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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

Text

calculated, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Some people would call you far too serious. Some would call you stuck-up. And some would call you a bitch. But to freshman Jeon Jungkook, you’re the head Calculus I TA noona – and he’s determined to fuck you.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; intense smut (fem reader, semi-public sex, pussy spanking, fingering, m-receiving oral, doggy, dirty talk); non-idol!AU - university!AU; dom!Jungkook x sub!noona!reader, ft instigator Jimin lol

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

"I think Jungkook likes you."

The lead of your mechanical pencil snapped suddenly. Stupid soft graphite. You glared at it, annoyed, and brushed the broken piece away to complete the equation.

"Who?"

"I think he's taking the afternoon class."

You double-checked the last question and handed him his homework back. "Jimin, you used the wrong equation, here and here."

Park Jimin frowned, face falling when he saw all your corrections. Being one of your parents' friends' kids, your parents and his parents naturally asked you to help him out when he entered the same university as you. You pretty much figured the likelihood of Jimin speaking to you was zero, since he was a dance major and you were a graphics design major. You shrugged and agreed.

Except you forgot you were also the head Calculus I TA and Calculus I was a required course for all students. And, turns out, Jimin wasn't that great at math. That's why you were sitting on cushions at your coffee table in your apartment with Park Jimin, watching a music program as you checked his homework.

"Oh."

Jimin began to look over your arrows and circles. You never actually gave him the answer. He usually ended up forgetting a step in the middle and thus fucked the answer. Usually he caught on easily once you pointed it out.

You stared at the television screen, listening to the latest hit. Not bad. Catchy.

"I think I should tell you because he's kind of reckless," Jimin was saying.

You placed a hand under your head and took a sip of your tea, distracted by the cute MC with the blue hair. He had a cute smile. It reminded you of a bunny.

"Who?"

"Jeon Jungkook," Jimin snapped impatiently.

You raised an eyebrow and faced Jimin. "Oi. I'm correcting your homework here. I could just correct it tomorrow and hand it back to you with red marks instead," you threatened.

He pouted at you, his full lower lip sticking out. "Sorry, noona."

You sighed. "Don't call me that. Makes me feel ancient." You turned your body so you faced him as he scowled at his homework. "Okay, okay, I'm listening now. What did you want to say?"

Jimin put his pencil down immediately and began to chat like an excited gossiping auntie. Round brown eyes getting rounder, glad for a break from his math homework. You didn't want to get him started, but he was going to nag you incessantly until you let him talk.

"I think he sits in the back?" Jimin pondered. "Dark longish hair, wears a lot of black. Looks scary when he's thinking because his eyes go really wide and he furrows his brows."

You twisted your mouth to the side and thought. You only attended the class when they had quizzes or exams because during lectures the professor didn't need your help. Mostly you remembered people by their personal scores or their handwriting, because you graded everything as the head TA. Looking at people's faces wasn't really necessary, unless you were looking for cheating.

"Can't recall. I remember his handwriting though. Not bad," you said, shrugging. "I think he's pretty highly ranked at the moment."

"I think he likes you."

You scoffed. "How did you come to that consensus?"

Jimin tapped his temple sagely. "Intuition."

"If only you used that intuition on Calculus."

He frowned at you, pouting again. You let out a puff of air, conceding.

"What do you want me to do about it?"

Jimin scratched the back of his head. "Well, er... I'm just warning you."

"... Is he a serial killer or something?"

"No, no, no!" Jimin waved his hands on the air hurriedly. "He's really nice. But he can be kind of, uh... forward."

"How old is he?" you asked, glancing at the television for a moment as you took another long sip of your tea.

"Two years younger than me."

You choked.

"What?" you squeaked between coughs. Jimin hurried over and patted your back as you struggled, becoming pink in the face. "The fuck? Tell him to find someone his own age."

"I did!" Jimin whined. "But he's stubborn."

You rolled your eyes. "You're warning me that I have to break a poor freshman's heart?"

"Kind of."

You rubbed your throat. "Hmph. Darn whippersnappers these days."

Jimin smacked your arm, laughing. "I thought you weren't ancient?"

"I am now knowing some kid is fantasizing about their fucking Calculus TA."

You had said your comment sarcastically. You fully expected Jimin to make some joke, but he froze up a little. You looked over to him. He looked somewhat guilty, like a lost puppy who got caught stealing food. You sighed and patted his back.

"Don't worry, I won't chew your friend's heart out. Finish your homework, so I don't drop you off too late. You have practice in the morning, yeah?"

"Y-yeah, thanks."

Forward, huh?

An understatement.

You were sitting in one of the math department offices, laptop open, your drawing tablet in your lap, thinking. The conversation with Jimin happened about two days ago. In that time, you hadn't attended either morning or afternoon class yet, since it was only lectures. Not that it mattered, because lecture halls were massive. If this Jungkook kid sat in the back, then you probably wouldn't be able to see him anyway. At the moment, however, you were preoccupied with your assignment, to design a logo. Logo designing was difficult, especially since a school assignment didn't exactly have a real client attached to it to ask questions.

Technically these were Calculus I office hours, but who attended office hours? Nobody.

Who attended any type of calculus office hours?

Yeah, exactly.

You spent the time doing homework with the door open. You were the only TA that actually showed up for the office hours. Every other TA said it was a waste of time. It was. You still came through; in the off chance some poor kid decided her grade mattered. You felt bad since the actual professor wasn't very patient when people needed extra help. Also, technically you were the head TA, so you did have a bit more responsibility than the others.

Your black boots were perched on the desk as you sat back in your office chair, sketching a few ideas. If a member of the math department saw you, you would probably get in trouble. Thankfully, the math department was usually deserted. Math wasn't exactly the most social subject.

You took a sip of your tea from your thermos, tapping your tablet pen on your black jean-covered thigh.

"You look even better close-up, noona."

A clear, silvery, male voice cut through the silence. The voice came from the doorframe right in front of the desk. You frowned, slowly lifting your head from your tablet. How had you not heard him? Were you really that focused on your assignment?

Chucky black sneakers. Black cargo pants, slim fit. Distressed black sweater, hands casually in his pockets. Broad shoulders. Lightly tanned skin. Sharp jawline. A tiny mole under a mischievous smile. Your eyes narrowed as you made eye contact with those sparkling dark brown orbs. Long hair slicked back, with only a few wispy strands on his forehead.

"Calculus I question?" was your response.

His smile quirked a little higher. The young man didn't have a backpack with him. Didn't even have a piece of paper stuck under his arm. Wasn't even trying to pretend that he needed help.

"I have questions."

He didn't elaborate. You lowered your legs, placing your tablet on your laptop.

"This is Calculus I office hours. For calculus questions only."

His eyes flickered to your laptop and tablet. Back to you.

"Is this what the TAs should be doing during office hours?"

Suddenly, you could feel your pulse in your ears. Point taken.

"What do you want?"

He slid into the chair across from the desk, hands still in his pockets. Watching you carefully, still smiling thoughtfully. It should have been unnerving, but there was no malice in that smile. Maybe you were imagining it though, so you kept your guard up.

"I'm Jeon Jungkook."

Yeah, I guessed, you thought wryly. "And my name is on the syllabus. What do you want?"

He tilted his head at you, studying your face.

"How do you know Jimin-ssi?"

Isn't Jimin older than you, punk? "Our parents are friends."

He nodded slowly. He looked around the windowless office, at the three papers tacked to the wall – outdated notices – to the still open door, to the desk with your laptop, tablet, and backpack. Then to you, sitting back in the black office chair, eyebrow raised, hands half-in the sleeves of your gray flannel, cropped black sweater underneath.

"I think you're beautiful, noona."

Your brain winced at the compliment and your hormones looked up from the abyss. Your brain scolded them to go back to their hidey-hole. You clicked your tongue.

"I'm too old for you."

There was an ever-so-slight tick of his head. His eyes shifted downward and then flicked back up to you, almost shyly, if it wasn't for the small smirk dancing on his lips.

"We both know such a mindset is outdated."

You felt your breath catch in your throat. The fuck? Your hormones peeked out again. Your brain was too distracted with trying to find a comeback to tell them to fuck off. You figured you better cut this off right now before it went too far.

"This whole conversation is inappropriate," you said evenly, standing up from the chair and rolling it back. You walked around the desk and stood in front of it, balancing your ass against it. You crossed your arms over your breasts. "You should leave."

He slowly, slowly gazed up at you. Why did he look so satisfied? Your heart did a little three beat skip. Stop it. Keep it together. Jungkook got to his feet, hands still in his pockets. Then he pulled them out and pushed his sleeves up.

Oh?

Tattoos ran up his right arm, the beginnings of a sleeve. Ink black against light tan, flexed muscle. He was not a skinny pretty boy. You were so busy staring at his arms that you barely registered him placing them casually on either side of you, face right next to yours. Now you were staring down at his broad chest, at his black distressed sweater.

"Excuse me?" you snapped testily, lifting your head to look into his smug eyes.

"I won't touch you," Jungkook murmured quietly. "Unless you ask me to."

This punk ass bitch.

You narrowed your eyes. "What makes you think I would?"

That small teasing smile came back.

"Well, for one, you haven't actually told me you have absolutely no interest yet."

Your hormones prodded you excitedly. Your brain told them to shut up. Your eyes moved to the open door behind his head, looking into the empty hall, trying to keep a balanced, even tone. It came out a little sharper than you intended.

"Door's wide open."

"Embarrassed to be seen with me?" Jungkook purred, breath on your cheek.

You tried not to react even though your hormones were fucking losing it. "What about you?" you shot back sharply.

You heard Jungkook chuckle. "Fuck no I'm not." Your heart jerked heading the crude word come out so daintily and casually from his lips. "I want to be seen with you. All the time. In every position."

You finally tore your eyes from the open door to give him the side-eye. "Real big words there."

Jungkook smirked. "I'm giving you a chance to tell me no. It's taking everything in me not to bend you over this desk right now and fuck your brains out."

You sucked in a breath. Accidentally. Not on purpose. There's absolutely no way Jungkook would have noticed unless he was literally right next to you. Which he was. Shit. He leaned in closer, still not actually touching you.

"You like that idea?" he breathed, the lust evident in his voice, not even trying to hide it.

"I am not some easy bitch at the club, Jungkook. This is the fucking math department," you scolded, eye-level to the base of his neck, wanting very badly to make out with it.

Now it was his turn to inhale sharply. He pulled his head back, and now you were face-to-face with those dark, dark eyes, falling, falling, your body screaming at you to do more. And still you didn’t, torn between reason and instinct.

"I'm so pissed," he growled, breath against your lips. "That the first time I hear you say my name, I wasn't watching your pretty lips form it."

Those few strands brushed against his exposed forehead, framing his furrowed brow and those intense dark brown eyes, making you breathless, telling you that you should, even though the last shreds of reason were telling you, do not, do not, do not give in to Jeon Jungkook.

"It's the middle of the damn day," you murmured.

"And you make me horny every second of every day," he groaned, so close now that his nose almost touched yours. "With your stem stare, your assertive stride, your well-spoken words, and your beautiful body that demands to be kissed, loved, fucked." He panted, shoulders shaking. "God, I want you under me so bad. You have no idea, noona."

Resolve? Hello, where are you?

You raised an eyebrow. "You think you're enough for me?"

His dark eyes gleamed.

"I know I am."

Your eyes flickered to the open door, the vacant hall, feeling Jungkook's body heat hovering so close, so close to you, and then you shifted your eyes back to him. Your brain was screaming at you and your hormones bonked your brain silent. The words at the tip of your tongue came tumbling out, nothing to hold them back anymore.

"Let's see."

And then you kissed him.

Jungkook’s reaction was immediate, his large hands leaving the desk, grabbing your waist, ramming his crotch into you. You gasped against his soft lips and he slid his tongue inside, playing with yours, moaning, kissing you hungrily. His fingers pressed into you through your clothes, strong, tight, unforgiving. Your eyes flew open, surprised at his eagerness. He retreated his tongue and nipped at your lower lip, sucking on it lightly. You shivered, feeling him lift you onto the desk, pushing your legs open with his hips, grinding against you. He kissed down your chin, lifting your head impatiently, moaning against your skin. Every gentle kiss a jolt to your system, contrasting with his rough hands kneading your waist, pulling you close against his firm body, the fucking desk cutting into your thighs, eyelids fluttering.

There was movement at the door.

You froze.

Jungkook’s lips latched onto your neck, sucking sharply. You choked back a wanton moan, seeing a familiar face. A familiar, plump smile with cute, lovely eyes. He waved a small hand at you and reached for the doorknob, locking it from the inside before winking at you and closing the door silently.

Park fucking Jimin.

That bas–

Your thought was sharply cut off by Jungkook nipping at your throat, hissing as he rolled his hips into your thigh, a distinct bulge pressing into you. He yanked down the front of your sweater, sucking on the space right between your collarbones. You whimpered and shuddered, wrapping a leg around his waist and hooking him towards you, hands finally leaving your chest and grabbing his, fingers getting caught in the holes of his sweater.

“Fuck,” he growled. “I’m so fucking hard already because you’re so fucking hot.”

You caught yourself against the desk, elbow slamming onto the wood. You winced. “I haven’t done shit,” you said, surprised to feel your lips slightly swollen.

Jungkook grinned. “You don’t have to. Just you below me is enough.”

You glared at him and he bent over the desk, grabbing the back of your head, pushing your face to his, kissing you again, stealing your breath. It was the perfect mix of force and desperation, leaving you yielding, back arching as he sucked on your tongue, bobbing his head up and down slightly to pull on it. You tried not to make noise – everything was already too noisy anyway – only crying out softly when he let you go. Now you were on your elbows with Jungkook towering over you, licking his lips, the spare strands now stuck to his exposed forehead. His eyes roamed over your body before landing back on your face. You gave him your best questioning look.

He chuckled darkly. “I want to rip all your clothes off, but something tells me you will be upset with me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Because this is still the middle of the math department, let me remind you, Jungkook.” You huffed. “I don’t live here. Don’t get crazy.”

He grinned, leaning forward. “Say my name again, noona. God, let me watch your delicious lips speak my fucking name.”

You raised your eyebrows. Then you felt his hands on your jeans, undoing the button, making you jump. The zipper going down, down. He yanked at the seam, digging it into your already wet pussy, shoving your panties into your slit.

“A-ah, Jungkook…”

Oh fuck. That sounded kind of pathetic.

He bit his lower lip, and yanked again.

“J-Jungkook, ah…” Your eyelids fluttered, trying to keep your strict demeanor.

“Fuck,” he hissed, firmly gripping the waistband of your jeans and pulling them down your ass, half-dragging your panties down. “You like that, noona? Do you want me to be rough with you?”

You prayed to the higher power that he would just take the damn hint and not make you say it. But Jungkook was dragging your panties back up, the thin black fabric being sucked into your folds and ass as he pulled them far too high. You gasped, trying not to look down, trying not to look at his face. But he grabbed your chin, dragging you back to him, making you open your glazed eyes, making you see his excited expression.

“Look at me, noona.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Jungkook held the front of your panties and pulled, hard. You had to choke back a moan, the fabric nearly ripping, rubbing harshly against your clit. You felt the squelch of you getting wetter, hearing it clearly as he yanked at it, stimulating your clit.

“Tell me you don’t like it, noona,” Jungkook whispered hotly, letting go of your chin. “Tell me and I’ll stop.”

You spread your legs involuntarily, trying very hard not to make a fucking sound, but it was already obvious by your fists clenched against the desk, your widespread legs, and your pussy lips practically sucking your panties in, so much so that they nearly disappeared into you.

Jungkook snuck a glance down, gasping softly at your glistening pussy being tortured by your panties. He dropped to his knees and you had only one second to be confused before Jungkook’s tongue licked up your slit. You had to slap a hand over your mouth to avoid crying out, leaving your sounds limited to muffled whimpers as he lapped at your juices, groaning into you. Your entire lower body vibrated as he teased your covered clit, smushing the fabric into your deeper, rougher. Your hips strained, trying to hump his face but only digging your panties into you harder.

You removed your hand from your face, biting on your tongue to regain some semblance of thought so you fucking talk.

“T-take it off…” you gasped. You looked down, seeing his mischievous eyes above your quivering mound, licking his lips slowly, pink tongue tracing the contours of his mouth.

Jungkook raised his hand.

Smack!

This time you had to actually shove to knuckles into your mouth and mute your squeal as pain radiated through you, your pussy stinging. He slapped you again, right on your clit, hard, making your throw your head back and nearly hit the desk, hips raising to meet him. Oh, God. He pressed his finger against your aching clit, rubbing hard, standing up to bend over you, an impossibly strong presence as he pleasured you.

“Say it, noona,” he breathed. “Tell me you like getting your pussy spanked.”

He was rubbing your clit so hard that you felt your hips raise into it, eyes rolling back into your head.

“Say it or I’ll stop,” he warned menacingly, voice so low it ripped through you.

You tore your knuckles out of your mouth. “Don’t stop, please, fuck, Jungkook, I love it when you spank my clit, fuck, please, fuck.” The words came jumbling out in a rushed, half-panicked whisper, cut off by your sharp gasp as your orgasm clawed into you. You felt Jungkook slap his free hand over your mouth, shutting off your wail as your throbbed into his hand, turning into helpless whines as he spanked your clit hard and fast, accentuating your high with waves of sudden, aching pain. You pushed his hand away, pressing your head against the desk, gasping.

“Harder, please, Jungkook, harder.”

He was staring at your fucked-out face, massaging your throbbing pussy with his palm, coating his fingers with your cum. Your voice a thin moan, hips rutting into him.

“Believe me, I want to,” he snarled. “I want to so fucking bad, noona, but we’re already loud enough and you’re making a fucking mess.”

He pulled your panties down, nearly useless at this point and roughly shoved two fingers into you. You gasped, tongue lolling out and he took the chance to put two fingers of his free hand into your mouth, rubbing your wet tongue. You could feel every joint, the calluses of his fingertips as he thrust them into you, slopping, wet sounds accompanying his movements.

“Fuck, look at you, noona, sucking in my fingers, letting me fuck your mouth,” Jungkook murmured, centimeters away from your face. “I haven’t even fucked you with my cock yet and you’re already taking me so well.”

If you could think, you probably would have a snappy response, but Jungkook was stuffing his fingers into your mouth and scissoring the others inside your pussy, driving you insane. You made eye contact with Jungkook, him and his blown-out pupils, his lips trembling as he rammed his fingers into your holes faster, harder, sliding you up the wooden desk. Something inside you snapped and you squeezed your eyes shut, your body shaking as you came again, trying to yell, but unable to because Jungkook shoved his fingers into your throat, making you almost choke if it wasn’t for your own expertise. An embarrassing amount of liquid poured down his hand and wrist, dripping down your thighs. You clamped your legs shut, burying his hand, hips jerking as the aftershocks rippled through you.

You heard Jungkook swallow loudly, jaw tight. He slowly pulled his fingers out of both holes, strings of bodily fluid following him as he did so. Your shaking knees were barely holding your lower body up, jeans constricting your calves and your upper body way too fucking hot.

You laid back on the wood, trying to catch your breath. Was it a fucking cliché? Probably. You felt Jungkook lift himself off the desk and you closed your eyes, chest heaving. Of course. He was just going to leave you like this, tearing your secret out of you and then leaving to boast about how he turned the head Calculus I TA into a helpless, submissive puddle of goo without even actually fucking you. Why did you even bother–

You suddenly felt the desk creak and snapped your eyes open to Jungkook climbing onto it, straddling your chest, unzipping his pants right in front of your face. His slicked hair was becoming unfurled now, more and more dark strands falling down around his ears. His brow furrowed, eyes so wide and focused you weren’t even sure he was actually looking at you.

“Uh–”

He reached in his black boxer briefs impatiently and pulled out his thick, leaking cock. Your eyes widened and his found yours, glittering with arousal. A smear of pre-cum grazed your cheek as he adjusted his position to push the red, bulbous tip against your lips.

“I want to fuck you, noona, but you have to clean me up,” Jungkook breathed, gently asking you but also trying to greedily push his dick into your mouth.

You could say something, but somehow you concluded you were going to be muffled anyway, so you opened your mouth, tongue snaking out and licking the head. Flat, wide, and all over, coating your tongue with his pre-cum, moaning at his taste. Jungkook sunk his teeth into his lower lip, hissing softly as he spread his legs even more, lowering himself slowly into your mouth. You licked around his cock before closing your lips and sucking, growing wet as he thrust his hips into your mouth, slow and steady, eyes closed. You reached up to hold onto his thighs, whimpering as you felt his muscular quads through his pants. He opened his eyes and looked down at you, sliding his cock in a little deeper, hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck, noona, so fucking sexy, taking my cock like that,” he groaned, reaching down and pushing your hair out of your eyes. His dark hair hung down, framing his face in shadow, making your pussy throb at the image. “Makes me want to fill all your holes up, makes me want to coat you with my cum and see you covered in it, messy and dirty with me.”

You couldn’t say anything so you just whined, nails digging into his covered thighs.

“You want that?” His voice dropped several octaves again. Your skin prickled hotly with every word. “You want me to jack off all over you and leave you a mess covered with my cum?”

You squeezed your thighs together, desperate for friction, now moving your head to suck harder, rubbing the tip fiercely against the back of your throat.

“F-fuck,” he gritted out. He tapped your hand hurriedly, eyelids fluttering. “S-stop, stop.” You whimpered, sadly looking up at him. He chuckled, rubbing your knuckles soothingly.

Look here you little shit, you can’t say all that dirty stuff and not expect me to be horny, your eyes were telling him.

“I know, I know,” he purred. “But I want to fuck your pussy and office hours are almost over…”

You glowered at him, but reluctantly unhinged your jaw, opening your lips. He slid out, gasping, hitting you in the chin and getting the front of your sweater wet.

“You’re a jerk,” you muttered as he climbed off you.

Jungkook chuckled. “Sorry, noona.”

You shook your hair and reached into your backpack, pulling out a condom, only to turn around and see Jungkook pulling one out of his back pocket.

“Oh.” You blinked at him. “You’re prepared.”

Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows. “I knew what I was coming for.”

A muscle in your brow twitched as he tucked his tongue in his cheek, grinning widely at you as he ripped it open and slid it on slowly, rolling it down his thick cock. His voice changed, dipping raspy and low.

“Turn around.”

Part of you wanted to fight, but then you spied the time. You rolled onto your stomach, sighing exaggeratedly as your legs tangled a bit in your jeans. You felt Jungkook’s presence behind you as he bent over your back, hand sliding over your lips and covering your mouth.

“Sigh all you want, noona,” he growled, chuckling as you shivered. “Just don’t scream when I’m fucking you.”

Your eyes widened as you felt the head press against your puffy pussy lips, pushing in forcefully, expanding your tight little hole as his cock entered you, his moan against your ear, your name dripping with lust. Both of you still mostly clothed, but his cock sliding deep, deep inside you, his teeth on your earlobe. Your walls throbbed around him, squeezing him. He gasped, jutting his hips experimentally into you. A stifled moan sneaked past his fingers, your tongue licking them lightly.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “Nice and tight for me, bent over this desk.” He nipped at your ear, whispering softly as he began to fuck you. “What if someone hears you, whimpering for my cock, begging to be fucked?”

Your hands clenched into fists, eyes fluttering shut, feeling him pound you into the wood, deep and slow and far too perfect.

“Noona, what if someone sees you?” His voice like smoke, invading all your thoughts, threatening your dreams, cursing you with the feeling of his lips on your ear and his hips pounding your ass. “Proper, harsh, strict noona turning into a slut for this cock, bent over this desk and humping my hips so you can get this dick deeper inside you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and wiggled your ass against his cock. He thrust his hips harder into you, jerking you forcefully upwards, your thighs smacking against the desk. Light flickered in front of your closed eyelids and you opened them, seeing your phone screen glaring at you. A message from Jimin. Finish already! You struggled to say his name and Jungkook lifted his hand for a moment to hear your shaking breath.

“Jungkook,” you panted. “Time.”

He covered your mouth again. “You’re right,” he grunted, rolling his hips into you, biting back his moans as you clenched around him. The wet, slapping sounds became louder as he changed his angle, fucking you roughly into the table. It pushed your hips up and you clung onto the edge of the desk, moaning around his hand, tongue pressed flat against his palm as he fucked you with reckless abandon, beating a damn indent of the edge of the desk into your thighs. The dull ache was going to lead to a bruise, but you didn’t care, pushing your hips back to meet him. A choked wail vibrated in your throat as you came again, whole body lurching as he sunk his teeth into your clothed shoulder, groaning as he came inside you, cock twitching and throbbing against your walls. You felt the condom expand, matched with Jungkook’s hiss as he pumped into you. You pulsed your pussy around him and he detached his mouth, whispering your name against your ear.

“You’re dirty, noona,” he rasped, the words so breathless they made you shiver. “I love it.”

You shakily reached up and peeled his hand from your mouth, gasping as he straightened to hold the condom and pull out of you. Fuck. Oh fuck. You scrambled for your phone, seeing Jimin’s text.

You better rush outta there, noona.

You heard the wet, peeling sound of Jungkook pulling the used condom off gingerly. You turned around, hissing at Jungkook before he threw it in the trash.

“Are you crazy?” you muttered, snatching it from him. “Someone will see.”

Jungkook blinked at you. “What else do I do with it?”

You glared at him and tied it up, grabbing some tissues and wrapping it inside. Then you shoved it in your backpack, along with your laptop, your tablet, the spare condom, and reaching over the desk to unplug your laptop’s AC adaptor so you could shove that in your bag too.

“Fuck, your ass is so sexy,” Jungkook marveled behind you.

“Jungkook, we have to get the fuck out of here, so pack your damn dick,” you ordered, yanking your jeans up. Squelch. You sucked in your lower lip in at the cold, uncomfortable sensation of your soaked panties. You zipped your bag and checked around the desk to make sure you took everything. You grabbed your phone and shoved it in your back pocket, turning around to see Jungkook rezipping his pants. Thank God. You might have been tempted if he hadn’t listened to you. Then you remembered the two bits of condom wrapping on the floor and picked those up too, shoving them in your other pocket.

Jungkook smirked at you. “So thorough, noona.”

You scowled at him. Maybe he hadn’t been in this situation before, but you sure as hell have.

“Stay here for twenty seconds and then leave.”

Jungkook pouted at you. You felt your heart skip a beat.

“But I don’t even have your number.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ask Jimin. You two are in cahoots anyway.” You popped your head out, looking around. No one. You popped your head back in. “Also, you owe me new panties the next time I see your smug little face, you punk,” you added, tone irate.

He smirked at you; his long dark hair wispy around his playful eyes.

You gave him one last look before you tore your eyes away, rushing through every back stairway to get the hell out of there before someone could realize you just fucked a freshman during office hours, your slopping, torn-up panties reminding you with every step that you really needed Jeon Jungkook to fuck you again.

part ii

masterpost

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

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

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When He Sees Me // Benedict Bridgerton

Request: Hey! I've just finished reading all of your Benedict fanfics and it's like, "let me have more!!!" *-* Could you maybe write something where the reader and Ben meet at Mr Granville's house? Where the reader is lower class and mocks him for with his lord manners, and eventually they get along well and all that? And he falls in love with her but she's just a seamstress and is scared he fetishizing her poverty and the "starving artist" lifestyle... Thanks in advance, love your writing xxx - anon.

A/N: Thank you so so much! This is such a sweet message. Thank you for requesting something from me; I can only hope I have done it justice. This is a really long fic, I know that - it really did get away from me. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy and I hope you are all well!

Title: Waitress - When He Sees Me

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and nudity, making out, amorous activities, light voyeurism (very light), class divides, pining, mutual pining, fluff, light angst, humour, Bridgerton family feels. HAPPY ENDING.

Word count: 6.8k (this is so long, I am so sorry)

“Bridgerton!” Henry Granville calls, a large smile spreading across his face as he spies Benedict by the front door. “I was hoping you’d make it.”

“Here I am,” Benedict laughs, spreading his arms wide in evidence.

Granville chuckles, grabbing a glass from a nearby tray and handing it to Benedict who takes a healthy sip immediately. “Come,” Granville gestures, “Let me show you around.”

Benedict follows the man he already classes as a friend. He hums at the appropriate time, eyes dancing around every room he is taken into, taking in the numerous pieces of art and the growing number of people.

Finally, Granville leads him to a room bathed in studious silence. Five people stand in the room; four stand behind easels – the picture of concentration as brushes scratching on canvas is the only sound in the room. The fifth person stands proudly before the back wall; posing elegantly, a lady stands completely naked save for an apple held delicately in the palm of her hand.

“This is Ariadne, our life model for tonight,” Granville introduces, smiling at the model without an ounce of care that she stands naked in his living room.

“Ariadne,” Benedict nods, doing his best to look anywhere but her naked body. He wasn’t usually this awkward around women, but the last thing he expected tonight was a life model. His usual influences for art came from clothed members of the public.

Granville takes a seat at an easel, studying Ariadne with great care before picking up a thin brush. As he runs it through the nearby oil paint, he calls to Benedict, “Join us!”

Benedict shakes his head, heading towards the door. Granville nods understandingly; it was a lot for a person’s first time at a soiree such as this. “Another time perhaps,” Granville says as Benedict leaves the room.

Closing the door, Benedict leaves the artists to their muse. His fingers twitch for his sketchpad, thinking of the images he could create; he had seen the empty seat in front of a spare easel, but he couldn’t bring himself to sit down and create the art he saw in his mind. Another time, he thinks to himself.

He turns away from the door where his attention is immediately tethered to a couple across the hallway.

The couple are in the middle of an embrace; connected at the mouth with hands beginning to wander clothing. The stays to the lady’s dress are loosened, the relieved gasp quickly swallowed by her partner’s mouth. Hands continue to wander; moans swallowed by joint mouths. It’s a sight to behold even as the position is changed; the woman straddling her partner, beginning to move her hips to the rhythm of music only they must be able to hear.

Unable to tear his stare away from the couple, Benedict feels his mouth drop open at the impropriety before him.

