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Episode 112 Transcript: Why Did Lucky The Dog Cross the Road? To Get to Purgatory

[intro guitar music]

G: Hello, it's Grey.

C: Hello, it's Crystal.

G: And this is Busty Asian Beauties, a Supernatural commentary podcast where I, someone who has seen this show many, many times...

C: And I, someone who only knows the show through social media, discuss every single episode of Supernatural from start to finish. Also, we are both Asian.

G: Both Asian! For today's episode, we will be discussing Season 6, Episode 8: "All Dogs Go to Heaven," written by Adam Glass, directed by Phil! Phil, you’re back, Phil! Hi, Phil Sgriccia! Directed by Phil Sgriccia.

C: How long have we been without Phil?

G: Let's look up. How long?

C: He directed “Exile on Main St.,” so only seven episodes.

G: Yeah, but that's still a lot to me, I think. I believe.

C: I understand.

G: Adam Glass entered in Season 6. His last ep was "Two and a Half Men," which is the one with the baby, and then this one, and then one called “Like a Virgin.” Is this the one where they become virgins again?

C: I don't know. I feel like that wouldn't be as big of a deal to make it a title.

G: I think that was Season 9 or something, I'm not sure. And then 6.19 is “Mommy Dearest,” the one with Eve, I'm pretty sure. “Party On, Garth,” the one where they drink. "Southern Comfort," the one with Benny.

C: Is that true? Okay, interesting.

G: Oh my god! He wrote “Bad Boys.” That's the big Dean one. People love that one.

C: Yeah, the one where he's at that home for boys, and he's gonna go to the dance with some girl but his dad shows up.

G: And play the guitar, yeah. So true.

C: Yeah. He was gonna be Jensen Ackles.

G: Did you know- Okay, I want to share this to the audience and to you. I haven't told you this, but I went to a party the other day that was supposed to be a Christmas party. But because, as you may remember also from this podcast mentioned before, there was a great big giant typhoon during the Halloween season, so we were like, “Oh, let's make it like a costume party!” [laughg] I didn't go as Dean Winchester because I lost heart, which is very, very, very, very awful, and I should not have done that, but I did go in with my leather jacket, and then somebody-

C: Bruce Springsteen?

G: No, but I was wearing a band shirt inside. A band shirt from Ang Bandang Shirley, my favorite band. A person there asked, “What are you dressed up as?” And I was like, “Oh, I don't know. I guess I'm dressed up as a caricature of myself because this is something that is so stereotypically my outfit.” And she started complimenting my leather jacket and how great she finds it and how much the color is so weird and different from other leather jackets, [C laughs] and I said, “Oh my god, yeah, I got it specifically because during my high school graduation, my creative shot, I dressed up as-” and then I tried to stop myself, [C laughs] and then I was like, “No, let's be who we are. Let's be real to ourselves." "I dressed up as Dean Winchester!” and then they proceeded- this person, and then a couple other people who have crowded around my leather jacket, proceeded to talk about how hot Jensen Ackles is.

C: No!

G: I know!

C: What are they talking about?

G: I thought I was gonna be publicly shamed, and all of them were like "Jensen Ackles is so hot." Isn't that crazy? I thought I was going to be publicly shamed.

C: So it was, in fact, you who was the only cool one there? [G laughs]

G: That's crazy, right? They're all like, "Jensen Ackles is so hot." And someone was like, "Who's Jensen Ackles?" "He played Dean Winchester. I can't believe you don't know what Supernatural is. He's the guy from Supernatural who's so hot." [C laughing] And then they were like, "He's so hot in The Boys as well." Isn't that crazy? [C: Yeah.] What's going on? What is going on?

C: I don't know. I mean, I understand that he's conventionally attractive, but that's a lot of people.

G: But "so hot," quote-unquote? It was a lot of people. It was maximum five people were saying that Jensen Ackles was hot.

C: Maximum or minimum?

G: No, it was five exactly [C laughs] that was saying that Jensen Ackles was hot.

C: Okay, both.

G: Yeah, it was max and min. So that was an event that happened to me.

C: Well, scary.

G: Yeah. But that's completely unrelated to our episode. I just love taking our audience to the journey of my leather jacket. It's a very important facet of my life.

