft smile that sent his stomach in a frenzy and a scowl on his face you leaned forward.

“Has anyone ever told you that there is a fine line between love and hate?”

“That’s just a theory,” Yoongi said instantly leaning back. If that’s all you were going off of then you had no basis to your hypothesis.

“A theory grounded on the intensity of emotions and the predictability or lack thereof of human psyche.”

He scoffed.

Not Yoongi’s.

He only held disdain for you.

While he really hadn’t thought that you would notice his clear dislike of you, he was a little confused as to why you would think it would lead to him falling in love with you.

This wasn’t a romcom.

Right?

“Look, Y/N,” he chuckled, “the only feelings I have for you are-“

Stop.

Don’t say it.

“Contempt.”

You raised an eyebrow at that.

A pretty smile-

What? Where did that come from?

A smirk tugged at your lips.

“We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Yoongi couldn’t take it any longer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’d had enough.

ENOUGH.

You hadn’t spoken to him ever since your presentation.

And it was a great presentation!

He even spoke and everything!

People were shocked.

He was pretty sure almost everyone in that class thought he was mute.

He had even been extra nice right before so that you won’t give him a bad peer review.

So. *Inhale*

*exhale*

Why in the name of all that is holy did you suddenly decide to not speak to him or even so much as glance at him?

He walked into class that day and had been kind enough to save you a seat.

Out of the pure kindness of his heart mind you.

Kindness that he displayed for no one.

And yet you had bypassed him entirely and sat way in the back without so much as a friendly hand wave.

What a bit-

*tire screech*

In the end, he supposed it didn’t matter.

You’d been a pain in his side since you both started your degrees and it would be much easier to destroy you if you weren’t friendly.

Fine.

Okay.

Good.

If it was a war you wanted it was a war you would get.

…

...

....but why hadn’t you talked to him?

Had he hurt your feelings?

Maybe he shouldn’t have told you that he hated you.

Well not that he hated you more like he just thought you were beneath him or something like...

He surmised that girls tended not to like when men told them they hated them.

He’d been rude.

But it wasn’t his fault...

After all, isn’t it rude to assume someone is in love with you?

Conceded at the very least.

He knew you were full of yourself, what with your hanging mirror key chain and selfie studded phone case, but that was just too far.

To assume that because someone didn’t like you...

They were in love with you?

You were clearly in the wrong field.

Yoongi must have scoffed out loud because Hoseok, whom had been the first of the Fr-

*gag*

Of the boys to show up, looked up from his pizza menu quizzically.

“What’s on your mind Yoongles?”

“For the millionth time, Hoseok-”

“I doubt it’s been a million times-”

“Please,” he sighed, “don’t call me Yoongles. My name is Yoongi... call me hyung if you want-”

Hoseok made a high pitched noise somewhere in the back of his throat and put a hand over his chest.

“I thought you would never ask!”

He launched himself across the table and wrapped his arms around his neck, his cheek pressed against him.

“Tha’usen’t a’question...”

it was then that two sets of footsteps neared their table near the back and Yoongi felt his cheeks burn.

“Get off me,” he said in a monotone voice, using his palm to push Hoseok’s face off of his.

Joon and Seokjin stood side by side watching the two sitting men with confusion written all over their faces.

“Okay who died,” Jin asked looking at Hoseok’s now down cast expression.

“My Love for Yoongi hyung,” he said melodramatically.

Yoongi rolled his eyes and scooted towards the end of the booth so Joon or Jin could slide in.

It was Jin that sat next to him.

Joon slid into the opposite side only for Hoseok to wrap himself around his strong arms.

“You love me don’t you Namjoonie?”

“Sure,” Namjoon said, patting his friend’s head.

Hoseok shot Yoongi a smug glare as if he was meant to be hurt by his actions but he couldn’t care less.

He shrugged.

Clearly not taking kindly to being ignored, Hoseok cleared his throat

“Keep your balls blue Hyung...”

Namjoon scrunched up his whole face and pulled his arm from Hoseok’s grasp.

“Dude,” he said, “we’re about to eat!”

“Where did that even come from,” Seokjin questioned, looking Yoongi up and down as if the answer was written on him.

“I have no idea,” Yoongi answered with a slightly embarrassed shrug.

“Yoongi hyung’s been muttering about that girl in his class for the last 10 minutes. My guess is he’s frustrated.”

Joon and Jin turned to look at Yoongi who looked at Hoseok disgustedly.

“How many times do I have to say that I DON’T like her?”

The three men blinked at him in confusion.

“When have you ever had to clarify that?” Namjoon asked with his eyes wide.

Ha-hadn’t he?

Yoongi realized his mistake.

He’d told you that.

Not the guys.

Well Fuck.

“I just meant that I shouldn’t have to clarify that.” Yoongi said, trying to ignore Seokjin and Hoseok’s excited looks.

“Don’t push my buttons,” he warned just as a waitress approached with a fake smile and tired eyes.

“We won’t,” Jin assured making Yoongi relax slightly.

Then under his breath

“Looks like someone else already is.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Y/N,” Yoongi yelled after you as you hurried out of class.

You had a stack of books in your arms and your bag seemed extra heavy.

Your hair was pulled up and out of your face again.

You seemed to be in a hurry.

You didn’t stop. Maybe you hadn’t heard him.

He called out to you again but you seemed to be walking faster.

He sped up.

So did you.

“Y/N!”

But you didn’t slow and then you got lost in the crowd.

Yoongi stood in the middle of the sidewalk totally confused.

With a sigh, he walked back to his car and drove home for the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoongi grabbed your wrist loosely so that you could pull out of his hold if you wanted.

He didn’t wanna like...

Freak you out or something.

To his surprise, you didn’t pull away.

You stopped walking.

He had a whole speech planned out.

He’d written questions

He had his journal in his hand color coded and everything!

At Namjoon’s suggestion.

So why is it that now that he was looking into your eyes that he froze?

“Yes?” You asked with the most monotone expression he’d ever seen.

He opened and closed his mouth in confusion.

He looked like a fish out of water.

Why was he so thirsty?

He felt like he’d eaten a whole box of saltines.

As he looked at you he realized...

Had you always been this pretty?

He blushed profusely.

He let go of your hand.

He said nothing.

And now HE took off in the opposite direction.

See...

Yoongi wasn’t used to feelings.

As it was he didn’t even like the idea of calling the boys his...

Fr-

Frie-

*clearing throat* FrIEndS.

He’d never really had friends before anyway and he’d been just fine.

Feelings weren’t part of the equation ever.

It was business.

They were in similar classes and that was that.

So why did his hate for you, suddenly not feel so bad?

So heavy?

Why did Yoongi feel like he could fly?

Without thinking, he must have made it to the dorms because the next thing he remembered, he was standing before Seokjin’s door panting and sweating.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to see both Joon and Hobi-

Hoseok

-in the room.

They looked at him expectantly.

Like they already knew what he was going to say.

But they couldn’t know.

Though... Namjoon was highly receptive. He had a way of reading Yoongi that he’d never considered and was always ready to listen. He’d always made time for him even when his perfectly made schedule didn’t match Yoongi’s request to meet up.

Hoseok smiles at him from one of the beds. His body was stretched out across Joon’s lap.

There was a little sun sticker on his nose and two stars on his forehead.

Yoongi couldn’t help but smile back.

Hoseok may be annoying but he sure as hell knew how to make Yoongi smile and forget his current situation.

“Yoongi?” Seokjin asked.

“Did you...” with wide surprised eyes, “run here???”

His perfect nose twitched in concern.

“Hey hyung,” Yoongi said with a tiny bow.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” he answered, clearly surprised at Yoongi’s honorific.

He opened the door wider and let the flushed man in.

The room was small.

It felt cramped with all four of them in there.

Especially with Namjoon’s long legs but no one mentioned it.

“Is something wrong hyung,” Namjoon asked with concern on his features.

Ugh. Feelings.

“I Uh- no...”

“You know,” Jin began closing the door and sitting on the bed opposite Joon and Hobi-

Hoseok.

“For a psychology major you really don’t do a great job of analyzing your own feelings.”

...

He had a point.

How was Yoongi supposed to help other people when he couldn’t even help himself emotionally?

He cleared his throat, realizing that they were all looking at him expectantly.

“This is a safe place hyung,” Hoseok said with a smile, sitting up as if this made it more official.

Yoongi has to admit...

his... friends...made him feel safe.

With a deep, pained breath, Yoongi began.

“You guys know that girl I’m always complaining about?”

“Your mortal enemy ™️ ?” Hoseok asked excitedly.

Like a puppy.

A cute puppy.

Yoongi smiled.

“Y/N... yeah... uh she’s been ignoring me lately.”

Seokjin places a hand on his shoulder so he would look at him.

“What did you do?”

Yoongi scoffed

“No-nothing! I didn’t... okay well I did tell her I didn’t really like her but I mean- it’s not like it was news? Isn’t it obvious I don’t like her?”

The room was dead silent.

Yoongi expected his friends-

Hey that was getting easier to think about-

-to instantly say that it was clear as day that he hated your guts.