“Come now, Mr. Bridgerton,” A feminine voice teases, “Surely you’ve seen worse.”

Benedict bristles; unhappy with the tone of her voice and the accusation lightly punctuating the air. “Not that it is any of your business, but I have seen worse.”

Her eyebrows fly into her hair, clearly not expecting the rebuff. Benedict represses a smile at the expression on her face; his eyes dance around the hallway, not knowing where to look without fear of landing on the amorous couple. Benedict had never been one to shy away from love and lust and where it can lead you, but he had never been witness to such an event. The last thing he needed for himself (and his family) was to be classed as a voyeur.

“Follow me,” She announces, crooking a finger at Benedict before walking away.

Helpless and out of his comfort zone, Benedict follows the nameless lady. His eyes pour over her figure as he walks behind her like a lost puppy; her dress is finely made, the fabric clearly new. Benedict keeps his eyes fixed head, refusing to let his gaze drop any lower as she opens a door, standing to one side to let him enter first.

The room is adequately sized; enough room for a fireplace already blazing, a couch big enough for two and a small table and chairs. It’s comfortable; the room is well lit from the candles around the room and the large fire.

The well-dressed lady follows Benedict into the room, leaving him standing in the centre as she heads towards a drinks cabinet. She grabs two glasses and a decanter of liquid that Benedict cannot decipher. Scotch, whisky, brandy – all three would fare him well at this point.

Wordlessly, she hands Benedict a drink. A knuckle’s length of amber liquid swirls in the glass, lit up by the roaring fire. “You have me at a disadvantage,” Benedict starts, “You know my name, but I do not know yours.”

She smiles; eyes crinkling from the force of it. “You can spy a Bridgerton by the colour of their eyes,” She snorts, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of it, “I’m (Y/N).”

Benedict bows his head; the very picture of gentlemanly politeness. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

If possible, (Y/N)’s smile grows larger, trying her hardest to repress the laughter bubbling inside of her. “This isn’t your usual scene, Mr. Bridgerton.”

Benedict shakes his head. “I’m a friend of Henry’s and call me Benedict please. After being witness to the couple outside, I think we can forgo formalities.”

Laughter escapes her mouth, powerless to help herself. Benedict frowns at her reaction, but (Y/N) waves a hand in apology. “I remembered your face,” She offers in explanation, “You mentioned that you had seen worse, but you still looked so scandalised.”

Benedict huffs, crossing his legs, sipping at his drink before answering. “I didn’t know what to expect from tonight. Henry is an artist! I just never expected that.”

“We’re all artists, Benedict, in one form or another. We’re practically bohemian.”

“Does that happen often?” He asks, nodding towards the door where Benedict holds no doubt that more clothing will have been lost between the enamoured couple.

(Y/N) lifts a single shoulder in a shrug. “More often than not. The intimacy that is required with art combined with the amount of alcohol consumed tends to lead to such things.”

“Have you ever taken part in such things?” Benedict asks before realising the extent and implication of his words. “Forgive me,” He coughs, “I’m not usually so forward. You don’t need to answer.”

“No, I don’t think I do,” (Y/N) answers honestly, amused at the lack of filter from the Bridgerton. “Why don’t I ask the next question?”

“Please do,” Benedict responds, loosening the cravat at his neck, deciding to take it off altogether.

“Tell me,” She begins, eyes on the skin now bare to the room, “Do you prefer paints or pastels?”

“Neither,” Benedict answers, “I prefer graphite or charcoal.”

“Interesting…”

“Is it?”

“It is! But I cannot think of a reason why.”

Benedict snorts, draining the last few amber drops in his glass. Silent for a moment, Benedict hums before asking, “Do you draw?”

“Heavens no,” (Y/N) responds, “I’m a talented seamstress, but landscapes and watercolours are not for me.”

“Then why are you here?” Benedict asks; the words unintentionally sharp. He cringes before offering (Y/N) an apologetic smile.

“My friend invited me,” (Y/N) defends, “You met her earlier.”

“I did?”

(Y/N) nods. “You did. She was the life model you were trying your hardest not to ogle.”

Benedict flushes; heat spreading from his neck to his cheeks – partly fuelled by the alcohol in his system, partly fuelled by the knowledge of being caught out. Benedict clears his throat, unable to hide his embarrassment. “I didn’t think anyone had noticed.”

(Y/N) smiles widely. “They didn’t, but you don’t make it habit to frequent such parties. It was clearly a shock to your system.”

Benedict exhales with a laugh; all the while wishing he had another drink in his hand. “I’m not new to art,” He confesses, “But I am new to this… environment.”

(Y/N) leans forward in her chair; her eyes sparkling in the dim candlelight. A coy smile crosses her lips and Benedict idly wonders what she would taste like as she asks, “And what do you think of this new environment?”

Benedict drags his gaze away from (Y/N)’s mouth to look her in the eyes. Evenings like this are something he could quickly get used to so long as he had her company in the early hours of the morn. A wicked grin spreads across his face as he answers, “With your company, I’m fairly certain that I could come to enjoy this new environment.”

“Only fairly?” (Y/N) murmurs, sipping at her drink before continuing, “I think we’re going to have to turn ‘fairly’ into an absolute.”

Benedict tips his head to one side, wondering whether it would go against societal customs to offer his hand in marriage after only knowing someone for an evening. The thought lingers at the back of Benedict’s mind as he replies, “I have complete and utter faith in your ability to do such a thing.”

(Y/N)’s answering smile has Benedict wondering about marriage for a second time in less than two minutes. What would be the appropriate time to ask someone for their hand? He thinks. A powerful enough thought that Benedict has to look away from her; desperate not to ruin a newly budding friendship.

The clock strikes one; the chimes making (Y/N) jump as they ring through the tension-filled room. A sad sigh leaves her lips as she stands, placing her glass on a nearby table.

“I’m afraid I must go,” She declares, biting her bottom lip, lingering in front of the Bridgerton.

Benedict rises from his seat, his voice close to wobbling as he murmurs, “Must you?”

(Y/N) smiles wistfully. “Not all of us have family money, Benedict. I have two dresses to finish for tomorrow evening and I need to sleep.”

“Will I see you again?” He asks, unable to keep the hope from his voice as his mind spins all sorts of fantasies of their next meeting.

(Y/N) nods; Benedict’s heart soars.

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Benedict Bridgerton. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Benedict replies a second too late. She’s gone and Benedict is left to wondering how many seamstresses there are in London.

-------------

If Benedict was thinking logically, he knew that there wasn’t thousands of modistes and seamstresses across London. He knew that the number was much closer to hundreds, but to him that was still too many. He thinks back over the interactions from that night, examining the conversations, trying to find a hint of whether (Y/N) had given him the address of her shop. The more he cross examines, the less evidence he finds.

At this point in his investigation to her whereabouts, Benedict was no longer thinking logically. He was thinking with his heart – desperate to see her again so soon. He didn’t want to have to wait until another party where she just might show up. No, he wanted to see her in her own environment where Benedict had no doubt she would flourish.

He makes himself wait three days before beginning the task of tracking her down. His first port of call was to Henry Granville, asking whether he knew anything of the lady accompanying the life model. Henry knew of her by face, but not much bar her first name. He leaves Benedict with a word of encouragement and a promise of another party soon; Benedict thanks the man heartily, knowing that Henry had tried his best.

However, it left Benedict in a predicament that meant he had to bring in reinforcements.

“I need your help,” Benedict pleads of his dear sister, Eloise Bridgerton a day after starting his hunt for her.

“Whatever for?”

“I need to find someone… a friend.”

“A friend?” Eloise asks sounding very much as if she didn’t believe a word leaving her elder brother’s mouth.

“Am I not allowed to have friends?” Benedict asks of his sister, exasperated at her curiosity. Eloise raises a single eyebrow, and it isn’t a minute later that Benedict begs of his sister, “Please do not tell mother.”

The laughter that leaves Eloise lasts for the next three streets, her chuckles grating on Benedict’s nerves. “Where did you meet her?” Eloise eventually asks, much calmer now that she had gotten the laughter out of her system.

“At Mr. Granville’s if you must know.”

Eloise doesn’t answer; she casts her gaze across her brother’s face, reading eh expression there and the hopeful look in his eyes. Whoever she was, she had done a number on her brother for him to be this desperate to find her.

“Why not wait for the next party?”

Benedict huffs, “She may not go to the next party, then I would be back at the beginning.”

Eloise falls silent again. She watches her older brother, watches how he fiddles with his fingers – a nervous tic he’s hand since he was a boy apparently, it happened more when he was itching to reach for his sketchpad in an attempt to keep his mind quiet.

“She’s really made an impression on you, hasn’t she?”

Benedict sighs, peering up at his sister as he calms his hands. “Please?” He asks quietly, not daring to voice the beg any louder than it needs to be.

Eloise reaches across the gap between them, covering Benedict’s hands with hers. For a moment, he isn’t the elder brother but a man in need of help. “I’ll help you, Benedict.”

“Thank you,” He replies; the relief in his voice evident as his whole body relaxes.

-----------

The tightness in his chest that has plagued him for the last week lifts as soon as his eyes land on her. She hasn’t seen him yet; too busy with another client gushing about their latest dress. (Y/N) looks flattered as she takes in compliment after compliment and Benedict can see why; she is clearly a talented modiste. If it didn’t raise suspicion on his end, he would suggest his mother come here instead of the seamstress just off Grosvenor Square.

The customer soon departs leaving Benedict and Eloise the sole clients in the shop. (Y/N) brushes down her dress, collecting herself before greeting her newest customers.

She freezes when she finds the tall stature of Benedict Bridgerton in and amongst the countless mannequins of her shop. Plastering on a polite smile, she steps forward, “How may I help you today?”

Benedict remains frozen; his stare solely focused on (Y/N). Eloise steps forward, nudging her brother in the side with her elbow. Eloise smiles at (Y/N). “From my brother’s reaction, we have found who we were looking for.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m in the market for a new dress,” Eloise states, elbowing her brother once more.

“Yes!” Benedict coughs, brought out of his stupor, “Eloise needs a new dress.”

(Y/N) glances between the siblings; the awed expression on Benedict’s face combined with the knowing smile on Eloise’s doesn’t settle her nerves. Instead, it heightens them. (Y/N) turns to Eloise, flashing her a friendly smile. “If you wouldn’t mind, could I borrow your brother?”

Eloise snorts. “You may keep him if that helps.”

(Y/N) laughs, covering her mouth before grabbing Benedict’s hand, leading him to the back of the shop. “What are you doing here?” (Y/N) questions; her eyes wide as she closes the door behind them. This was a conversation to have in private; not one to be had in front of Benedict’s sister.

“Accompanying my sister to buy a new dress for an upcoming ball,” Benedict replies smartly, his tone innocent as he applauds himself for asking Eloise to join him on his mission.

(Y/N) fixes him with a flat look, not believing a single word leaving his lips. Benedict flounders for a second before smiling bashfully at the seamstress. It wasn’t often that Benedict was left speechless, but (Y/N) reduced him to such manners.

After a moment, Benedict sighs, deciding honesty to be the best policy. “I wanted to see you again.”

(Y/N)’s face softens at Benedict’s confession, unable to fend off the growing fondness for the Bridgerton. If she was being honest with herself, (Y/N) hadn’t stopped thinking of the man since leaving Mr. Granville’s party.

Just as quick as the fondness set in, so does the worry on Benedict’s behalf. Gesturing between them both, (Y/N) offers Benedict a sad smile. “Nothing can come of this, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“What do you mean? Call me Benedict, you did the other night.”

“There were no class lines the other night,” She all but cries, “Outside of Mr. Granville’s home, we cannot be friends, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Benedict,” He emphasises, “To you, I am Benedict. Not ‘Mr. Bridgerton’.”

“Benedict,” She whispers, giving in to the pleading look in those blue eyes of his.

“Why can’t we be friends?” He asks quietly as if scared to voice such a question louder out of fear of the response.

“You’re the son of a Viscount. I am a seamstress. Outside of my making dresses for your female relatives, where do our paths cross socially?”

“I want them to cross,” Benedict protests almost childishly, crossing his arms as if they were the personification of the budding relationship blooming between (Y/N) and himself.

(Y/N) laughs without humour. “Think of the fallout, Benedict. You would lose friends and contacts. I would be reduced to the rumour of a mistress and lose clients.”

Benedict purses his lips; trying to find fault in her argument but he comes up empty. Class lines were so rigidly drawn in current society and Benedict knew that (Y/N) was more than deserving to be thrown to the vicious rumour mill of London ton.

“What about Granville’s parties?” Benedict offers as a solution. “You say we cannot socialise so openly so let’s meet there with every party.”

“You would go to that extent to win my friendship?”

He nods. “I had the most fun the other night than I had in a long time and I have a very strong feeling it was down to you. You say we cannot be friends so openly, so this is the next best thing. Do I feel go about keeping you a secret? Not particularly, but London society can be unforgivably cruel, and I’ll be damned if I see you suffer at the hands of it.”

(Y/N) blinks rapidly, ridding herself of the tears that grew throughout Benedict’s impassioned speech. “Mr. Granville’s it is, then.”

Benedict smiles; relief flooding his system at your words of agreement. Impulsively, he takes your hand, squeezing it once before letting it drop. The very action sets his veins alight with emotions he has not felt in a very long time, but he doesn’t not let them distract him as he whispers, “I’ll send a messenger with the date and time of the next soiree. Will I see you there?”

“You will,” (Y/N) murmurs, “I promise you.”

Benedict flashes her a handsome smile before returning to the front of the shop, knowing full well he has been too long to be acceptable.

Eloise greets him with a superior smile. Crossing her arms, she asks, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Turning back to face the back of the shop, Benedict smiles to himself. “Yes, I think I have,” He answers, offering Eloise an arm, departing the shop once and for all.

-----------

28th April, 9pm. Mr. Granville’s home. I hope to see you there.

The missive arrives not four days later. (Y/N) reads and rereads the small piece of paper, memorising Benedict’s elegant handwriting. Anticipation curls in her gut making it hard for her to focus on the task at hand; she had three dresses to finish all for next week. If she didn’t focus now, nothing would get done. She would end up wasting the evening by daydreaming of a Bridgerton and their handsome smile.

She hadn’t expected him. He had entered her life so suddenly. After their initial meeting, she hadn’t expected to see him again; had accepted that it was a one-off meeting that Benedict would soon forget, soon taken with the newest fascination in his life if he wasn’t married off by the end of the season.

That didn’t happen. Instead, he had shown up in her shop with his sister in tow. He had begged for a friendship, to see her again. He kept surprising her at every turn, kept startling her when she least expected it.

Yet, she knew she had to be careful. Not only of her heart, but of her reputation. If the two were caught and things misunderstood, it would not be Benedict to suffer. It would be her; she would be reduced to rumours of impropriety, labelled a ‘fallen woman’ whilst Benedict would most likely suffer a harsh word from his mother and a clap on the back from his brothers.

Society, in general, was cruel. London society, however, was punishing when it wanted to be.

--------------

The 28th April rolls around quickly. (Y/N) losing herself in her work, sewing until the late hours of the night and the early hours of the morning to ensure that the gowns are ready and that she is free enough to attend the party.

Stepping out of the carriage, (Y/N) steadies herself for a moment, taking a deep breath to settle the butterflies exciting her. She felt ridiculous, letting herself be this affected by the man after only one meeting. Yet, he had shown up at her shop, after searching for her for however long.

(Y/N) felt in two minds. On one hand, she wanted the friendship of Benedict Bridgerton for the simple fact that he was entertaining. On the other hand, she despised the idea that she may be a project for the man – their opposite places in society becoming a barrier between them.

The atmosphere in Mr. Granville’s house is heady as (Y/N) enters the premises; the party very much in full swing as she sheds her shawl and leaves it on a side table. She smiles at those she recognises, waving quickly at Ariadne who she finds modelling for many artists once more. Ariadne smiles back but doesn’t move; her eye on a particular artist, a female she knew she would be going home with that night.

(Y/N) shakes her head fondly at the antics of her friend; having known Ariadne for years and loved her proclivity for men and women. (Y/N) admired Ariadne’s lack of shame for who she is, who she wants to be. She doesn’t let the law stop of her from loving who she wants to.

Arriving at the door she entered through last time, (Y/N) hesitates, feeling unsure of herself. A small flash of doubt lances through her mind as she reaches for the doorknob; how long was this going to last before Benedict got bored? How long did she have with the man that was no doubt going to change her world?

The very thought haunts her as she enters the room, finding Benedict in the same spot as last time. He stands when he sees (Y/N) standing the doorway; his suit elegantly rumpled as if he had been sat there for some time. His blue eyes sparkle in the dimly lit room; the only light coming from the fire in the grate. His smile brightens as he takes in her appearance.

“You came,” Benedict breathes, his voice relieved as if he was worried that she may not attend the party after all.

“I promised you I would,” (Y/N) replies, taking the offered glass from Benedict. Their fingers brush and (Y/N) tries exceptionally hard to ignore the jolt of electricity that passes between them. Friendship, she snipes to herself, nothing more.

“I know,” He whispers, “But I’m glad all the same.”

Something in (Y/N) melts at the stark honesty of his words; she found herself being knocked off her axis and it was only their third meeting.

“I have to know,” (Y/N) starts, her voice amused as she takes a seat across from the brunette, “How many shops did you go into before finding mine?”

Benedict averts his gaze, distracting himself from answering by taking a long sip of his drink. “Too many,” He eventually answers.

“You don’t know the number?”

“I know the exact number, I could even tell you their names, but I hesitate to tell you.”

“You have to tell me now,” (Y/N) prompts, leaning forward in her chair, resting her elbows on the table. “Please?”

Benedict sighs a war-weary sigh; acting as if (Y/N) had worn him down to his very last nerve. With a light blush dusting his cheeks, Benedict admits, “I visited close to fifteen shops with Eloise before finding yours.”

“Fifteen?!” (Y/N) all but shouts, laughter soon falling from her lips as rain would fall from the sky. The very sound sets Benedict’s heart racing within his chest making him wonder whether it was going to run right out of his chest any moment.

“Eloise was very grateful when we found you. She despises dress shopping.”

“Yet she went to fifteen dress shops with you in order to find me.”

“She’s my favourite sibling, but don’t tell the others.”

“How many do you have? I’ve heard of the famous Bridgerton brood but never focused long enough to find out how many children there were.”

“Eight of us in total,” Benedict laughs at (Y/N)’s gasp, “We’re named alphabetically too. My father used to joke it was so he could keep track of us easier.”

“A wise idea,” (Y/N) murmurs.

“He was a wise man,” Benedict states, thinking of his departed father with a keen sting of grief. It didn’t matter how long his father had been gone, the wound would never heal. He would miss his father until his very last day on this earth; Benedict would spend the rest of his life trying to emulate Edmund Bridgerton’s life lessons.

A pensive silence descends only for a moment before (Y/N) asks, “Why did you look for me?”

The blush returns to Benedict’s cheeks. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to see you again?” He asks sheepishly. He had prepared himself for such a conversation but having it in real life was no comparison to the fantasy in his head.

“Why did you want to see me again? Why not wait for the next party?”

“I wasn’t sure you would attend the next party,” Benedict reasons, “And I really did want to see you again.”

(Y/N) smiles bashfully, ducking her head as his words wash over her. She fiddles with the stem of the glass in her hand before taking a long sip; the worries from earlier had returned with the conviction behind his words. She had to know; if she didn’t ask him, she would never know and she would never be prepared for the day he would inevitably grow bored and move onto the next project. “Can we be honest with each other for a moment, Benedict?”

“I thought we have been so far.”

(Y/N) smiles despite herself. Schooling her face into a mask of polite interest, she tries to cover the concern and worry steadily rising in her gut. “This isn’t a saviour moment for you is it? Befriending a poorer seamstress, getting to know her before eventually getting bored?”

“I haven’t thought of it as that for one moment.”

“You haven’t?”

“I haven’t, but the fact that you have says more about my character than I care to admit.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” She hurries to say, worried about losing the friendship that had only just begun and scared of hurting Benedict’s feelings.

“You haven’t insulted me,” Benedict promises with a small smile.

“I can’t help but worry,” She admits in a small voice.

“I would socialise with you in public, but you made such a sound argument the other week that I couldn’t find fault. You’re right, it could lead to all sorts of trouble, but I want you to know that I do not have a saviour complex. I just enjoy your company.”

(Y/N) relaxes, sagging further into the chair as she lets herself breathe freely since the worrisome thought entered her mind. Now that it was out in the open, she could smile more without worry. “I enjoy your company too,” She confesses, “You’re quite refreshing.”

“Refreshing?” Benedict asks, sounding close to laughter.

(Y/N) rolls her eyes at the older gentleman. “Yes, refreshing. I deal with meddlesome mothers and droll daughters all day. You make me laugh… it’s refreshing.”

“I’m glad I can provide refreshment,” Benedict laughs, his smile wide with his happiness.

Happy smiles are exchanged as the worries leave (Y/N)’s mind. She was wanted here by the man sat across from her; he had no plans to leave any time soon. For now, her mind is settled and as she raises her glass to the Bridgerton across from her, she briefly wonders whether her heart would soon be settled too.

------------

The friendship continues for weeks; neither of them the wiser to their growing feelings for the other. If they are, they remain silent, not wanting to disturb the status quo but rather, pine from a distance.

They continue to meet at Mr. Granville’s, sneaking away to their room where they talk for hours about anything and everything.

At one point, (Y/N) manages to convince Benedict to bring his sketchpad with him where he fills pages with drawings of her. She doesn’t realise it; she doesn’t know that the small sketch of hands holding a champagne flute is Benedict’s study of her.

Time passes and they become attached to the other; saving pieces of information and stories of friends and family for when they finally get to see each other. The time they have together filled with laughter; the class lines that separate them outside Mr. Granville’s home practically invisible as Benedict chokes on his drink at the scandalous nature of (Y/N)’s story, unaware such language could leave such a woman.

It’s easy, it’s natural. It’s all Benedict has to fill his time between the mind-numbing balls and luncheons set up by his mother in order to find him a wife. Little does Violet Bridgerton know that Benedict has found someone he would devote the rest of his life to but whether she would be willing, whether she loves him as wholly as he loves her is another matter entirely.

--------------

He starts to haunt her dreams from their very first meeting. The colour of his eyes combined with the brightness of his smile chased her from sleep much faster than she would have liked.

Sitting up in bed, she rests her chin on her knees, feeling the helplessness that often accompanies the swift descent into love.

In the short time she had spent in Benedict’s company, (Y/N) had to admit that she had fallen head over heels for the brunette. Sighing heavily, she tries to pinpoint the exact moment her feelings turned from platonic to romantic but finds herself unable to do so. At this point, she cannot help but wonder whether she had fallen for him the first instance she saw him. He looked so out of depth in his perfectly pressed clothes; it was adorable.

(Y/N) runs a hand across her face in an attempt to dispel the lingering tiredness but to also ride herself of thoughts of the man who had so readily captured her heart without knowing he had done so.

How could she explain this feeling? Her heart refused to calm in his presence, beating away in her chest as if ready to take flight. Benedict smiled in her direction and her mind ceased to form coherent thought. She didn’t tell anyone how in the darkest hours of the night, she stretched a hand across the empty blankets of her bed, imagining what it would be like to have Benedict lie next to her. Would he snore? Was he an early riser or did he prefer to sleep in?

Such questions would travel the expanse of her mind until the birds began to announce the arrival of a new day. Her mind creating daydreams that left her heart aching in her chest when she came back to earth, reminded harshly of the barriers that divided them.

What scent did he prefer? Did he favour scotch or brandy?

Endlessly she tortured herself with such questions. Spinning fantasies in which she woke up every morning with Benedict by her side. She would wake to find him already watching her, as if in disbelief that she would choose to love a man such as him.

A single tear escapes (Y/N)’s eye as she forces herself back to the present. Eyeing her small rooms, (Y/N) thought that she should be fortunate that a man such as Benedict Bridgerton would give her the honour of his much requested time. It would do her no good to fall in love with him now.

Straightening up and running a hand through her sleep plait, (Y/N) vows to rid herself of her feelings for the second eldest Bridgerton.

However, as the vow is sealed, a small voice in the back of (Y/N)’d mind casts doubt on her ability to do such a thing.

----------------

“Eloise has been asking after you,” Benedict comments; choosing the line of conversation for this section of the evening. At this point, they’ve been at Granville’s home for hours, covering all topics of conversation conceivable. (Y/N) had updated Benedict on Ariadne’s clandestine love affair with a daughter of a prominent member of His Majesty’s Navy to which Benedict spent over an hour trying to guess which officer and which daughter. (Y/N) delighted in announcing his incorrect guesses.

“How is she?” She asks, feeling a distant fondness for the woman who had shown up in her shop so many weeks ago.

“Distracted if I’m being truthful,” Benedict murmurs, “Her hands are always covered in ink. I think she has an admirer.”

“And why shouldn’t she?” (Y/N) demands, crossing her arms. “Eloise is a beautiful young woman. Any man would be lucky to have her.”

“She’s turned down the last three marriage proposals so I’m curious to see what type of man has captured her attention.”

“Siblings and their nosiness,” (Y/N) admonishes though there is no heat behind it.

“I want what’s best for her,” Benedict defends.

“I know you do,” She whispers, fondness for the man sitting across from her surging through her. It leaves her quiet; it leaves her breathless as she fends off the heart racing, stomach turning affection she feels for the second eldest Bridgerton.

Benedict closes his eyes, kicking up his heels and resting them on the table. A happy, content smile crosses his lips as he lets himself enjoy the moment they find themselves in.

I could do this for the rest of myself, (Y/N) thinks to herself, I could sit with him for the rest of my life.

It’s with that thought that (Y/N) knows she has broken the vow she made only a few days ago.

“You’re different tonight… quieter. Is something the matter?” Benedict asks, a note of concern in his voice.

(Y/N) shakes her head, refusing to look the man in the eye. Instead, she focuses her gaze on her glass, swirling the liquid around as if it were the most fascinating thing in the whole world.

Benedict sighs, reaching across the table, taking her glass from her hand and placing it on the table in front of them. He stops himself from covering her hand with his; that is a luxury for couples. As much as Benedict wanted more, he would settle for being her friend.

“You can tell me anything, (Y/N),” Benedict murmurs quietly, breaking her resolve clean in half.

“I broke my vow,” She whispers, voice close to breaking.

“What vow?” Benedict asks, panic beginning to rise internally. “Are you promised to another?”

“Nothing like that,” (Y/N) reassures, “I broke a vow that I made to myself which somehow makes me feel worse. I would rather I broke a promise of marriage.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

(Y/N) sniffles, wiping a hand under her eyes before laughing humourlessly. “A few nights ago, I made myself a promise and it seems that I am unable to keep such a vow.”

“Would you tell me that vow?”

(Y/N) sighs, seeing no point in lying to him. “I vowed that I would rid myself of my feelings for you.”

“And have you?” Benedict asks warily; he needs to know whether he has a chance to love her the way he wants to. He wants to be her everything; he wants to kiss her goodnight and then kiss her good morning hours later.

She shakes her head; wisps of hair flying loose from her updo. “I don’t think I ever really tried. I don’t think I want to lose my feelings for you.”

“I don’t often make grand declarations, I don’t believe in over the top displays of affection,” Benedict begins; his eyes fixed on her face, on every movement of her lips, “But I love you, (Y/N). I love you and if I need to, I will make a grand declaration, I will shout it from the rooftop of Buckingham Palace.”

“Please don’t do that!” (Y/N) gasps, an amused smile on her face. “I love you too, I love you with everything I am, but aren’t you worried?”

“Worried?”

“Of the fallout? It could never work, Benedict. See sense, please,” She pleads; eyes wide.

“Why wouldn’t it work? We love each other, surely that should be enough.”

“It is enough for me, Benedict,” She reassures quickly, “But it isn’t enough for the rest of society.”

“Why do you care what they think?”

“My entire business relies on such things, Benedict! Whether I earn an income over the season is down to what the ton think.”

“It is so easy to get lost in the wealth, the titles and the balls,” Benedict whispers, “You bring me back down to earth; remind me that I could happily live without the grandeur because I would have the love of the woman I have come to adore.”

The words have her argument crumbling into ash before her. There was no arguing with that; he was prepared to live a simpler life with her.

“You would do that for me? Live a simpler life?” She asks because she has to know; she has to know that she isn’t something he would come to regret in the weeks, months, years that pass. She couldn’t live with herself if he harboured any resentment towards her for his loss of societal ties; the very thought terrified her.

“Darling,” Benedict states, “I would give it all up for you. As long as I have you, I do not need the life in London and everything else that comes with it. We can live in the country; I have a cottage there that I am sure you’re going to love.”

“What about your family?”

“They’ll love your almost as much as I love you.”

“They won’t hate me?” She asks, voice timid as she thinks of the matriarch of the Bridgerton family, knowing she was not a woman to cross.

“They could never.”

(Y/N) begins to nod; slow at first before growing more rapidly with a smile breaking out across her face. “Okay,” She breathes, “I love you, Benedict Bridgerton. I’m not scared anymore.”

Benedict gathers her in his arms, finally getting to hold her after dreaming of such an action for so long. Better than his dreams, he thinks to himself as he glances between her stare and her lips. Silently, she nods, smiling softly as Benedict takes that final leap, pressing their lips together.

(Y/N) sighs against his mouth; a noise he could happily hear for the rest of his life. Her hands grasp the lapels of his jacket, pulling him even closer. She feels like heaven against him as Benedict continues to taste the remnants of her drink on her lips.

Her hands leave his jacket, reaching up to card through his hair. (Y/N) tugs lightly at the dark brown locks, smiling into the kiss at the sound of the low groan in the back of Benedict’s throat. (Y/N) loses herself in the feel of the man against her; all hard lines and muscles, he feels like a Greek god and she a mere mortal getting to experience the heady passion written about in epic poems and plays.

Desperate for air, but not desperate to leave the arms of the man she loves so wholly, (Y/N) breaks the kiss. Panting, Benedict kisses her lightly once, twice, three times before pressing his forehead to hers. A moment of peace before the rush of the future began.