C: So I suppose, to preface this episode, the monster of the week this week is a skinwalker. These are really important parts of Navajo culture and aren't really spoken about outside the Navajo community because like, just various reasons. To respect that, first, I think we're going to call the creature just “a creature” without saying the name during the episode, and secondly, I guess I will read a section of the article “Magic in North America Part 1: Ugh.” by Adrienne K. on the blog Native Appropriations, which is about J.K. Rowling's mention of these creatures in a Harry Potter franchise thing. Basically, after this dropped, this article came out and the writer, Adrienne K., said:

“I had a long phone call with one of my friends/mentors today, who is Navajo, asking her about the concepts Rowling is drawing upon here, and discussing how to best talk about this in a culturally appropriate way that can help you (the reader, and maybe Rowling) understand the depths to the harm this causes, while not crossing boundaries and taboos of culture. What did I decide? That you don’t need to know. It’s not for you to know. I am performing a refusal.

“What you do need to know is that the belief of these things (beings?) has a deep and powerful place in Navajo understandings of the world. It is connected to many other concepts and many other ceremonial understandings and lifeways. It is not just a scary story, or something to tell kids to get them to behave, it’s much deeper than that. My own community also has shape-shifters, but I’m not delving into that either.

“What happens when Rowling pulls this in, is we as Native people are now opened up to a barrage of questions about these beliefs and traditions (take a look at my twitter mentions if you don’t believe me)–but these are not things that need or should be discussed by outsiders. At all. I’m sorry if that seems 'unfair,' but that’s how our cultures survive.

“The other piece here is that Rowling is completely re-writing these traditions. Traditions that come from a particular context, place, understanding, and truth.”

So, yeah, that is our preface.

G: Yep. This one, it's a case episode, so I assume that you don't actually know a lot about it before going in.

C: Yeah, I don't think I knew like, anything.

G: You messaged me, while you were watching it, “What is up with this episode?” [both laugh] I think. At what point did that message come in?

C: When the guy is watching her in the shower. [laughs]

G: Honestly, when the shower scene was happening, I was like, "I almost forgot we were watching a Supernatural episode." I didn't. I did not forget. But in case I did forget, I would have remembered, [C laughs] is what I felt like.

C: What a completely illogical 40 minutes of my time this was.

G: Wait, you didn't like this episode?

C: No.

G: I like cases, and I like case episodes, and I like that there's a case.

C: None of it made sense to me. The emotional core is supposed to be that this guy loves this family and would do anything to protect them, and we don't even get justification for why he killed her husband? [G: No, yeah.] They're trying to tell one thing, and through other actions, they're trying to tell me that he just wants to fuck this woman.

G: No, [laughs] it's so funny because he talked about, “You and the kid are the only people- my only family, the only people who ever showed me kindness.” And it's like, I think the guy was also in the family?

C: You killed that kid's father and that woman's husband! [laughs]

G: And I think if there was a point in the story where the husband hits him, the dog or something, maybe we could understand it a bit better. I still would be like, “That is still her husband and his dad-” like, the kid's dad, so I don't know.

C: If Cal was shown to be abusive in some way to the dog or-

G: Or the family.

C: - anyone in his family, then I would understand. That would pull everything together. But there is no such scene. He's just kind of a deadbeat.

G: And like, it is so wild to me that one of the red herrings is, "This guy can drink a lot." [laughs] I find that so fascinating that they did that. Good on you, Supernatural, the show where everyone is drinking a lot all the time. [C: Yeah.] But I enjoy case episodes. What can we do? Many things. Probably not watch Supernatural is one of the things we can do. [C: True.] Except we can't! Because I love doing this podcast! So yeah, unfortunate. Or very fortunate. Who knows?

G: Spotify Wrapped is out, and podcasts also get their own Spotify Wrapped, and we just want to say thank you to the people who had us in their top 10, the people had us in their top 5, and specifically the 25 people who were listening to us as their number one podcast! [C: Thank you.] Thank you so much. It's so sweet and so wonderful. And thank you to the people, or I think one person, who has sent us regards regarding this.

We start the episode with a “Then” sequence. And our “Then” sequence actually goes all the way back to Madison. [C: Yeah.] Love it. [laughs] And like, I think the point is that they were trying to establish that one, Sam still has his memories, and so he remembers Madison. Two, the biggest red herring of this episode is that we think the whole time, pretty much, that it's a werewolf, but it's not. Yeah, that's pretty much it. Those are the reasons why Madison is here. And I think also that Sam being able to talk about Madison with levity as opposed to, you know, his like, "I don't care about Lisa or Ben or you,” which is the funniest fucking thing he ever said. [C: Yeah. Love it.] "You know how I pretend to care about Lisa? I actually don't." [laughs] So true. Aside from that, we just get regular schmegular stuff. And then we go to a guy who is- at first, I couldn't understand what he was saying. I think I had to open my subtitles to understand him, but he's talking to someone over the phone, and he's talking about either his dog or a kid. [laughs]

C: Dog.