Instead, all the boys, his friends, avoided his gaze.

“Isn’t it?” He pressed in concern.

“Hyung,” Namjoon began with a pained expression, “if I'm being honest... I always thought you had a crush on her.”

Wait what?

“Yeah,” Hobi joined in as soon as he realized he didn’t have to be the one to break the ice, “you’re always saying how intelligent she is. How you only associate yourself with her. Damn you barely associate yourself with us! The fact you want to speak with her is kind of huge!”

“But... but I- No! That’s only because I need someone to be partners with in class!”

“Then why,” Seokjin cut in, his voice firm, as if he had the winning argument and he knew it, “do you insist on talking to her outside of class all of a sudden?”

Yoongi was ready.

He opened his mouth ready to explain exactly why he wanted to speak with her after class when-

He had nothing.

Not one thing.

There should be no reason for him to want to speak with you outside of class.

He should only be putting up with your smart... cute...-

*bleh*

mouth in class.

He closed his mouth and looked down at his thighs.

“Dude... have you ever considered that maybe... just maybe... you hate her so much because you’re attracted to her?”

Yoongi looked over at Namjoon. His eyes were soft. It was just a question.

Namjoon would have made a good psychologist.

Yoongi thought back to all those times he’d been irrationally angry

Like that time he’d gotten a lower grade than you by one mark.

Or that time you had corrected him in front of the entire class when he had answered a question in class.

Or even recently, worse still, when you began to ignore him.

Under the anger were other feelings.

Pride.

Surprise in like a good way.

Hurt...

“Wait let me get this straight,” Yoongi said as his heart raced.

The boys waited with baited breath.

“You’re telling me that you think I’ve fallen in love with my self professed mortal enemy?”

Hoseok blinked at him then from out of nowhere, he pulled out a sticker sheet and peeled one off.

He aggressively placed what looked like a smiley face on his forehead.

“Gold star for hyung!”

“That’s not a star Hobi,” Namjoon said with a roll of his eyes.

“Well I don’t have any more stars! I only have smiley faces!”

Yoongi groaned, reaching up to pull the sticker off but one pleading look from Hoseok and he retreated.

Hobi smiled.

“ I don’t know if you’re in love per se... I think maybe you have a crush on her? It’s just always felt like behind all your complaining there was-“

“Love,” Hoseok interrupted.

Namjoon glared at him turning to look at him.

He was met with a little tree sticker on his nose.

Namjoon stared at it surprised and effectively shut up.

“Yoongi hyung’s in love,” Hoseok singsonged.

Yoongi felt his cheeks reddened deeply. He held his face in his hands to cover it up but his ears were a five away.

“Look how red he is!” Jin said beside him.

“Oh my God it’s true!” Hoseok said with a gasp.

“Do you really like her Yoongi?” Namjoon asked.

This was what hell was made of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was later that same day that you guys had class together again.

This time, Yoongi knew what he had to do.

When time was called for the class to be dismissed, Yoongi was prepared. He packed everything quickly and ran after you without calling out your name.

This way you couldn’t run.

Was that creepy?

That sounded creepy.

Anyway.

He tapped your shoulder and as if in slow motion you turned.

A pink aura surrounded you.

Your eyes sparkled.

Wow... you’re really pretty.

AND YOU WERE SPEAKING TO HIM.

Focus Min Yoongi!

“Wh-what?”

Smooth Casanova.

“I asked what you wanted.” You answered with a concerned expression.

“Oh... right,” Yoongi said, rolling his shoulders back and taking a deep breath.

“I just wanted to apologize.”

You raised your eyebrows,

Yoongi?

Apologize?

“For what?”

“For... for telling you I dislike you.”

“If I remember correctly, you mentioned contempt.” You said, your arms crossed but you didn’t seem mad. Just curious.

“Right. Well it was wrong of me to say. You are very smart and capable if it wasn’t obvious from our perfect score on the presentation.” He complimented

“Right, yeah, I know,” you said.

Silence.

“Well if that’s it then I have to go.”

Yoongi reached out for you, grabbing your hand with his much bigger one.

A fierce blush blossomed across his cheeks when u didn’t pull away.

It felt nice to hold your hand.

“I... I also wanted to say that...” this was it.

This was the movement everything changed.

Do or die.

Fight or flight!

“Yes?”

You knew.

He could tell in the way you smiled at him.

The way you raised a perfect eyebrow.

You knew.

It had come down to this.

Yoongi thought back to that day when you had first proposed the idea that he might well be in love with you.

And then he wondered…

Had you been ignoring him…

To prove a point?

It was a fact, psychologically, that distance made the heart grow fonder.

It wasn’t just a saying.

It was a genuine way for couples to appreciate what they had.

A common practice suggested by therapist.

Had you...had you just forced him to come to terms with his-

He cleared his throat.

“You... you were right... about um... your-your theory.”

He couldn’t look at you.

Yoongi was never one to show his true feelings.

Did he even have any?

...

But damn it they were bursting for his every pore at that moment.

He felt you take a step closer to him.

His heart stopped.

He looked up at you slightly.

You had a pleasant smile on your face.

You tightened your grip on his hand.

Your face was getting closer.

His blood pumped through his veins at inhuman speeds.

He could smell your summery perfume.

Your lips were inches away.

Yoongi has kissed girls before.

But something about the prospect of kissing you had him feeling like it was his first kiss all over again.

His eyes fluttered closed.

He puckered his lips.

But the kiss never came.

He opened his eyes only to see your face, still very close.

A smile on your mouth.

The mouth he thought should have been on his.

You reached up with your free hand and plucked something from his forehead.

You showed it to him.

The sticker.

Hoseok’s smiley face.

“You had this on your forehead,” you clarified.

He was mortified.

He’d forgotten...

“My friend....”

Friend.

“My friend put it on me earlier and I guess I forgot about it....”

You shrugged, placing the sticker on his cheek instead.

“Cute,” you said before you got on your toes and placed a soft peck on the places you’d set the sticker.

How-

Did you just-

Was that-

You kissed-

“Do you maybe wanna get an ice cream? We can talk more if you’d like?”

Yoongi nodded dumbly, letting you lead the way.

You smiled up at him.

He smiled down at you.

He reached up and touched the sticker with tender fingers.

He’d have to thank Hoseok later.

Yoongi fucking loved stickers.

Masterllist

#request #bta request #bts #suga #bts yoongi #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #yoongi crack #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts request #Bts namjoon #bts suga #bts jimin #bts jhope #bts jin #bts jungkook #bts v

118 notes · View notes

needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves · 4 years ago

Note

I can never have enough tfp megs being railed by his bratty s/o so can i have more please?

hellll yes you can my good bitch, let’s get him FUCKED.

“Knockout, is that a new wax you’re using?”

Megatron’s new bride had been having a bit of a tiff with Megatron. Neither recalled why they had been fighting in the first place, but Megatron not being able to hit that made him into even more of an asshole than usual. Probably why he was diverting his attention to the only bot who could hold a candle to their beauty. Knockout. Knockout looked up from the data pad at the sudden attention. With Breakdown out on a mission, the little red skank was desperate for attention. He chuckled, waving his hand dismissively.

“Oh, it’s nothing really. Just something a little more expensive. Thank you for noticing, my Liege.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, my medic, you look striking. Really brings out your optics.”

“You’re shameless, big M.”

Knockout gave a soft chuckle, giving Megatron just the attention that he wanted. And Megatron KNEW they fucking hated it. That praise and attention was for his BRIDE, not for some shiny shitstain. But they weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of being upset. Primus was this hallway always so long of a walk?

“My Lord, I’d be more careful, you butter me up anymore, I’m just going to melt in those big servos of yours~”

“And whose to say I don’t want that?”

That wasn’t what crossed the line. What did, was after so much more back and forth, Megatron had the nerve, the GALL, to say this, right in their presence,

“You really are just the prettiest thing on this ship, aren’t you?”

How dare he. How dare he let some rashy red ride have the title? They finally turned around, shoved Knockout to the side, and smacked Megatron right across his cheek. It wasn’t a light slap. It was a good, HARD slap, making sparks fly. Knockout took a step back, clearly wanting none of this. Megatron rubbed his cheek, looking at his angry bride.

“Darling. I had no idea you were there~”

“Get in the room, now. You giant, ugly, disgrace of a mech.”

“When did I listen to whores?”

He had the nerve to smile smugly at them. He wanted more. They snarled, and instead of using their open palm, they were all claw. It was enough to draw energon, spilling onto the floor. With their wet claws, they pointed to the door.

“I. Said. Room. Now.”

“Yes, my darling. If you’ll excuse me, Knockout.”

they practically pushed him into the room, locking the door behind them both. He rubbed at his bloodied cheek, before they grabbed onto his bust.

“What the HELL is wrong with you? Calling him pretty is one thing. But saying he’s the prettiest thing on this ship? You’re married to ME, or are you too busy brown nosing to SEE that?”

“My, someone can’t handle the lack of attention. Maybe If your wings hadn’t gotten so fat, I’d look at you more.”