Boundaries, divides, lines really meant little when you had found the one who truly saw you.

****

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @janelongxox @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff @magicalxdaydream @darkestbeforethedawn16 @gryffindors-weasley @spideysz

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagines #Bridgerton #bridgerton imagines

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moonflower-31 · 4 years ago

Text

I Won't Forget You - Spencer Reid x Reader

(This is gonna be a series, so keep an eye out for this one if you like it.)

Summary: So imagine you're in the CM universe if you will. And you're just graduating from the academy. You're looking to join the BAU. You have hyperthymesia, the ability to never forget anything. Except for rare occasions. After the final exam, you run into one Dr. Spencer Reid. Eventually, you get accepted to shadow the BAU on a trial run as an agent. But you have a past that may endanger those you work with. Also, you love Spencer. Cause who doesn't?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader (this makes sense only for storyline, sorry 😞)

Masterlist

Please leave comments! I love reading them ❤ 💕

~~~~~~~~

Nervous. So dreadfully nervous you were and am. But here we are. No turning back now.

"Hello, cadets. And welcome to your final exam for your graduation. We hope all of you do well. The FBI, as you know, has many branches. 56, to be exact. We hope that for those of you who pass, that you'll find your calling in one of our offices. For those of you who don't, don't fret. We always allow you to retake the last semester and the exams. The FBI is in desperate need of new agents." The speaker in front of me is seriously loud. Though you don't dare speak up about it.

Associate Deputy Director Gail Franklin spoke with such elegance. She obviously has had practice, you think to yourself as you watch the grey-haired woman speak atop the raised portion of the testing room. You couldn't count how many people even if you tried. And you don't forget anything.

"Psst!"

You groan quietly and try to ignore your idiot but golden-hearted friend who couldn't sit still.

"Psst! (Y/N)!"

You ignore him again, focusing on Franklin's closing commentary.

"I wish you all good luck. Please refrain from beginning your exam until all test-takers have received their tests. Thank you." She then proceeded to turn and begin her trek out of the room, the click of her heels being the only reminder she was even here.

"Psst-! Come on, (Y/N/N)!"

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. Finally, you turn your head and give your dear friend a very annoyed look. "What is it, Gabe? Like seriously, you couldn't sit still through one teansy tiny lecture? From the ADD herself?" You tease, pulling out a #2 pencil from your bag. Sure, most everyone will be using pens, but you remembered that the test scanners prefered graphite.

Gabriel whined teasingly at your jap. "No fair, (Y/N/N)! I just wanted to talk to one of my best friends. That too much to ask?" He sassily remarks, flipping his floppy golden-brown hair.

You rolled your eyes and couldn't help but feel a smile form on your face. You loved him like a brother. But that also meant he annoyed you like one too.

"You couldn't have waited till she was done?" You couldn't help but question him further. It was one of his weaker points. Under pressure, he tended to get uncomfortable.

"Nope." Popping the 'p' he blew a kiss at you. "Anyway, how prepared do you think you are for this test? I almost made it an all-nighter trying to cram everything in again. Fuck me and my terrible memory." You grinned and giggled under your hand.

"Gabriel, I told you, if you ever needed help studying I would be there. You're gonna do fine."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Easy for you to say. You didn't even have to study with that god-given gift of a memory you got."

You bite the inside of your cheek, faking a slight chuckle. Everyone thought remembering everything was a superpower. Sure, if you call superpowered headaches and occasional dizzy spells a super-side-effect.

So, yes, you had the 'gift' of having hyperthymesia. The disorder where you never forgot anything. Of course, there were a few rare occasions, like you could only remember a handful of memories from before you were four. But other than that, you had nothing from your earliest childhood. It made you feel semi-normal.

"It isn't a gift, Gabe. It's only a gift in the academic field. And I'm lucky to have a 'genius' IQ." You huffed in response to Gabriel's little comment.

"Yeah yeah, but you have a filing cabinet for a memory. So why study? You have it all up there." He asks, taking the test packet from the assistant that had finally made it to him.

"Studying, as a science, is a great way to improve your memory, quicken your speed of processing data and important information, and you stretch your mind's capacity for learning. Also it helps me understand a topic better. Just like anyone else."

You take the packet from the assistant and widen your eyes slightly at the size. It was massive. At least the size of your tiniest textbook. You could almost hear Gabriel whimper next to you as he saw how big the packet was. At least you all had three and a half hours. And it wasn't required to get through all of them. Just try to do your best on the written response ones.

You turn to Gabriel and hold out your fist. "Good luck."

Gabriel sighed and gave you a smile before pumping his fist gently against yours. Soon after he made a dramatic explosion noise that only you could hear. You roll your eyes and shake your head again, turning your full attention finally to the large test in front of you.

Here goes nothing, you tell yourself.

○●♡●○

Remarkably, you think you did okay. Of course, you finished the test in the first hour and a half, but who's counting? Certainly not you.

You rub your aching wrists from so much essay work as you exit the testing room. Even with an unbeatable memory like yours, your hands were still human. So they hurt like a bitch.

You sigh and take a quick seat on the bench outside the room, probably sticking out like a sore thumb in a crowd of other cadets who weren't in your graduating class. But you tried not to pay it any mind. You were used to being the 'odd man out'.

You check your phone and smile down at the message your other friend, Iris, had sent you. She wasn't testing for the FBI like you and Gabe. No she was a barista with some mean skills at mixing new drinks. She wanted to open her own cafe and Gabriel and you wanted to support her. She'd been there for you every second of the last five years. You owed her at least a little thanks.

When you look up, you couldn't help but notice a tall, lanky looking man with long, curly hair walking towards you as he looked for…something. You couldn't tell. Probably a map. He had a gun holstered on the side of his belt along with a blurry ID you couldn't read from so far away. But it looked like it said FBI.

You stifled a soft snicker. This guy could say he was a teacher's assistant and if he didn't have the gun on him, you would've believed him.

And that's when you caught his eye and instantly you recognized who this lost puppy was. More specifically, who he belonged to.

"Hi, uh I'm Dr. Spe-" he began, looking a bit nervous as he began to introduce himself.

"Dr. Spencer Reid. From the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I've heard of you." You accidentally interrupt. "Sorry. I don't forget names easily. I don't forget them ever, really."

Nervously, you rub your hand on your neck, waiting for his response. And surprisingly, it wasn't one you expected.

Spencer widened his eyes a bit in wonder that someone knew of him that he hadn't met before on a case. And she knew which branch he worked in. He blushed a bit, growing a tad tongue tied.

"S-sorry, I'm Cadet (L/N)."

Spencer raised an eyebrow. He wondered why you didn't give him your first name. But he didn't pry. It was your personal business. And besides, it wasn't like he needed to know your first name.

"U-uh yeah, actually. I-I wanted to ask you if you knew where I could get a glimpse of a map. Just so I can find my way around. I'm here for a 'lecture' that I'm helping give the graduating class of FBI agents." He couldn't help but brag a tiny bit. "It doesn't start for another 3 hours, but I like to be prepared."

You smiled up at this tall nerd. And an incredibly cute one at that. He was so out of place you sympathized with him. He was basically you. In like, every academic scene you've ever been in.

"Understandable. I'll be seeing you there hopefully. I'm a part of that class." You grinned. "But yeah, here's the map," you say, pulling up a digital map on your phone. Spencer leaned over your shoulder and looked it over. You couldn't help but shiver slightly at the sound of his breathing so close to your ear. It felt eerily calming.

"Really?" He asked after he pulled away from your shoulder. "T-thank you for the map, by the way." He adds last-minute. You giggle gently and nod.

"Yep. The test only started an hour and about 45 minutes ago, so I gotta wait a little while." Groaning playfully you shrug at him, crossing your arms to get more comfortable. You wouldn't lie, he was seriously cute. Of course, you'd seen him before on your secret internet dives. But in-person was so much better than sitting behind a screen gawking over a photo. An ID photo no less.

"You already finished?"

There it was. The immediate doubt of your intelligence everyone had when you accidentally showed your smarts. You sighed. "Yeah. Kinda hard not to with an IQ of 167 and a memory that pretty much never fails." You shrugged nervously, looking away as you braced yourself for his incoming doubt.

"Oh. Hyperthymesia, right?" He inquires. You blink a few times and look at him like he just said something so foreign you didn't know how to respond.

"U-uh...y-yeah. It's rare, but I got it. How'd you know?"

"It was more of an educated guess. See, you bite the inside of your cheek when you're nervous," he points out. You in fact, were biting your cheek as he spoke. "And you seem unintimidated by me despite knowing of my position. You only grew nervous when I mentioned anything academic. Which proves to me you're used to being the smartest kid in the room. And having to explain why every time." He finishes, leaving you a gigantic puddle of impressed and embarrassed that he had profiled all of that from only a few minutes from conversation.

"Geez, didn't expect to get profiled today. You're really good at it, you know. Well, I mean you would be. 'Cause you w-work for the BAU." You begin to ramble, groaning internally for suddenly turning into an awkward blob in front of this professional.

Spencer smiled a bit wider and let out a soft laugh. "So, y-you want to work for the BAU?"

You look at him puzzled for a moment before you remember that he'd been profiling you for the past five or so minutes. "Right, profiler…" you mutter. "Y-yeah. It's kinda been a dream of mine for years. Police officer never really appealed to me. I wanted to get into the real deal. Catch the hard criminals. Give myself a challenge, you know?" You rattle off, realizing just how comfortable you'd grown to Spencer in the short conversation you've had.

Spencer nodded. "It was always a dream of mine as well. I was kinda groomed for it." He admitted. "S-so… any jitters at all? Did you know that t-the common feeling of nervousness or 'butterflies' is actually caused by the reduced blood flow to the abdomen. Your stomach's sensory nerves sense the lack of oxygen and blood and it produces the fluttery feeling you get before a test or before a big performance."

You smile brighter. "Really? I never thought of that. I always just thought it was a signal your brain sent or something. That's interesting. I'm kinda glad I won't forget that."

Spencer felt his surprise increase again. You hadn't cut him off. There was no 'Sorry I asked' or awkward asking if he always did this. You actually listened. And you wanted to hear more! He didn't think he'd ever find someone willing to listen.

"H-heh…" Spencer chuckled. "W-well did you know that most people will forget 50 percent of the information you've been taught in one hour will be forgotten? A-and in 24 hours more than 75% of the information is gone. That's why studying is so important. It helps retain that information so it doesn't 'slip' as easily." He begins to rattle off again, quite glad he found someone who actually wanted to hear his statistics. It was a good cover for his nervousness about talking to this incredibly gorgeous woman.

You tilt your head in interest, laughing gently. "That's what I keep saying! Yet everyone always asks 'Why study if you remember everything?'" You exclaim, making a whiny voice expression for the impression of absolutely every bully you'd had ever.

A darker skinned man, who was much more gifted physically walked over as you and Spencer continued your conversation. He wrapped an arm around Spencer teasingly and nodded to you.

"Hope this pretty boy ain't bothering you baby girl." He greets. "He's great once you get to know him."

Spencer just looks annoyed at this man's sudden presence. "Seriously, Morgan? We were actually having a conversation before you butted in." He grumbled annoyedly. Then you remember the face. This was SSA Derek Morgan. You'd seen him in some pictures with Spencer. He wasn't too bad looking. In fact, you knew Iris would climb him faster than a squirrel did a tree. But Spencer was a bit more your type.

Morgan raised an eyebrow and smirked at you. "Oh really? So now pretty boy's talking to girls?" He teases, letting Spencer free from his suffocating hold. He then extends a hand out to me. "Derek-" he started.

"Derek Morgan. SSA from the BAU. Yeah, I know about you." You grinned. He looked you up and down a bit in the same interest that Spencer had. That soon was replaced by a confident smile.

"So you know of me." He said in a clearly flirtatious tone. "Don't tell me you've been searching up my pictures in your freetime, babygirl." He flirts.

You roll your eyes and take his hand, shaking it firmly. "No, I haven't. Though I have heard of you from my classes. But if I'm honest?" You begin. "I'm really wishing I could forget that comment." You sassily respond. He laughed.

"No one ever forgets, Babygirl." He grinned.

Spencer sighed and turned to Morgan in annoyance. "Morgan." He deadpanned. You looked towards him and giggled a little. It was clear Spencer had wanted to talk to only you. Maybe it was something to do with the statistics. You had a feeling that he felt he was finally being listened to.

"What? I'm just introducing myself to one of the new cadets." He insists, raising two hands up in defeat.

"Did you just profile me without my permission?" You ask him with fake offense. He laughed.

"Did I need to ask, sweetheart?" He asks. You chuckle.

"Guess not." You shrug.

"What's your name, beautiful? A pretty face has got to have a pretty name." He flirted.

"I'm Cadet (L/N)."

Morgan raised an eyebrow, fully ready to ask why the hold-up on your first name when Spencer thankfully saved you an explanation.

"She didn't share it with me either. Probably a mode of trust." He explains. Morgan shrugged.

"I'll find out eventually. You'll give it away." He insists.

"Uh huh, sure I will." You tease.

"Reid, Morgan, we need to prepare." You hear a third voice call the two men away from you. You stand a bit on your tiptoes to get a good look at who it was that was speaking.

Aaron Hotchner walked towards the three of you almost with a purpose. So much confidence in one man.

"Who is this?" He asked.

"I'm Cadet (L/N), Agent Hotchner. It's a pleasure to meet you." You greet, holding out a hand to him. Hotch raised an eyebrow at you in interest before shaking your hand in earnest.

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well. I've heard of your excellent grades and work in your studies. I hope to see you among the enlistees requesting the BAU." He greets, letting his hand fall back to his side.

"That's the plan, Agent Hotchner." You chip pleasantly. Morgan seems genuinely surprised.

"Wait, you're interested in the BAU? Profile me." He insisted. You blush from the sudden spotlight.

"W-what?" You ask.

"Morgan, that's enough." Hotch warns.

"Leave her alone, Morgan." Spencer expressed.

"No, it's fine." You assure. "Well, from the looks of your attire compared to your colleagues, I'd say you hate wearing formal clothing. Prefer to be comfortable. Your consistent flirty personality is mostly a show, as you wouldn't really flirt with someone you just met the way you flirted with me. So you either have someone in mind, or have a partner at home. And besides that, the way you greeted Dr. Reid proves you think of him as a younger brother, and you treat him like the brother you never had." You finished, a pleading voice in the back of your head screaming at you in hopes that you hadn't gone too far.

Instead of being offended, Morgan began to smile and grinned, clearly impressed. "She's actually pretty good." He comments to Hotch, glancing to Spencer and then back to you. "You'd make a good profiler." He compliments. You smile happily and full of relief at him.

"I sure hope so. Anyway, you should probably get going to the auditorium. The mics are a pain to tune and figure out, so I'd get it done now." You giggle slightly.

Spencer nodded and smiled at you. "T-thank you, again. Cadet (L/N)."

You couldn't help but blush a tad as he said your title. "Of course, Dr. Reid. Anytime you need directions." You tease.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "What about me?" He teased back. You mock think about it for a moment before you reply.

"Sorry, I think you can figure it out, pretty boy." You joke, winking at him. He smiled brightly at your sass, chuckling a bit.

Hotch then got your attention very easily. "It was a pleasure to meet you again, (L/N)."

"You too. Good luck on the lecture." You bid them all fair well and turn around to take your seat again.

"Ooh, somebody's in looove~!" You hear Gabriel sing in a sing-song voice. You chuckle and shake your head.

"I am not in love, Gabriel. You just started eying the pretty boy I was talking to. You know, handsome black guy?" You tease.

"Hmm, yeah, probably. But seriously. I saw you looking at that other kid, the professor's-aide-looking guy, like he was a mountain of sugar. And I know sugar." He teased, sipping a coke he had obviously bought after the test.

"Oh shut up. Have you heard from Iris yet?" You ask.

"Nope. She's probably busy over at The Bean. We should go visit. Tell her about your rendezvous with Mr. Teacher's aid." Gabriel snickered.

"No, we are not telling Iris anything. You know how she gets. She gets all protective, and then nobody wants to go out with me cause they're all scared of her." You groan, stealing his coke for a moment.

Gabriel smirks at you. "So you admit that you like him?" He teases. You immediately realize your mistake and groan, covering your reddening face.

Gabriel chuckled and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. "Come on, sugar-tits. Let's get out of here for a lil' bit. Come back for that 'lecture' in like an hour." He teased. You bring your hands away from your face and sigh.

Did you really like him? Maybe. It was probably just an internet crush. Nothing more. It wasn't like it could get worse.

#spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds family #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds

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emmies-archives · 5 years ago

Text

Sweaters

Todoroki Shoto X Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: You go for a bath in a river at the forest training camp, Mineta pervs on you stealing your clothes. Todoroki ends up saving you, giving you clothes to wear. Which happened to be his, it leads him to be real flirty.

Word Count: 2.1k

The first night at the forest training camp did not offer you a very warm welcome, literally. The air had an odd chill to it, making your bones ache slightly. You paid almost no attention to it though, preferring to focus on the views around you. They were breathtaking, you rarely ever were able to see the stars clearly since you were admitted into UA. Every summer break, you and your parents always took a camping trip.

You used to be able to sit by the edge of the lake for hours doing literally anything, sometimes you would read an entire book without realizing it, most of the time you’d bring a sketchbook and graphite trying to capture the wondrous scene in front of you. There was something incredibly calming about watching the small ripples from whatever wildlife ventured on the water clash with each other. The river at the camp had the same effect on you as the lake from your memories.

Today's events exhausted you to your core, it wasn’t just the fight through the forest to get to the camp that took everything out of you. There were also all your classmates’ different energies bouncing off of each other. Even though you were friendly with every person in your class, dealing with all of them at once for a long amount of time was so tiring. You treasure your alone time so you snuck away before everyone went to the hot springs, hoping no one would follow. After a while just admiring the way the trees moved in the wind you started towards the river.

You hadn’t really had a chance to rest after fighting your way through the forest. You started to undress, setting your clothes neatly in a pile next to a tree. As you stepped into the water you were surprised to feel that it was actually quite warm, in contrast to the cold air it was amazing. You realized it was probably coming from the hot springs. You sunk down until the water covered your chest, letting out a sigh. You were in bliss.

It didn’t last long however as you heard a squeal. You turned around towards the direction of the noise, thinking it was one of the girls from your class. Oh, how you wished it was one of the girls from your class. Your heart dropped straight to the bottom of your feet once you saw who it was. The pervy purple goblin of class 1a stood at the edge of the trees staring straight at you, seconds away from his soul spewing from his nose. Both of you stood frozen for a moment eyes locked until you noticed how Mineta was slowly inching towards your clothes.

“Don’t. You. Dare.” You grunted him through gritted teeth. On the inside you were terrified, if he took your clothes it would be a disaster. It would probably even be better if he were to just sneak a peek at your naked body. Mineta was absolutely sweating from head to toe so bad his balls for hair were literally dripping off. His entire body was trembling from either excitement or in fear of your deadly gaze on him. He didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was shifting towards your only ticket to safety. As he got closer, his eyes started to rapidly shift from you and your clothes. It was almost too fast for you to see, throwing one last glance at you he scooped your clothes up and ran at the speed of light back to the camp. “MINETA! WHEN I FIND YOU, I SWEAR TO GOD YOU’RE DEAD!”

You truly could not believe what had just happened. You stood in shock staring at the spot Mineta just occupied. “What the actual fuck just happened.” You muttered to yourself. What were you going to do, you were absolutely stuck. You only had a handful of options. You could stay in the water waiting for someone to somehow wander across you and help, you were sure Mineta only found you due to his ever-running boob radar. From his actions, you weren’t sure if his quirk was the weird little purple balls on his head, or the ability to sniff out the female gender in utter perfection.

You could walk back to camp, but that would mean the utter embarrassment of every single student and teacher seeing you in all of your naked glory. There was only one plausible option, use part of your quirk. It was very similar to Mandalay’s quirk, except for being able to spread information to many people at once, you could only send your voice to one person at once, if you weren’t familiar with someone’s energy it was quite hard in figuring out who they were. This made you more susceptible to energies, you could even detect the smallest change in energy due to it.

Seeing this as your only option, you took a deep breath and started to send your energy out trying to find other people. You were still very tired from the day and shocked from Mineta, you were having a very hard time trying to feel out whose energies were who. You were starting to become very cold, the water was cooling down as the night’s air grew colder. You decided on an energy to reach out too, every persons’ energies were almost flowing as one and you couldn’t figure out who they were separate. You just desperately hoped it was someone that would be helpful, anyone but Mineta really.

Due to your exhaustion, you could just barely send a thought out. You sent the path to your location with a single sentence. “Please, I need your help.” In your tired state, you failed to notice that whoever received your thought would most likely think you were being attacked. You’ve contacted almost every single person in your class by sending your thoughts to them before, so no matter who you reached out to they’d be at least a bit familiar with it.

At least ten minutes went by and you were starting to get worried, maybe your quirk didn’t reach anyone. The water around you now was practically ice and you were desperately hoping for someone to come save you. You really really didn’t want to walk back to came stark naked, in front of everyone and give Mineta the victory. You were just about to give in when rustling sound from the path you took, someone ran from the tree line and in the dim starlight you could just barely make out who it was.

“L/n?!” It was Todoroki. Of course, it was Todoroki. Of all the ways this situation could get worse it had to be Todoroki who had received your message. Its as though fate had planned this whole night just to embarrass you.

You so desperately wanted to pretend you weren’t there, but he clearly knew you were. “I’m over here…” You mumbled just loud enough so he could hear you.

“Are you alright? Why are you in the water?” He started to walk closer to you, and you sunk deeper into the water, your cheeks burning. “Hold on I can’t see anything.” Before you could say anything, he ignited a flame in the palm of his hand emitting enough light for him to see clearly. It took a moment for it to register in his brain why you were in the water and a slight tinge of pink dusted his cheeks once he noticed you were not clothed.

“I’m sorry if I made you panic!” You cried out, trying to get his attention off of you being nude. “I’m just so tired from today that I couldn’t think clearly…” You trailed off, you were shivering now the water felt like it could freeze you.

“What happened?” He walked closer to the water’s edge keeping his gaze on anything but you.

“That little twerp Mineta!” You squealed, “I just came out here for some peace and quiet, and that hobbit stole my clothes! He didn’t even hesitate either!” You threw your hands up in the air standing just enough that your chest was exposed above the water, at the exact moment Todoroki turned to look at you again. Both of your eyes widened and you squeaked covering your chest. Todoroki just muttered a soft ‘oh’, you saw the flame in his hand jump a little higher and brighter for just a moment. The heat probably matched the burn that covered your features. The tension was so thick you could probably wrap it around you as cover. You mustered enough courage to talk to him again, making sure that nothing was on display.

“Do you have anything I could put on? I hate to bother you but I’d really like to get out of this water I’m almost an ice cube.” He turned again making sure you were covered before he looked at you. He just blinked at you. “Please, Todoroki.”

Without a word he took off the sweater he wore bringing it close to the water’s edge and set it down. You saw that he wore a tight blue tank under it. You thanked the stars, knowing if he were to be shirtless you probably wouldn’t be able to leave the water. He turned around before you could get the chance to move. The only sound that was heard was the water splashing as you made your way ashore. You took the sweater in your hands admiring the warmth it held and slowly put it on. Thankfully, you were a good amount shorter, and smaller than the boy so it fell all the way past your backside, covering you completely. He was still turned away from you, so you placed a hand on his arm catching his attention.

“Thank you, and again I am truly sorry if I worried you. My message wasn’t too clear.” You smiled up at him, still shivering slightly from the cool water.

“It’s not a problem, I’m glad I could help you.” He smiled back at you until he noticed how the sweater clung to your wet form. He blushed again and shifted his gaze, you didn’t even notice what was going on due to the exhaustion you felt. “We should start heading back to camp. I’ll retrieve your clothing from Mineta. Don’t worry.”

As the two of you started to walk back to the others, you found yourself still unable to retain any warmth. Unable to think clearly at all, you laced your hand in Todoroki’s left seeking warmth. His arm tensed a bit, but when he saw your teeth chattering and relaxed and sent a pulse of heat through his hand to yours. You sighed at the warmth and leaned into him a bit. “You know, I couldn’t tell who I had sent the message to earlier. Everyone’s energies were flowing together, but I’m really glad it was you Todoroki.”

He glanced at you and a small smile dawned on his features at your confession, “I’m glad it was me too, L/n. I don’t think I would’ve liked knowing any other guy would have seen you like that.”

Your cheeks burned at his words and you laughed nervously. “Oh, and I’m sorry about your sweater getting wet, I hope that I don’t ruin it. That’d be a shame, it really is a nice sweater. It looked really good on you. Wait. Nope. Ignore I said that.” You clasped your hand on your mouth to stop your tired rambling.

“No, its alright.” He spoke squeezing your hand a bit. “You look really cute in that sweater, wet or not.” You smiled and leaned into him further, as he took his hand out of your grip and wrapped his arm around your shoulder instead. The two of you finally entered the camp and you let out a sigh of relief. Before you could head to the girl’s tent, Todoroki leaned in close, his mouth right by your ear his voice just barely above a whisper. “Although you look amazing right now, I think I prefer you without it on.” With that, he placed his hand on your side and a kiss on the corner of your lips, turned and walked away, leaving you a blushing mess. You didn’t know if you were going to kill Mineta tomorrow or shower him in kisses.

#bnha shoto todoroki #bnha todoroki #Todoroki #Shoto #Shoto Todoroki #Bnha imagine #Bnha oneshot #Todoroki oneshot #Shoto imagine #Shoto x reader #Todoroki shoto x reader #Shoto todoroki xreader #Shoto todoroki imagine #Shoto todoroki oneshot #my hero #my hero academia

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cosmiclatte28 · 4 years ago

Text

Power (Kai x you)

One shot / imagine / scenarios

AU where Kai and Reader both have special powers.

One cliche hallway bump and the two of you discover each other's secret

Enjoy!!

“Don't touch her!” A man yelled in urgency when the new kid almost kneeled down to help the student he just bumped.

“Huh?” the boy with bronze skin and a hot purple shade of hair shot a questioning look to the small man beside him.

“What? I bumped her Taemin, of course I need to help her.” Kai shot his new friend a questioning look and a “what the heck?” Look before kneeling down and asking the girl if she's okay.

“Sorry, I didn't see you… I’m a new student and I’m just getting used to the new environment." Kai explained his pardon while helping her reach for her scattered drawing papers.

She did not bat an eye on Kai nor even cursed him for toppling over her.

“Hey you okay?” Kai reached out his hand to touch her shoulder but before he could reach her, he felt his body dragged forcedly upward and he saw her moving away too.

You are that girl, you scurried away when you saw the purple haired man dragged away by his two friends. You knew the two other man as Taemin and Baekhyun.

You rushed your way from the big hall, every single pair of eyes threw their stare away from you as soon as you passed by. If you were a character cartoon in a film, you'll have black clouds tailing you.

You hid your face from the other students, clutching unto your books, you made it into your first class of the day. Literature.

You planted yourself over one chair on the corner of the room, sitting by yourself since you knew no one would dare to sit next to you. That has been the case since the first day you were born.

You smiled a little bit when you remember the accident 5 minutes ago, who was that purple haired man? He looked new and he was the first man to caught your attention (in a good way)

You didn't get his name at all and didn't see his name tag. You decided to push the bothering mind aside.

With one pencil in your hand and a blank page of paper in front of you, you busied yourself into drawing a portrait. The smooth friction of graphite and the drawing paper distracted you from the sudden chaos the class had. You’re drowned in your own world until someone tapped the table beside yours.

You froze on the spot like a deer caught in a headlight. Quickly you bring your arms to cover the drawing as you gasped in surprise to see the man you drew was standing there looking as surprised as you did.

“Wow that’s a very nice portrait of me.” Kai bashfully smiled.

“What are you doing here?” you blurted out and internally cursed yourself for saying that out loud. Great now you sounded so rude and he will hate you like the others.

“Well as I told you earlier, I am a new student and I happened to be taking this class too.” He explained calmly

You scrutinized him from top to toe, trying to discover whose descendants did he belong to.

“And??” you wanted him to continue

Kai darted his eyes through out the room, “the only chair left is the one beside yours.”

You quickly scanned the room and yes there was no more empty space left.

“Uhm- here take the chair and table… i'll -"

“hey we can share. I don't use up the whole space.” He carefully placed his bag down.

Your breathing shortens and you're having a light panic attack. No one has shared tables with you ever since you discovered your curse.

“Look I'll be on the very end if you're not comfortable.” Kai pulled his chair to the end of the table and carefully prepared his things for today’s class.

The whole attention from the class was enough to make your day worse.

Kai did not know what he did on you, but he will … soon.

You shared literature class with him for the rest of the semester and every time he always shared the last table with you. You never talked to him at all and whenever he tried, you always replied in short answers. Man gave up finally or at least toned down his conversations. You always make sure none of your body touched his, or life would be hell.

Kai kept his questions to himself, he did not dare ask anyone what’s the matter with (y/n) and no one volunteered to tell him what's actually wrong.

Every day Kai found himself intrigued and attracted to you. It was not a simple feeling, it was love. It's the most dangerous feeling someone could possess.

Kai saw your sketches the day he first met you, he saw your drawings on the hallway and of course his portrait on the first day. He was mesmerized by the fact that it only cost you one look and you had that person's face intact. You could even make a portrait with hand directly.