G: Is he talking about the dog?

C: Yeah, because he asked if the person or whatever he's talking about pooped after being taken to the park specifically.

G: Yeah, you can say that about a baby. "Did you take the baby to the park? Did the baby have a bowel movement?"

C: Babies aren't supposed to poop in the park.

G: No, but like, I don't think he was saying like, "Did you pee or poop in the park?" He's saying in general, and the park is also there.

C: I think he is! You take dogs to the park in order to let them poop outside.

G: Yeah, I know. But you could maybe also do that to a baby with a diaper.

C: But why would they have to be in the park for it?

G: It's about nature and nurture, [C laughs] is what it's about.

C: I don't think you're supposed to train your children to poop outside.

G: No, this is very well may be the case. Well, unfortunate. I was very confused as to what was going on in this scene, truly out of my mind confused. But, alas!

C: He's also leaving a strip club to show that he's sleazy.

G: Yeah, there's like- they really focus on the name of the strip club, but I don't-

C: We've seen the Honey Wagon before.

G: Have we?

C: I think that was where they thought the siren worked.

G: Oh, that's fun. Or is it?

C: Let me check. Honey Wagon, Supernatural. Yeah, that's the name of the bar in “Sex and Violence.”

G: I can't believe you remember that! Good for you.

C: Thank you.

G: Anyway, as he gets in the car, there's like, a dog's perspective. We hear growling and stuff. It attacks him, but it's invisible, and he screams, cries, moans, throws up blood because he gets a blood splatter. He's dead! RIP. They make the dog invisible at this point.

C: I think we just don't see the angles.

G: No, because we see the guy get mauled by a thing that is supposed to be in front of him, but there's nothing in front of him.

C: Fair. Okay, this is supposed to be his own- Okay, no, this isn't his own dog. This is Lucky.

G: Yeah, this is Lucky killing the landlord, yeah.

C: Slay. Sam and Dean are eating lunch.

G: Can I say? I love the sets that they use this episode. The outdoor sets that they use are fun, and it feels so late Supernatural but also early. This scene, they're outside. They're in a roadside diner that is very much roadside, nothing else is there. It's just this goddamn diner. And I enjoyed that! It's such a fun look. It's such a fun look that is shockingly rare in Supernatural. We don't see it that much, but I enjoyed it tremendously, and I enjoyed the fact that they were on a rooftop. Love a rooftop. They were there. [C: True.] And the thing that they were in, the warehouse they were in, was also pretty fun. I love the sets this episode. Good for them.

C: Good for them. So Dean's on the phone with Bobby trying to figure out a way to get Sam's soul back that doesn't involve [both, dramatically] working for a demon!

G: No, it's so fun. You know, I do appreciate that like this part, it's all like, "I don't want to work for a demon. I don't want to work for a demon." And then later, he says a line that makes you realize that I guess just the fact that they're torturing is also a consideration for him. And I think the line was like, “Maybe we should check before we hand them over to be raped by demons” or something like that. [C: Right.] And I did go, “Aww, Dean cares!” [both laugh] which is like, the bar is on the floor. I did immediately go, “I don't think he cares that much.” I don't know, Grey. Maybe this is not the vibe. But for a second, I did go, “Oh my god! Dean actually cares beyond working for a demon being against his morals.”

C: I mean, he cares that they're torturing if the person they're torturing isn't a monster.

G: Is innocent, yeah.

C: [laughs] Which I think, yeah. Again, bar's-

G: Not even innocent or not innocent. Literally just monster or not monster. [C: Yeah.] If it was an innocent monster, he would still probably DGAF. [C: Yeah.] It is fascinating that they did that one episode with the vampires, Lenore, and they just never- Have they ever explored that kind of mindset ever again?

C: Regarding a vampire who doesn't want to feed on people?

G: Yeah, something similar with regards to other creatures, other monsters.

C: Not really. I guess this episode.

G: The closest they have come to it is, "What if a person is actually the monster?" [laughs] which is like-

C: In “The Benders”?