They spread your wings out in anger, knowing they were playing right into his little game. He loved their wings, loved it when they fanned out like this. They were so angry. So furious that he was winning, they just lost it. They shoved him into berth, and crawled over him, dentae sinking into his neck cables. They pulled against his cables, relishing in the feeling of spilled energon and his shaking frame. They pulled away a moment later, licking their lips. He looked at them with a lustful, eager longing. They put his servos into his mouth, slow and careful as they suckled and moistened his servos. They peeled away a moment later, scoffing.

“Touch yourself for me.”

“Come now darling, don’t-”

“Touch yourself or I’ll throw your pieces over the FUCKING ship.”

He obeyed, but they knew he hated it. Because he could touch himself as much as he wanted, but it’d never be enough. He wanted his little bride. But he’d have to fucking work with it. He opened his valve panel, and played with his folds, though he clearly wasn’t enjoying it. He whined under them, clearly not feeling satisfied.

“You know, Skywarp never gave me this much of an attitude.”

Always bringing up the other whore seekers he’s fucked. They growled as they grabbed his hand, forcing his entire fist in his own valve. It stretched him, but it only taunted him further, reminding him what he COULD be having inside of him.

“You wanna go back to that purple punk? Go for it, maybe HES fucking pretty enough for you.”

“At least I didn’t think his wings were propellers when I first met him. I had you confused for a helicopter.”

Oh. He did NOT. The one thing you could do to offend a flier, is calling them out of their alt mode. They yanked his arm out of his valve, and popped open their own spike panel. Fueled by anger and want to fuck their slutty husband, their spike was throbbing hard. They shoved themselves into that big, puffy valve, and they both trembled in relief. While the spike was small, it was the fury, the intent behind it that was so alluring. They started to buck their hips into him, making him absolutely melt underneath them.

“If you fucking overload before I do, I’m going to tear a new hole for me to fuck you with.”

“Primus I love you~”

“Shut up.”

He was just saying that because he was getting railed. Their spike was slamming into him, pushing out fluids from his eager, wanting valve. His helm was tossed back, his claws dug into the berth underneath him, he was a beauty.

“Please, please, please overload in me. I’ve been so bad to you, I’ve been awful, I-”

Their hand clamped over his mouth, silencing him.

“Shut. Up. You preachy piece of shit. Primus just let me fuck you, it’s the only thing you’re good for.”

He nodded eagerly, lifting his legs to help them plow into him. They really tested him, calling him demeaning names and smacking his little node. He wanted to overload so badly, and they hadn’t let him. It was agony, blissful, angry agony, before they finally gave it to him. It was a frustrated, pent up overload. Pouring into his valve, before pulling out and overloading over his chest. They licked their palm, before giving his node a good, hard slap. It was enough to send him into a screaming, grateful overload. He sat there, shaking and trembling, face lost in ecstasy.

“I...take it you’re not mad at me anymore?”

“Shut the fuck up and cuddle me.”

They plopped to his side, letting him wrap an arm around them. Their breathing was calm, relieved.

“Making love to you is like a raging storm, darling. Furious, only to end in blissful serenity.”

“Even your poetry sounds like scrap. I can’t believe I’m fucking you.”

“Helps that I’m loaded.”

“With stupidity?”

“And credits.”

“Oh true. I want new wax. Prettier than Knockout’s. And new jewelry.”

“Yes darling.”

“And I want a new crown. Something much more shiny than my last one.”

“Yes darling.”

“I want Knockout to do mining duty. I want him to suffer.”

“You’re evil, my love.”

“I love you too. You absolute loser.”

#asks #lemon #knockout #listen i got carried away with this one #I love doing the dialogue for this tbh #and dont worry meggy is a money cuck #big time #sees the bitch waste his money and he nuts #swindle wishes

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spencersawkward · 4 years ago

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switchblade faith//spencer reid - chapter 6

summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid.

relationship: Fem!OC/Spencer

content warnings: discussion of mental illness (schizophrenia)

word count: 4.4k

masterlist

the thing about growing up in a place where there are so many dinosaur fossils is that you start to search for them everywhere. my friends and I, in elementary school, saw the enormous bones, those huge sockets where eyes used to sit. and even though there was nothing in them now, they seemed to glare back at us. if you stood right in front, face-to-face, it felt like looking down the barrel of a gun. a several-ton, reptilian gun. petrifying.

and it wasn't like there was much to do in Montana, anyway. sometimes the sheer expanse of that place, especially if we drove a bit out of town, was enough to put fear in me. like we'd been abandoned there.

when my mom got her migraines, I dug holes in the front yard. occasionally, I'd find something-- a funnily-shaped rock, usually-- and it would look enough like a dinosaur tooth that for a moment I'd deceive myself into thinking that I'd made a discovery. it didn't matter that actual remnants would be buried much, much further in the ground than I could turn with my small hands. but I liked the slight rush it sent through my body, seeing what other people hadn't. sitting back on my heels and brushing off the excess, the only thing I could hear was my breath. there's something quite serene about that, the focusing in on something which normally I would never think about. my heart pounding. and I collected my findings so that I would be able to put them together again when there were enough pieces.

but this doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things, particularly not when I'm short on time and staring at an upsettingly pathetic evidence board.

"the unsub said we needed a book, didn't he?" Spencer brings me to attention. there's an unfolded paper on the board that Hotch's wife dropped off an hour ago. he's talking to her in his office about who delivered it; we don't know anything else. all it has is a bunch of numbers written in neat black ink.

"yep." I bite the end of my pen and frown. "one that 'inspired many an adventure.'"

"then it's a book code," Reid says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. I arch an eyebrow and he continues. "each one of these sets of numbers represents a specific word. page 118, line 30, word 3." he points one long finger at a certain spot, and I follow it.

"so we just need to figure out what the words are and fill in the blanks," I lean forward in my chair, cradling a cup of coffee that's starting to grow cold. "except what book are we looking for?"

"I don't know," he shrugs. I lean back in my seat; if Reid doesn't know, we're all screwed. "the thing is that it has to be the exact same edition of the exact same book."

"that's encouraging." I sigh. the useless feeling puts me in a bad mood. we're wasting time by sitting and learning nothing. although there's nowhere to go.

I'm not sure how long we're there; hours, at least. night becomes less heavy, hues of a purplish pink sky slotting through the blinds and reminding me of just how exhausted I am. not enough to sleep. bone-tired.

Spencer crosses his arms, leans his chin on his fist and stares at the numbers like they'll suddenly make sense. and maybe they will; I don't know how his head works. some miracle that has eluded us for the past few hours might appear now. but the longer I stare, the more confused I get. instead, I start to sift through the pile of other evidence pieces scattered around the table. we could be missing something.

"you know, I can understand how this guy got our addresses and phone numbers, but there's no way all that information about JJ's butterfly obsession or Rossi's trips to baseball games would be in our personnel files." I frown. those things wouldn't be relevant.

Spencer isn't even listening to me, though. he's muttering to himself, eyes flickering over the floor.

"'never would it be night, but always clear day to any man's sight,'" he says it more loudly, then finally focuses on me. "it sounds familiar-- I think I've heard it somewhere before."

I also get the feeling that I've heard it before, except it keeps slipping my memory. a lot of rhyming poetry leaves my mind after I finish reading it, and I don't want to lead us in the wrong direction, either. he uncaps a dry erase marker and hurries over to the white board, writing "Possible Book Titles" in messy scrawl, staring at it. I watch him for a moment, the way he talks to himself as he works through his thoughts, certain words floating in the air.

"how many books do you think are published every year?" I ask. maybe if we can narrow that down, we can get a better perspective on how to proceed. Spencer doesn't even look up.

"thousands. easily." he sighs dejectedly. and then his head snaps up. "year... every year."

he spins and starts to push all the evidence bags aside on the table, scrambling to grab something. I don't know what to say about his fervent behavior. I'm speechless when he finds the baseball card. he shoves it in my face. "1963."

"what about it?" I take the card.

"if the book has to be the right volume and the right publication date, why is this from 1963?"

his eyes are enormous. wide pupils that urge me to catch onto his line of thought. for a moment, I have no idea what he's talking about. my eyes run over the baseball card for what feels like the millionth time, examining the date. I slam the thing down on the table and we look at each other.

"Rossi said 1959." I say. he nods.

"so the book must be from 1963, or it wouldn't fit the pattern," Reid straightens and runs his hands through his hair, his spine finally straightening as he takes a deep breath. I can practically sense the electric current that radiates from his body while he thinks. "I'm gonna go ask Garcia about something."

he's gone before I have a chance to respond.

...

the rest of the day gets really weird really fast. as all of us are focused on finding the unsub, I fall into a daze. I don't eat, don't drink anything other than tankards of coffee while my eyes start to burn from looking at the board.

we've finished talking on the phone to a librarian at some facility in Virginia, where the exact edition of the book we've been seeking is housed. it took about half an hour for us to go through each blank in the code with her. somehow, that prompted Spencer to think of his mom, so he called her and requested she be flown out here from Las Vegas immediately. the whole time he's on the phone, he rocks back and forth on his heels and keeps glancing at me.