“(y/n)… would you like to accompany me to the book store today? I'm sorry to bother you but I have no one else and you know i'm still new here.” He bravely talked to you when lecture ended.

You cocked your head to the side, surprised by his brave move. You looked around and nodded

“Just remember… don't touch me.” You whispered and in a blink of an eye, you're blended into the crowd already.

That afternoon Kai met you on the one and only bookstore by the alley. He was dressed in a simple denim jacket and you're wrapped in a cropped sweater and a low cut jeans.

You did not dress up to impress him, that happened to be the remaining clothes on your drawer.

His eyes looked up and down, judging your attire and his face was pure surprise.

“Sorry they were the only clean laundries I have.. I forgot to drop my laundries… anyways what book are you looking for?” you for once threw him a sweet smile.

You never offer a sweet smile to anyone in the school. It was always a small smile or a poker face. But something in the air and something about his purple hair and glossy tanned skin made your stomach tingled and smile muscle worked involuntarily.

“Ah it's a trilogy and we should probably start looking.” Kai reached out to grab your hand, but you're faster. You quickly hug yourself and in a cheerful voice hurried him to follow your steps into the book store.

His hand hung mid air, he quirked his brow but followed you afterwards.

The two of you exchanged small talk and conversation while looking for a book you've never heard at all.

Kai insisted that the book was old but he was sure this is the only book store that sell them.

By two hours, you've walked through all of the aisle and kai had not for once told you to stop or showed signals of him finding the book.

“Wait we're on the last rack already.. and you’re sure your books are here?” you suddenly felt something wrong.

He glanced around and when he saw no one, he took steps forward causing you to back down.

“Kai?”

“Shh" his finger ghost over your lips and your eyes widen…

He looked at you with an indescribable emotion and as if hypnotized you can't take off your eyes from him. You follow his gaze and knew he was looking at your glistening lips well you love lipglosses and you cannot leave the room without wearing one!

You found your tongue tied and body freezing. You're glued to the grounds and the man towering over you leaned in to kiss you.

“Don't" you squeaked.

“I'm dangerous. I could freeze you.. literally..let me explain..” you hold your hands out but Kai was not paying attention to you at all. His body leaned closer and closer while his fingers bravely intertwined yours. You shut your eyes, a tear escaped from your eyes as you felt your body trembling with fear.

You remember the last time a boy tried to kiss you, his body froze to eternal death and you.. you were the reason. That was why you never came in contact with anyone else just a tip of your finger might gave them a burning sensation from the cold.

You felt his lips pressed into yours, gently molding into it, when you felt a light press on your hands you shot your eyes open just to cry more as you see someone kissing you without turning blue for the first time.

You closed your eyes back, savoring the sweetest moment and the warmest feeling you've had in your entire life. Your body was flaming as if you're melted into his touch, slowly Kai snaked his hands to your bare skin and he gripped over your hips.

You gasped and he took the chance to slid his tongue inside your cave, exploring the new humidity, and one of his hand was professionally holding your neck close.

You did not know how he could handle your power that much and that long. After what you could say a good kiss, he pulled back.

Both of your chest were beating fast and he broke the thin strain between your lips. You could see his lips glistening and he licked it slightly. Looking hot as ever.

“I was curious of your lip-gloss ever since day one” he rubbed his neck shyly. Suddenly he returned to his innocent school looking self.

“How?!” that was the only question you blurted

Your eyes were wet and Kai brought you into his embrace.

“I discovered people were backing away from you because you have the ability to freeze someone… you'd be surprised if I tell you people in my last school feared me since I could burn the whole school down with one hand.” He pulled of a smug grin and pressed a short kiss once again on your lips.

Your tears streamed down faster as you tried to believe you've finally met someone with the same burden… and the two of you could counteract each other's power.

“So… you don't have to sit on the very edge anymore… you won’t hurt me and I won't hurt you.” Kai pressed a chaste kiss on your pink lips.

Your brain was still processing things and you’re only able to smile like an idiot.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and ushered you to leave the store. He never intended to look for a book . The book was imaginary and he just wanted to take you out. That was why he did not use the computer searching program nor the help of the clerk.

You laughed when you realized he was trying to bring you to a date without you realizing it at all.

“How does taemin and baekhyun touched you without getting burnt?” you glanced to the taller man holding your hands.

Kai smirked, “That darling is what i'll teach you next. How to control your power.”

The end 💖

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recipeforme · 4 years ago

Text

C6: Put You In Your Place

Book: A Good Kid

It has been about a week since I’ve moved in with the Sanders’ and things were going good. Well, as good as I expected it to be, maybe even a little bit better. Patton was still super nice to me and everyday he drags me to sit at his lunch table. I don’t think Roman doesn’t like that too much. Trust me, it doesn’t take a mind reader to figure it out.

Roman never says anything, of course, but it’s pretty heavily implied. He is always shooting me death glares and hitting me with insults and nicknames. It kind of reminds me of my brother in that way (only without the physical violence). When Janus would have a good day he’d only result in harsh insults and nicknames. Roman isn’t as bad as him but that doesn’t make him any better. But I’m used to it by now and I know how to handle it.

Logan, on the other hand, is completely different. I don’t think he tries to be insensitive but ends up doing it, even if it’s unknowing. He tends to ask me personal questions that I’m super uncomfortable answering. Some of them are basic getting to know you stuff; such as my likes and dislikes, but most of them are about Foster Care and my past.

A few days ago he asked why I’m in the system and I ended up running off and hiding in the bathroom because the question triggered a panic attack. Luckily no one found out about it but Logan has since then stopped with the questions.

Out of the three of them, Patton is probably my favorite. He has this overwhelming joy and is always socializing, but he’s nothing but sweet and kind to me. One thing that really surprised me about Patton is how careful he is to not overstep my boundaries. I don’t think I have ever had a foster sibling who’s cared so much.

I don’t see a lot of Thomas, Patton explained that he’s been doing a lot of work on the upcoming play that his students are putting on. When I do see Thomas he is nothing but nice and caring, always asking how I’m doing and if I need anything. He’s told me more than once that if I ever need anything to let him know and he will do everything within his power to make it help.

Despite the Sanders’ never ending kindness I’m going to stay wary and I will not let my guard down. Sure these people were nicer than most families I’ve stayed with, but I know that it won’t last long. And once that time is up they’ll send me back. After all, I could never fit in with this family.

-------

For the first time since this morning I finally had a moment to myself, it was lunch time now and I was able to slip away from Patton and his friends. Normally my foster brother would beg me to stay with them, and I’d always end up doing so out of guilt. But today he let me leave which I was really grateful for.

I was grabbing my sketchbook from my locker, with plans on sitting in the library and drawing. The book I was getting wasn’t the one that I use in class and turn into Ms. Adwin. This was my personal sketchbook, full of drawings that no one will ever see. I was spinning the combination on the metal door of my locker when I heard someone speak behind me.

“Hey! Newbie!” Turning around I saw an older looking girl walking towards me with a few other kids behind her.

I had a sense of déjà vu, this is what always happened right before… “Hey!” A pair of fingers snapped in front of my face making me jump “are you listening to me?” The Leader asked.

“Uh no sorry…” I mumbled.

“Speak up and look at me” The Leader ordered, I flinched at her tone and shrank away. She was just like Janus. The girl waited a few seconds before letting out a dramatic sigh “it seems as if you haven’t yet learned your place” Out of the corner of my eye I could see her turning to her friends with a smirk, “lets give this little punk a proper welcome.” And with a crack her knuckles she gave me a hard punch to the gut.

------

The bullies only beat me up for about ten minutes before leaving to terrorize some other poor student. And truth be told I was surprised, normally beatings went on for much longer. All these kids did was give me a few punches and kicks to the ribs and none of them was as bad as I was used to.

Standing up, I opened my locker and grabbed the sketchbook sitting inside and walked off the library to get some drawing time before lunch ended. Acting as if nothing had happened.

------

That night I got the chance to examine my injuries, it ended up being nothing more than a couple of bruises. Nothing I couldn’t handle. After I dealt with my bruises I sat and worked on some of my art homework. For my first assignment Ms. Adwin wanted me to draw something that would help give her an idea of the extent of my drawing abilities and what I needed to work on.

I ended up doing a sketch of The Horned King from the movie ‘Black Cauldron.’ I did the drawing in all black and white, choosing to focus more on shading than coloring. When I was done my hands were covered in graphite but I was pretty proud of the finished product.

I wasn’t very good at a lot of things, drawing was one of the few things I’m good at. Art was my only escape from the horrors of my life with my Dad and brother. During that period of time I used to draw doodles on little scraps of paper with a broken pencil. After I entered the system I managed to get enough money together to buy myself a proper notebook and some colored pencils.

During the past year I spent a lot of time drawing, both as an escape and as entertainment. I hadn’t been lying to Thomas when I said that I have never taken an art class before, everything I know is from things I taught myself and from the occasional YouTube video. Because I had never had the chance to take a traditional art class I am planning on working and learning as much as I can.

Along with getting better at my drawing skills I’m also hoping to learn how to use other materials and forms other than pencil and my current style. I really want to learn how to draw with chalk and pastels, I’ve never painted before but it's something I want to learn. Especially with watercolors, maybe even with oil paints as well.

I don’t know how long I’ll be with this family, but you can bet that I won’t let that stop me from learning everything I can.

#A GOOD KID #isabel's books #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #sander sides #patton sanders #foster care #foster family #art class

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justthehiddleswrites · 4 years ago

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Career Change | Adam x OFC (Charlie Bock) | Chapter 2

Pairing: Adam x OFC (Charlie Bock)

Summary: It has been three months since Adam rescued Charlie. Simone thinks it is time for Charlie to get back to some normalcy. Adam resist the change and Charlie has to break out the legal pad again.

Warnings: Eventual Smut, Fluff, Humor, mentions of past trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Therapy, Panic Attacks

Three Weeks Later

Charlie stared over at Adam from her perch on the couch and wonder if a #2 pencil had a sufficient amount of wood to kill a vampire or would the graphite core counteract that. Her nails dug into the wood as yet another moody rock song came on over the speakers.

“What do you think of this one, darling?” Adam inquired, either oblivious or indifferent to Charlie’s murderous intentions.

“It’s fine.” She commented quickly before returning her attention to her handwritten notes from class and her textbook.

Adam’s shoulders slumped. “Just fine?”

“Yup.” She popped the “p”, typing some notes on her laptop.

“Anything else?” Adam grew irritated. Charlie gave more detailed insights to his compositions when he plays them for her.

“Nope.” She didn’t even look up this time. The dissonant tones of Adam’s composition grated on her nerves and set her teeth on edge right now.

“Do you think it could use bass or maybe a different instrument?” Adam paced in thought. “Some drums… That’s it! Drums!” Adam snapped his fingers and headed towards his drum set in the corner. Charlie’s eyes widened as Adam spun a drumstick between his fingers and he sat down.

“You are not seriously going to do that now?” Charlie glared at him from over the high back of the sofa.

“Why not?” Adam drummed out a quick rhythm.

“I am trying to study. I have my first test tomorrow.” Charlie hissed. “Can’t this wait, darling, until I’m done?” Or when I am not here, Charlie thought to herself.

Adam made studying unbearable. If it wasn’t him playing music, it was him using various techniques to remove Charlie’s clothes and fuck her against whatever piece of furniture she happened to be sitting on. She started staying later at her school to complete her work either in the library or a nearby coffee shop. Her absence did not go unnoticed on those days, when Adam either brooded in bed or attacked her at the door.

“Inspiration does not work on schedule, Charlie.”

“Fine.” She packed up her books and laptop and headed into the spare bedroom as Adam put on his headphones and drummed out whatever melody was stuck in his brain.

“Tell me about the episode in the school hallway.”

Charlie took a deep breath. “So I was walking along when my friend came around behind me and hugged me. I didn’t know he broke his arm a few days ago ice skating and his cast came across my neck and I panicked.” She didn’t sob, but Simone could see the tears welling in her eyes.

“It’s okay to cry, Charlie. You are not even six months out from all this. You thought of Jason.”

Charlie nodded and allowed a couple of big tears to drop onto her jeans. “Yes.”

“How did you react?”

“I dropped my coffee and knees buckled.”

“Did you run away?”

“Not this time.”

“Good.”

“But I cried. People stared.”

“It’s okay, Charlie. They weren’t judging you. Did you talk to your friend?”

“Yes.” Charlie sniffled. “I told him I didn’t like being hugged from behind.”

“Did you tell him why?”

“Not yet.”

“That’s fine. We don’t have to tell people everything. Did your friend take it well?”

“He did. And he apologized and bought me a fresh coffee.”

“Excellent.”

“Why do I not panic when Adam hugs me?” Charlie questioned, her emotions leveling out.

“That’s an excellent question. Why do you think you don’t panic when Adam hugs you from behind?”

Charlie chewed on her lip as she thought about it.

“Well, I’m at home.”

“Anything else?”

“I recognize it’s him behind me.”

“How?”

Charlie closed her eyes and thought back. “I can hear his dressing gown swish and I smell him.”

“That’s right. Which is why we are working on situational awareness so you can tell when something is a threat or not?” Simone added and Charlie smiled. “How is Adam taking to all this?”

Charlie huffed, running her fingers through her hair, twirling the ends.

“Charlie, what’s wrong?” Simone asked.

“Nothing. It’s fine.” Charlie pushed her hair back and settled herself.

“Charlie, what’s the rule?”

“No use of ‘fine’ or ‘okay’ when asked a question. Sorry.”

Simone let the apology slide. “Let’s try again… What’s wrong?”

“Adam is driving me crazy!” Charlie groaned. “He won’t leave me alone.”

“He’s used to have you to himself and not sharing you with the world, Charlie. Vampires don’t take change well. Particularly an obstinate vampire like Adam.”

“How do I get him to understand this is important to me?”

“What makes you think he doesn’t already know?”

“He seems to be sabotaging my study attempts.”

“And how is he doing that?”

“Playing his music, pulling out his drums, asking nonstop questions, sex. Take your pick.”

“Sex?” Simone raised an eyebrow.

“All the time. Are vampires part rabbit? I need to know.”

“No. But I can say certain appetites increase significantly once a vampire turns.”

Charlie rolled her eyes, and Simone suppressed a chuckle. “And I got involved with a sex fiend from a former life.”

“He is a musician. You knew this. And I haven’t heard you complain about your sex life before.” Simone countered.

“I am not complaining.” Charlie blushed. “I just… I need to get the work done and do well. This is important to me.”

“I know this is going to sound like a radical idea but have you tried talking to him?”

“Yes.” Charlie replied in a small voice.

“Charlie, have you really tried?”

“Not really.”

“Sit him down in a neutral place. I would suggest the kitchen. And explain why this is important and how his behavior is hindering you. Set some ground rules. You like rules.”

Charlie nodded. “I do.”

“Can you sit down with him this week and set up some ground rules for this time that you are in this course?”

“I can.”

Simone smiled. “Good luck.”

Charlie hoped her pleading with Adam would stop the teasing and distractions. She was wrong. If anything, her apparent disinterest in having sex whenever and wherever with Adam only seemed to stoke his libido. A few days later, Adam wandered into the kitchen after waking up to find Charlie sitting at the table.

“Please sit down, Adam.” Charlie gestured to the seat across from her.

Adam narrowed his eyes as he moved to the chair. As he spun the chair around to straddle it backwards, he spied the legal pad underneath Charlie’s neatly folded hands.

“No.” He started to stand up.

“Sit down, Adam.” Charlie hissed through gritted teeth. Her eyes flashed at him with such intensity Adam stopped midway before spinning the chair back the right way and flopping back down and rolling his eyes.

“We need some rules.” Charlie clicked her pen.

“No.” Adam repeated. “We don’t.”

Charlie exhaled in exasperation. “Let me rephrase. We will have some rules because I can’t continue on like this. I can’t get any studying done and I refuse to fail this course because you can’t keep it in your pants.”

“I have self-control.” Adam lied.

Charlie narrowed her eyes at him. “I think the record is clear on your self- control. Shall I go into detail?”

Adam squirmed under his glare. “No.” he resigned. “Do I get any say in these rules?”

“Yes, but they have to work for me too. This is important to me, Adam and I want to do well. Do you understand?”

Adam glanced over the table at Charlie. He realized he was sabotaging her efforts and he couldn’t even tell you why. He gave a distracted nod.

“I need to hear the words Adam.” He overheard the tapping of her finger on the table.

“Yes.” he groaned.

Charlie smiled and danced in her seat. She clicked her pen a few more times and started writing.

“Hey!” he complained. “I didn’t agree to anything yet!” He crossed his arms.

Charlie smirked. “We can negotiate.”

She slid the paper over. Adam read 1. No fucking.

“Absolutely not!!” Adam shoved the legal pad. “That rule never works!”

Charlie giggled. “I was only joking. Like I need to tempt fate a second time.”

“I don’t know about that.” He shot a lurid glare across the table. “Seems to have worked out in your favor.”

Charlie smirked, ripping the page off and crumpling it into a ball. She tossed it into the trashcan in one shot. She chewed on the pen cap for a moment before scribbling. Adam leaned over to spy but Charlie wrapped her arm around the pad.

“No peeking. I don’t want any commentary.”

Adam huffed back in the chair.

Charlie smiled in satisfaction as she stopped writing. “There. Look.”

Adam glanced over the rules, his lips pursed.

RULES APPLY FOR TIME WHEN CHARLIE IS ACTIVELY STUDYING ONLY!!

1. No touching Charlie unless she has explicitly asked you to do so. This means no massages or foot rubs or teasing.

2. Adam is not allowed to use his body as a distraction. This is including but not limited to:

- Adam walking around in tight pants.

- Adam walking around naked.

- Adam touching his body in a manner that is distracting (before you ask, yes I mean that).

3. Adam may not use his voice as a weapon. No whispering in Charlie’s ear. No dirty talking.

He realized it was for the best but damn if it would not be hard to adhere to Charlie’s rules.

“What am I supposed to do with myself?” Adam asked.

“Read a book. Compose. Play music. I am sure you can find a way to occupy yourself.”

“They appear to be reasonable.” he grumbled. “But I don’t like it.”

“Sign please.” Charlie hummed. Adam rolled his eyes before affixing his serial killer worthy signature to the page, sliding it back at Charlie. She signed in big loopy cursive and ripped the page off the pad.

“Where are you going with that?” Adam asked as Charlie rummaged through a drawer, holding the paper in her mouth.

“Putting it somewhere where you can see it.” Charlie pulled out a Boston magnet and slapped the paper onto the old fridge. “As a reminder.”

Adam rose and wrapped his arms around her waist to stare at the rules over her shoulder. His nose nuzzled into her curls, inhaling the scent of bay rum. “I would think you don’t trust me.”

Charlie spun around to wrap her arms around his neck. “Who broke the rules the first time?”

Adam nipped at her lower lip. “Who wrote shitty rules with loopholes?” His hands wandered down to cup her ass.

“No comment.” She kissed him.

“Do you need to study right now?”

“No. I’m caught up for the time being.”

“Good.” Adam lifted her up and sat her down on the counter. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her pajama bottoms and yanked them to the floor.

“Adam…” Charlie warned as he undid his robe, stepping between her knees.

“Not breaking the rules.” Adam hissed into her ear. “Can’t believe I am saying this. Again.”

“You love it.” Charlie dragged her fingers along his shaft.

“Fuck.” Adam sucked hard onto Charlie’s neck as he scooted her to the edge of the counter. He buried himself inside of her in one stroke.

Charlie’s nails dug into his shoulders. Adam chuckled and hooked her legs around his waist.

“Hold on, my love.” he warned with a smirk before snapping against her.

Adam twisted his hips as he rutted against her. He grunted with each thrusts.

“Adam, please…” Charlie breathed. “I’m close.”

“Then come, my love. Soak me.”

Charlie’s head fell back against the cabinet as her orgasm washed over her. She hooked around Adam’s thighs and pulled him as close as she could.

“That’s it my love.” Adam purred, thrusting twice more, before spilling into Charlie.

Adam pressed his forehead against Charlie’s. Her chest heaving as his breath blew her curls around.

“That was…” Charlie stuttered over the words.

“… what you will be missing while studying.” He kissed her nose before easing her back to the ground and walking away with a devious smile.

Three Weeks Later

Charlie chewed on the end of her pencil, rewriting her notes for the third time. She flipped through her textbook for something. Adam flopped down on the couch.

“Yes?” Charlie asked, sensing Adam’s poor mood from the other side of the couch. She didn’t even bother looking up from her book.

“How long are you going to be studying?”

“My midterm is on Monday.”

Adam groaned. “You have been studying for three days straight.”

“And your point is?” Adam reached out for her ankle which Charlie tucked underneath her. She jabbed her pencil in the general direction of the kitchen. “Rules.”

“Fuck the rules.” Adam whispered.

“What did you say?” Charlie glared over at him.

“I said fuck the rules, Charlie. I need you. Do you know how hard it is to see you sitting there in that fucking sweater?” Charlie glanced down at her purple sweater with the deep vee. “I swear you are doing it on purpose.”

“I am not. Now if you don’t mind, I am memorizing the names and locations of all the veins in the arm.”

“I know a lot about the veins in the arm.” Adam’s hand crawled towards her again.

“I’ll stick with my textbook thank you very much. Please find some other way to occupy yourself.”

Adam grumbled as he settled back against the high back of the green velveteen sofa. He glanced over at Charlie who leaned over to write in her notebook, giving him the perfect view down her sweater. His cock twitched. Without thought, he undid his pants, allowing it to pop free. With a languid motion, he stroked himself, imaging all the deliciously depraved things he wished Charlie was doing to him.

Adam’s soft grunt from the other side of the sofa pulled Charlie’s focus away. She spied as Adam sat there, mouth half open fisting his cock.

“What the fuck are you doing? That is breaking Rule #3!” she exclaimed.

“I am imagining you straddling my hips. The cock buried deep inside you. Your delicious cunt gripping against me. Your tits bouncing in my face as you ride me.” Adam’s voice deep like the rich tone of a cello or upright bass.

Charlie’s skin tingled, and her nipples hardened at Adam’s words.

“It’s too bad you are studying. Because if you weren’t, I would fuck you over the arm of this sofa, until you begged for me to let you cum, my love.”

“Well I guess, I could…” She set down her computer and crawled towards Adam when she caught herself. “NO! Stop that Adam, you’re breaking the rules.”

“No. the rules are stupid, Charlie. Just take a break.”

Charlie grabbed her notes, laptop, and textbook and headed towards the interior stairs.

“Where are you going?” Adam questioned, when he noticed Charlie storming off.

“Upstairs. I still have my futon up there.”

“But you belong here with me.” Adam moved with unnatural speed to cut her off. “Just take a break.” He reached for her but Charlie ducked away.

“No, Adam. This is important to me and it should be important to you.” Her lip wavered. “But you can’t even follow three simple rules for me. I’m going upstairs. And if you follow me, I am ripping the blackout curtains down.”

Adam stood there, staring at her speechless.

“Move, Adam.” She demanded, cooly.

He stepped aside. “Charlie, I’m—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Adam. Don’t wait up for me.”

She let the door click behind her before walking up the stairs. Adam leaned against the door, feeling like a right ass.

Adam paced the length of the apartment. He didn’t expect Charlie to react with such anger. So cold. He had seen her mad before but not like this. Not shut down. No tears, no yelling. He realized that for the second time in their short but intense relationship he had truly fucked up.

He ripped the rules off the fridge and pressed it into a tight ball. Adam tossed the ball towards the garbage can, missing it. With a huff, he stomped to the trashcan to throw it away. His eyes caught a stack of baking sheets Charlie bought a week ago but still need to put away.

“Scathingly brilliant idea, Adam.” he commented to himself, using a phrase he picked up from Charlie.

“Adam was right.” Charlie muttered as she shifted in a vain effort to find a comfortable spot on her old futon.

She hated to admit in this moment that Adam’s antique couch downstairs was far more comfortable than her secondhand futon. But she refused to admit defeat.

“Come on, Charlie. Just a few more hours and then you knock off for the night.” She steeled herself to push through this last bit. The reward of the cool sheets of their bed downstairs spurred her to return to her notes.

About an hour later, Charlie sniffed the air. Something acrid filled the air, like burnt toast or a wood fireplace running. She chalked it up a neighbor having a late winter or early spring fire.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPP! The smoke detectors in the entire apartment went off. Charlie threw her notes off her lap and bolted down the stairs to the basement apartment.

“Adam! Are you…” She turned to find Adam hovering over the stove in the kitchen fanning a blackened cookie sheet. Black acrid smoke pouring off the sheet and some coming off the stove itself. “… okay?”

“Yes.” Adam grumbled.

Charlie chuckled a bit at the absurdity of Adam standing there, wearing her Wonder Woman apron, waving a kitchen towel over something that was now reduced to ash.

“What were you doing?” Charlie’s lips twitching at the corners.

“Baking cookies.”

“Those were cookies?” She gestured at the tiny hockey pucks on the cookie sheet.

“Yes.”

“Why would you be baking cookies? You don’t eat—Oh!” Charlie walked over by Adam and laced her fingers with his, staring at her ruined cookies. “Those were for me, weren’t they?”

“Yes. As an apology.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry for acting like a jackass. It is important to me you succeed. I am not good at sharing you.”

“I know. This is only temporary, Adam. I am halfway through.” She squeezed back.

“Are you still mad at me?” He turned to face you.

“Yes, but the cookies helped. How in the hell did you burn them so bad?”

“Forgot to set the timer and then dozed off on the sofa.”

Charlie nodded. “That will do it. Now…” She wrapped her arms. “… since you have disrupted my studying without breaking the rules—”

“Sorry about that.”

“I was wrapping soon, anyway. Now what was this about me riding you?” She raised an eyebrow.

Adam’s eyes widened. “I don’t want to take—”

“Take me to bed, Adam.” She whispered in his ear.

“Are you sure? You can come back downstairs. I will go into the other room.” Adam pecked her lips. “I love you and I don’t want to be a distraction.”

“I love you too. And sometimes distractions are a good thing. Clears the mind. Now are you going to take me to bed or not?”

“Well, if you insist.” Adam grabbed Charlie at the waist and heaved her onto his shoulder.

“Adam! Put me down!!”

“No.” he chuckled. “You’re mine. And I have plans.”

“Do I get to know these plans?” Charlie huffed, resigning herself to being carried to the bedroom over Adam’s shoulder.

“I started with removing all your clothes and I will go from there.”

“I like the sound of that.” Charlie giggled as Adam dropped her onto the bed. Adam crawled up onto the bed next to her.

The Next Week

Charlie bounded into the bedroom after class that day and pounced onto Adam’s chest. His face obscured by a pillow.

“Adam…” She nibbled that spot on his neck behind his ear. “… wake up. I have something to show you.”

Adam groaned and peeked at Charlie from underneath the pillow. “What?”

Charlie shoved a piece of paper into his face. “I got an A on my midterm!” she squealed. “Only three people in the entire class got an A.”

Adam removed the pillow from his face and smiled at Charlie, who was beaming up at him. “Congratulations, darling. You worked hard for that.” He kissed her nose. “I’m proud of it.”

“Thank you, Adam. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Adam’s hands slid down to cup Charlie’s ass. “I think your hard work deserves a reward.”

“More cookies?” Charlie giggled. A week later and the house still smelled of burnt cookies.

“No.” Adam rolled his eyes. “But it definitely involves eating.”

“Go on.” Charlie teased, wiggling on top of him.

#adam #adam fanfic #adam fanfiction #adam angst #adam fluff #adam smut #only lovers left alive #only lovers left alive fanfiction #adam x ofc #the reluctants

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chemicalmagecraft · 4 years ago

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Foresight is 20/20 Chapter 14

Hinata's palm struck me in the jaw, making me grunt. "Kick his ass, Hina-chan!" Kurama cheered from the sidelines. It was nice seeing how well those two were getting along, even if it meant him encouraging her to beat me up. The two of them actually helped each other a lot. Hinata warmed Kurama up to humankind and got him to be slightly less angry, while Kurama made sure to rub some of his "I'm better than you lousy humans" pride off on her, causing her to be a bit more confident. Plus he liked imparting little bits of arcane knowledge upon his favorite human, meaning...

I just barely noticed with my chakra sense that Hinata was leaking a small amount of chakra out of her fingertips, so I jumped back. Unfortunately, I'd determined with my eyes that expressing too much interest in obtaining the Byakugan with my chakra assimilation would only cause most of the clan to grow wary of me, so I didn't have the ability to actually see her jutsu, but at least I knew to stay away.

I made a few seals, but had to stop when the barely-there chakra rushed me. Even though I moved my arms the chakra swerved faster than I thought it would, causing my left arm to go completely numb. "Ow," I said despite the fact that the problem was that I couldn't feel any pain in my arm. "You're getting faster with that, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Hina-chan said. "Kurama-chan helped me figure it out."

I tried to move my arm, but couldn't. Eight Trigrams Heavenly Will as it was called by most of the family, or much less pretentiously Tenketsu Puppetry Jutsu by Hinata, was a jutsu Hinata invented by combining the basics of Juken that she was learning with the chakra threads I'd showed her how to make and then some sort of advice from Kurama. In addition to acting like a ranged, though technically much less potent, version of Juken, the threads stayed inside the tenketsu of the victim meaning that not only was any recovery from the attack blocked until they were removed but she could also, as her name for it suggested, puppeteer my arm.

"Impressive, sis, but you know that that doesn't exactly work on me." I raised my right pointer finger, causing a single link of yellow chain to form on it. With a bit of concentration, I changed the yellow Adamantine Sealing Chain to a shadowy purple permutation, Adamantine Destruction Chain. I swiped at roughly where I felt the chakra threads with it, managing to snap all of them and suck the foreign chakra from my body.

I'd figured out that my assimilation could also adapt powers that were compatible enough together. I was already working under the assumption that I couldn't just make new elements by combining people's affinities because that would be broken, but I did alchemize Ai's Adamantine Sealing Chain together with the Kikaichu's Parasitic Destruction to make chains that could drain chakra as well as disrupt it for some extra chakra cost. Plus, the disruption and absorption effects synergized, enhancing each other's performance. And there was also the || combination, Parasitic Sealing, which allowed me to cover my body in an aura that disrupts and absorbs chakra. Though it was harder to do than Adamantine Destruction and wasn't perfect...

But I digress. I pointed the chain link at Hinata, shooting an entire chain at her. The general consensus of just about anyone who I used my special chains on was that if I got a grab in the fight was over. Sure, I could still only have more than a few links out for a few seconds without any boost before I got super tired, but between the draining and the throw I could easily pull off with the chains I only needed one good grab to wear down even adults. At least enough to jump in with a few cheap hits to finish them off. Hinata obviously knew this by now, so she ducked under my chain, then rolled out of the way when I tried to pin her to the ground.