G: Yeah. That's the other thing that they were like, breaking out of the status quo of monster bad, human good. I don't know. I think here, we're also supposed to think the monster is horrible. This creature, the dog- Does the dog-

C: The dog's name is Lucky, but what is this guy's human name? [both laugh]

G: We're supposed to think Lucky was a creep who was a creep and a weirdo and a crepe and a weirdough, and he does not want to be there.

C: I think we're supposed to feel sympathy for him.

G: Yeah, when he went to the road, are we supposed to think that he was gonna kill himself? [C laughs]

C: I thought, for a second, he was trying to get hit by a car, but I think-

G: I did, too.

C: - I think he was just leaving.

G: “Why did Lucky the dog cross the road? To get to the other side.”

C: Yeah, parentheses Purgatory.

G: To get to Purgatory.

C: Anyway, Dean goes, "I mean, if Crowley thinks we're just gonna-” and Crowley appears right next to him and goes, “Crowley thinks you're just gonna what, Dean?”

G: Love him! And Sam looks up, revealing that he has been hearing this conversation all along. Love it.

C: Of course. Crowley reminds us that he and Bobby kissed, and then [G: Literally.] tries to give them a job, and Dean is incredibly resistant to it all. Crowley's like, “Sam would totally work for me. You'd sell your brother for a dollar right now, if you really needed a soda.” [G laughs]

G: Sam doesn't respond, and we get a shot of Dean kind of like waiting for Sam to go, “No, Crowley!”

C: "Nooo!"

G: "Nooo!" Except he doesn’t. And Dean's like, "Oh, okay.” [laughs]

C: Yeah, Dean says, “I've done some shady stuff in my time, but I am not doing this.”

C: But yeah, you've already worked for a demon in Hell. Crowley goes, “Yeah, you will,” and then he starts burning Sam's hand. [G: Yeah.] And he goes, “You like pain, Sam? You like Hell?” [laughs] The sex must go crazy. [G laughs]

G: I don't think that's what we're supposed to get in this scene, [C laughs] but okay, I shall support you, no matter what.

C: But yeah, he starts yelling at Dean that he can't negotiate because Crowley literally owns his brother. And then, when Dean seems to acquiesce, wow!

G: Wow. Which means agree, but only a little bit.

C: Sure, yeah, basically. I keep forgetting. And then he stops burning Sam's hand and heals it.

G: For a second, I thought what was happening here was he was making Sam experience a fraction of the pain he was experiencing in Hell.

C: Oh, that could be it.

G: And I was like, "I think Crowley's like, a little bit mean! I think he's like, mean for keeping Sam still there. I think it's like, not a very nice thing to do."

C: Yeah, you know, if I had to choose between whether it was nice or not nice, I would probably support the not nice side.

G: I would choose not nice. Crowley, have you changed your mind? Maybe you should change your mind? It's not that nice.

C: Yeah. Do you think maybe he just doesn't know that it's not nice, so that's why he's doing it? Like, maybe if we went up and told him, "That's not very nice." He would be like, “Oh, shit! I didn't realize!”

G: "Oh no! Damn it, I thought it was very nice, after all!" Yeah, maybe we should tell him. [C: Yeah.] Let's call, Crowley. We'll tell you.

C: Crowley, if you listen to Busty Asian Beauties: A Supernatural Commentary Podcast, stop it!

G: Don't do it!

C: Regarding the Sam thing. Keep listening.

G: Literally.

C: So he promises that if they get just one alpha live to him, then they'll get Sam's soul back. Very interesting how he uses Sam's bodily pain as leverage, even though Dean doesn't believe that's Sam right now.

G: Well, he believes, I think, that it's Sam's body, which he says later, like it's Sam's body and Sam's brain, but Sam isn't there. And so when Sam comes back, he's still going to have his body and his brain, I think, is the thought process. It could also just be the instinct of like, “That's my kid brother, and I don't really want him to be going, ‘Ouch! Ouch! Owie!’”

C: Yeah, I mean, Dean beat him half to death two episodes ago.

G: That's true, but you see, he was unconscious halfway through that, [C laughs] so he wasn't going. “Ouch! Ouch! Owie!”

C: I see. I see. Yeah. And also Dean probably thinks it's fine when he does it. [G laughs]

G: Yeah. Horrible.