I pretend to be focused on the pile of evidence, not wanting to intrude. he already told me about his mom, and I'm assuming this has something to do with her being a professor of medieval literature. it's not really my place to question it.

when he hangs up, he doesn't say anything to me. there's quite literally nothing else for us to do. I clear my throat, lick my lips, and sit a bit straighter. he's still standing with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"um," I wrack my mind for anything that would take our minds off the waiting. "do you wanna play cards?"

Spencer tries to smile. it looks more like a wince as he nods. with Prentiss and Morgan talking to the guy who delivered the code papers and Hotch and Rossi on their way to interview the parents of the missing girl (whose name is Rebecca Bryant, apparently), we're kind of aimless.

I head to the bullpen to grab my favorite deck, then return and close the door behind me. there are plenty of other employees out there bustling around, and the noise probably won't help his anxiety. he's sitting in the chair next to where I was, leaning his elbow against the table while he presses his knuckles to his temple. he looks incredibly pensive.

"here." I plop down next to him.

"thanks."

"mhmm." instead of starting a conversation, I just shuffle the deck. the only sounds are the flutter of paper against paper and the slap of the cards on the table's surface. his eyes follow the movements of my hands, the way I bend and mix them up, before eventually dealing them out.

it should be awkward, but it's not. the weight of his thoughts fills enough of the space for the both of us; I can practically hear him running through scenarios in his mind, ever.

we start to play for a couple minutes in silence, and I'm in shock when he's the one who initiates a game of war. all I do is smile to myself as the pile in the middle of the table begins. we get caught up in it; both of us are tense, and he finally slaps his hand down on the pile before I do. my hand is covering his, evidence of my defeat.

"hey!" he cheers, looking up at me with a surprised grin and dragging the pile towards him. I narrow my eyes.

"I was distracted." I roll my eyes.

"yeah?" he starts to laugh as he sets forth another card. "by what? how I'm crushing you?"

"you get one hand and suddenly you're the master, now, huh?" I can't help but giggle. he nods and smiles like, yeah, pretty much. I scoff and we continue to play. halfway through the next round, he speaks up.

"I forgot she always used to read me that poem."

"what poem?" I frown.

"The Parliament of Fowls-- it's how we figured out the book title."

the name slides into place for me at last. I must have read it in college or something, because it didn't leave that big of an imprint on my memory.

"Chaucer?" I raise an eyebrow. his head startles up from staring at the table.

"yeah." he smiles a little.

"I'm not entirely stupid." I wink before setting down another card. he makes a noncommittal noise.

he seems to get uncomfortable, shifting, then gives up on his previous train of thought. "it's kind of funny, isn't it?"

I just give him an inquisitive look.

"I should have realized sooner. nobody knows things like the fact that JJ collected butterflies except for me." he isn't looking at me, but I notice that he does seem more relaxed than before. his shoulders aren't so hunched over, and there's even a hint of a thoughtful smile on his face.

"that's sweet." I reply softly.

"people tell me their secrets all the time," he stops putting out cards. I stop, too, although he doesn't even notice that we're no longer playing the game. his back is reclined in the chair. "I think it's because they know I don't have anyone to betray them to."

my heart sinks in my chest at the implication. his tone is a bit melancholy, but there's something else in it, too, that I can't quite place. like a resigned loneliness. I want to say something, though I'm not sure what. and I don't think it would make a difference anyway. he continues on before I have to, thankfully.

"except my mom. I tell her... pretty much everything." he looks up at me when he says the last part, smiling. his eyes sparkle, and something about the low tone of voice and the way he gives up all of this at once makes me think that Spencer hasn't spent much time telling his own secrets. only hearing others', storing them away.

"I don't think anyone would mind." I reply.

"you know, I write her a letter every day." his laugh is really lovely. my heart stutters.

"I think that's nice."

"well, it depends on why I write her."

"what do you mean?" this time I frown, my fingertips fidgeting with each other under the table. I hate that I'm nervous right now, worried that I'll somehow ruin the moment.

"I write her letters... so that I don't feel so guilty about not visiting her." each syllable like its own individual battle for him.

the admission is like a cement block between us, something ridiculously heavy that he has compressed and repressed until it's too solid to hide anymore. and he's avoiding contact when he says it, and the moments after. his fingertips mess around with a stray paper clip, twisting the thing into oblivion.

"did you know that schizophrenia is genetically passed?" he asks, then peeks up to gauge my reaction. schizophrenia.

"how long has she been diagnosed?" my own eyes are barely able to hold his. everything in my body wants to reach out and hug him, even though that would only ruin this. Spencer isn't a fan of physical touch.

"since before I was born," he shrugs, poking his palm with the end of the paper clip. "she was on meds but didn't get placed in Bennington until I was eighteen." this also seems to be bitter in his mouth. "you get used to it. it's just... I won't know for a while."

I nod. it likely won't manifest for a couple years with him, but that only puts a ticking clock over his head. and, judging by the way his body is sinking into the swivel chair, he senses it constantly. I wish I could tell him that he doesn't have it, that he won't have it, except I can't. there's no way for anyone to find out right now.

"I'm sorry, Spence." it's a weak thing to say-- stupid, really. I've never had a way with words. instead, I pour every ounce of my emotion into it. I don't want him to feel alone. I guess I'm sorry for that, too, along with everything else. nobody deserves to deal with that by themselves.

"it's okay," he smiles. "it is what it is, right?"

"I mean, I think it's a little more complicated than that. but yeah." wow, really fucking eloquent. he chuckles at this, though, brushing his fingers over the top of his deck of cards. he flips the top one over and we return to playing, leaving the conversation to lie open between us.

...

my body feels like it's been dragged through a corn field by the time we get back to the office. I think I'm still a little in shock, honestly. this whole day has been jam-packed with things, easily the most intense case I've had yet. my morning was occupied by a code-cracking book search, then a series of out-of-place card games with Reid, then his mother arrived and I left them to talk so as not to overwhelm her.

we rescued Rebecca Bryant-- Spencer did, I mean. it was chivalric, how he went into the house and tried to talk down her kidnapper (who happened to be her father). the guy blew himself up, and Morgan tells me that they barely got out of the way in time. I was on the main level with Hotch, trying to find Rebecca. again, Reid came to the rescue with that eidetic memory, recalling the puzzle pieces and a photograph that included an illuminated basement light. the key he received in the mail slipped into her shackles with ease, unlocking her before we carried her out onto the lawn and watched the house burn into an ash-covered shell of itself. I remember the way the smoke billowed into the air, how sparks fluttered out of the windows and dissipated into nothingness.

I stood there like a rock, Reid stumbling up next to me. his face was covered in a sheen of sweat, and his hair was curlier than usual. the heat must have ruined whatever he usually used to smooth it down.

"hey." I'd said, putting my hand on his shoulder as if to offer some kind of stability. he glanced at me with something like unease, then tried to straighten up.

"hi."

"I heard you were a hero in there."

"did Morgan say that?"

"yeah, why?" I laughed. Reid chuckled, shook his head slowly.

"he's teasing me."

"for what?" I frowned.

"pure irony. you know how he always calls me 'pretty boy' and stuff?"

"I sure do." my fist came up to softly slug him in the shoulder. Spencer stumbled a bit and my eyes went wide as I tried to right him before he fell. he made a face as he regained his footing and then I giggled. "you okay, there?"

"I'm fine." he tried to be annoyed, but he was hiding a smile.

"is Rebecca gonna be okay?" I nodded to the ambulance, where he had just spent the past couple minutes talking to the paramedics and checking her condition.

"she'll be okay-- physically, I mean."

"seriously," I watched them close the doors to the vehicle, closing her up inside before they sped off to the hospital. "two years in there."

he nodded and we started to walk to our cars to meet up with the team and head to the office. we both knew his mother was still at Quantico, probably anxiously awaiting his return after she helped him crack the case. but he didn't seem to want to talk about it, so I asked something else that was on my mind.

"do you ever go back and look at old cases?"

"old cases?" he stared at the ground beneath his feet, kicking up the gravel as a way to distract himself. I cleared my throat.

"like, ones that you guys have solved. have you ever gone back and checked to see how the victims are doing now?"

"I haven't worked here long enough for that, really." he had shrugged. I remember how the air felt in my lungs, a little bit poisoned by smoke. still breathable as I inhaled it deeply.

"really makes you think."

"what do you mean?"

"'saving' people has to be more than just sweeping them out of harm's way at the last second, right?" I put air-quotes around the word.

he thinks this over, nodding.

"sorry, I know you're tired." one look at him and I realized that the question I'd posed was one for another time. he walked like there was some unconscionable weight on his shoulders, like he didn't think he deserved his moment of glory for saving that girl's life-- and ours, probably, too.

he looks the same now, pushing the glass doors of the BAU open and immediately focusing in on the windows of the conference room, where the blinds have been lowered to make Diana feel safer. I watch as he runs up the stairs, returning to her as soon as possible.

I wonder what it is to love someone that much, that fear for their well-being that puts you on edge.

Emily places a hand on my shoulder.