I was expecting her to do that, though, and had already prepped my next jutsu. Metal marbles, designed so I could hurt but not kill with my magnet release, scored hits on her side. I charged, and she blocked my foot with her hand. I winced, realizing my mistake when my leg turned numb from the near-instantaneous point-blank Heavenly Will. I used my demon gem-based flight to try to kick her with my other foot, but she got it before I could.

"Full body takeover, eh?" I asked as the rest of my body below my neck was wrested from my control. Really, having a relatively non-draining jutsu that might as well be an automatic win to anyone in melee distance is even more broken than I am...

"Sorry, but can I practice this for a bit?"

I tried to shrug, but remembered the futility. "Go ahead. I still have control over my demon gems, so I can catch myself if you slip up." Hinata spent the rest of the sparring session finding stupid dances to make me do, egged on by Kurama. I did get her to work on her proxy chakra control a bit, though. She could almost make me do Juken by the end. And I could almost do Juken by the end.

kukukuku~

Tenten said something, probably about how much it stank that we had to go to school, as we walked ourselves to school. Well, they walked and I floated because I actually may or may not have a bit of trouble matching other people's walking paces, especially if I'm not paying too much attention... I didn't know what she was saying, though. I was thinking. I mumbled something in response and pulled out my sealing notebook and note-taking pencil, which I used to write down the formula I thought of. I tuned out their conversation even more as I sketched the complex seal down as best I could.

"You messed up a little there," Tenten said as I was finishing off the last strokes.

"Hm?" I asked.

She pointed to one of the runes and oh my that was very wrong. "I'm not sure, but I think it'll just tear a hole in the fabric of space if you don't fix that stabilizing rune." I thanked her and hurriedly fixed it.

"I feel like maybe you should not write down a seal that could potentially tear a hole in the fabric of space itself until you're absolutely sure it won't do that?" Neji said with more than a little concern.

To be honest, I didn't blame him, but... "Graphite's pretty much the worst for making seals," I explained, "which means that it's really good for practicing making the more dangerous seals because it's almost impossible to activate it accidentally. Unless you're a jinchuriki, maybe, but even then you'd probably have to be pretty distracted."

"Well why didn't you have me use a pencil when you were trying to teach me seals, then?"

Finished, I stowed the notebook. "Okay in my defense I wasn't expecting you to screw up the easiest seal in the book when given detailed instructions, much less screw it up enough to accidentally make an incredibly simplified explosive seal. And with the last seal I had you do, I think we both know that you should always assume that there will be an explosion when making a paper bomb."

I tried to teach Neji fuinjutsu once. Turns out he's literally the worst at it. He somehow managed to turn a basic light seal into a thankfully tiny bomb with only a big enough blast radius to burn itself off of whatever it's written on with a noise like a firecracker, which apparently was a theme with him. No matter what, he would always make bombs out of whatever seal I gave him. And then, when I tried to have him purposefully make a bomb, hoping that maybe he was just some sort of bomb savant, he somehow managed to make a seal tag that teleported itself and whatever it was touching to a random place within a fifty meter radius. Which, okay, free spacetime ninjutsu, but how? "I'm still scratching my head on how you managed to make a short-range teleport out of a bomb. Speaking of, what's your mom make of it, Tenten?"

She snorted. "She's still on that high from the wedding, so she's been more concentrated with being all lovey-dovey with Mommy than looking over the seal, but she did say to never let Neji near a seal again when I told her it was supposed to be a paper bomb."

"It wasn't really that bad, was it?" Neji asked.

Tenten laughed and shook her head. "Not at all, Neji..."

"...It's much worse," I finished her sentence with a slight grin. We high-fived. "When I looked at the seal you were making with my eyes, I saw a lot of different possibilities. Random teleportation was one of the better ones. You don't want to know what the worse ones were."

"Right." He didn't believe me. To be fair, I did tend to mess with him... And was messing with him. "So what's the seal you were working on supposed to do? I'm assuming it's somehow related to spacetime."

"Yeah, normally when people screw up seals that have nothing to do with spacetime, the result doesn't do anything to the fabric of reality," Tenten said, elbowing Neji.

"Shut it."

I shrugged. "You're right, though. It was most certainly a spacetime seal."

"Yeah, it looked a bit like an object summoning seal, but a little different," Tenten said. "Was it meant to swap objects between two paired seals?"

"Close. My hope is that it'll form a portal between two locations when chakra's input on both ends, and that it's compatible with demon sage chakra. It's still a little rough around the edges, though."

"Let me guess, secret base," Tenten said.

I brushed my hand through my hair. I was combing it less now, so it was a bit curlier and fluffier. And it was getting so long that my bangs started falling over my left eye more. I loved the way it looked, though. "Obviously. In fact, I have an agent working on finding the location right now. Haven't found anything good yet, though."

"How do you have an agent?" Neji asked me.

"Magic." I noticed a certain building and pointed at it. "Hey, isn't that the school? That looks like a school."

"Yup, that's the school," Tenten said. "Mommy took me here a lot. Mama's job is a little less kid-friendly, plus the teachers looked after me when I didn't want to sit through Mommy's classes."

"Oh right," I said. "Your mom's a teacher."

"Yeah, I said that earlier, weren't you paying attention?"

Something about that sentence felt a little doomy, though I couldn't tell why. "No, I was thinking about how to breach through spacetime to reach another location without accidentally summoning Mega Neo Beqthulhuzillaon, Destroyer of Souls and Eater of Worlds."

"Is that an actual concern?" Neji asked. "Are you messing with us or could you have actually summoned some sort of eldritch horror monster?"

I smirked. "You should know the answer to that question by now. I'm assuming you know the way, Tenten?"

"Duh."

kukukuku~

I tried very hard not to groan. "My name is Uzumaki Tenko," our teacher for the next few years said, writing it on the chalkboard. God I hate chalkboards. If I were Hokage I'd make chalkboards illegal. Which is probably one of the reasons I should not be Hokage, actually... "I look forward to teaching you." I slumped in my seat. It's not that I didn't like her. Tenko was really nice. No, the problem was that she knew I was a literal genius relative to my age level, and with that comes... expectations...

Before, my plan was to just rest on my near-complete high school-level education to put the bare minimum amount of work into the actual academic parts of ninja school, which considering what grades I got with how little effort I put into school before would've made me best in class or thereabouts already. But Tenko already saw me put actual effort into something, meaning she might have been able to tell when I didn't put in the work. So if I didn't want to hear about it from her and Tenten both I'd have to at least half-ass it. Ugh...

I sound like Shikamaru, don't I?

"Didn't I tell you she was going to be our teacher earlier?" Tenten muttered to me. I guess that was what I missed... "And why are you so annoyed Mommy's your teacher?"

"Because she'll actually care if I don't put any effort into my work," I whispered back.

"How terrible," Neji snarked. I flicked him with natural energy. Using natural energy without sage mode may have been a lot weaker, but I could at least flick someone sitting right next to me hard enough to feel. He flicked me back, though. My Neji may have been completely seal-illiterate, but he was just as much of a ninjutsu genius as in canon, and figured out how to feel and manipulate natural energy just by watching me do it, though he hadn't quite managed sage mode yet. We proceeded to engage in invisible and incredibly petty warfare that Tenko would probably have stopped if she were a sensor. Luckily, Tenten was too amused to turn us in. She almost gave us away with her giggling, though.

"Now, why don't you introduce yourselves?" I'm not saying that I completely tuned everyone's introductions out, but I am saying that the only names that I retained aside from Hyuga Neji, Uzumaki Tenten, and Rock Lee was someone from the Yamanaka family whose given name was Kaede. Kaede is a pretty awesome name. Why couldn't I have been a Kaede?

"Hello. My name is Hyuga Kouki," I said when it was my turn. "The reason why I don't look like Neji despite us having the same family name is because he's adopted."

"What!?" Neji spluttered. "No! You're the adopted one!"

"It's nice to meet you," I halfheartedly finished, pretending Neji said nothing. He flicked me for my troubles when I sat down. I flicked back, and as if someone assassinated a duke or something, Flick War II began.

kukukuku~

"Just remember that these are friendly matches," Tenko said when we were all sitting on the ground by the sparring ring. "If I feel like someone is being hurt too badly, I'll stop it there. And once more, it's taijutsu only."

"Why'd you look at me when you said that?" I asked. Her glare turned a little more accusatory. I pouted. "I wasn't gonna do it anyway..."

"Right," she said, turning away from me. "You may now look at the slips of paper I gave you. Who has one?" Tenten and a boy I should probably have known the name of raised their hands. "You two are first. And Tenten, try not to rough him up too badly, okay, sweetie?"

The unnamed kid grinned maliciously. "I hope teach doesn't get too angry after I beat up her precious daughter." Neji and I exchanged a look and snickered. Right, like that kid stood a chance. When they were told to start, the kid jumped in for a punch. Tenten dodged easily and shoved him to the side. He stumbled and fell.

"Get him with your Uzumaki strength, Tenten," I cheered dully.

She scowled at me. "For the last time!" Tenten shouted, then picked up the nearest object. Namely the unnamed kid. "I'm not!" She hoisted her hapless victim above her head. "Freakishly strong!" She threw Hapless Victim at me. Without even blinking, I deployed the demon gems hanging from my earlobes. One formed a springy barrier in front of me that safely absorbed the impact of the collision without too much damage to Hapless, while the other formed a barrier under him to cushion his fall.

"I have no idea why I would think that," I said as I recalled my gems. "Truly, your ability to lift over your body weight in small child despite being yourself a small child is totally unremarkable." She blushed and growled at me.

"Kouki, please stop antagonizing Tenten," Tenko said. "The match is over, Tenten wins."

"How did you do that?" another small child I probably should've known the name of asked me.

"Magic."

Hapless (I was now trying to commit his face and chakra signature to memory so I could keep calling him that) groaned and sat up. "I thought we weren't allowed to use jutsu!" he complained.

"You weren't," I said. "The Uzumaki bloodline manifests itself passively in the form of enhanced vitality and strength, something that Tenten definitely has even if she doesn't quite have the traditional looks."

"HEY!"

"So really, you didn't stand a chance."

Hapless stomped off to his seat and the rounds began again. After a few, it was my turn, as well as, "coincidentally" enough, a young Rock Lee.

"Remember, no jutsu," Tenko reminded me.

"Yeah, yeah," I said, then got into my fighting stan- "Ah, crud," I muttered, realizing that I had not been doing regular old sparring enough. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd actually practiced fighting someone without ninjutsu or genjutsu.

"Start."

I dodged a really shoddy punch. To be honest, it was pretty weird seeing Lee suck at taijutsu. Very lucky for me, but weird. I leaned away from another punch, then caught his arm. "Stop," I commanded. I uncurled his fist, removed his thumb from his palm, and then forced his hand into a proper fist. "It's a common mistake," I assured him. "If you punch someone with your fingers around your thumb, you'll probably break it. Oh, and hit me with those two big knuckles, not the entire fist." When I released him, he cautiously punched me. "Good," I said after catching his hand with mine. "However, I'm afraid that now I have to..." I twisted around and slung his arm over my shoulder in an attempt to suplex him or something. "Finish you!" Key word being attempt... I may or may not have only lifted him onto my back...

"I don't think you did what you were attempting to do..." he said.

"Stupid physics. I always hated that subject..." I shrugged and just dropped backwards in what I hoped looked like a planned move. I really needed to work on my taijutsu...

"Okay, that was not at all what I was expecting..." Tenko sighed. "Kouki wins, I guess..."

"You okay?" I asked as I got off Lee.

He sighed. "I am fine..."

The third noteworthy match was Neji versus Yamanaka Kaede, a hotblooded girl with orange hair like that one Fu guy and red eyes. While Neji was technically a pseudo jinchuriki by now from my experiments, his powers were weird and technically even his "passive" strength would be considered an active jutsu, especially because he could turn it off. The Yamanaka, on the other hand, was surprisingly strong for a Yamanaka. Maybe she was part Uzumaki? She did have red hair. At any rate, while Neji was almost overpowered at one point, he beat her. He was a genius after all.

kukukuku~

"Hey," I said, then sat down on the floor next to Lee. Okay, I actually floated just a bit off the ground, but the sentiment was there... "Sorry about beating you so bad."

He sighed. "No, it's okay... I already knew I would not do well here. I cannot use ninjutsu or genjutsu, and you saw how my taijutsu is..."

"Can you channel chakra into things?" I asked. I really wanted to know what would happen if I started him off early.

"I can, but no matter how hard I try, I will not be able to use a jutsu. The doctor said that there is a problem with my chakra coils, so I am incapable of molding my chakra into jutsu..."

I shrugged. "Not exactly a dealbreaker, if you're willing to work extra hard."

"What do you mean?"

I summoned my crystal ball. Yeah, I know it's kind of a stereotype, but I'd made the jutsu from that crystal ball jutsu Sarutobi used to see Naruto in the first episode, plus it did kinda look cool. "Watch this." I waved my hands over the floating crystal ball, casting the jutsu. Despite not activating my Shoraigan, the crystal ball changed to show another location. By using a physical medium, I could show my vision to others and didn't have the same backlash, though with the downside that it wasn't private and I didn't get nearly as much information.

"See that man?" I said, pointing to Gai training. "He used to be about where you are, but now he's one of the most dangerous shinobi in Konoha through taijutsu alone. Do you want to know how?" I put away the ball and looked at Lee. His eyes said yes. "An insane amount of practice, training, and diligence, combined with challenging himself to do something even more difficult whenever he fails a training exercise. You should probably take time to rest every once in a while, especially at first to keep from permanently damaging your body, but I see a fire in you. There's no reason why you couldn't become as good as or perhaps even better than him one day."

There were stars in his eyes, and he was almost crying. "Do you think so?"

I gave him a small grin. "I know so. Also..." I pulled out the other thing I had for him. "This is a bit of a beginner's fuinjutsu kit, at least my version of it. Try and see if you have some aptitude for it. You may not be able to inscribe seals with chakra alone, but if you pick up enough you might be able to work wonders with seals." Imagine Rock Lee with the ability to make and use seals. To be honest I have no clue what would happen but I do know it would be amazing.

He stood up, energized, and gave me a deep bow. "Thank you very much! I will make sure to become a splendid ninja!"

My grin was genuine. "I'm sure you will."

kukukuku~

Usagi

I lurched along the dirt path. My new body of stone and earth was not suitable for travel in the slightest, but I had no other alternatives. It seemed that compatibility with myself was not quite as common outside of Konoha as I assumed it was at first, and the rabbit was either a stroke of luck on my part or perhaps somehow related to how Kurama was present in End Valley at one point. Perhaps his chakra acted as a primer. Still, I did sense a few scattered people in small villages who had compatibility, though I couldn't in good conscience simply abduct and kill an innocent person. I needed to find a bandit with compatibility.

"Well well well, what do we have here?" a source of malicious intent jeered as two men appeared from behind trees. Speak of the devil... The two bandits, however, were nowhere near compatible.

"There's a toll to use this road," the other bandit said, brandishing his sickle. They had yet to realize my anomalous existence on account of the cloak, gloves, and mask I had fashioned for myself.

"Oh," I said. "I do apologize. I was not made aware of the toll. You really should put up a sign."

"You gettin' smart with us?" the first bandit asked. "We'll rough you up!" I probably didn't look like much of a threat either. The body I'd formed for myself was rather on the short side, to save energy. It was still definitely in the adult range, but not by much.

"You two are bandits, aren't you?" I asked. I already knew the answer, of course.

"Of course we're bandits, now give us all your loot!" The sickle-wielding bandit rushed me. That was a mistake. My body became fluid, the eyeholes of my mask gained two red lights where my eyes should have been, and I dodged effortlessly. I removed one of my gloves and placed my hand on his face, my hand like a lunging viper.

"Do you take chakra instead?" I asked, then infused his body with demon sage chakra. He dropped his weapon as his brain itself was altered in such a way that, while he didn't technically die, he certainly couldn't have been said to have been truly alive anymore. I removed my hand, revealing red markings across his face.

"What the hell!?" the other bandit shrieked. Without turning to him, I sent a signal to my new thrall. The bandit that I had just "killed" snarled like a beast and rushed at him. The... I suppose the best word for it would have been "zombie" bit the man on his arm with partially crystallized teeth. The man shrieked, throwing the zombie away and running in terror. I nodded to myself and split my attention in two, one half of my mind focusing on breaking the zombie down into more demon gems and the other tending to the bandit.

When my zombie bit him it infected him with my chakra, causing the cells in his arm to start to transform into the demon gem-like material that I'd used to zombify his partner. I altered the rate at which the infection spread, causing it to slow near the surface while speeding up within his blood and bones. My hope was that he'd notice the infection, cut his arm off and assume he got it all, then hurry back to his leader while carrying the infection. That would be fun. When I was done with the carrier, I turned my full attention to the zombie, which was almost prepared. With a final command, the corpse disintegrated into red powder. Some of it scattered to the wind, where it would be carried elsewhere. The rest came to me. About half of it went behind my mask, where it bolstered my existing gem. The other half I formed into another gem that I hid within my cloak.

With that done, I placed all of his belongings into a bag I had tied to my makeshift body under the cloak. I wasn't to know fuinjutsu, after all. I continued down the lonely road, ever-so-slightly quicker than I had before.

#naruto #naruto fanfiction #fanfiction #Foresight is 20/20 #F20 CH14

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secondhand-trash · 6 years ago

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Freddy Freeman(Shazam!)- Art Exchange

A/N: Nobody asked for this but here is another fic I wrote out of impulse. This is inspired by something similar that happened to my friend and the biggest struggle I had when I wrote this was probably the fact that I have no idea how American schools work lol

Description: Drawing exaggerated pictures of your teachers is a part of high school culture and you had fully embraced it as a part of your school life. You just didn’t expect someone to actually see it, let alone replying to it with an even more comedic doodle.

Wordcount: 2166

Playlist:

Young Volcanos//Fall Out Boy

Check Yes Juliet//We The Kings

Something You Want//Against the Current

You couldn’t help it. Mathematics was boring and the teacher’s monotone lecture did not help keeping you awake at all. Scribbling on your desk was your last attempt at trying to stop your eyelids from closing and to your surprise, it worked. From that moment onwards, you always mindlessly dribble on the corner of your desk in class, occasionally looking up to pretend that you are actually listening. By the time you leave class, half of the wood surface would be covered in graphite strokes, most of which consisted of portraits of your maths teacher.

Sorry Mr Martin, but your round head and goatee was too cartoonish and easy to visualize.

Normally, you would make sure to erase all the doodles on your desk before leaving the room. But your friend had been rambling about this new movie and as you two continued with the conversation after the bell rang, you completely forgot about the markings on the school property.

Your mistake ended up being a delightful surprise for another poor kid who was stuck in the exact same situation as you did.

Freddy tried, he really did but he hated this subject with his whole heart. Why did the school think it was a good idea to ask you to calculate the volume of a pool when no person in their right mind would purchase a goddamn pool without knowing its measurements?

He was quick to notice that something was off about his usual seat the moment he walked pass the door. Taking a more careful look at the patterns on the desk as he sat down, he instinctively pressed his hand to his lips to cover up the snicker that would have drawn too much unwanted attention as more pupils started entering the room. On the corner of his desk was a figure that somehow resembles an egg but with a goatee. He didn’t have to take another glance to know that said egg was their beloved teacher, completely unaware that he had been immortalized in his student’s masterpiece as he handed out the new assignment.

Whoever did this was a genius, Freddy thought to himself as he scanned through the other amusing doodles on the desk. He reached into his bag and scrambled for a pencil, scribbling away while trying to surpress the large grin on his face.

“Mr Freeman? Mr Freeman, are you listening?”

Shit. “Yes Mr Martin?”

“Tell me, what is the answer to this question?”

“Oh crap.”

“What if he saw it?” You nervously said to your friend as you two made a turn down the hallway.

“It’s gonna be fine,” your friend said, clearing annoyed after hearing you went on about how much trouble you would be in if Mr Martin found out about the little artwork you made of him in class. Drawing in class, on school property AND making fun of your teacher? God knows how many days of detention this could cost you.

You sighed in relieve as Mr Martin did not even turn to look at you when you walked in. You walked straight to your seat to see that all the doodles were still there. Picking up an eraser to remove all hints of your crime, you noticed something that wasn’t there before. Right next to the egg(aka cartoon Mr Martin) you drew was the figure of a man being tied up. The corner of your lips tucked up into a smirk as you saw that the man was tied up by his very, very long facial hair. Whoever left this here clearly paid more attention to the teacher’s goatee more than they did to class like you did.

“Nice drawings, bought me more fun than maths ever did. Hope you don’t mind my little addition:)”

Looking at the scrawled handwriting below the figure, you grinned. You erased the existing drawings on the table and started making another one, all while thinking of a message that you could leave for the person who would be sitting there later on.

Needless to say, you were thrilled when you got back to the seat the following day to see that you actually got a reply.

You never thought that you would ever say this in your entire lifetime but you started really looking forward to maths class. Every time you walked into the classroom, you checked the table for new drawings and messages immediately and you were never disappointed. Your anonymous friend always pulled through and the stuff that appeared on the wooden surface only got weirder and weirder, so weird that you found yourself smiling uncontrollably when you look at them in class. (”What exactly are you smiling at?” “Oh, nothing. Just my love for algebra, Mr Martin.”)

Your friends teased you about it, saying that you looked like a fool in love when you grin at your desk. To that, you shrugged. You never showed them the doodles and you weren’t planning to, much to their curiosity and annoyance. Somehow, you wanted the whole exchange to be a secret between you and the other person involved. The idea that you had an unspoken bond with someone you had not met gave you an odd sense of excitement.

That was until one day you entered the classroom with your usual anticipation and found nothing but your own handwriting, not even a single word next to the lines you made.

You tried to continue leaving little drawings and notes here and there on your desk everyday but you were met with the same disappointment when you check in on the markings the next day.

“I don’t get it! What happened? They didn’t say anything, they just vanished like they fell of the surface of the earth! Are they ok? Are they angry at me for anything I might have done? Are they still alive? What if-”

“Can you please calm down?” You friend yelled, throwing the fork down onto the tray and earning the both of you a few glances from the people sitting near your table, “That person does not even know who you are!”

“Well, I know!” You snapped back, “But there must be a reason as to why they suddenly stop replying! It makes no sense!”

You friend rolled their eyes and continued munching on their food, deciding that letting you express your frustration might be a wiser idea than putting any form of rationality in your head.

Little did you know, the same conversation was unfolding in the far corner of the cafeteria.

“I should have left my number!” Freddy sighed, “And now there’s no way I would ever find out who my art buddy is!”

“I mean, I get your frustration but maybe don’t take it out on your food? The mashed potato is innocent, ya’know?” Billy said in amusement as his brother let out another muffled groan, “Mr Martin wouldn’t have forced you to sit in the front row if you at least tried to pretend that you were paying attention, just saying.”

“You are no help.”

“Have you ever thought of waiting before class starts to see who’s the one in that seat?”

“First of all, that sounds creepy.” The shorter boy folded his arms in front of his chest, “Second, what am I supposed to do after that? Walk up to that person and be like ‘Hey, I’m the weirdo who you had been bonding with through our mutual mocking towards our teacher, wanna be friends?’”

“I thought you want to know who the person is?”

“Well yeah,” Freddy said, "but the thought of actually being around them in real life kinda scares me. Can’t we just go back to how things used to be? When I can pretend to be cool by hiding under the facade of my excellent art?”

“How so very confident of you, if only you have as much confidence when you are facing real people.”

“What class are we having?” You friend asked, desperately trying to change the subject. Your rambling carried on after you two finished lunch and they were slowly losing patience.

“History.”

“Damn it! Really? I forgot about the essay we are supposed to hand in! I’m so fucked...”

You mockingly laughed, “Same, but the difference between me and you is that I was smart enough to check my schedule when I got to school this morning so I managed to finish it in maths class.”

Reaching into you bag, you search for your paper and your smirk slowly fade as you realized that it was no where to be found. “Shit, I must have left it in the drawer.”

“Ha ha, jokes on you. Now we can both get into trouble together.”

You glared at your friend, “I’m gonna go get it back.”

“Are you sure? I think class is about to start.”

“I’ll just say that my stomach hurts and I was at the bathroom. With the quality of the food they are serving here, I’m sure that no one will suspect a thing.”

Freddy mindlessly flicked his pen as he sulked in his new seat. Class was no fun and he could not get away with drawing in class anymore with the teacher right in front of him, watching his every move. He was bored out of his mind when the door opened, he looked up to see an unfamiliar figure standing under the frame. Was this person in his class?

“Sorry Mr Martin, I left something here and I need it for class.” The person quickly entered the room and walked pass Freddy after gaining a nod of approval from the teacher. His gaze followed them and his eyes widened in shock as the person stopped in front of his previous seat, pulling a few sheets of paper out of the drawer. He took a quick glance at the paper when they passed his seat again and felt a comforting sense of familiarity when he saw their handwriting. Freddy smiled, earning him a look of confusion from the maths teacher. “Honestly,” the man thought to himself, slightly regretting putting this kid in the front, “why did I decide to be a teacher in the first place?”

“Hey! Wait up!”

You turned around, the voice stopping you in your track as you were walking out of the school building. Not far from you was a boy walking towards you with a crutch in his hand, clearly trying his best to walk at full speed.

“Do you know him?” Your friend whispered in your ear and you slightly shake your head. As he walked closer, you recognized him as the person who was sitting near the door when you went to get your homework in Mr Martin’s room.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I know you?”

The boy scratched the back of his head, realizing that he might have confused you. “Oh, of course. I almost forgot that you don’t know yet,” he said, not looking you in the eye as he speak, “I used to sit at your seat in maths before I got put in the front.”

You beamed as you finally gathered what the boy was trying to say, “That’s you? So that’s why you suddenly stopped replying! Thank god, I thought you were dead or something.”

“No, not dead, just observed by ‘Mr goatee’ 24/7.” he said and you laughed. He reached out his free hand to you, “I’m Freddy.”

“(y/n).” You said and shaked his hand, “I can’t believe I’m actually talking to you in person. I’ve missed you... I mean, talking to you... Like, drawing ‘talking’...” You felt your face burn as everything you said sounded so creepy and you gave your friend a sharp glare as you heard the snickering.

“I missed that too.” Freddy looked right at you and you took the first proper look at him. With the sun and the grin on his face, it looked his eyes were twinkling. You cringed as the thought went pass your head and you felt like such a cliché. But this kid actually got unfairly pretty eyes.

“Now that we did the whole ‘awkward first encounter thing’,” He said and darted his gaze away from you again, “maybe we can hang out sometimes? I know this really nice comic book shop in town, if you’re interested that is.”

You smiled, “I love comics.”

His face lit up and you cursed yourself for being so quick to notice that. “So is tomorrow good?”

“Tomorrow’s good.”

“Cool, I’ll see you then.” He gave you another bright smile before leaving and joining another group of people that you assumed to be his family. Still grinning from ear to ear at what happened, you didn’t notice the sly smile on your friend’s face.

“Ooooooooo someone’s got a date.”

“Shut up.”

#freddy freeman #freddy freeman imagine #freddy freeman x reader #shazam imagine #shazam fanfic #shazam #dc #dc imagine #shazam!#shazam fanfiction

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magioftheseas · 5 years ago

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Artistic Vision

Summary: In which Nene models for Mei despite her insecurities.

Rating: G

Warning: There’s references to Nene’s body image issues and some body-shaming.

Notes: So, like MeiNene is also pretty underrated and I just thought the idea of Nene modeling was too good to resist. Hence, this fic. It’s pretty simplistic but it’s not very often that I get to tackle mundane issues and I hope I still did alright. I also hope we see more interactions from these two in the future.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

The sun is setting, and she’s keeping a little anxious. Orange light filters through, casting the entire art room in an almost eerie, ethereal glow. Nene supposed it could make for quite the romantic scene—but rather than a boy confessing to her, she sits on a pedestal with her feet propped up.

Well, when you put it that way, it does still sound dreamy. I can imagine Aoi in this situation—except Aoi would be getting her face drawn.

Instead, Shijima is fixated on her feet. Her ankles, specifically, with such intensity that Nene almost wishes she could suck them into the depths of her skirt, never to be seen again. Except Shijima had begged her to be allowed to draw them.

“They’d make such a unique subject, Yashiro-san! So distinct! An absolute must to recreate!” she exclaimed. And Nene, desperate to please and easy when it came to flattery, couldn’t turn her down, even if the idea of someone staring at her swollen ankles for hours on end was—perhaps not the scenario she most dreamed about.

Shijima was still scribbling away. Her gaze intense behind her glasses, and it would’ve been flustering if Nene hadn’t gotten used to it after the first hour.

Being a model isn’t nearly as cool as I thought it’d be. I feel all stiff.

“Oh,” Shijima says suddenly, looking up at her. “Do you need a break, Yashiro-san?”

“M-Maybe a little.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Shijima waved her hand, ever friendly. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a human model. And I get too caught up. You know.”

“I know,” Nene echoed quietly. “But, I don’t mind sitting here. I would just...like some water and a minute to stretch out, maybe.”

“No problem. I’ll get you some.”

“I’d appreciate it!”

Shijima sets her sketchbook and pencils aside. She had used multiple ones, which all looked pretty fancy. Nene can only imagine what it would be like if she were having her portrait painted. Even now knowing how tedious modeling was, the idea was an exciting one.