C: Horrible. Crowley gives them a newspaper showing the cold open with the heart missing, and since it's not a full moon, Crowley thinks that this might be some kind of alpha werewolf that can turn whenevs. He disappears. It's kind of silly to me how against working for Crowley Dean is this episode because he was literally fine working with Crowley to find Pestilence last season. Sam was the one that was resistant, and Dean was like, "Okay, sure, if we gotta." He was only really just a little bit annoyed, and that's about it. But it's because Sam won't be against it this season, so they just give that to Dean.

G: We're supposed to assume, I think, that it's because of what the helping entails, which is torture, but again, it's such a nebulous fucking thing that they do with torture in Supernatural, and by nebulous, I do mean mind-boggling. [C: Yeah.] And so there's no follow-through in that aspect. No follow-through. So I don't know. Another thing is that it's never brought up, like Ruby. It's never brought up. [C: Yeah!] Which is such a weird thing. Last episode, we complained that it wasn't brought up. It's still not brought up here, and it's just such an odd choice to make to be like, "Oh, I remember, Dean. I have my memories. I remember Madison! [C laughs] And that's the only thing I remember from my past that is related to the events of this episode." Like, okay. Well, do you remember the demon that tricked you that you helped and could be the reason why you shouldn't help this one or something? Don't know.

C: I don't know.

G: Like at some point, Crowley goes, "I'm holding you hostage by withholding a thing that you want." That's also what Ruby did, but included an emotional aspect to it. Like, okay.

C: Okay.

G: Now, we're in the car. Sam is reading the newspaper. He's saying what they should be doing and what they should be doing. Dean is like, "Agh. I can't believe this! I'm also doing what you're doing, but I feel horrible! [C laughs] And you're feeling normo! How dare you be normo?"

C: He goes, "This is what you're gonna do?" And Sam says, "What am I doing?" And Dean says, "Crowley." So true! #Cram.

G: #Cram. And Sam says, "Oh, I just need to work the case because he got us by the short and curlies," [C: #Cram!] which is a horrible, horrible visual, [C laughs] but good for them. "What else are we supposed to do?" That's what Sam says. And Dean says, "Well, we're supposed to do it, but we need to feel bad about it!" [laughs] I cannot get over this! Ever since I noted that the thing about Supernatural is they want to do things, but they want to feel bad about them, about doing the bad things, and that's what makes it fine, it's impossible to unsee that that is the great big philosophy of the show. But yeah. And Sam says, "Look, I understand this is such a weird thing that's going on, but I still have- It's still me. Still same head, still the same memories." He says, "I still like the same music. I still think about Suzie Heizer."

C: What music, Sam?

G: What music, Sam? An important question.

C: Yeah, I think Word of God, he likes Fall Out Boy, but has he really shown himself to have that many musical tastes in the show besides that one band that he liked that Lucifer possessed?

G: And then that's much, much, much later.

C: That's much, much, much later?

G: Yeah. And he was also allegedly- Wasn't he listening to music that was like, bad, allegedly? The show treated it like it was bad music. Hair music. Or hair rock

C: Yeah. When Dean came back from the dead and he checked the iPod, was that when that came up?

G: Yeah. And Sam was like, "I'm listening to a podcast about blah blah blah blah blah blah." And then Dean pulled out the earphones, and it's hair metal or something.

C: Yeah, I think that's later.

G: Yeah, that is later. We get no aspect- it does make me a little bit sad that this show, the music of it is John and then Dean's music. That makes me sad. [C: Yeah.] What about Mary? What about Sam?

C: I guess Mary likes "Hey Jude."

G: Maybe Sam is woman-coded. [both laugh]

C: Oh my god!

G: People will say anything. No, but Mary does love "Hey Jude." She likes the Beatles. That's something we know of her.

C: Mary should watch "Takin' Over the Asylum."

G: I know! Mary, go watch it! [C laughs] Sam says that he still thinks about Suzie Heizer, who is from biology class, so either a student or a teacher.

C: I think they would say Ms. Heizer if it was a teacher.

G: But Dean says, "Like, biology class Suzie Heizer?"

C: No, yeah, it's like, why does Dean know about this girl?

G: Yeah, they're in different grades, so.

C: I guess maybe Sam confided in him about his crush or something.

G: Yeah, maybe. If so, that's sweet that Dean remembers.

C: Yeah. But part of the vibe is like, "Yeah, I also thought this girl in your class was hot," so.

G: Yeah, which is also weird. So whatever. That's why I'm assuming it's a teacher.

C: Weren't they at the same school campus in- I forgot the name of the episode.

G: Yeah, they were. They always were in the same pretty much school.