"you okay?" she asks, draws my attention away from the closed door of the round table room. I smile and nod cheerfully.

"yep. just ready to go to bed."

"no kidding," she scoffs, slamming her go-bag on her desk. "I feel like I've been up for days."

"so it wasn't just me?" I laugh as I set my things in my own space. she shakes her head slowly and Morgan walks over, his own gait seemingly heavy with exhaustion.

"plans for tonight, ladies?" he jokes.

"with my couch and takeout." Emily replies. once my bag is all packed up, she and Morgan and I wander out of the office. Rossi stops us at the last minute, joining before we head into the hallway to take the elevator downstairs.

I peek once to see Hotch sitting in his office, settled in with the light on like he's been there all day. my brain almost short-circuits at the thought of doing more work in any capacity right now.

"does he ever sleep?" I ask quietly as though he can hear me from all the way over here. Rossi glances at the unit chief through the window, shaking his head slowly and letting out the kind of knowing chuckle that only older people have.

"nope."

"wait," Morgan sees our small grouping, almost does a head count as JJ emerges from her office and sidles up silently next to me while we wait for the steel doors to open. "where's the kid?"

"Spence is flying his mom back to Vegas." JJ replies right away. when I saw him disappear into that room, I knew they wouldn't leave for a while; moving her around so much can't be good for her mental state. but I guess they're eager to get her to the sanitarium, which also makes sense.

"oh, okay." Morgan shrugs. I chance a look in that direction. the blinds are still drawn. Medieval literature. huh. part of me begins to think about all the things she must know, must have passed down to Reid.

...

"I'm gonna say... three." my voice is uncertain at first, but then the flavor coats my tongue and I smack my lips. "yeah."

Spencer's nonresponse is damning. I hear the puff of air he exhales in frustration as I lift the sleeping mask up from my eyes. I got it from my go-bag; we've decided to repurpose it for the morning in the office. technically, we could just close our eyes and keep it simple, but I thought it would be sort of funny because there are two huge cartoon eyes printed on the front.

"I'm right, aren't I?" I smirk, eyes landing on his crossed arms and taut expression. he shrugs.

"I think you're cheating."

"how am I cheating?" I laugh.

"I don't know, but you are." he shakes his head as I wrap my fingers around the handle and take a sip of the coffee. we're taste-testing to see who's better at finding the sugar content. it's become a pattern of ours: I make him a cup and he makes me one and then we drop in the sugar packets while the other keeps their eyes covered. it's actually pretty fun, especially because I'm good at it.

"your turn, then." I take off the sleeping mask and hand it over to him. he slips the thing over his eyes and waits patiently for me to put the sugar packets in. I chew on my bottom lip as I decide what number to do.

as I do this, JJ stands behind my shoulder.

"nap time, Spence?" she asks him with a chuckle. I explain before he has the opportunity to slander me with more cheating accusations.

"we're trying to see how good we are at detecting the number of sugars." I pick up six packets, knowing it'll definitely overload his senses. this'll teach him to call me a liar. JJ's eyes widen.

"cover your ears, Reid, I don't want you to hear me tearing them open." I order. he obliges, and I can sense the frown on his face while I dump in the sweetener.

"okay." I mix it with the stirrer before placing it in front of him.

"this thing smells like lavender." he observes randomly in reference to my sleeping mask.

"it's got scented stuff inside the fabric." I say.

"interesting. did you know that lavender is actually proven to be much more effective than--"

"Spence, just drink the coffee. I have to go talk to Hotch about something and I wanna see how this ends." JJ cuts him off light-heartedly. I purse my lips because I was sort of interested in what he was going to say, but he takes the not-so-subtle hint and lifts the mug.

I expect him to be repulsed by the sweetness, or at least to show some kind of discomfort. however, he takes a long draw before setting it on the table. his hand clutches onto the mug, still, as he pulls the mask off.

"five. this is my usual concoction." he clenches his jaw in complete seriousness. I have to fight an enormous grin, though it just turns into me twisting my mouth to the side of my face and JJ raising her eyebrows in surprise.

"what? am I wrong?" he gets nervous, voice going up an octave as he glances between the two of us. JJ averts her eyes, smiling.

"you lose!" I cackle, throwing my hand up for JJ to high-five. Spencer looks at me like I've stolen his life's savings.

"no! there's no way--"

"I forgot how many you usually put in there and I still won." I feign an awed expression.

"it's okay, Spence. you can always practice." JJ pats his shoulder sympathetically and then leaves us, running up the stairs to Hotch's office. I'm still smirking triumphantly as he glares at me.

"don't hate the player," I sigh, throwing my hands up. "hate the game."

"well, the player also happened to invent the game, so I think I'm entitled." he counters. I snort at his quickness.

"can I try this?" I point to the mug. "I've never had one with six."

he pushes the drink in my direction with his fingertips, almost having given up on trying to fight the loss. "there were six? that's only one off."

"yeah, but you need to get it right to win, dummy." I take a sip of the coffee. it's so sweet, though, that I shake my head and set it back down. "what in God's name is that?"

"you made it!" I sort of like the way his voice gets higher-pitched when he's vehement about something. it's cute.

"I wish I hadn't." I shove it over to him, half-expect that he'll not touch it now that I've taken a drink from it. but he continues to take ingest the caffeine, undeterred. I quirk an eyebrow silently, watching him.

"what?" he asks.

"nothing," I stand up. "come on, we should get some work done. I don't want Hotch to come down here and yell at us."

#baby spence #baby spencer reid #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #fanfic #slow burn #friends to lovers

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softer-ua · 4 years ago

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Idea that’s been living in my head rent free this week: Hippies BNHA ~a the looks, the music, the activism~

The biggest is Deku singing Piece of My Heart by Janis Joplin. He’s a 💚🌼forever flower child🌼💚 full fro, suade vest with matching pants, flower power shirt, large peace pendant and an over sized Give Peace A Chance button. He couldn’t go to the war front but became a nurse over there and then counselor at a VA hospital. Sicken by what he’s seen, what he knows his countries done.

Second biggest is of course, Bakugo - a night on the town is high waist black bell bottoms with an orange and black satin shirt as explosive as him/ his day to day look is an over sized military jacket, his own dog tags, aviators, and a black “fuck the military and their lies” shirt. One of the first to come back from Vietnam, his dad was a ww2 vet, thought he was doing something honorable for his fellow man. All he got is shrapnel in his arms and visions that won’t let him sleep. Remet Deku when he got back and Deku is working at the VA hospital, he’s not in Dekus group but sees him around- Green River by Creedence Clearwater Revival.

Other honorable mentions

LOV- everyone, every single one, dressed as tacky pimps with different color schemes, they hurt to look at all together.Runs a very sketchy disco bar. Renegade by Styx

Endeavor- also dressed like a pimp, awful orange and blue and zebra combo. He supports the war. Hate these hippie kids. Runs an ammo company loved by the nra. Run Through The Jungle by Creedence Clearwater Revival

AM- still rocking the 50’s greacer look, twice the man Endeavor will ever be 😌Rip It Up by Little Richard

Aizawa- sleepy cardigan 60’s man, putting these kids back together is exhausting. He’s Bakugos counselor. Sound Of Silence by Simon Garfunkel

Mic- is with the times and is all about the TIE DYE. Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen (come on he’d adore singing this!)

Todorki- his hero janitor suit now has bell bottoms 😂 otherwise he looks casually fashionable, muted tones, an ally to the blue collar working man because fuck you dad and your elitist pro war bs. Fire And Rain by James Taylor

Iida- turtleneck and blazer combo King™️, a suave nerdy man I Stan. Championing safety regulations in cars, getting these kids in some mf seat belts. Does car races to raise awareness. Slow Ride by Foghats

Ochako- homemade bell sleeve dresses and a good pair of gogo boots, she owns a tambourine. She volunteers at the VA hospital Everyday People by Sly and the Family Stone

Tsuyu- florals and frogs on all her flowey blouses, the og go green gurl 🌏 Born on the Bayou by Creedence Clearwater Revival

Tokoyami- the og goth look, crushed black velvet, taking on Christian Puritans and their grip on the government. Wants community to mean something more than bakesales for a pastors new car. Paint It Black by The Rolling Stones

Shoji- He’s dressed like a detective idk why. Ex church goer, couldn’t stand the praise he got when he came back. Tokoyami doesn’t praise him but gives him somewhere to focus his atonement. Great at community outreach, just always seems to have enough hands to do everything. Keeps his mind and body busy, and he’s grateful for it. Moondance by Van Morrison

Shinso- A purple disco suit? How does he make it look like casual wear? The world may never know. A slam poetry king. Makes people feel and wanna create change. Somebody To Love by Queen

Kaminari- electric yellow bell bottoms and low v-neck satin tshirt, looks simple and sexy until he gets his long fuzzy matching yellow leopard jacket 😂 He just wants to have fun now that he’s back, he got hit by lightning and almost died and somehow that wasn’t the worst thing that happened over there. Play That Funky Music by Wild Cherry

Kirishima- rocking full David Bowie with face paint vibes, couldn’t be himself in the army but he’s fighting to change that back home. Heros by David Bowie