“Such a beautiful, elegant, and perfect young lady you are, Nene-san!” The painter exclaimed. He was, of course, represented by a vaguely but incredibly attractive man. “I couldn’t possibly hope to capture your radiance!”

Nene only laughs, noble and ever so proper.

“As long as just a fraction of my beauty can be shared, it’s all I can wish for!”

“So generous! So humble! I love you so much, Nene-sama!”

Something like that, maybe?

“Ehehehehe.” Nene couldn’t help but giggle. “Oh no, I can’t possibly model for all of you...”

“It’s just me here, Yashiro-san,” Shijima reminded her. Nene yelped, but rather than comment further, Shijima just offers her a cup. “Here’s some water. Sorry that it’s room temperature.”

“T-That’s fine! It’s fine! I’m fine!” Nene took it and nearly downed all of it, nearly choking in the process. Shijima’s face twitched, but when Nene glanced her way, she was perfectly composed. Somehow, she didn’t feel at ease. “Shijima-san, um, you didn’t get any for yourself?”

“I’m fine,” Shijima chirped, much more convincingly than Nene could hope to be. She sits back down, once again taking her sketchbook. “You’re the one unused to all of this.”

“Aha,” Nene laughs dryly, sipping a bit more modestly. “I admit, I’ve only ever dreamed of being in this position before.”

“Was it everything you ever hoped it’d be?” Shijima asked.

“I... Not really.” Nene shook her head. “No offense to Shijima-san, but I was imagining something a little more romantic.”

“Romantic, huh,” Shijima droned, now tapping her pencil to the paper. “Right. There are people out there who think modeling can be more intimate than it actually is. Well. I could always ask to draw you naked—if you’re comfortable with that.”

Flustered, Nene shook her head much more furiously than before.

“J-Just my ankles are fine!”

“I was joking.” It hadn’t really sounded like a joke, but Nene was happy to brush it off regardless. “You know—it’s kind of weird. Talking with you like this.”

“Eh, why?” Nene asked. “We’re friends, aren’t we, Shijima-san?”

Shijima hummed.

“A model and their artist—have a bit of a different relationship than that of friends. But yeah, we’re friends. I was really happy when you agreed to model for me. I did really want to draw your ankles. They really do have such a unique shape.”

I don’t think I can take that positively even if Shijima-san means it that way.

“You’re so self-conscious about them,” Shijima did observe. “Covering them with your hand isn’t going to hide them, Yashiro-san.”

Nene retracted her hand, straightening out her legs even as it was embarrassing to do so. When her eyes inevitably lingered on those swollen ankles of hers, she found herself deflating.

“They’re unique,” she admitted. “But they’re not very attractive, are they?”

Shijima blinks at her. Nene quickly shrugged.

“I-I mean, as happy as I am to help you—I do wish I didn’t have these. These ankles, I mean. I mean...” Her shoulders trembled as she forced a laugh. “The make me look like a daikon. Daikons aren’t exactly known for being pretty.”

“You don’t think you’re pretty?”

I mean—there’s a reason why you’d rather draw my weird ankles instead of my face, right?

The question lingers on the tip of her tongue. Her face feels hot. She wonders what expression she must be making because it feels awfully twisted. She can’t even tell Shijima’s gaze right now, with those thick glasses as a barrier. All the same, she must surely be acting like an annoyance right now.

“Sorry. Just forget I said anything, Shijima-san.”

Shijima hums but she’s poised to resume drawing all the same.

“Straighten your back please, Yashiro-san. Your posture needs to be the same as before.”

Nene does so. After a few more adjustments, she returned to how she should be, and Shijima resumed.

“I should be done in a bit. You can still keep drinking water, Yashiro-san. Just don’t move your feet.”

Nene nodded, taking another sip.

“I just said not to move, Yashiro-san.”

“A-Ack, sorry! Sorry, sorry!”

“I’m joking, you’re fine.”

“Eh.” That didn’t sound like much of a joke... “Okay, then.”

She fixes her posture all the same, ever self-conscious. Shijima doesn’t make a second remark and her face is still stoic. Unreadable. If Nene hadn’t seen her excitable before, she’d wonder if Shijima could emote at all.

That’s such a judgy thought. She reprimanded herself. Aoi would be ashamed of you, Nene.

Still—since she was thinking of Aoi again, she wondered something else.

Shijima-san is comfortable with me because we’re friends. But there might be other people she’d rather draw.

“Even without looking at your face, I can tell you’re deep in thought,” Shijima remarked then, making her flinch. “Careful, Yashiro-san. Seriously. Don’t move that much.”

“S-Sorry, I was just taken aback!” she exclaimed. “I-I mean, you’re so stern sometimes but—you’re pretty perceptive too, Shijima-san. I guess that’s the eye of an artist for you.”

Shijima makes a non-committal hum.

“I know you said to forget before,” Shijima began. “But—sorry, Yashiro-san. I’m still bothered by it. You’re so harsh on yourself just for—what? Your uniquely swollen ankles?”

“Slender legs are prettier,” Nene said, just a tad more frustrated than she wanted to be. “Guys don’t like thick legs. They don’t care for thick ankles, either.”

“I think they’re artistically inspiring,” Shijima replied. “In fact, when you enroll in college, you should maybe see if you can model for figure drawing classes.”

“While does sound nice,” Nene murmurs, definitely thinking of admiring college boys before shattering that fantasy with her own metaphorical fists. “I’d rather not get leered at like a shrunken head in an oddities museum.”

Shijima adjusts her glasses. She pauses in erasing.

“Is that how you see it? What a shame. But—I guess that’s just what it is, being concerned about stuff like that. I wouldn’t know—with how unremarkable I look, I don’t get much attention. And I don’t really care to, either.” She resumes, sighing as she does. “But—I do love drawing your ankles. And I think—they’re beautiful in their distinction. You shouldn’t judge yourself by narrow beauty standards. Those aren’t just limiting, they’re destructive. And the people who prefer them are often impossible to please anyway.”

Ah, huh. Shijima-san sounds—pretty mature, just then. Still. Still.

“Who’d want an ugly chick with fat daikon legs?”

Nene’s hands fist into her dress for a while before she forces herself to relax.

“Done,” Shijima droned and with an actual smile, she turns her sketchbook around to show off her work. “What do you think, Yashiro-san?”

“Yeah,” Nene said distantly, nodding and swallowing. “Those are—definitely my ankles.”

It was eerie how perfect a recreation they were. Nene could see in horrifying detail how rounded they were, how even her feet looked big, toes too curled and the arches too defined. When was the last time she did her nails? They desperately needed a clipping, and oh god, had she missed hair on her legs the last time she shaved—?!

But, somehow, in the midst of her spiral, Nene did notice Shijima’s fingers. Stained with graphite. She noticed how the paper had been crinkled from having to redraw parts several times over. The recreation was perfect—only because Shijima had been so insistent. And Shijima looked so proud of it, too, even though Nene hated the look of them so much.

Blinking, Nene could ultimately only smile in return.

“You did a great job, Shijima-san.”

Whatever she sees—she’s passionate about. That must count for something.

“You weren’t too bad of a model,” Shijima said. “Can we do this again sometime, Yashiro-san?”

She hesitated but she ended up nodding, smile tightening.

I want to see what she sees one of these days.

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #mei shijima #shijima mei #nene yashiro #yashiro nene #MeiNene #Magi Fics #I'm trying to write more hanako-kun fics #one of these days I'll actually write a fic that focuses on the main ship proper but rn #I sure love writing girls

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glmtwnbrtz · 5 years ago

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“I just ate a piece of Satan” “I like gods but I don’t like rules” “I’m Satan” “No I’m Satan” .. “Fine I’m the Satan of the gay hell” “WHAT DO YOU WANT” “money”.. “ok that’s fair” “I’m gonna memorize every word in the alphabet” “You have the Satan meat” *pulling on shirt* “I need my top!” “No you don’t” “I have my gay shirt” “I’m gray and gay” “I heard murder and was immediately interested” *eating a lollipop* “This tastes like nail polish”.. ”Oh wait this is watermelon” *playing chess* “Oh no I can’t castle” *teacher to student playing chess* “I just want to kill you” *playing chess again* “W-wait I don’t wanna win yet” *other dude wins* “Now I get to flip the table” *flips table* *teacher notices* “Hey only I get to flip the table!” “Why are you scrolling through Instagram that’s not very French class of you” “Yay murder!” “Change taxes I AM NOT THE GOVERNMENT” “This is your child” *throws plastic bag* *pops it* “NO YOU KILLED IT” “Wow (Redacted) spanking (redacted)?” “AGAIN??!!!” *blocking door* *pushes door open* “Literally.. just die” *wacked with rainbow glowing stick* “You have been gay-ed” “Your long son” *pops plastic bag* “NOOO” “I’m getting big brain” “Bouncy Ben” “Get murdered” “I don’t like homophobist” “Oh no gay” “McZucc” “I feel like stabbing today. You wanna get stabbed buddy?” “Nani the fuq?” “She’s taller than me she’s not gonna get scared by a small rat” “Do you have any disgusting pepperonis I could have?” “I am the disgusting pepperoni” “Yummy” “All these kids are gonna die” “So are you” “Fricc” *smacking table in unison* “Is this a cult ritual?” “Yes” “Is the bear high?” “Got too much shrooms” “They’re private!” “Pirate? Arrrr, ho ho ho” ... “Wait no” “Is it socially acceptable to jump out a window?” “Ok go do it!” “What’s wrong senpapi?” “I have Jesus on my shir- OH MY GOD” “(Redacted) peed himself!” “That’s scarring” “Why are you peeing on the floor (redacted)?” “HELP HE’S HARASSING MY SON” “Her illegally adopted son” “Oh no” *slowly getting pushed into closet* “Wow never thought I’d be in here again” “Two, four, six, eight, why do people still think think I’m straight!” “He’s Shrexy” “Yeet her out the window Shrek” “Oh I was thinking he’d roundhouse kick her and jump out the window” “They’ve been Jesus-ed” “Shrek is Jesus confirmed” “Is this a cult ritual?” “Shrek’s lookin thicc” “Awww! Now he commits murder” “He looks like my dad but white” “NANI??!!” “Shrek is your dad” “He used logic in my murderous plot” “That white guy is good at blocking” “The Grinch is dummy thicc” “If the Grinch can get someone, I can get someone” “You’re short!” “No I’m not!” “I’m sad!” “Hiya high rabbit!” “Let the gays be gays” “You can’t go wrong with a little bit of Hannah Montana” *putting a pillow under someone’s head* “What are you doing?” “Oh just making you comfortable on your death bed” “I’m so evil that I almost killed an entire civilization” “that’s the spirit!” “Why are you blowing on a wiener- that sounds wrong” “Your water bottle is peeing on me!” “I’m sorry I hurt your wenis like that” “Ow my knee!” “I ate them” “Nooooo!!” “Munchie munchie” “Your spine is mine!” “My water is running out of water” “I hear kazoos in the distance, oh no” “Oh no he’s gay too” “I started an epidemic” “You started a cult, that’s what you did” “What do I hear about hiding a body?” “Nothing nothing, don’t worry about it” “That’s how I peaked academically, the graphite in my head powered my brain” “Never give up on your dreams, keep sleeping!” “She’s eyeing my pepperonis in a way I don’t like” “Id love to be murdered by Ms (redacted)” “What why?” “To say I got chased by Ms (redacted)” “Sorry I don’t speak dumba**” “I want to learn how to say eat a frickin toaster in Japanese but it’s too hard” “Hello fellow gays” “Hello my fellow homos” “I may be straight but you guys are great” *tugging on friends sleeve* “I don’t get paid enough for this” “This tastes interesting I’m scared” “You should be” “Ariel left the ocean to get some d**k” “I strangled Winnie the Pooh” “You’re all gonna die, especially you, and you. You’re gonna die a slow and painful death” “The law can go die” “What’s one of my gay quotes” “Aww someone erased the gay” “I am being threatened” “What is the threat” “He’s threatening to shove his balls in my pants” “Where did the gays go? They’ve disappeared” *one minute later* “Oh there’s the gay, I’ve missed you guys!” *two minutes later* “I lost the gays again! Wait never mind there they are” “I can’t speak anymore since I got kabonked” “I don’t like you anymore since you kabonked me” “You are banished from this unholy planet earth” “How dare you turn the devil into a furry” “You two are banned from living” “He doesn’t deserve the wee wees” “Math with Alabama hammerman uwu” “We wouldn’t have to this now if you crackheads just listened to me!” “I am not crack-I’m not crack *laughs*” “I’m high off my own thoughts I’m sorry” “You sound like a hyperventilating cat” “I love cracking bones” “Do you wanna know why there’s green on their hands? They killed Shrek” “I-“ “We do not need to go to the cult corner” “Stop being mean to each other or else I’m gonna steal your thumbs” “You juiced the pencil”

#I will not be accepting questions about this #my shit #high school in a nutshell

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something-tofightfor · 6 years ago

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He’s Not Here - Part 11

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Word Count: 3650

Rating: M (light swearing)

Author’s Note: I don’t own Billy’s character. I’m just writing this for fun.

Parts 1-10 can be found on my Masterlist (link in bio)!

Thank you guys for reading and commenting on this... I am so glad you’re enjoying it

Summary: What happens when you come face to face with someone from Billy’s past?

** 16 months out from the events of DD S2 **

Tagging: If you want to be added or removed, let me know.

@banditthewriter @breanime @obscurilicious @padfootagain@madamrogersstorytelling @ooo-barff-ooo @agent-bossypants@suchatinyinfinity @chibiyanai @songtoyou @doneobrien @ilkaeliseb @editboutique @marauderskeeper @delicatelilyflower @drinix @likethetailofacomet @king4thesirens @ymariejp @blah-blah-fuckit-shit @ethereal-heavcns @mr-robot-x @rageshots @shinebrightlikeafanbase @zaffrenotes @audreychaz @king4thesirens

Billy had been home for five weeks, and things were perfect between you. You still had your separate apartments, but spent a great deal of time with each other even though Billy had found a job. It suited him, you thought as he’d come home from a long day at work, throwing his feet up on your coffee table as he stretched out on the couch, fingers locked together behind his head. He’s perfect for it. Through Frank, Billy had been hired in at a specialty gym as a personal trainer that specialized in high intensity training programs with a focus on personal safety and accountability. Not only did it mean that he stayed in shape, but it meant that he got to channel his energy into something positive. It wasn’t quite like the military, but it kept him busy, and from the sound of things, plenty of men - and even a few women - had signed up for his classes. “They look at me like … I dunno, like I’m a goddamn... �� He searched for the word, his brow furrowed. “Like I got all the answers, and like I can make them have the motivation to do the program.” He sighed. “It’s great an’ all, but I know that some of them aren’t cut out for it.” You stepped out of your kitchen and over to him, leaning over to kiss him on the mouth, one hand flat against his chest, the other gripping the back of the couch.

“If there’s anyone that can help people get into shape it’s you, Russo.” He grinned, leaning forward to catch you as you pulled back, his hands holding your face in place as he kissed you again. “Mmmm… what was that for?” Your eyes opened as you stared into his, which were full of light and a clear calm that you hadn’t seen much since he’d come home. He took deep breath, shaking his head and raising his shoulders in a shrug.

“I… you kissed me first, I was just…” He smiled again, one thumb brushing over your lips as your fingers curled into the material of his shirt. “I like this, coming home to each other.” You nodded. I do too. “Shoulda done this sooner with you.” That look was still in his eyes, but you saw it fading a little, changing into distance and you cut off his next words with another kiss, short and hard.

“Well, we’re doing it now, and that’s all that matters.” You straightened up and looked down at him, taking a breath. “Dinner’s going to be ready, and we need to talk about the auction next week.” He sat up, a devious smile on his face. I know that look. “You need to get a new suit, because I’m not going with you dressed in -”

“Don’t you worry, I’ve got one already.” You bit your lip and raised your eyebrows in surprise. You do? “Our first public date isn’t gonna be in the same suit I wore with Emily.” You closed your eyes, feeling a rush of relief and a surge of excitement. You’d only seen Billy dressed up once, and even though you loved him in his fatigues and his casual clothes, there was something about the prospect of him in a suit - and on your arm - that made you physically ache. “ I’m even gonna wear a tie.” You both laughed, and you made your way back to the kitchen, hearing Billy get up after you. You were chopping up vegetables for a salad when you felt his arms go around you, one hand making its way beneath your shirt so that his palm could rest on your stomach, the other one curved around your waist. His lips met the side of your neck and the two of you stood like that for a few minutes, him watching your movements silently, pressed up against you from behind. He cleared his throat as he brought his mouth up to your ear, taking the lobe beneath his teeth for a moment before speaking. “You’re pretty good with that knife.”

---

You straightened your dress and took a deep breath, plastering a smile on your face as you looked into the mirror. Even though you’d been working events like the auction for a few years, they were still overwhelming. At least I’m here with Billy this time. At the thought of your date, you smiled - a real one - and glanced down at your neck, where a thin white gold chain hung, a small charm nestled at the base of your throat. Reaching up with one hand, you touched the jewelry, cocking your head to the side.

Billy had been zipping up your dress for you when his hands had moved from your body, causing you to turn and face him at the absence of his touch. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a rectangular box and handing it to you with a frown on his face. “Billy, what’s this?” He shrugged his shoulders and waited for you to open it, studying your face with his wide eyes, silently. You pulled the box open and your lips parted, looking back up at him and feeling your teeth close against your bottom lip as you bit back a smile- but not for long. “For real?”

“Yeah, I…thought you’d like it, and figured that it was… that we... “ He paused. “You get it, right? I’ve never bought a woman jewelry before, so...” You reached out, your arms going around his neck as you hugged him tightly, feeling his hands flattening against your back and holding you close for long moments before you pulled away.

“Of course, Billy. The first time we went anywhere together it was…” His eyes lit up, and you handed him the box, a hopeful tone in your voice. “Put it on for me?” He grinned, motioning for you to turn and the next thing you knew, his hands were moving your hair out of the way and you brought one up too, to hold it up away from your body. Billy draped the necklace across your skin, tugging gently on it as he clasped it at the nape of your neck, his fingertips trailing against the sensitive area and sending a shiver throughout your entire body.

You stepped over to the mirror in his bedroom, your own hand coming up to touch the glittering crown pendant he’d adorned you with, and one of his hands went to your hip, the other encircling your upper body. Billy kissed your bare shoulder, his beard scratching against your skin, and the two of your stood motionless in his room for long minutes before you sighed, breaking the moment. It was time to go to work - after all, you had people to impress and an auction to supervise.

Taking one more look in the bathroom mirror, you turned to walk out of the room and were met with Emily’s smiling face. Wonderful. She greeted you warmly and you flashed your fake smile at her before responding. “Good to see you, Emily.” The blonde busied herself with washing her hands, looking over her shoulder at you as you made your way to the door.

“We’re seated with you again tonight. I emailed the girl in charge of the organization, and figured that this way, we’d have some time to catch up.” Oh, that’s going to be interesting. “Did you bring Bryan again? You two seemed friendly.” You smiled again at her, one hand on the door handle.

“I didn’t, actually. “ A pause. “What about you?” Her eyes glittered, head tilted to the side as she raised an eyebrow.

“Just a girlfriend. My preferred date turned me down.” She sounded sad, but you just shrugged your shoulders, pulling the heavy oak door open. Does she suspect?

“That’s too bad, Emily. I’m sorry to hear that.” Her bitter laugh followed you out the door, but you took a deep breath - it seemed like that was all you’d been doing all night - and headed down the hall and back toward the main room. All of the items up for auction were placed around the large, open area in the museum’s atrium, and as you mingled with the guests, you slipped into a comfortable routine. This was work, this was what you were good at - and even though your company had only been brought on to handle the dinner and cocktail portion of the evening, you’d worked closely with the other group before, and knew many of the attendees.

The cocktail hour (actually two hours long) was meant to give people a chance to look over the items and learn more about where their money would be going. Instead of a charity dinner and dance, Emily’s father had decided that an auction would raise more, and so that was the theme of the year. The idea was to get New York’s elite good and liquored up with some food in their bellies before the bidding started, and it seemed to be working. “My next tour will be my fifth.” You heard his voice before you saw him, and because you’d had to leave before Billy had, the glimpse of him you got was your first of the evening - and your heart stopped.

He was dressed in a graphite gray suit, and as you stepped closer, you saw that it was patterned subtly with a plaid design. It fit him like a glove, and the crisp white undershirt and pocket square made his skin glow, but the jet black tie with its subtle iridescent sheen complemented his eyes better than anything you’d seen in your entire life. Billy was conversing easily with a small group of men and women, a drink held in his right hand, his left comfortably inserted into his pocket. He said that he doesn’t want or need this life, but he’s good at it - the conversation, the mingling… he’s a natural. Billy’s head tilted back in a laugh as he removed the hand from his pocket, reaching out to shake the one that was being offered to him, eyes bright. Billy didn’t look like a Marine, he looked like a businessman, and he’d even gotten a haircut in the time after you’d left and before he arrived. I can’t wait to get my hands on that later tonight. You’d never seen Billy with an undercut, but now that you had, you never wanted him to do anything else with it.

Even as you walked toward him, his head turned to you, eyes locking and you saw Billy’s lips part. He’d seen you in your dress before you left for the event, but it was like everyone else in the room disappeared as his eyes moved over you from head to toe, the tip of his tongue poking out from his mouth. He wasn’t looking at Emily like that last time. You felt yourself smile as the two of you reached each other, his hand gently caressing your bicep, his fingers trailing downward and over your elbow, stopping at your forearm. “Good evening, Mr. Russo.” You kept your voice level, even though you were anything but calm, and Billy winked at you, leading you back to the group he’d been with.

“This one right here is behind most of this.” You blushed, shaking your head and reminding him that you’d only been tasked with the dinner and drinking portion of the night. “Well, those are the most important parts, right?” The men and women that Billy was gathered with turned their attention toward you, and despite trying to keep things professional, you felt his hand pressing firmly against the small of your back, thumb circling slowly as you talked.

By the time you’d been seated for dinner, your mind had been working overtime, comparing this night to the first night you’d met Billy. First and foremost, even though he’d interacted with other women - and you’d seen it happen - the conversations had been purely professional and cordial. He’d gotten you drinks - and you paid attention to him in the line (he hadn’t spoken to anyone). He didn’t introduce himself as your boyfriend, but that was something you both had agreed on; he’d wanted to do so, but you’d reminded him that you needed the contract, and so in order to network, you couldn’t risk Emily finding out too soon. Why should I care about her? Billy was seated to your right, and in another call back to your first encounter, he’d waited until you sat to get in line for more drinks, not wanting your glasses to be empty throughout dinner.

While he’d been gone, Emily and her friend - Regan - had come to the table, settling in. Your heartbeat quickened, but you remained outwardly calm, saying hello and falling into conversation with the others at the table. What’s taking Billy so long? You sighed, sipping your water and answering a question that you’d been asked when you saw Emily’s eyes widen and brighten. Here he comes. “Billy Russo, it’s a surprise to see you here.” She was speaking in a breathy tone, leaning forward with her hands flat against the table. “You look phen-”

“Got you your drink.” He smoothly slid into the seat next to you, and you glanced over at him, feeling the color rise in your cheeks as he passed you the glass. “Whiskey. Double. Had to wait for them to bring out a new bottle because all they had open was the cheap stuff.” Bting your lip, you smiled at him, mouthing the words ‘thank you’. Billy cleared his throat, turning his attention to the other woman, the long fingers of one hand smoothing his tie down. “Hello, Emily.” The girl just looked confused now, and you watched as she looked between you and Billy, a frown on her face. “Happy to be here, had to support this. Your dad’s events are always a big deal.” The blonde’s eyes widened.

“Are you here with… her?” The tone of Emily’s voice would have bothered you normally, but even as the waiters delivered the starting course, Billy’s hand found yours on the tabletop, smoothly flipping it over before he swiped his thumb across your wrist a few times, much the same way that you did with your thumb and his palm. Emily’s gaze turned hard, and her friend Regan only stared at Billy. “Wow, Billy. I can’t believe you.”

“Emily, I didn’t want to…” You started to speak, but Billy cut you off, raising his free hand and gesturing to the blonde.

“Emily and I came to the last event together, and it’s actually the night I met this one right here.” Billy pointed at you. “We hit it off right away and have been friends ever since.” He licked his lips, a pensive look on his face. “We’re together now, but it took some time, and it’s still…” He sighed, turning his head to stare at you, brown eyes earnest. “Had to support my girlfriend, right?” And there it is. No turning back now. Billy removed his hand from yours before bringing it up to your cheek and moving the backs of his fingers across your skin tenderly. “Let’s eat.” He was smirking at you, but it wasn’t malicious - it was just Billy, and you nodded, feeling yourself smile back.

Throughout the course of the meal, the conversation at the table flowed freely - not only between you and Billy, but between the other six people sitting there as well. Emily spoke to Billy frequently, but his attention was never focused on her, and you could tell she was frustrated. Serves you right, you needy bitch. Toward the end of dinner, after the announcement had been made that the auction would be starting in roughly fifteen minutes, Billy excused himself to go to the bathroom, and the other two couples rose from the table, leaving you with Regan and Emily. Oh boy. “I think I’m going to go and get another drink, Em… you want anything?” Regan’s voce was timid but you could tell she was feeling the tension, and the blonde waved her off, staring at you.

“So.” She began only after her friend had left. “So you’re fucking Billy now.” Her words hit you like a slap, but you knew she was just trying to rile you up. “He’s good in bed, isn’t he?” She arched an eyebrow, shifting in her seat. “So you’re why he turned me down this time.” She closed her eyes, sighing. When her eyes opened again, the stare in them was filled with anger. “Just wait til he gets sick of you, til he finds someone that catches his eye and offers him another option.” The woman sneered, finishing her drink. “Did you sleep with him that night? That first night? I bet you did.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, Emily, but I didn’t.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t care if you believe me, but it took almost two months, and - “

“Two months? He was in front of you for two months, and you didn’t jump on him? God, and he stuck around? Waited for you?” She shook her head. “I thought you would have learned from last time that dragging him to something like this wouldn’t work out well for you.” You felt a hand on your shoulder and tensed, but when they spoke, you realized it was just Billy.

“I offered to come here with her. I wanted to. She didn’t have to beg me.” He laughed - the sound music to your ears and then continued. “I can’t believe you’d be so catty to her, Emily. It’s not her fault I didn’t want to see you anymore after I got bored.” The blonde’s eyes widened, but Billy wasn’t done. “Don’t you dare hold my decisions over her head, either. She’s damn good at her job, and tonight’s going to be a success.” Emily’s jaw dropped. “You’re a pretty girl, you deserve better than someone like me.” A compliment? For her? You looked up at Billy, who was staring down at you, a sad look on his face. “We should get out of here.”

Nodding, you stood, allowing him to wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you tightly to him. “Wait, what about her? Doesn’t she deserve better too, or does that line only apply to people you used to fuck?” There was a sarcastic tone to Emily’s voice, but Billy wasn’t thrown off.

“Nah, she probably deserves better too, but I’m gonna keep her around until she figures it out. I got plans for this one.” Emily threw her hands up and shook her head, eyes rolling harder than you’d ever seen before. Ouch. As she stormed away from the table, Billy leaned down to kiss your temple. “You do deserve better than me, and we both know it… but I’m too selfish to let you go.” Reaching out with one hand, you closed your fingers around Billy’s tie, tugging gently. His eyes widened.

“There are a ton of rooms in this museum, Russo.” That smirk came back on his face, and you continued, eyes dropping to his chest. “How about we find an empty one and you give me a reminder of exactly what I deserve and what those plans include?” His eyes darkened in seconds, and he nodded, beginning to lead you to the main doors. I don’t care what you think I deserve, Billy Russo, I love you.

---

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #the punisher #billy russo x reader imagine #billy russo x reader fiction #billy russo x reader story #billy x reader story #my writing #long post #he's not here #hes not here #billy x reader fic #billy x reader fanfiction #billy russo x reader fanfiction

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cosmichoneyedblossoms · 6 years ago

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Faded Polaroid Love

Pairing: Photographer!Yoo Kihyun x Art Student! Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Word Count: 3,098

Requested: Yes

“Today we take our sketch pads and pencils out into the open to grace our beautiful model, Layla.” The professor introduced our model for the class—a flowing cornucopia of golden tousled locks, electric blue irises, constellations of freckles placed upon her tanned skin. Her skin seemed to hold no imperfections as she bowed, greeting the class, “Gather your things and let's take a trip out to the garden.” You stood from your easel, slipping your supplies back into your messenger bag, following in tow with the rest of the class as you filed outside to the garden.

Spring was definitely in full bloom, the cherry blossom trees were fanning out their pastel pink petals all across campus, painting the school grounds in beautiful shades of pinks. The millions of spring flowers could be a scene from any art gallery, they come to decorate the earth, to live simply, to drink in the sunlight and rain, to grow and have their time to live, “Are you paying attention?” A soft voice found your ears and you turned to meet your best friend, Maria’s, gaze.

“Yeah, just spacing out for a second.” You offered her a smile and she slipped her arm under yours.

“You seem to be doing that a lot lately, you wanna talk about it?”

“Nah, nothing really worth talking about.” You rested your head against her shoulder, the class stopping in front of you.

“Alright class, Layla is going to get into—”

“Sorry, Professor Keeting, I’m here!” A familiar male voice erupted from behind you and Maria, you turned around to see—

“Kihyun, you’re late.” Professor Keeting hissed, motioning for him to come to the front of the class, “75 percent of you should know who this is, this is Kihyun. He graduated top of his class with a degree in photography, today he’s here to help take photos of all of you working on your projects—”

“Did you know he was coming by today?” Maria whispered into your ear to which you responded by shaking your head.

“No…” Your gaze stayed on him, your heart already causing a ruckus inside your chest. You’d known Kihyun for years, ever since you were in high school actually; he was your older sister’s boyfriend, but they ended messily, and you didn’t see him again until your freshman year at college. That was two years ago, but he still made your heart flutter as if it were yesterday—velvety cinnamon irises hidden behind long full lashes when he blinked, pale pink lips curled into a smile showing off his perfect teeth, loose driftwood tinted curls getting swept up in the gentle spring breeze—Kihyun is the epitome of your dream man.

“Take your spots however close or far away in the field you want and get started, you have an hour and then you get to take a photo of her to finish later.” You made eye contact with your instructor and she put her hands together and pulled them apart telling you to separate from Maria.

“Wow, what a snake.” Maria growled.

“She just wants a different a result from everyone.” You hummed, scoping out a good spot, but every place you wanted was already taken. You grumbled taking a spot that was a little further away from the pack of students and plopped down onto the soft grass. You tugged your sketchbook from your bag as well as your pencil case, you flipped open to a blank page and pulled the respectively numbered pencil from the pouch and began your sketch.