C: That can't always be true, though, because they're four years apart.

G: Are high schools and grade schools just fundamentally different places?

C: I guess the school they were at was like, maybe a combo middle school/high school. But yeah, I feel like a lot of middle schools are their own thing, and there's only three grades in there.

G: What are the three middle school grades?

C: 6th, 7th, 8th.

G: Oh. Why is it called middle school?

C: Because it's in the middle between 1st to 5th grade and 9th to 12th grade.

G: No, okay. Well, our definition is one to six is grade school, and then seven to ten is high school. [C: Interesting.] And then eleven and twelve is senior high school. Stupid fucking thing. [C laughs] Let's kill the Philippine government. Who said that? [C: I don't know.] Me, I said it.

Sam says, "Look, I know you don't trust me, but you gotta, Dean!" [both laugh] He doesn't say it like that, but he says that "I'm going to prove to you that I'm still your brother."

C: So they go to the dock, and there's a detective there, and he's Asian!

G: Asian! He's Asian. Look at this Asian man. Good for him.

C: Good for him. And they go up to him, and Sam immediately recreates the authority check fail in the church in Disco Elysium where Harry Du Bois calls Kim Kitsuragi, an Asian detective, a monkeyfucker. [laughs] 'Cause Sam calls him a mouth-breathing dick monkey. Basically the same thing.

G: That's crazy. [C laughs]

C: Yeah, it's supposed to be a horrible racial slur in Disco Elysium, [G laughs] and it doesn't not completely come across as racist here, I would say.

G: The detective just DGAF and just gives them info.

C: Yeah, he literally does not care. He just delivers the information to them. Yeah, so there was a dock worker who was killed, chest ripped open, heart missing, like the landlord before. And Sam asks about enemies, "And the detective says, 'Yeah, plenty. But you do realize these were animal attacks?'" And Dean goes, "There are no animals here in Buffalo, New York. What the fuck are you talking about? You think there's animals in here? There's an ocean nearby. You think that there could possibly be an animal in a place where there's an ocean nearby. Just any animal? You fucking idiot!" [laughs] And then it cuts to the next scene.

G: It could literally be a rabid dog. [laughs] [C: Yeah.] "Do you think there's a wolf?" What if there's a big fucking dog?

C: Yeah. Stupid as fuck. So in the motel, Dean's sleeping on a bed, face-down, but there's no Ackle's ass equation shot of it.

G: Yeah, but I wish there was. [laughs]

C: Huh. Five people at that party wish there was.

G: I think they were not Supernatural watchers. I think they were seeing Supernatural on Tumblr. It was that kind of party. People here were on Tumblr. [C: I see.] I feel like they were just seeing Supernatural on Tumblr or something. They were seeing gifsets of the Ackles ass equatio and not engaging with the material as well as I did. [C laughs] [C: I see.] And that's the only reason why they can objectify Dean Winchester in this way. If they watch it, they would be objectifying Castiel, and so I know that they didn't.

C: So true. So Sam's not slept, and has been doing research all night, which Dean thinks is creepy, but Sam’s like, “Not like I can help it!” The connection between the victims is something. They don't say yet, but they go to a house about it.

G: The house that they go to, Sam literally takes out- Is it a tranquilizer gun, or is it silver bullets?

C: I think it's just a regular gun with silver bullets.

G: I thought they were supposed to catch this guy or something.

C: Yeah, they are supposed to catch this guy, but I guess this is like, in case things go awry.

So they knock, and there's a woman, Mandy, and her little son Adrian. They- Sam and Dean say that they're here to question Cal Garrigan because they're misogynists, and I feel like they should have assumed that Mandy had just as much reason to kill those people as he did, which they do, but only after ruling out Cal. Which doesn't make any sense to me. The last main werewolf they dealt with was a woman. [G: Yeah.] They have no reason to view werewolves as more necessarily male.

So they go in. There's a dog, a German shepherd named Lucky, who's there. So Cal is Mandy's boyfriend, and he's sleeping because he was out all night drinking.

G: Oh, we kept on calling this guy the husband earlier.

C: Did I?

G: I did.

C: Is the issue that you didn't remember his name?

G: No, I kept on calling him "the husband."

C: Oh, and he's a boyfriend. No, you're right. I also called him a husband. Wait. So that's so crazy. [laughing] Is it like, "He's not really family, because they're not bound in sacred wedlock, so that's why it was fine for Lucky to kill him"?