Mina- she’s a trend setter and her looks are closer to the 80’s, basically just her hero costume. Vibrance Is For Everyone. Eco friendly makeup start up. Has done acid lol. Dancing Queen by ABBA

Sero- flowey floral shirts and solid colored bell bottoms, is one of maybe 5 people on earth who look good in a fedora, they match his tropical color schemes. He is the flyer king, no one knows how he gets them all up and so stuck fast, but by god is he great to have on your side when you need to get a message out. The Joker by Steve Miller Band

Jiro- my Make Music Not War queen 🎶 proceeds from her shows go to bringing our boys home. She’s small but she wins the bar fights Listen To The Music by Doobie Brothers

Momo- Balzers with shoulder pads😌 she’s the boss and you know it, she’s in that court room fighting for women’s rights. Killer Queen by Queen

Koda- sweater vests for days 🥺 for someone so quiet his animal rights activism is hella loud, him and Tsyu meet up a lot. Drift Away by Dobie Gray

Aoyama- white ruffled blouse and purple bell bottoms MAKE THEM GLITTER ✨ owns a disco bar. You Sexy Thing by Hot Chocolate

Sato- solid colored open button down shirts with matching pants, no undershirt, gold chain. Big on getting food companies to be more transparent. Animal Crackers by Melanie

Hagakure- she’s a living disco ball and has gogo boots in every color. Works with Aoyama. Hot Child In The City by Nick Gilder

Ojiro- simple tunics and pants, just a very down to earth hippie. Absolutely fascinated and overwhelmed by Hagakure. Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd

25 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 3 years ago

Text

Gimme Love, 6/9 (Miz Cracker/Blair St Clair) - Grinder

AN: Welp, I'm back from travelling! For anyone interested to know how it went; it was great (if you love stress). Liverpool is a lovely place but I've destroyed my bank account :D

Anyway! We got 4 more chapters of this fic! This is where the conflict begins. I hope yall enjoy.

TW for this chapter: Homophobia, homophobic slurs

2020

The cake was in the fridge. We'd be seeing him later. For now, we settled for some spaghetti. It had become a sort of tradition for Jujubee and me for moments that needed celebrating. But we hadn't done it in so long, what with the stress of work.

"So, Juju, as you can see, I've labelled the pages you're allowed to read, so don't go looking at other shit, OK?" I asked, chopping up a red bell pepper.

"Why? If I do, am I gonna find some porn-y shit?" She quipped, running a hand along with the butterfly print book.

"Honestly, you know all of those details anyway." I gave her a smirk, taking a piece of pepper and throwing it over to her.

I almost expected it to fly past her head, but she caught it in her mouth. Skill.

"OK, but what's in the box, though?"

I almost forgot what she was even referring to. But following her gaze, I saw it, sitting on the kitchen counter beside the fridge. "Oh, that?" I scraped the peppers into the saucepan, "That is my memory box."

"Ooh, that's even more exciting." She beamed.

"No. We're not opening it." I moved on to an onion.

"Aw, why not?" Jujubee whined.

"Because I made my Mom promise me she wouldn't give it to me until I turned 50. But I was weak and begged her to give it back. So now, I've promised myself to not look inside until I turn 50." The air was no longer clean, poisoned with the acid from the onion. My eyes were beginning to sting.

"Aw, Brie, you don't need to get all emotional about it." She had to go and joke about the tear now trickling down my cheek.

"Girl, this is torture," I wipe my eye along my wrist, pretty sure my eyeshadow has been fucked up. "Did I fuck up the smokey eye?"

"Nope." I knew she was lying to me, but she couldn't take her eyes away, "You look absolutely gorgeous as usual."

"Not as hot as you, though." I sniffed. I needed her to focus on reading so I could finish chopping the onion as soon as possible. "Anyway, you wanna read something in there?"

Jujubee opened the book and immediately laughed, "Jesus Christ, Brie, bit dark."

She showed me the first page, childlike scribblings read 'Brianna's Diary. DO NOT TOUCH! Or this will happen to you!' An arrow led to a picture of a grave.

"I never even noticed that before," I chuckled.

"With a warning like that, I better find some crazy shit in here." she cleared her throat, "So starting in 1994, 'Diary Diary, Today, I had a fight with Jujubee. She really upset me, but I upset her too. I should say sorry. That's all. Bye.'" Jujubee lowered the diary, "you bitch, why did you upset me?"

"I have no idea, girl. I mean, didn't we do that a lot back then?" I shrugged.

"I bet you started it though," She lifted the book again, a coy smile on her face. "OK, moving on to 1995," she cleared her throat, "'Dear Diary, today Mommy and Juju's Mommy took us to see Pocahontas at the movies. It was very good. Goodnight.'" Jujubee paused to giggle, "God, I love how detailed this is. You could have added so much more."

"Girl, I was 8 years old. Writing more than 4 sentences was like writing the bible to me." I countered, finally scraping the onions into the pan with the peppers.

"Yeah, but we did so much more that day. We went to McDonald's after, we found that little frog pond in the woods." She pointed out.

I hadn't even remembered that. Now I kind of wished my younger self would have pushed herself to write more.

I was too busy rifling through my messy cabinet for oregano to notice Jujubee just flicking through page by page.

"But, you wrote 3 pages worth of poetry to Blair St Clair?"

Once I found the spice, I spun around to look at her, "Juju, I told you to only look at the pages that were labelled."

She held a hand up, "OK, I'm sorry." She closed the book.

I felt bad, thinking maybe my harsh tone brought the fun to a grinding halt. Squeezing my eyes shut, releasing a sigh, I said, "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

She took a sip of her water while I added the oregano to the saucepan.

"So, did you text her back?" She played with the glass in her hands.

I pursed my lips and shook my head. "Why? Do you think I should?" I asked quietly.

"Nah, not really."

"Well, why not?"

Jujubee shrugged her shoulders and went to look at her nails. "Don't know."

I clicked my heel, my tongue running along the top row of teeth behind my closed mouth. "Well, I've been thinking about it. I mean, maybe that's the problem. Maybe I could be a bit more responsive."

She made a humming sound. I was unsure what it was supposed to mean.

"OK, what's going on?" I put both hands on the counter.

"I don't know. I just think…" she paused, trying to find her words, "I don't see the point because the same shit will just happen again."

"The same shit?" I repeated, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, her speaking all but 10 words to you and then completely ignoring your existence." She put a hand under her chin.

"Well, maybe that wouldn't happen if I actually spoke to her like I wasn't terrified for once," I suggested.

She squeezed her eyes together, "Oh no, Brie. I knew this was going to happen."

"What was going to happen?"

"The whole Blair thing. I thought you were over it. Well, until she messaged you recently, I had a creeping feeling that it was all gonna come back."

"Juju, listen to yourself. You're talking like this is an actual problem."

"I hate to say it, but it is. Do you remember the time she hung out with you in the library? You were so excited the next day. I hadn't seen you so happy in so long. You wouldn't stop talking about how she would probably be there again." She paused, "But she wasn't. And you were so disappointed."

"Yeah, but things could be different now."

"And how's that?"

"Well, I'm a different fucking person now, that's one thing. I'm successful, I'm smart, I'm hot as fuck, rich as fuck - -"

"And you think that's gonna be the game-changer for her? That she's gonna come running into your arms? Because if that's the case, that says a lot about her." Jujubee rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'm a big girl, now. If it happens again, I'll just get on with things. I'll move on.

"That's a lie."

I squinted my eyes. "Why are you being like this right now? You're so salty just because I fucked wrote a private letter to her as a child."

"This isn't about the letter, Brie. You know why I'm being like this. You shouldn't need to ask." But she continued, "You've never dealt with never having parents. You think that if Blair was to suddenly be truly interested in you, you'd get over the feeling of being unwanted. Yet you're surrounded by people who love and support you, who'd stick with you to the end. But right now, you don't give two fucks about them because you're too busy panicking about some girl from high school."

I lift my head again, putting one hand on the desk and the other on my hip, "Well, congratulations, Juju. Sounds like you got me all figured out. Hey, you wanna talk about my Grandpa next?"

She only reacted to that with a scowl. And she spoke again.

"You remember the prom? Do you remember what happened? Do you remember how she didn't do anything to stop Trevor?"

My eyes shifted away, just for a second. "She told him to stop."

"Which did nothing."

I wanted to argue how she was unfair. How it was so wrong to blame Blair for the prom incident. But I was distracted by a burning smell. Only now did I notice the onions and peppers blackening.

I quickly moved the saucepan off the heat, feeling it only radiating in my own face. I put a hand on the counter, the other on my hip. "OK, Juju, maybe you should leave."

It was safe to say Jujubee was taken aback. She remained still for a second before pushing her stool out. "So that's how it is? Kicking me out when you're faced with the truth?"

"Juju, just leave, please." I felt my hands clench around the edge of the counter, my nails digging into my hip.

"I am!" She grabbed her coat and stormed from the kitchen. I flinched upon hearing the door slam shut, and only then did it sink in - the dread, the feeling of regret.