Kihyun made his way around the widespread pack, taking pictures of them working on their pieces, but his eyes kept wandering back to you. His camera focused on you from afar, snapping your beauty in its lens, he knew he was supposed to be taking pictures of everyone, but he was drawn to you like graphite to the card stock of a sketchbook. He felt like he spent only minutes on your figure, but in all reality he spent the whole class time taking photos of you, peppering in photos of the other students, but 90 percent of the photos taken were of you.

“Alright class, time is almost up, everyone take out your phones and snap your photo of Layla to use.” You glanced down at your sketch, it almost complete, but what harm would it cause for you to take one just in case? You pulled out your phone and opened the camera app, your steady hands taking a picture of her when a flash from your side startled you.

“Kihyun…” Your eyes connected and he wore the biggest smile.

“I’m sorry, you just looked so pretty so fixed on the screen.” You double checked to make sure you got the photo you needed and stood up, slipping your phone back into your pocket, when Kihyun reached out to place a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his smooth fingertips brushing against the shell of your ear, “How’ve you been? It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.”

“G-good…” His gentle touch increased your heart rate, the part of your ear he touched burned a fiery red, “Seems like you’re doing well.”

“A bit.” His angelic smile came back to his lips, “I’ve actually got a question for you.”

“Oh?”

It had been a few weeks since Kihyun asked if you would do him a favor and at first, you told him no because you weren’t even comfortable with your own body, and the thought of Kihyun staring at you for however long made sent chills up your spine. After letting the thought linger through your mind for a few weeks, you reached out to him, and here you are standing in front of his apartment, your anxiety already clawing up your insides. You sighed, backing away from the door, maybe you could text him and tell him you were sick and you wanted to do it some other time, or tell him something came up and you—

The cream door opened in front of you, your eyes connecting with his, “Y/N! Why didn’t you knock?”

“I-I just walked up to the door.” You gripped the handles of your small duffle bag, attempting to avoid his gaze when his hand came around to the small of your back, guiding you inside.

“Since you’re here, why don’t we get started.” He closed the door behind you and made his way to the hall, his eyes turning back to meet your gaze once more, “Why don’t you get changed in the bathroom and meet me in the back room?”

“O-okay.” You nodded, the butterflies in your stomach making you feel queasy.

“First door on your left is the bathroom and the last door on the right is where I’ll be.” You nodded, watching him disappear down the hall. You closed your eyes and exhaled the breath you had been holding, Kihyun caused dormant feelings to awaken inside you. Ever since your sister brought him home and introduced him as her boyfriend, you knew that he was the one you wanted. For someone who “loved” him, she sure did leave him a lot, when she was out playing with her friends Kihyun was at your house waiting for her, confessing things to you that you never thought you would even hear him say, you fell for him— inexplicably hard. He indulged in you, burned his touch into you, seared kisses into your skin that would stay for years, took so many of your firsts that he tainted the white halo you wore.

The smell of his spicy cologne filled your senses as you stared at your ensemble in the floor length mirror. You ran your hand over the black cage straps that connected to the black sheer lace bra, down to the black lace garter belt that was clipped to your stockings, then finally over the matching lace thong. It was provocative, sure, but even looking at yourself, your cheeks flushed as you turned your backside to the mirror, your fingers tugging at the elastics straps that hugged your skin a little too tightly. You quickly tugged the silk robe from your bag and pulled it on, shielding your eyes from your erotic figure, “What am I thinking?” You paced the tile floor thinking if you should really do this, it’s not like he hasn’t seen your body before, but it was different this time, you were both adults, single adults, and he knows you’re practically in love with him. Sighing, you grabbed your phone from the countertop, then tugged the door open, your feet made light steps down to the room to see the setup Kihyun had created—white walls, white bedding, white tufted bed frame, a white metal ottoman sitting at the end of the bed, cream accents like the rug, the curtains hanging from the large windows letting in the pale sunlight. You stuck out like a sore thumb in your body adorned in black, this only made you more nervous, all eyes were really going to be on you.

“You okay? You’re looking a little pale…” You jumped at Kihyun’s voice as he appeared beside you, his warm skin quick to rest on your forehead. He felt his own forehead to compare to yours, “You don’t feel any warmer than I do, have you eaten?” He smoothed over loose strands of your hair while you shook your head.

“Not since like eight this morning.”

“It’s four in the afternoon, Y/N…” You shrugged, wrapping your arms around your torso, keeping the robe close to your skin, “Tell you what, you still like jajangmyeon, right?” Hearing your favorite food leave his lips had your stomach already growling, but even with the hunger growing in your stomach, you still couldn’t get over your nerves.

“Yeah, but—”

“If you do a good job, I’ll order a double portion and tteokbokki.” An innocent smile passed over his lips making your heart flutter.

“F-fine…”

“Awesome. Let me set up the tripod and then I’ll be ready.” Kihyun disappeared out of room for a moment and reappeared with his camera and tripod in tow. You plopped down on the bed, your eyes catching the stereo sitting on the dresser.

“Ki…?”

“What’s up?” His eyes didn’t leave his camera as he set it up near the bed.

“Mind if I put on some music…?” You got up from the bed walked over to the stereo, your phone in hand.

“If it’ll help you, sure.” You breathed a sigh of relief as you opened your phone up to your playlist, and plugged the aux cord into it, the sound of SMNM’s ‘Everything’ flowed from the speakers. Kihyun looked up from the camera to see you swaying your hips to the beat, his hands were quick enough to take the camera from the tripod to catch you losing yourself in the song.

The silk robe slipped from your skin, fluttering to the floor as you fell onto the bed, the flash of the camera becoming nonexistent as your raked your nails up your thighs to the bare skin of your stomach. Fingertips ghosted over your décolletage, goosebumps rising at the warm sensation starting to pool in your core, you never usually got off on feeling your own touch, but with his eyes watching you, every press of your skin sent electricity through your limbs. You rolled into different positions giving Kihyun amazing shots even if you weren’t paying attention to him, the only thing on your mind was the heat that was attacking your skin.

Kihyun watched your nails mark up your skin leaving pink ribbons in their wake, his eyes focused on you rather the camera that sat in his hands. This side of you was completely different than he’d ever seen, the timid air that usually floated around you vanished like smoke, to let this erotic minx take over. His heavy gaze followed your hands down to the junction of your thighs, quiet gasps escaping your plush lips while your fingers dug into the thin lace fabric, eager to dip into your core. Kihyun couldn’t help but put the camera down to climb onto the bed, edging close to your slowly thrusting hips, his fingers aching to touch your skin. Your breathless moans of pleasure peaked his arousal, the stiffening bulge in his pants throbbed at the sight of your fingers moving your panties to the side, letting your extremities delve into your sopping core.

“Kihyun…” The slight, almost inaudible, whisper of his name tempted him to pull you to him and take you.

“Y/N… Would you like some help…?” He asked, catching the nod of your head before reaching out for your legs, his cold fingers wrapping around your thighs, he tugged your body to him in such a rough manner a gasp escaped you, but his hunger fueled your own insatiable lust. Anchoring himself under your legs, he slipped his hands around your thighs, spreading your juiciness, his tongue quickly gathering your glistening arousal onto its rough pallet before slipping into your core while smooth fingertips drew unhurried circles around your clit—the mixture of your whimpes and moans were music to his ears, a melody he had missed since the last intimate moment he shared with you. He craved to feel your body shake under his touch more than he ever has with any woman and here you were, clamping your thighs around his head as he brought you overwhelming bliss.

“Ki…” He looked up at you, your fingers motioning for him to come up, he came up between your legs, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him down, your lips melding to his. You slipped your tongue into his mouth, rolling it over his, a throaty hum radiating through his chest as his fingers fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. Kihyun was eager to please you, feel you, sear his touch into your skin, make you his, so eager that he couldn’t get his clothes off fast enough; he pulled away from your kiss to toss his shirt onto the floor as well as his pants along with his briefs. He rested your legs over his shoulders and slid his length in between your slick folds, a breath getting caught in his chest from how sensitive he was himself.

“Y/N… are you sure…?” Kihyun asked, unsure if he could stop himself if he dipped into you and you asked him to stop.

“Please, my insides are on fire…” Your lust tainted eyes begged for him not to stop, pleaded for him to keep going. He inhaled deeply as he slid the tip of his cock into your wet heat, your fingers quick to wrap around his hands holding onto your waist. The coiling of your tight walls around him elicited an animalistic growl before he buried his length in you with one hard thrust, a scream of pure pleasure ripped through your throat as trails of fire raked through your nerves—the convulsing of your core only made him pound into your orgasming pussy, ruthlessly keeping you on cloud nine. With every graze and pointed thrust to your sweet spot, the louder your voice became, he reveled in hearing you moan because of him and didn’t care if anyone else heard you because at the end of night, they were going to know who you belonged to, “Kihyun! Please don’t stop!” You cried, another orgasm on the brink of breaking.

“I didn’t plan on it.” He adjusted your legs on his shoulders, reaching even deeper into your core, the head of his cock kissing your sweetest of spots, your body became undone with that one thrust—your toes curled as your nails dug into his arms leaving deep crescent moons into his skin, ones so deep that they would surely be bruised by the morning, “Cumming again?” He chuckled, thrusting into your wetness. The messy strings of curses mixed with his name had him throbbing inside you, his pace became erratic, his own high on the verge of busting, “I’m about to cum—where do you want me?” He rasped, trying to hold it together.

“On me…” You breathed, slightly whining when he pulled out of your core to pump his warm seed all over your stomach, painting your beautiful skin in his warmth.

Kihyun viewed your sleeping figure curled up in his bed, cloaked in the warm lighting of his bedroom as he worked in editing the pictures he took of you. Your full lashes dusted the tops of your cheeks while you floated in your dream world, leaving yourself vulnerable to Kihyun’s camera lens—he grabbed the old Polaroid camera from his desk, unable to stop him from photographing your beauty and innocence tangled up in his sheets, “If only you knew what you do to me…”

“What was the theme again?” Maria asked you while you walked arm in arm up to the venue.

“Something that makes your heart race?”

“That would be why he asked you to wear some lingerie for him.” Maria teased, a blush rising up to your cheeks.

“Hey, I didn’t tell you everything so you could tease me for the rest of my life.” You sighed, your lips forming a pout.

“I’m just kidding, the fact that you guys hooked up even though you’ve been through a ton, is great. Seeing as he liked you more than your sister anyway.” You and Maria followed the signs that were leading to the exhibit, your eyes finding other photographers work as you made your way towards Kihyun’s set up. Multiple arrangements of photos were the photographer’s significant others, photoshopped horror stories, fears, and of course—women dressed in lingerie.

Kihyun stood off to the side talking to the other photographers when his eyes found you and Maria walking up to his pieces. He watched as your eyes took in the sight of a collage of Polaroids of you, all of them strategically placed to make a large photo of you sleeping, then they flicked over to a blown up picture of you holding his hand close to your chest while you slept, and finally they landed on the pictures of you that he took while you drew in class a few weeks ago, “What do you think?” He asked for you to whip around and look at him.

“When did you…?”

“The same night, you were just sleeping so beautifully that I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take gorgeous pictures of the girl who makes my heart race.”

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sanctimoniousscrawlings · 6 years ago

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Prompt #1 : Lull of the Forest

Greenvale is quaint. At least that’s what the townsfolk say. Personally, I’ve never been fond of life here. Half the people here are ignorant and bigoted. They’re nosy and self-serving. Nine times out of ten I’ve found that the thick veneer of kindness and good ol’ fashioned neighborliness is born of duplicity, and to be quite honest it’s exhausting.

I’ve been saving money to leave since I turned sixteen and got my first job in the town’s only book store- a tiny thing, barely larger than my room back in my apartment. I’ve been thinking of moving to a big city- it may be too crowded for my taste but I’ve found that it has the opposite vibe to small towns. People start out assholish and then turn out to be kind. It’s a pleasant surprise.

Here I am ten years later with only half the cash I would need to get my own place somewhere I’d actually like to be. I’m scrolling through real estate sites and beginning to reconsider the whole roommate thing, much as I revile the thought of having to live with random strangers when my phone pings. It’s my best friend, Demeter.

D: omg Riley did you hear Me: oyg did I hear what? Me: and are you sure I can’t convince you to come with me D: Dylan is gone and certainly not, you know I can’t stand urban environments Me: pls tell me he absconded from the woods with his tail between his legs and the only thing he left behind was a trail of urine Me: I really don’t want him living next door to me again D: ... D: i heard the fairy house is a pretty grizzly scene Me: wow Me: guess i won’t have to live next door to him after all. neat. D: i know he was an asshole but do you need to be so blase about it? Me: only as much as he needed to chase me with a MIG torch Me: look, i know you aren’t supposed to speak ill of the dead (but honestly he shouldn’t have been such a dick) and I wouldn’t wish death on anyone- but I definitely don’t have to care that he’s gone Me: besides, he probably pissed off whatever’s in those woods. haven’t you noticed that when the people who live in that house are super cool, the hidden folk just play (mostly) harmless pranks- and they have never ever attacked children D: no, they just kill the parents and steal the kids Me: the bad parents. We both know the Bonners were abusing their kids. And pretty heavily. How many times did you call cps on them? D: ...monthly. But that doesn’t make it right. Those kids are probably scarred for life- and scared. Me: maybe. I think I might try buying the place tbh- I don’t even have half the money for a place in any of the cities I wanted to move to but I have more than enough for that place. It’ll be a dent in my funds, but I think it will be worth it. D: what Me: hear me out: I’m a misanthropist. They are clearly also not fond of people. Maybe we’ll get along. Plus, I can keep the deed to this place to protect the forest from the idiots in town moving in. D: First of all that’s a stupid idea. Second of all, you’re too kind to be a misanthropist. You’re just a curmudgeon. A philanthropic curmudgeon. Me: what Me: that doesn’t even make sense D: you’re grumpy af but I’ve never seen you do anything to cause even the people you hate the most harm. Hell, how often did you help Dylan with his homework or share your food with the delinquents who couldn’t afford lunch when we were in school. D: the whole “I hate humankind blah blah blah destroy all humans” thing is just a front because you always had this complex about helping everyone and it kept backfiring. And then after Ashe... Me: sorry, Demi, gotta go. I’ve got paperwork to fill out. D: DON’T YOU DARE MOVE INTO THAT HOUSE I S2G RILEY ANDREW FERGUSON

I know she cares but I really can’t deal with this right now. I’ve got a house to buy.

For the next two weeks, I avoid Demeter. I love her but she’s overbearing sometimes and I’m not gonna let her talk me out of this. All the paperwork is taken care of and fortunately, my lease was ending at the end of the month so this should prove to be a smooth transition. All my packing is complete and I get to move into my new place in another few days. My shift ended at the bookstore so I head back to the apartment only to find a grey slip of a man waiting for me. “Riley Ferguson, there you are. Your presence is required at the law office of Paz & Squalor. If you have some time to accompany me there, I urge you to.” His voice was strained and gravelly. “It concerns the property in the woods.” “Sure thing. Let’s go.” I wonder if there’s a hitch in the bureaucratic workings and if there is I’m damn well gonna sort it out.

An hour later and I’m in Ms. Paz’s office. She peers across the desk at me with a grave look on her face and I can see that she’s mulling something over. The look of concern in her eyes is disconcerting. She starts abruptly, clearly having decided to get on with whatever I’m here for. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Ferguson.” “Loss?” “Dylan Daniels. You are Riley Andrew Ferguson, correct?” I nod, but the confusion on my face doesn’t assuage her concerns. “He left the house to you in his will. And everything in it.” She opens a dwarer of her desk and pulls out an envelope, clutching it to his chest. “He also left you this.” She extends the envelope across the desk. “Sorry it took so long to get this to you. The police only found his will a few days ago- everyone was unaware he even had one until then. I just need you to sign some things.” She pushes a stack of papers and a nice pen across the desk. I’m too stuned to respond. “Riley.” She pauses and reaches a hand across the desk to squeeze mine. “I know this must be very hard for you. Take all the time you need.” The next few hours are a blur. I find myself at my desk, clutching the sealed envelope. There’s no way this isn’t some sort of prank. He probably has the entire town in on it- they have always distrusted me here. People gossip about what sort of mental issues I may or may have. “He has the autism,” is the most favored line I hear from the elderly ladies at the old rumor mill. I am a hundred percent sure they don’t even know what autism is- and to be honest that gets to me far more than them actually suggesting I’m on the spectrum. There are worse rumors of course. I have schizophrenia and murdered my own family in a hallucination. Or I’m a sociopath and did it in cold blood. Of course, it doesn’t matter that I was asleep in the back room at work at the time- trying to avoid going home. My boss is a little scenile and his word isn’t good enough to assuage the good people of Greenvale. They’d probably accuse me of doing Dylan in, too, if it weren’t for his proximity to the woods. Deep breath. I open the envelope. There’s a letter inside. When I pull it out, another piece of paper drifts down to the floor. It’s stained with graphite- the pencil must have been smeared. I reach down to pick it up and freeze before I can. I recognize my own writing on the small paper. What the actual hell? I pick it up and read it, wracked with anxiety. It’s a poem. It’s a poem I wrote in eighth grade. A flashback takes me back to when I wrote it. My first real crush on a guy. It was a boy I had P.E. with every year of middle school. I had just started dating a girl I rode the bus home with when I realized that I liked this guy and the poem quite bluntly reflected the turbulent emotions I was feeling at the time. I had a firm grasp on metaphors but even now subtly and nuance elude me when I experience emotion- which happens far more often than I would prefer. More importantly, why would he have this? How did he even- I’m hit with another memory. I wrote that the day that little demon stabbed me in the hand with a pencil. I still have the black mark under my skin. Bastard gave me my first tattoo. He must have taken it from my binder when I was in the nurse’s office. Okay. But why would he keep this? It was fuel he could have used to burn me before I came out my senior year. I remember the letter. With some trepidation, I begin to read it.

Riley,

I was really hoping to tell you this in person. Frankly, I’ve been trying to for years but you evaded me at every turn. You can’t evade me at this one, though. My death ensured that- that is unless you’re not reading this and I misjudged your caliber on the whole fairy house thing. I don’t know, I figure you’d thrive there for some reason. I think Walt Whitman said something about the strongest tree in the forest is the one that sprouts against all odds.

My eye twitches at the butchering of the quote and that he confused Walt Disney with Walt Whitman, but I carry on.

Anyways, sorry not sorry for rambling. I like you. No, that’s putting it mildly. I think I’ve been in love with your weirdness since we first sat together in that class. I had hoped you wrote this poem about me but was too afraid to ever ask you about it. I know it’s no consolation for the animosity I displayed toward you, but I was just so terrified. Your presence left me unsettled and we got stuck together so much after that. So I reciprocated and instilled the fear in you that you put in me. It was wrong and I really am so sorry. Now you know how I feel, though. I bet the creatures of the forest got me. If I’m right, you owe me a kiss when next we meet, wherever that may be.

Love, Dylan Daniels. P.S. And I mean love. P.P.S. I know I got the quote entirely wrong. I bet you did that thing where your eye twitches when you can’t correct someone cuz you’re frustrated. That will be another kiss. P.P.P.S. No dictionaries were harmed in the writing of this letter. P.P.P.P.S. Well, I might have lit one on fire after.

I feel disgusted after reading the letter. He was an asshole and a creep. A knock at the door startles me into yelping. I catch my breath to answer it and Demeter pushes her way in. “Sit. We’re talking.” I do as she says; I’m still reeling from everything I just found out and Demeter is the last person anyone should ever piss off. She may be a kindly teacher and a great friend but not even the gods can save someone incurring her wrath. “You got the house, didn’t you.” It clearly wasn’t a question but I nod quietly anyways. She sighs. “Well, if anyone from this town could thrive there it would be one of us, but still. What were you thinking?” I stare into the nether. “I don’t know anymore. I don’t even want the house now,” I murmur. “It’s tainted. He even ruined the fairy house for me.” “What do you mean? You knew he had lived there when you made the ridiculous plan to swoop in on it.” I silently proffer the letter and poem without looking at her. She lets out an incredulous whistle. “Well... He tried to put his heart in the right place. I think. Ooh, girl, this boy was a mess.” She pauses, squinting at the letter. “Wait. Did he leave you the house? Holy hell.” Demeter stayed the night. I woke up the next morning to a note on my bedroom door: I’ve reconsidered the roommate thing. Be back soon, packing my stuff. If they didn’t already, the townsfolk were about to think Demeter insane, too.

Days later and we were moved into the house, though I was still uneasy. He left a lot behind- including some nearly new furniture. Probably for the best given how spartan Demeter and I both lived. I brought a desk and computer while she brought house plants and a bed. The house was old and quirky and had an air to it that we both adored. The rear garden was pressed right up against the old forest; with the fence having rotten away long since the tenants before Dylan had lived there, a new one was half built in its place- and wildflowers had overtaken most of the space. All except for one tree that sat in the center of our new yard, between the forest and the house. The entire rear half of the house had large beautiful windows that faced the forest, as well as a massive section of glass doors that opened up to the rear garden, almost like an entertainment area, thanks to the simple stone porch. “Oh, I am so fixing this up.” Demeter sounded giddy, standing in the decrepit garden. “We’ve totally got this.” “I hope so.” I can’t shake the uneasy feeling I’ve had all weekend. “I’m heading in to set up some of my supplies.” I leave Demeter to her own devices and get to work in the back room with the enormous glass doors. After a few minutes, it feels as though the very air is weighing on me. I open the doors wide, not paying any mind to the dangers of the forest. Let them come, they’d probably make better company than 99% of the good townsfolk of Greenvale. The invigorating scent of the forest fills the room and I’m suddenly in the mood for oil pastels.

It’s been a week now and I still feel trapped whenever I’m in the house. I feel as though I’m being watched any time I’m on the property. The eyes from the forest seem more curious than anything- it’s inside that I feel I’m in danger. After going on an unnecessary shopping trip for the umpteenth time since moving in, I decide to be productive and prepare a basket of food for those that dwell in the forest. Fruits, nuts, pepitas, and even some actual food I cooked up. I set the basket out back, near the treeline, and go back to the room I claimed for my studio. When next I look outside, the basket is empty and moved closer to the house. I hope they enjoyed it.

I get home earlier than Demeter and begin to make a habit of leaving food out for my new neighbors- including a dish of milk on my window sill. Each day, the basket is returned closer and closer to the house. I begin finding gifts of seeds, flowers, and odd trinkets in the returned basket. Demeter joyously nurtures the seeds into all manner of strange and exotic plants. One day, when the house is feeling particularly stifling, I decide to go to the forest edge to get away from it. I find a cozy spot beneath a tree and start writing. I hear the basket being moved but I’m too in the flow to pay any attention- that is until I notice a curious fox looming over my notebook. I don’t want to spook it so I continue writing. Eventually, the fox lays its head on my wrist, watching the pencil soar across the pages. I suppress the urge to make a high pitched noise in joy at this blessing. My trips to the forest edge became more frequent- as did the fox’s joining me. I started bringing treats for my new friend who cozied up to me as I worked. One day, when Demeter was out later for student conferences, I went out to the back porch- still outside but sheltered from the storm that had rolled in. I mistakenly drifted off to sleep to the sound of rain- and far more easily than I could have fallen asleep inside the house. I awakened to find myself wrapped in a fine silk cloak lined with the softest fur I have ever felt in my life- and I pet a lot of cats. I also note that I am now inside and the doors are shut. It’s already morning, as well. Demeter is in the kitchen, making herself a quick breakfast before she heads off to work. “I’m glad to see you made it home safely. Did you bring me inside?” “What? No, you were asleep on the floor when I got home last night. I feel like it’s the first time you’ve slept since we got here.” I grunt noncommittally and leave the room. Later on, I return the cloak, folded in the basket with yet another assortment of tasty goodies. This time I'm reading rather than working on one of my projects. The fox returns once more and- to my joy- curls up in my lap. I stroke his soft fur while I read and eventually I can hear the soft contented snoring of my vulpine buddy. I'm so comfortable that for the second day in a row I make the mistake of falling asleep outside. This time, as the beams of morning sunlight drift through my eyelids, I’m in my room. The luxurious cloak is covering me once more and the fox is curled up next to my head. The Prompt Next

#part 1 #I've been at this for almost six hours and need to stop #writing prompt #Lull of the Forest #the prompt is the post before this one

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mawichandoodles · 7 years ago

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Beloved Rival (RusAme/AmeRus fanfiction)

My super late gift for @purplepatchwork in the RusAme Secret Santa2017 exchange.

This is my first fanfic EVER. And it’s longer than expected, almost 5k words. I’m a bit nervous, but know I wrote this with all the love. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, Patch!

I mixed prompts number 2 and 3 :

“2. Al and Ivan as two rivalling teachers whom all the students secretly ship, whether they find out about this and/or their reaction to it is optional, just go wild.“

“3. Ivan confessing feelings to Alfred while being drunk, can be human or canonverse, Alfred’s reaction is entirely up to you.”

Note: I don't know much about the school system in other countries, so I'm going with what I was used to see during my high school years. I hope it doesn't end up clashing too much with other people's idea of high school.

Note2: English is not my native language, so regardless of research and editing, there may be some errors I’m unable to detect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's Friday afternoon, near the end of the Algebra class, but more importantly, it's the end of the semester. The group is only a few ticks of the clock away from winter break. The only sounds in the classroom come from numb-handed students scribbling on their notebooks, and the mellow humming of the one sitting at the old desk in the front corner.

They are writing a final essay about the content reviewed throughout the semester, what they learned, why it's important, why they liked it, and things like that. Alternatively, they could write a whole manifesto of hate to the teacher, to algebra, or the world in general, if they sowanted. The only things the teacher asked for was eight pages of text, and finished within the hundred minutes of class they had on Fridays, as designated by the group's schedule.

Raivis, sitting in the middle of the front row, looks up at the clock over the whiteboard, a drop of sweat runs down his forehead. He relaxes the grip on his pencil, cue the feel of pins and needles as he stretches his fingers.

"Five minutes," he mutters.

The teacher, seating on his desk in silence, stops humming, along with his calculation of the student's final grades.

"Five minutes!?" A voice echoes from across the room.

A collective gasp and muffled muttering fill the teacher's ears.

Raivis' sight is blocked by a towering figure standing in front of his desk. The figure leans closer, revealing the smiling face of the teacher, Ivan Braginsky.

"Are you done, Mr. Raivis?"

Chills run down the spine of the small student.

"I ju-just... two more left."

Mr. Braginsky kept smiling. He gently places a hand on Raivis' head, and looks him in the eyes.

"The clock doesn't care you're staring at it. Mind your own work, before time runs out, yes?"

Raivis bites his lower lip from the inside, and remains silent. He resumes writing his paper without looking up at the teacher again. Pleased, Mr. Braginsky pats his head and goes on to walk around the classroom, nonchalantly. He happily strokes his red and pink scarf as he walks, the part wrapped around his neck. Not one of Raivis' classmates dare turn their heads towards the teacher.

"Remember this is an optional task you can do, if you want (or need) extra points. Because I don't want failing students. This is my Christmas gift for you. That's why I will take no less than 10 pages of text, as a sign of your appreciation, yes?".

The glasses of the guy sitting left to Raivis fall off his face and on his notebook.

"You said nine!" Says, Toris, who sat in the right corner of the middle row.

"Oh, is that how you say 'eleven' in your native language?" Mr. Braginsky chuckles.

Everyone groans at Toris.

Mr. Braginsky takes the empty seat in the middle of the room, right among his students. He begins talking outloud, tapping his fingers on the desk. No one was sure if he was doing it to distract them away from the last precious minutes they had left or not. He could be testing their ability to focus, to work under pressure, he could just want to ruin their lives (as every teenager thinks about any teacher, ever). They were all too familiar with Mr. Braginsky's subtle "tests" of character. Although they share the sentiment expessed by Mr. Braginsky, they do their best to tune out his voice.

"Uff, it's getting suffocated here." He pulls on his scarf with two fingers. "Who though repurposing a storage room as a classroom was a good idea? Greedy people, trying to save money instead of making more buildings. No wonder you guys call it the 'the Rat Trap', huh?"

A rat trap indeed. Located, next to the chemistry lab, the two rooms were built together in a one-story building, separate but next to the main building for classrooms which blocked whatever sunlight could have gotten through. Thus the room tends to be low, yet suffocating at times. There was barely enough space for fifteen people, and had four 30cm x 30 cm stuck-closed windows on upper walls.

"And the other teachers said 'You should be fine, you have the smallest group'. I'm sure in the next semester, the room distribution will be a total bloodbath. Mr. Jones will fight for the same room I choose, I bet. Regardless I'll make sure we get a better place for us this spring... Yeah, I will be your teacher next year too, hehe." He continues rambling.

The echoes of the ringing bell penetrate the walls of the Rat Trap. As soon as they hear it, most people put their pencils down and start packing their belongings. Some people sight in relief, others from exhaustion. Others shake their hands in the air to relieve the numbness and someone in the back corner starts crying. Meanwhile, Mr. Braginsky gets up and returns to his desk, without sitting down.

"Time's up, turn in your papers. Leave them on my desk here. I'll have them graded by Monday, and I'll send the final grades to you all via e-mail in the evening of the same day."

No matter what face the kids are making at him, with a fatherly smile Mr. Braginsky wishes merry Christmas to each one of them as they leave. One by one, the youths place their essays on the desk, not before stapling the pages together with the teacher's stapler, as they usually did. He put it there for the students after all.