G: Can I say?

C: What?

G: I would have the same belief. [laughs]

C: No, what? They live together! That's his kid.

G: You can live together. You can have a kid.

C: Well, I think they view each other as family.

G: [laughing] It's the sanctity of marriage [C screams] that makes a family.

C: No! Oh my god! We don't know if that's his kid, I guess, but I think the fact that they live together indicates, probably, that she views him as family.

G: You can literally live- You know what? Here's my take. If you're some fuckall guy, if you're not this kid's dad, and you live together, you're family. If you are this kid's dad, you don't have to be family to live together.

C: Yeah, that's fair, 'cause it wasn't exactly by choice.

G: So if it's the biological dad, yeah.

C: All right. Fine. Fine enough.

G: And if you live together, and you're dating, and you have a kid, and you're not married, what are you doing? What are you doing? That's my hot take.

C: Do you genuinely believe this?

G: [laughing] Yes, yes, I do. [C: Okay.] You don't have to think this is the correct belief. I also think maybe it's a little bit wrong, but like, not enough to change my mind.

C: Yeah. Alright.

G: Yeah. Yeah. I think for me, the only reason why you would do that is if you're already planning to leave each other, in which case, yeah. Hell yeah. But that is not family.

C: [laughing] You're really saying sentences. [G laughs] Alright, well, I don't agree with any of that. Moving on...

G: How dare you? I stood by your side earlier when you were saying things that I completely forgot about!

C: Wait! What things?

G: I don't know, but I said earlier that I will stand by you, no [burps] matter what. And I literally burped in the middle of saying that. I'm so sorry.

C: It's cool. Wait, earlier as in earlier in this episode?

G: Yeah, I said, "Crystal, I'll support you no matter what."

C: [laughing] Why do I feel like that didn't happen?

G: I am sure it did, and when I record I will replay it right here, right now. Replay.

[beep]

C: He goes, "You like pain, Sam? You like Hell?" The sex must go crazy. [G laughs]

G: I don't think that's what we're supposed to get in this scene, [C laughing] but okay, I shall support you, no matter what.

[beep]

C: What if you just record yourself saying that, and you're like, "This is part of the edit. Don't think about it too much, Crystal."

G: No, yeah? No, I'm so sorry to people who may be affected by my harsh words.

C: Yeah. [laughs] Well, anyway. [G laughs] So yeah, Cal was out late. He was clearly very drunk. He slept in those clothes. He blacked out, probably, so these are all suspicious things. And they reveal that the reason that they're suspicious of him is that the two people who were killed were his brother and his landlord. Regarding his brother, the last time he visited, Cal called the cops on him because he was violent towards Mandy. And for the landlord, Cal and Mandy are behind on rent payments, and they were going to be evicted. Both Sam and Dean are just glaring this guy down, and he's just like, "I'm confused." So Sam and Dean are like, "Okay, fine. Let's go." They're pretty sure it's him, and Sam thinks that they should just kidnap him and deliver him to Crowley now. But yeah, Grey, as you mentioned, Dean says that they have to make sure before they hand him over to be tortured.

G: So they both go to watch Cal, and they talk about how he is in this place now. They followed him through several locations, and he's still drinking a lot because he went to like, a bar, a strip club, a chili dog joint- so important [C laughs]- had seven or eight nightcaps, and now is having Scotch and is just completely fine, like upstanding, no anything.

C: Did Lucky kill him because all the drinking was making them behind on rent?

G: You really think so?

C: You already got the landlord.

G: Yeah! You can just not pay the rent anymore. The land is officially yours.

C: [laughs] Yeah, that's how it works. There's no replacement.

G: Yeah, no, it's officially yours.

C: Yeah, exactly. The landlord's will left that apartment to them.

G: Exactly. But what happens is Sam and Dean are like, "Oh, nothing's gonna happen. Let's just wait it out. I'm sure he will attack in a couple hours or something." So they head out, and as Cal, later in the morning, heads out, we see that Lucky is there as he's trying to enter the car. And he asks Lucky, "What the hell are you doing here?" And then Lucky kills that guy! [laughs] [C: Yup.] Kills that fucking guy. And as Cal is on the floor, dead, we see, we pan up to see a guy. It's just a dude, and he's naked, I'm pretty sure, at this point. [C: Yes.] And he has blood all over his body from killing this guy.