I looked at the hob, the burnt vegetables unsavable. So they went in the trash. My stomach grumbled. But I couldn't bring myself to start over again.

Opening my fridge, my eyes were immediately on the cake. And I glanced over my shoulder, looking where she had sat, now feeling a sense of emptiness. Not in me, but the room. Like I was alone.

I was alone.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." I repeated as my hand clenched on the door. The cool air from the fridge felt nice but not enough to stop my panic.

I looked at the cake again, feeling the urge to throw it out the window. Or maybe just send it back to her.

Bitchy, I know. But I couldn't help it. I wouldn't be feeling like this if she hadn't acted the way she did.

I slammed the door shut, kicking it for extra measure. And in my heels, I almost tripped.

Filled with more anger, I paced around for a few minutes, aggressively cussing to myself.

Don't get me wrong, one part of me said she was right about Blair.

No. She isn't. I was going to prove Jujubee wrong.

I picked up my phone from the counter, found the message and began to type with trembling fingers.

"Blair…" I panted, "So sorry...for getting back to you so late... I'm a busy woman, as you...probably already know...Look... I'm just gonna say it...I really like you...I always have...You make me feel so confused...yet so happy at the same time...I feel a connection between us...I always have...I don't know whether you ever felt it or not...but I do hope so...I would love to meet up with you sometime soon...and maybe have a coffee...I don't know...maybe even some wine, if you want. I look forward to hearing back. Brie x"

My thumb hovered over the send button. The only sound I could hear was the ticking of the clock. Not even my own breathing.

I pulled my thumb away, closed my eyes and breathed out. "Brie. You sound fucking crazy. You sound insane. You can't just send shit like that." I repeated words of the same nature to myself, trying to usher myself off the edge before I could do something idiotic.

"Jesus Christ." I opened my eyes again, which were now glossy with tears. I wouldn't blink. I wouldn't let them fall.

Big mistake.

I thought I tapped the chat bar, going to delete the message. But my blurred vision said, "haha, no."

I tapped the button next to the chat bar. The send button.

The little noise my phone made as it was sent may as well have been the same as a gun clicking.

"Oh, God." My eyes couldn't tear away from the small screen. My heart rate increased. "No, no, no, you fucking idiot!" I pressed my thumb down on the message.

There was a delete option.

I clicked it.

'Are you sure? The recipient may have already seen the message.'

I backspaced to check.

There it was, the tiny version of her profile picture falling to the bottom of the screen. She was reading it.

"Fuck!!" I blurted.

I put the phone down on the counter, began pacing for a moment, and looked back at the phone. This went on for a few minutes. I wanted to be as far from my phone as possible. But also needed to know if she had replied.

This was it.

Blair was going to know how I was weirdly obsessed with her.

She was going to know I was checking her out in the library that one time.

She was going to know that I had fingered myself so many times at the thought of her.

What were my options?

Suicide - Not gonna happen.

Running away - But the project.

Reply with 'Hey, sorry! My friend took my phone, haha' - did anyone ever believe that excuse?

Block her before she could reply - then she'd think I was even more crazy.

Call up her place of work and somehow get her phone confiscated - why, though? That would involve Facebook stalking her again, trying to think of an excuse. Even if I did so successfully, she still saw the message.

All of the options just lead to cons. It was hopeless.

With shaky fingers, I switched my phone off and practically threw it onto the counter.

My body sank to the ground, now holding my head in my hands.

What do I do? What do I fucking do?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

2004

I was shaking. Only slightly.

There was something about the prom that made me feel so on edge.

Maybe it was all the people, all together in one room.

Perhaps it was the fact the chess boys asked to make out.

Or perhaps it was the fear of missed opportunities. Opportunities that involved a certain someone.

I watched from the side of the room as Blair took pictures with her friends on her pink digital camera. There was a feeling of regret causing my stomach to twist, my fists clenching onto my purple dress.

That could have been me.

I felt a hand moving a curled lock of hair from my shoulder.

"Just think, girl; we're almost there," Jujubee appeared in front of my vision, "College is just around the corner."

"I can't wait to be out of here," I spoke quietly.

Everyone turned their attention to the stage as Rosé appeared, announcing it was time to crown Prom King and Queen.

"Well, it's pretty obvious who our queen is." Jujubee crossed her arms.

I knew who she was thinking of. To be fair, it was pretty obvious. But I wasn't complaining.

Trevor was our Prom King, not my King anyway. I scoffed as he cheered, being pushed up to the stage by his team.

"Jesus Christ, who would have thought." Jujubee took a sip of her punch, spilling a drop on her lilac puffy-sleeved dress.

"And your Prom Queen is…" Rosé paused, pulling the result from the envelope.

3...2...1…

"Blair St Clair!"

I smiled for the first time since walking into the place. I applauded her victory as she walked up onto the stage.

Blair hugged Rosé and whispered something in her ear. I had no idea what it was, but I was too distracted as Trevor just stared.

"You wanna make a speech, girl?" Rosé joked into the mic.

Blair laughed, covering her face with embarrassment. She turned down the offer.

"OK. Everybody," Rosé held a hand to Blair and Trevor, "You're King and Queen of 2004."

Blair looked slightly uncomfortable as Trevor put an arm around her waist. Why couldn't he get the hint she was done with him?

The two got down from the stage, Trevor's gaze following her in confusion as she moved far away from him.

"Aren't they supposed to do a dance now?" Jujubee asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know, Juju. I've only seen proms in movies, and they're quite obviously exaggerated."

My eyes landed on Blair once more. Trevor was whispering something in her ear, and she shook her head, rolled her eyes and walked away. Yikes, he was desperate.

"Jesus, I'm fucking nervous." Rosé was approaching us now, well, the punch table we stood beside. "Getting up on stage gets my body shaking, you know?"

"Wish I could do that." Jujubee replied.

"Yeah, well, sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do." Rosé replied.

I eyed her suspiciously. This was odd; she'd never really spoken to us before.

"But of course," she looked left, then right, before pulling a flask from her bra and pouring it into a cup, "this helps. You ladies want one?"

"Nah, I'm good," Jujubee made a stank face.

Me, on the other hand, having never drank alcohol in my life, piped up, "Actually, yeah. Could you just pour me a shot of whatever that is?"

"Yeah, of course," and she didn't lie. She poured me a shot of vodka. No spitting in the cup, no adding anything sneakily, no hostility.

She passed the cup to me, giving a mischievous wink.

Tossing it back, I was totally shocked by the burning sensation it caused to my throat. I began to cough and splutter.

"Girl, chill out, or you're gonna draw attention to yourself." Rosé looked around.

I placed the cup down on the table, the plastic practically crumbling in my hand.

"This is it. The beginning," Jujubee joked, dabbing the corner of my mouth with her pinky. I didn't even know there was a drop of liquid there.

And I didn't know there was a hair out of place either. Because she was stroking a soft hand down my temple to my cheek.

"Brie, do - -"

"Juju, I'm gonna ask her to dance with me," I said all too loud.

The hand dropped instantaneously, her smile falling in a matter of seconds. Of course, I expected this shocked reaction. Even Rosé had nearly choked on her drink.

"For real?" Jujubee asked after a silent moment.

"Yep," I answered proudly, putting my hands on my hips.

"I guess you've never touched a drop of alcohol in your life, loser." Rosé leaned close to me.

"Something like that." I felt slightly uncomfortable now that she was dangerously close to me.

She snorted a laugh, holding up her hands as she walked away, "I'm not responsible for this."

So this was what they called liquid courage. Yeah, it was one shot, but it was my very first. And I was already feeling it. The buzz.

I turned to make my way to the girl I loved when Jujubee grabbed my hand, "Brie, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Yes," I replied too quickly, tugging to pull away.

"Are you sure?" Her brows knit, "You're not gonna be upset if she says no, right?"

One final strong tug was enough to release her grip on me, "No, Juju. I'll be fine, just...stop questioning me, OK?"

She was silent, her arms dropping by her side.

But I continued on in my mission, vision slightly blurred, insides warmed.

Everyone around us was gone like they had just stepped into another world, leaving Blair and me in this reality. Or maybe it was the two of us who disappeared, somehow falling into the wormhole and ending up in the other world.

Or maybe it was just liquid courage.

There were only a few metres between us now. "Blair?"

She had been taking a sip of her coke when she looked up and noticed me. Wiping the corners of her mouth, she put the can down.

"Brianna!" She beamed. Her eyes looked me up and down, causing a brief moment of panic, "wow, look at you. You look great."

"Yeah, right, compared to you." I stifled a laugh.

"Oh, shut up." She smirked.

"So, um…" I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, looking away and to the ground, "I was just...wondering...if you'd wanna dance with me?"

I didn't lift my gaze. Only now did I understand what Jujubee meant. The girl hadn't even said no yet, and my heart was already sinking.

"It's just...this song is so good, and it's the end of the year, and we may not - -"

Before I could continue rambling, she cut me off.

"Sure. Yeah, I'll dance with you."

I lift my gaze to see her glittering smile. Like in the library, time didn't feel real anymore, and I needed to remind myself to breathe. "Really?"