"Brother," mutters Natalya, as she stands in front of Mr. Braginsky, adjusting her white ribbon. "Thank you for your hard work."

She hands a thick bundle of pages to Mr. Braginsky. With a gesture, she insists on him receiving it with his hands, instead of leaving in on the desk. He raises an eyebrow.

"Natalya? You don't need extra points at all. You could have gone home already."

"I wrote you a letter. I don't want you to read anyone else's paper first, it must be that one, okay?"

"Merry Christmas?" Says Mr. Braginsky, patting her sister on the shoulder as she turns to leave.

And so as the teacher begins to pack his belongings too, he notices a girl with pink flowers adorning her head, sitting at the bottom left corner. It is Mei, the youngest sister of Mr. Wang, who also teaches algebra. Hoever she chose not to have a relative as her teacher.

Mr. Braginsky gives her a puzzled look and approaches her. Mei seems to be focused on her notebook, moving her pencil with meticulous dedication. A whole two minutes have passed. By the time Mei raises her head, Mr. Braginsky is sitting next to her, leaning on the desk as he stares at her work with clenched teeth, hidden by a lips-shut smile.

"Don't your eyes get tired of drawing in a place with such bad lighting?"

Mei jumps on her seat and slams her hands on the notebook.

"Mr. B.!" Mei she raises the corners of her mouth in a dubiously successful attempt to sound calm. "You're still here?"

"I am the one locking the classroom door today."

"I didn't mean to make you wait, Mr. B., I'll go home right away."

"Did you take on the final task?" He says, fingers fidgetting, focusing on Mei's small black spot near her chin, probably a pencil graphite stain.

"My grade is fine, as you told me, so I didn't write anything".

"Is it too cold outside or something? Why didn't you leave early, like your friend Lien? Maybe you like my class that much?"

Mei looks down, without moving her hands off the notebook. Several seconds of silence ensue.

"Alright, let me see it."

Mei's eyes widen. Her hands press even more on the notebook.

"But it's nothing," she stutters,

"Yes, so let me see it."

"But..."

Mei sighs, her face turns red and quietly slides her graphite-stained palms away from her work, revealing the semi-realistic unfinished image of two men, suspiciously similar to Mr. Braginsky and Mr. Jones, engaging in what looked like "adult activities". Mr. Braginsky slowly extends his arm to grab the notebook, looking Mei in the eye as if to ask for permission to take it. Mei remains silent. Mr. Braginsky then proceeds to inspect the drawing, now on his hands.

"I have to questions, Miss Wang."

An imaginary knot forms in her stomach. She closes her eyes and folds her arms around her abdomen, anticipating the scariest scolding of her life as if she was preparing to take a fist to the gut. And so she nods in silence.

"Number one: Is that Mr. Jones, tying me up with the candy cane-pattern scarf I got from my grandma?" He inquires, pointing at the goofy scarf he's wearing.

Mei nods again.

"Number two: Did you draw my nose smaller on purpose?"

Mei is unable to hold back her nervousness any longer.

"Mr. B. please the don't tell my brother about this, please don't show it to him! I'm really sorry, I'll accept my punishment but please don't-"

"Shhh Shhh... Can I keep it?" He interrupted.

"Eh?" Mei stopped cold. "Do you... actually like it?" She stuttered.

"Well, no, but I can't let you keep it, much less actually finish it."

"I'm really sorry."

Mr. Braginsky chuckled behind his hand.

"Making a fuzz about this would be a waste of time, right? Just go home and don't draw these things at school. That's my Christmas gift for you, what do you say?"

Mei placed her hand on her chest.

"So, my Christmas gift for you would be letting you keep it?"

Mr. Braginsky chokes on his own breath.

"The gift is not drawing these things at school anymore. Now go, shoo shoo." Mr. Braginsky gestures, still smiling.

"Thank you, thank you so much! Merry Christmas, Mr. B.!" Mei exclaimed. She masterfully ripped the drawing from the notebook without damaging it, handed it back to Mr. Braginsky and hurried to pack everything. She then runs away from the Rat Trap more happy than scared.

Mr. Braginsky is still in the desk next to where Mei was, staring at the confiscated drawing, with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. The rythmic tapping of his fingers echo across the room. Soon the image blurs as his minds simply wanders off.

"But why with Mr. Jones?" He thinks out loud.

It wasn't that Mr. Jones was a man, just like himself. It was that wether in public or in private, they were seldom "nice" to one another, if ever at all. How did so many kids get the idea that they could "love" each other? He didn't understand. Did Mr. Jones say something he was not aware of? Did they do it as a form of mockery? Could it be they noticed something?

"Because I'm the best teacher ever?"

Startled and holding his breath, Mr. Braginsky folds the sheet of paper with the drawing and places it on his lap to cover it under the desk. He looks up to where the voice came, only to see Mr. Alfred F. Jones, the physics teacher. standing just past the entrance of the room, staring back at him. Mr. Braginsky exhales and shakes his arm in a dismissive "go away" kind of motion.

"Ivan, how's it going? Found anything interesting? Said Mr. Jones, with an intentional, emphasized mispronounctiation of the "I" in "Ivan" as "eye".

"Alf," Ivan greeted him, referencing the extraterrestial protagonist of the eponymous 80's sitcom. "What do you want?"

Alfred goes to Ivan's desk and casually grabs the other's suitcase.

"Do you have, like, a stapler?"

Ivan puts Mei's drawing in the pocket of his coat and returns to his desk. He yanks the suitcase away from Alfred's hands.

"Not for you. Besides, I think I ran out of staples after my kids used it just now." Ivan replied with a dry tone. "And I don't want you to lose it or break it with your clumsy gorilla hands anyway."

Alfred smirks.

"So you're admitting I'm stronger, after all?"

"Clumsy." Ivan replies, walking to the door. Alfred follows him.

"Come on, I forgot mine at home. I need to staple my student's papers!" He begs. "And some other documents too," he mutters.

Ivan stops walking and turns to Alfred.

"Show me the papers and I'll staple them myself."

"Ivan, do you really think I'm gonna break it?"

No response.

"Man, the mug incident was an accident, I'm not asshole enough to break other people's stuff on purpose."

Ivan stepps out of the Rat Trap and closes the door behind him, with Alfred still inside.

"Oh you did break something of mine and it was not just a mug," Ivan replies, making noises with the keychain as to make Alfred think he's going to really lock the door and leave.

Alfred takes a deep breath and exhales. He rubs his temples then folds his arms.

"Then will you come with me to the teacher's lounge? I left them there. I have to present some of those papers real soon. I don't have time to drive home or look for one in a store, you know. I'll treat you to lunch if you want."

Ivan opened the door slowly, only enough to poke his head inside, like a shy little kid.

"I'll help, but I'll choose the meal. I don't want cheap trash-burgers get it?."

"F-- yes!" Alfred cheers and slams the door open. He runs outside, pulling a startled Ivan from the arm.

"Hey I have to lock the door!" Ivan complains. And so Alfred freezes on the spot, almost stumbling on his feet.

"Ah yeah, I forgot. Lock the door, then. It's just that I'm really short on time."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The lingering scent of cheap coffee floats in the air within the teachers lounge. The old coffee machine emmits a buzzing sound that everyone doubts is normal but no ones cares enough to actually check. Ivan and Alfred are sitting in the worn out but strangely comfortable couch next to the teachers' lockers.

Ivan had taken off his scarf, it was neatly folded and put on the couch, next to his lap. Under the beige coat he wears a wine-red turtleneck sweater, so his neck remains covered, as usual. Alfred had rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie for the sake of comfort.

They two of them were alone in the room as most other teachers usually tried to go home early at this time of the year. There was a small coffee table in front of the couch, where they placed a tall tower of paper sheets Alfred had been passing mini bunches of paper to Ivan, who carefully stapled them together and placed them in the opposite corner of the table. Within minutes they had picked a good rythm of work.

"So, how did your kids do this semester?" Alfred grabs the next bunch of paper sheets and hands it to Ivan after asking.

"Overall a few low grades but no failed students."

"Well my students didn't get anything lower than 80."

"In last week's meeting you complained that 'kids nowadays don't care about science,' I recall? You called them burger-flipping babies then."

"I was mad at the time," Alfred laughs. "And I meant just the neglectful ones... But okay, my kids got nothing lower than 70. There, I said it."

Alfred grabs a thick bunch of documents and sorts them out appropiately. As he inspects them he holds the documents in such a way that the contents can't be seen by Ivan. He gives the next batch to his helper and leaves the rest aside. A single sheet falls off from them and glides unceremoniously until it lands on Ivans feet. Alfred freezes. Ivan picks it up without thinking much of it until he flips the sheet and sees the other side of the page.

A drawing made with blue ink, maybe from a regular pen. The sheet has some tomato sauce stains, it seems. It features cutesy characters holding hands. A blushing, big-nosed character kisses a spectacled character on the cheek. The artstyle looks like what the quiet and mysterious school librarian would call "moe", as Ivan learned during their rare small talk. As "stylized" as the appearance of the characters is, he grimaces when he gets to figure out the character's identities and feels the earlier situation with Mei kind of repeat itself. All within the same hour.

Ivan glances at Alfred with a serious face, without saying anything, holding the cutesy drawing for Alfred to see. Alfred loosens his grip on the next batch of documents so much they fall to the floor. He immediately picks them up and rushes to take the drawing away from the other's hands.

"I confiscated that thing from a student who was not paying attention," he says after clearing his throat.

Ivan looks down on the mess of sheets on Alfred feet and notices at least three other similar drawings lying among the "normal" documents. After shaking his head from side to side, Ivan stands up and stretches his body.

"I'll get myself some coffee," he says, but when he tries to step away, his foot stumbles on the table's leg and the tower of unstapled sheets is collapses and is now everywhere. Alfred snarls and just throws the paper on his hands onto the table, blending in with the rest of the mess.

"Goddamn it, what a great help you turned out to be! Talk about clumsy!"

"It's your fault for being so disorganized!... And having weird things among important documents!"

"Weird things, you say? Well it's NOT my fault you're so delicate you get offended so easily. I bet you doodled things like this yourself when we were in high school."

"I bet you now wish I did!" Ivan raises his voice. He takes his suitcase and is about to rush out of the lounge, when Alfred talks back once more.

"Ivan."

And so he stops, but doesn't turn back to face him.

"Your stapler," Alfred says, holding the tool with a stretched arm, trying to get it to reach Ivan. Even though Ivan is not seeing, so he wouldn't know.

"It's yours now. Merry Fucking Christmas." Ivan grunts and storms out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The asshole forgot his dumb scarf," Alfred muttered to himself. "No way in hell I'm gonna go give it back to him."

More than an hour has passed since Ivan left the teacher's lounge. Alfred is sitting alone in the couch. Four neatly organized piles of documents were placed on the small table in front of him. The stapler sits on his lap as though and he pets it as though it was a living cat. Not too ago he had finished sorting out the last batch of documents, All of them now stapled together. He leans back and beholds the result of his efforts.

The first pile of paper corresponds to his final reports on the class and its members. The second and largest one corresponds to the planned content to review in the next semester. The third one is made of student's graded homework that he couldn't return to them on time. The last one is a collection of assorted documents and other non-school-related curiousities that had found their way into Alfred's current paperwork.

Alfred reached to the fourth pile. He grabbed it hole and placed it on his lap, not before putting his new stapler aside. The pile contained old tests, some postcards, wrinkly notes about past lessons, some letters from his students from years ago, some pictures, and, who would have though, more drawings like the one that sparked the short-lived argument an hour ago.

The cutesy drawing is the sixth drawing featuring him and his coworker that he confiscated during that semester alone. The first time he caught a student drawing or writing such material he was shocked, almost traumatized, he could have said at the time. However, somewhere along the way he began to find it amusing. Now he would only confiscate material and punish the student if it was being used as a distraction during class. Otherwise he'd even joke about it and keep the students guessing. It's not like other coworkers didn't make similar jokes about them from time to time.

Of course Alfred would have never let Ivan know about that guilty pleasure of his. Not after the things he had said in the past, and has come to regret now. But more on that comes later. Now as he beholds his secret collection he wonders, why is he even keeping those dumb doodles around? In his mind, most of them look like specimens of failed human experimentation, begging for the sweet release of death. And yet...

Alfred moves the fourth pile back to the table and rests his hand on the side. His hand lands on the still folded, abandoned candy cane scarf. He slaps it away and it comes undone on the floor. Alfred sighs lets his body collapse on his side onto the couch, like a ragdoll.

His stretched arm hangs from the couch. Before he knows it, he's grabbing the scarf again. He brings it back to himself and strokes the fabric. He starts to knead it back and forth with his fingers, similar to how cats do when they find a comfortable spot for a nap. The scarf is soft and way more fluffy than its appearance would indicate.

And so Alfred digs into his pocket and takes out his cell phone to start texting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A brief vibration comes from Ivan's pocket on his coat. He's at a grocery store, standing in front of a stack full of small potato sacks. He's looking for ingredients for tonight's dinner. The store is very crowded. He hopes the vibration of the phone is not something important enough for him to need to call back.

Ivan takes the phone out, it's just a notification from the app store, a pending update for one of those annoying preinstalled applications that he never uses.

"I thought I turned those off." Once he places his phone back on his pocked, he puts a potato sack in the shopping cart, next to the cabbage, the carrots, and the onions. He turns his head around, making sure there's nothing else around that he might want to take. He clutches his turtle neck, forgetting once again that he left his scarf back at the school. He had an habit of stroking it to keep his hands busy when he was nervous, anxious, or bored. Concluding the assessment of his surroundings, he moves on to the meat and fish section. It didn't take too long for him to find what he needed, but he now he has to wait in a very long queue just so he can pay for the groceries and go home.

So Ivan stands there, advancing mini steps each several minutes. All the while the speakers around the store are emit obnoxious Christmas carol remixes as dictated by modern tradition. In a way he thinks it's kind of nice. To be reminded that there are other things in life to be mad about, other than whatever spurs out of a dumb, old high school c...

"Hey, sir. Your turn for the cashier," Ivan hears someone behind him on the queue say.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alfred locked his car and made his way through the parking lot of the mall. Both hands are hidden on the pocket of his jacket to protect them from the cold. He is whistling the Ruldolph the red-nosed reindeer song. He was interrupted when someone called him from several meters behind him.

He turned back. It was almost 5pm and the sun had begun to set a while ago. The sunset glare hurts Alfreds eyes and obscures the figure of the person standing in front of it, calling Alfred. He can't quite make out the words the other person is shouting. As he approaches the figure gets clear enough for him to figure out it's just Ivan. He's next to his car, carrying a grocery bag on each hand. Now that Ivan too, has a clearer sight of Alfred, his neutral expression changes to that of disgust.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Ivan exclaimed.

"Excuse me?" Alfred was confused.

"Don't 'excuse me'. Why the fuck are you wearing my scarf?"

"Oh, that. Welp." Alfred shrugged. "It's warm."

The two of them stood in there for the longest ten seconds ever.

"Are you gonna give it back to me or...?"

Alfred clicked his tongue.

"Of course I will." He ripped the scarf off of himself and threw it at Ivan. "Take your gay-ass scarf."

Ivan catches the garment, making sure none of it is dragged on the ground. One of the bags almost falls off, but he holds them well. He doesn't put the scarf back on. Just keeps it under his arm.

"That says more about you than about me." He replies.

Alfred lowers his head, awkwardly scratches the back of his neck.

"Whatever. So uh, lunch is like, cancelled, I guess? Is dinner ok?"

"I'll cook dinner at home." Ivan says. he taps his foot as he waits for Alfred to leave. Now that he got back his personal property he can carry on with his evening.

"What are you gonna make?" Alfred is still there.

"Shchi."

Alfred squints, lips curled a little bit.

"It's cabbage soup, you uncultured swine."

"Eeew. You know, my pal's restaurant serves the best lasagna ever. He's from Italy, you know."

"Thanks, I know. I'll take my sisters there sometime soon."

Ivan opens his car. He shoves the grocery bags in the front passenger seat and gets inside.

"Okay then why the hell did you shout at me from across the damn parking lot if you are gonna be like this?" Alfred yells from the side of the car, knocking on the front glass.

Ivan lowers his window.

"I just wanted my scarf. Saw a red-pink dot in the distance. I more-less knew it was you. Wondered if you carried it with you, but didn't think you'd be actually wearing it. I may be messed up, but you're a total creep. Just go away."

Ivan turns the keys. The engine sounds like it's going to start but then dies off. Both men's eyes widen and turn their heads to the front of the car. Ivan tries to start the engine again to no avail. Alfred folds his arms, expectant, until Ivan gives up on the tenth failed attempt. Defeated, Ivan leans on the steering wheel, his head presses the honk button. Some bystanders a few cars away begin to direct their attention towards them, but Ivan doesn't care. Alfred leans on the car, laughing histerically.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "This is the kind of day that makes me regret being born." Ivan says as he chops fresh cabbage. The knife gets closer the fingers of his other hand and pokes the side of the thumb. Unsurprised, he leaves the knife and opens the nearest drawer to look for a band-aid.

"Look at it in a different way," says Alfred, who's turned back from him. "You got your scarf back, we managed to take your car for repair so you can have it back within the weekend. You don't need to drive to work for now anyway."

Alfred sniffs and grunts, trying to hold back the tears. "I even gave you a ride back to here, which is an hour away from where we were." He puts aside the onions he's chopping and rushes to get a napkin.

"I even volunteered to chop the onions you ungrateful piece of shit." He wipes his nose so the swearing gets muffled at the end.

"No one asked you to stay for dinner either." Ivan puts on a band-aid and resumes his tasks. "Besides, kids who complain about chores don't get dessert, you know," he jokes. He acknowledges Alfred has a point, though. His mood begins to lighten up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a while they managed to cook a decent cabbage soup. Alfred didn’t waste the opportunity to mock Ivan for eating "grandpa food", despite getting a second helping himself. Alfred was supposed to leave not long after dinner, but a couple of cookies and cups of sbiten later, the two of them are at Ivan's rooftop, simply chatting, gazing the sky at midnight. The roof was slightly angled, with blue flat roof tiles. And a thin layer of snow covered the surface, but none of that bothered them. It was also a one-story house, so they were not quite worried about falling off.

Alfred lies on his back. His arms are folded behind his head as a pillow. Sitting next to him is Ivan, hugging his knees with one arm, and hugging a two thirds-empty bottle of vodka with the other. Ivan tries to lie down on his back too, but is encumbered by another empty bottle behind him. He pushes it away with his free hand. When trying to lie down again. His head lands on the bottle, but he's a bit too drunk to care, he just stays like that. That's going to be his pillow. It is to be noted that while there are two open bottles, Alfred has abstained from taking a sip, knowing that he'll eventually have to drive home.

"You know, I kinda regret not studying Astronomy at all in university," Ivan said, biting the tip of the bottle. In the end he had gone for Computer Science.

"Me too," Alfred replied. "But a degree on Engineering for me wasn't bad at all. Not like I'm doing much with it, though."

Ivan reaches to Alfred and pulls his sleeve slightly to get his attention.

"Your telescope still works?"

"Pfft, that thing's been broken for years," Alfred replies. "I never got rid of it, though. I've been saying I'm 'fixing' it for years, but it's just gathering dust in my basement."

"Why cling onto old stuff, though." Ivan takes a sip of Vodka.

"It's not old stuff until it becomes irrelevant, right?" Alfred turns his body on its side to face Ivan. His head rests on one hand. "We still love space and stuff. Hell, we are gazing at it right now!"

"Yeah, even the other club members called us weird." Ivan gulps down the remaining contents of the bottle. "If you want, I could help you clean your basement after I leave the town."

"Oh that'd be... Wait what?" with furrowed brows, Alfred's eyes widen.

"What?" Ivan doesn't understand the reaction.

"What did you say?"

"I'd help you throw the trash." Ivan shruggs.

"What do you mean you're gonna move out of town?" Alfred drags his own body closer to Ivan.

"I'm thinking of it." Ivan plays with his hair, dodges his gaze. He clasps both hands together, doesn’t elaborate further.

"And your job?"

"Teaching has always been part-time stuff. I'm more established as a programmer now. I'm just waiting for a reply from any of the places I applied into."

"What the- Why didn't you tell me about it?"

Ivan turns his back on Alfred. He hugs the empty bottle of vodka like a teddy bear.

"That matters because...?"

"Then just... why?"

"I really want to get rid of the old stuff myself." Ivan replies with a hand his chest. "You know what I mean?"

Alfred stops making questions. He lies on his back again and sights. His breath is visible in the warm vapor escaping his mouth. His glasses become foggy so he takes them out. And so he finally notices that there's no moon to be seen anywhere in the firmament. But the stars were still there, still, beautful, The location of Ivan's home near the countryside made the precious stars even more visible on the darker environment. Even if visible, a full moon would not outshine them that night. He can almost hear them twinkle, if such a thing existed outside of cartoon sound effects. He turns to Ivan. He is seeing them too. They are reflected on his irises.

Alfred hadn't paid as much attention to space and the stars as he'd have liked after he started university. Even less so after his telescope broke down. It was the telescope Ivan gave him for his birthday, when they were on their high school's Astronomy club. Meeting Ivan again as a teacher in the same school gave both of them a chance to get back to those interests, after having to push them aside in favor of their new duties and obligations.

Though that came only recently. Right now they can to tolerate each other, yet at the time of their first encounter as teachers, after separation during university, Ivan wanted nothing to do with him. It was like their time as two territorial chimps posing as teenage nerds was the only relationship they ever had. As if they had never managed to become best friends before they had to part ways. And it was all his fault, he thought; for as early as that reencounter Alfred realized that just like the stars, Ivan too had become inaccessible after he smashed the telescope with his baseball bat.

"Dude, maybe you should go to bed, you know," Alfred sat up. "I should go home too, I guess."

"I'm not done with this vodka." Ivan declared, lifiting the bottle with force.

Alfred slaps the bottle out of Ivan's hands and it falls off the rooftop. The shrill sound of glass shattering offscreen leaves the state of the ground by the house's entrance to be imagined. Ivan glares at Alfred, a few veins seem to be popping out.

"It was empty anyway. Come on big boy, you drunk."

A grmbly Ivan lifts his arm towards Alfred. Alfred takes his hand and helps him sit up. Ivan stands up on his own, but as soon as he starts showing signs of dizziness Alfred holds him. He makes sure Ivan gets back inside in one piece. All the while Alfred is not even trying to hide that Ivan is a bit too heavy for him. But Alfred would rather place the blame on Ivan being "fat" instead of lack of strength or exhaustion due to the time.

At some point even before they left the rooftop Ivan's body decides without telling anyone that it will stop cooperating altogether. So Alfred has to carry him all the way back to his bedroom as well. Ivan's head and arms are perched onto Alfred's shoulder and the tip of his feet are being dragged on the floor.

"What the hell Ivan? You're effin' fat."

"I'm big boned," Ivan whispers.

"Big-boned my ass!"

Panting and grouching, Alfred grouches and throws Ivan on his bed. His legs are left hanging from the edge of the bed after he falls like the potato sack he bought earlier. He giggles from the slight bouncing on the mattress

"Really? I don't want to see and find out for myself," Ivan talks back and crawls his way into the center of the bed to fit his whole body in.

"Shut up. You're the fat one here."

"Don't worry, Alf. Softer bodies are cute too." Ivan makes squeezing motions with both hands.

"You say the weirdest things when you're wasted." Chuckling, Alfred slaps Ivan's hands then hides them on his pockets.

"Who's wasted?"

"You are wasted."

Ivan shakes his head left to right. Standing next to the bed, Alfred leans close to Ivan.

"Come on, big boy, take off your shoes and go to sleep already." He says, patting the other's large chest. "Let's hope you don't wake up all hung over. I'll lock the doors well and turn off the lights, so don't worry, okay? Good night.

Alfred walks out of the room and closes the door. But Ivan keeps talking, seemingly not realizing Alfred is not there anymore.

"Say, Alfred. We didn't use to be like this. Do you still want us to remain as rivals? Even now?"

The door of the room is thrown open. Alfred knows the best would have been to ignore the other's rambling and leave, but he is overcome by a an impulse even stronger than him. His excuse is that he is just making sure Ivan's really saying what he heard or that he's not asking for help for whatever reason. He just stops and keeps listening, though. He is yet to step back inside.

"When I said I regret not studying Astronomy, I meant it."

Ivan is now lying on his belly. His face rests against a pillow, so his words are muffled, but Alfred is able to make out most of what he's saying with little trouble.

"We've been so childish. And it's my fault we are like this."

Alfred is uncertain about the point Ivan is trying to get to. Maybe is just pointless drunken rambling, but he wants to listen still.

He adjusts his glasses and leans on the doorframe. Ivan turns his body again to face the window next to the bed and curls his body in a ball. Even his wide back begins to look small in Alfred eyes.

"I'm sorry for moving back to Russia instead of going for the University we wanted. I left you alone, and told you confusing, unwanted things too."

Alfred's heart becomes heavy inside his chest, his lips shut tight, curled downwards. He steps inside and returns to Ivan's side. He sits on his bed. Ivan face is still turned away from him.

"Since we met again I've been doing as you told me before I left. But it hurts, you know, going back to this after we got to become friends."

Alfred gets further in the bed and pulls Ivan's shoulder to face him. Ivan looks at him with squinty, glassy eyes. It is uncertain if alcohol is to blame for that.

"Don't touch me," Ivan whines. He languidly throws a pillow to alfred's face. "I'm sorry Alfred but what do you even want anymore? You rejected me then, but won't stop teasing me now."

"Hey Ivan I want to..."

"I don't want to like you anymore. You're too much."

Alfred's heart becomes even heavier. So much his body alone will be crushed under its weight. He allows himself to fall on top of Ivan to wrap his arms around him. His glasses fall off his face and on his hand, but he tosses them away. Ivan lifts both knees together. He wants to curl up again, but is unable to.

"I'm the one who's sorry," said Alfred.

He puts both hands on Alfred's sides, but is hesitant to return the gesture. Alfred buries his face in the gap between Ivan's neck and shoulder. Alfred's cold cheeks against the warmth of his body sends chills down Ivan's spine. The skin underneath his clothes get goosebumps. He closes his eyes.

"I shouldn't have reacted like that when you told me." Alfred muttered to the other's ear.

He clings tightly to Ivan's body. His resistance is waning, but Alfred hugs tighter and tigther as he continues.

"I was a stupid kid just like you. I was confused, and sad... and I got angry."

A knot swells inside Alfred's throat, he jitters, his arms and legs tremble, but he wouldn't stop.

"It was easier to hit you and call you disgusting and a traitor, instead of saying "goodbye" and accepting that maybe... I felt the same for you too."

Alfred's lungs run out of air after saying that. He makes a pause to breathe. Ivan doesn't respond. He opens his watery eyes to see Alfred, but everything is blurry in his eyes and hazy in his head. He can't tell if he's dreaming or not, so he too, wraps his arms tight around the other. He runs his hands back and forth on his back. He wants to confirm he's holding the real deal and not an alcohol-induced hallucination.

"Ivan, I didn't want you to leave... I don't want you to leave again now. I like you too."

And like that, the thoughts weighting down on Alfred's heart escape through the air he exhales. Ivan turns his face in and goes for a kiss. He misses and smooches the corner of the other's lips. Smiling, Alfred cups Ivan's face on one hand and joins their lips properly. And it was all great until Alfred noticed the smell and taste of Vodka and remembered that Ivan was drunk as f...

"Wait wait wait. Stop."

Alfred gets up. Suddenly he doesn't feel as heavy anymore. He picks his glasses from the floor and fixes his jacket.

"No good. Let's... try again when you're sober," He says after clearing his throat. However, Ivan was already passed out.

After realizing Ivan's done for the night, Alfred begins walking in circles around the room at a pace so fast he's almost hopping like a rabit. He feels so energized he might as well do it. He cover his mouth to muffle what would otherwise be uncontrollable squealing.

After the euphoria wears off the events that transpired moments ago sink in completely. In a single day did they just sort out years of buried feelings and childish grudges? Oh boy, no. But they sure had one hell of a start.

Now A stream of questions flooded Alfred's mind. With what had happened, does that mean they are lovers now? Will Ivan even remember what happened? If he doesn't remember, will he tell him and explain what happened? Would Ivan believe him and/or confirm his confession?

He doesn't know if he should feel happy or scared. More importantly, he's thinking whether or not he should stay over tonight. It's not like he doesn't want to go home. However, leaving a drunk person alone is always dangerous, even when they are asleep.

As carefully as he can, Alfred takes off Ivan's shoes and leaves them next to the bed. He turns Ivan's body on its side and puts him on a position to lessen the choking risk in case he gets nauseous; although so far Ivan doesn't show signs of sickness. His breath is calm and follows a normal pace too.

A bit hesitant, Alfred decides to check Ivan's pockets, only so he doesn't crush or damage anything under his weight or when rolling on bed. He takes out Ivan's phone and wallet out of his pants and leaves them on the night table. Ivan didn't seem to have anything on his jacket, but then Alfred pulls out a now wrinkly folded paper sheet. He opens it and the more he examines it the more flustered he becomes. Of all the weird erotic art of them two their students had made, that one was by far the most detailed and realistic-looking as of yet.

He could only wonder where did that thing come from. Leaving the drawing together with the other objects, Alfred goes to pull the thickest blanket he can find out of the closet and covers Ivan with it. He rushes out of the room to lock the house properly, makes a trip to the kitchen, and then returns to Ivan with a tall glass of water, just in case.

Alfred leans close to Ivan and kisses his forehead, an affectionate, loud smooch. He sits on the bed again, close to Ivan's legs. The wisest thing to do for now is to stay there and take care of his beloved rival. At least until he wakes up. Whatever comes next for them they will figure. After a day like that, It's not like he will be able to fall sleep anyway.

The End.

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Final note:

Writing this was one hell of a ride. This is my first fanfic ever, and I'm not a very good writer when it comes to prose. But I gave it my best shot, and wrote this with lots of love. I'm sorry if the overall tone or mood is too bittersweet or if the humour is kinda sour. I also hope Ivan and Alfred’s backstory wasn’t too hard or confusing to piece totgether. I'd still say the ending is a happy one, even if there's an air of uncertainty for the future haha.

Thank you for reading and for your god-tier patience, Patch. I love your blog.

#rusame secret santa 2017 #laaaate #purplepatchwork #rusame #amerus #hetalia #aph russia #aph america #hetalia fanfic

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