"Yeah, of course." She briefly knit her brows like it shouldn't have been questioned. She took my hand in her perfect french manicured one, "Come on."

As we made our way to the dance floor, I was only now reminded that there were people here. So, we didn't slip through a wormhole. This was real. This was reality.

Blair found a spot on the floor, turned to me and wrapped her arms around the back of my neck.

For a moment, I was unsure of where to put my hands. I glanced over her shoulder, noting the couple also slow dancing. She has her arms around his neck. He had his arms around her waist.

I was hesitant at first but eventually gave in. Blair didn't mind. And I felt myself relax.

She just stared at me, the sweet smile still on her face. The music echoed around us. The lights were low. Pink tinted.

"So, how does it feel winning Prom Queen?" I asked. Of course, it felt amazing for her, but I needed to find an excuse to speak. Anything to avoid the somersaults my stomach was doing.

"I mean, it's nice, I guess. But, it's all bullshit anyway?" Her smile faltered, "Not something anyone in the future will give a fuck about, right?"

I disagreed. If I were to win prom queen, I would feel validated. And I would make sure I'd bring it up to everyone I ever met. Pathetic, I know.

"Well, I can't think of anybody better," I admitted. "Maybe they could have chosen a better King."

"Agreed." She nodded. "You know, literally just now, he tried to use this whole King and Queen thing to 'try again'. Not even that long before you came up to me. Brianna, I've already given him another chance. And he blew it."

"During the Summer?" I recalled.

"Yep." She pursed her lips.

"What did he do, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh, he just had some major anger problems," her eyes widened for a moment, "He never hurt me, though. He just...got so angry over the dumbest shit. It was just too much."

She puffed out a breath, the frown on her face appearing.

"You don't have to tell me any more," I said quickly.

"Sorry, I don't wanna get emotional." She looked back at me. "It's just... it's hard not to. You're a good listener."

How should I have felt knowing that was her analysis of me from very little time spent together? She really trusted me. "Blair... I'm sorry about that time in the library. When you mentioned my Grandpa. I feel terrible now."

"Please, don't. You were grieving."

'Was I really though?' I held back from saying.

"I never really had a Dad," I smiled, seeing his stupid smile in my head, "But he was the closest equivalent to that."

"I know what you mean." She began, "My Dad…" she trailed off for a moment, "He wasn't the best. You probably remember that one time I ran away as a kid. When you walked me to my Grandma's."

I wasn't even tense in the first place, but my body felt like it relaxed. "You remember that?"

"Of course I do. It really meant a lot, Brie." Her thumb stroked the back of my neck. I don't know if she did this intentionally or subconsciously. Was she even thinking about it? "That day, I never went back. Ever. My Grandparents took full custody of me, and they became my second parents. The ones I always deserved."

I felt my body relax even more like this was normal. "Blair, I wanna carry on something my Grandpa started."

"What's that?"

"It sounds crazy," I pause, "But he wants me to find a parallel universe."

I paused to take in her reaction. She did look taken aback for a moment. Could you blame her? "Is it even possible?"

"I mean, at first I thought he was a bit out there asking me something like that, on his deathbed and all. But I've been studying really hard, and I think it's achievable."

"That's interesting." She nodded. "So, what are you gonna do at college?"

"Drugs." I giggled before the smile dropped, "OK, not funny. Bad joke."

"I'm laughing, though." She was.

"Um, no. I'm gonna do Astronomy and Space science."

"I didn't know that was a major you could do," Blair replied.

"Me neither. What about you, though? Something in theatre?"

Blair lowered her gaze for a brief moment, "I dunno, Brie. I honestly don't see college as a me-thing. I'm constantly torn between theatre, fashion merchandising, cosmetology, politics..."

"Politics?" I laughed and instantly hoped she didn't take offence to that.

"What?" She smirked. "What's funny?"

"I just…" I paused, feeling my heart skip a beat as a particular memory came back. "This is crazy. I can't believe I remember this. All I can think about right now is the day we met. Remember the first day of elementary? On the bus? I told you I wanted to be a politician when I was older, just 'cause they liked to shout a lot. And you couldn't say the word right."

"Oh fuck, now that you mention it, I do remember." Blair laughed, "That was such a long time ago. We were so little." She looked away as if her mind had transported her to that moment. Did she remember it like I did? Did she remember how she held my hand and told me she was my friend?

And then never sat with me ever again?

My eyes had drifted away, looking over her shoulder at nothing in particular. The bad thoughts were taking over. I didn't want them to. I wanted to enjoy this moment forever. Just swaying back and forth with Blair in the middle of the dance floor.

She stroked her thumb on the back of my neck again, causing a spark to course through me.

Blair's looking at me again. "Brianna, how come we never talked more?"

I don't know if it was just me fantasising again, but her face was moving closer to mine, ever so slowly.

I had the answer to her question. But it couldn't ruin this moment. "I don't know," I whispered.

She was closer now, head tilted to the left.

And I found myself doing the same.

This was another fantasy. This isn't real.

I felt her breath on the corner of my mouth.

It felt real.

It was.

There was a frustrated roar.

A tight fist clenched around my arm.

I was pulled back forcefully.

My feet gave way.

I was on the ground.

"Are you kidding me??" Trevor stood in front of Blair, his face red with anger, "You won't fucking dance with me, but you'll dance with her??"

Everyone around us was just standing there, too shocked to do something.

"Trevor, what the fuck??" Blair went to move around him, trying to get to me. He only pushed her back.

"Of all the people, why her??" He grilled Blair with more questions. She looked afraid now.

Why the fuck wasn't anyone doing anything??

I felt a hand on my shoulder, but looking around, I saw it was actually Rosé. "Trevor, what the fuck??"

He turned to look as if offended that anyone else got involved. How could they not? Seeing her helping me stand must hit a nerve. Because he's snatched a cup of punch from a bystander, "Why are you defending the dyke??" And he threw the cup forward, the liquid drenching my hair and splattering my dress.

That was the final straw. I could feel my chest heaving.

I ran to the nearest exit. Running from the school. As soon as I felt the cool air on my skin, I wrapped my arms around my stomach. I was bent over, throwing up all the panic. Sparks of the bile dotted the bottom of my dress and shoes. I didn't care. My dress was already ruined.

I heard the door open behind me and immediately began to move again.

I tried to run, but the heels made it hard.

The person was in front of me now, hands on my face, tears streaking her face.

I expected it to be Blair.

But it was Jujubee.

"Brie, it's alright. I punched him for you." She whimpered, her hands on either side of my face, holding me tenderly.

My breathing was rugged, trying so hard to listen to her reassuring whispers. But in my head was the sound of the crowd gasping and Trevor shouting.

No one was going to forget about this. I'd be reminded by the stares in the corridors, how they'd whisper to each other.

"Let's go to my house. You can stay over if you want." Jujubee's sweet voice brought me out of my thoughts.

Words still failing to surface, I nodded.

As soon as we got in, she ran me a hot bath. Whilst I cleaned myself of the sticky punch that covered my hair and face, she made chocolate mug cakes with ice cream.

Sitting there in her room, dressed in her fluffy pyjamas, eating her food, I should have felt better. I should have been happy. But I just stared at the mug in my hand, still thinking of Trevor's anger and Blair's distressed face.

Jujubee took the mug from me, set it aside along with her own, and enveloped me in a hug. "Don't cry, Bri. Please, don't cry."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know I was crying." I wept.

"Don't apologise." She shushed me, "It's OK. You're OK."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

2020

And even now, I didn't realise I was crying again. And as it was too late to stop myself, I remembered sobbing into Jujubee's shoulder, holding her tightly, like she was the only one who could get me through it. She was the only one who could get me through it.

The events of the prom left me scared, always so on edge when walking those school corridors. Just terrified that Trevor would round the corner and do something worse.

But Jujubee was there for me every time. She'd hold my hand, not giving a fuck about who looked at us weird.

I know I should have grown a backbone and defended myself, and what had actually happened shouldn't have been as damaging as it was. But, hey, I was only human.

Jujubee got in a lot of trouble for punching Trevor in the face. But she didn't mind. "Just as long as he got what was coming to him," she had said.

Hearing her retell the event, I wish I had been there. She had jumped on him, tackling him to the ground and punched him over and over again.

But as exciting as that all was, I didn't speak to Blair again. I didn't think about her. I didn't talk about her. I didn't even look at her. Blair wasn't the one to come after me that night. She never even approached me to talk about it. She didn't give a fuck.

So I kept my distance.

And just as life went on without her, she just had to go and message me. After years of silence, she couldn't have left well enough alone.

I finally lifted my head. I reached up and grabbed my phone. Turning it back on, I immediately deleted Messenger, hoping to never see Blair's response.

This would be the beginning of my journey toward happiness.

Yeah. That was it. That's what I would do.

#rpdr fanfiction #s10 #as5 #miz cracker #jujubee #blair st clair #blair x cracker #coming of age #hurt/comfort #lesbian au #high school au #angst #gimme love #grinder #tw homophobic slurs #tw homophobia

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