C: Yeah. The nakedness is definitely a choice. It is to just make him seem [both] creepier or whatever. They could choose to have him shift with clothes on or whatever.

G: It's also just a visual cue that there's a dog now. I would say it does work later in the-

C: Yeah, 'cause the clothes left on the ground indicate [G: Yeah.] that somebody shifted.

G: Yeah. And so during the fight scene, it's like, "Ooh, and they have to look out for a dog now!" The next scene is this guy, Lucky the guy, [both laugh] standing over the bed of Mandy, and he's just looking.

C: He's still naked.

G: Yeah, naked, bloodied, looking looking looking. And then he transforms into a dog and starts licking Mandy and then sleeps by her.

C: She wakes up, and Lucky is being very physically affectionate. She notices Cal isn't there but thinks that's typical. And she calls Lucky "the only decent boyfriend she has ever had."

G: Is the reason why they made her a girlfriend and not a wife because they want it so that she's not called later? [C: Not called?] They won't call her because she's not the wife, she's a girlfriend. Is that true?

C: I don't think so.

G: 'Cause I can't think of a reason- When the episode was happening, I can't think of a reason why she hasn't been called. So is that the show trying to justify it by being like, "She wasn't called because she was a girlfriend, not a wife."

C: Well, did they know who this guy was at the- When the police found his body and took him away, did they find ID on him? Did they know who he was, or did Sam and Dean just contact her because they recognized the body?

G: Sam and Dean went there. Do you think they recognized the body, and that's how they knew. But they said, "Nobody called you?" Sam and Dean asked, "Nobody called you?"

C: Well, yes, probably they thought that the cops would have figured out is- How would they know that she was- You mean like, 'cause there's no records of their relationship in any public system, so the cops wouldn't know to call her about it?

G: Yeah.

C: That could be it. But your phone numbers aren't on a marriage certificate.

G: Yeah, but you can go, "Oh, there's a person. Let's track down the address." [C: Yeah.] Let's go to the address and go, "Hey, your husband's dead."

C: So anyway, Mandy goes into the shower, and we see Lucky go stand in the doorway, and he's like, panting and staring at her as she undresses and gets in.

G: No, yeah. No, yeah. [laughs]

C: Yeah. Certainly a scene. And okay, being like, "I care about-"

G: [laughing] Why are they doing this to this beloved dog actor? So sorry, dog actor! [C laughs]

C: No, the dog's really cute. Love that dog. Good job playing a pervert. [G laughs] This is the whole thing- No, say your thing first.

G: No, no, no, I was just gonna say I love the word "pervert."

C: Yeah, it's got a great sound to it.

G: It does have a great sound to it, like annui. Or ennui? That's how to pronounce it. Words with great sounds: ennui, [both] pervert, ever- [laughs]

C: I wonder how far away those are on the Divergent Association Task.

C: Yeah, guess we'll never know.

C: So this is the thing I said earlier about how like it's supposed to be like, "This guy is kind of a hero who just loves this family so much, and it was cool of him to kill other people to protect them." But like, and that can exist in- It can happen at the same time as him being attracted to this woman, but like, [G: Yeah.] I feel like they just don't really try to combine those things in any way that makes sense. If they wanted to do a "And he was in love with this woman!" and we're supposed to feel sympathy about that like, okay, go ahead. Sure. I believe this story.

G: And I do think there is also a situation where he's in love with this woman and the guy is a decent father and a decent boyfriend and all that crap.

C: Right. So you need multiple things to be happening for all the components of the story to work, and yeah, they're not being put in here. Are we just supposed to think that the fact that he drinks a lot and doesn't come home means he deserves to die? [both laugh]

G: Well, much to say about John Winchester, then.

C: For real. And also like, he did murder people who [G: No, yeah, exactly.] weren't the best people, but like, [laughs] Sam and Dean would not be like, "It's okay to kill those people" under most circumstances, so [G: Yeah.] what's up with that?

G: They went to her place, and when they realize that they don't- that she doesn't know what's going on- Before they went in, Sam asks Dean if he can do it, and by "it," he means, [laughs] put Mandy in the trunk and shove her up to Crowley, well, one, they didn't do that with Lucky. They didn't end up doing that with Lucky because I think it's very clear that it's not the alpha, so they didn't.

G: Yeah, I don't know why they thought Mandy was the alpha. Aren't the alphas that we've seen before- they didn't really have an established civilian life, right? [G: Yeah.] They're just kinda hanging around being creepy in places. But I guess just the idea of a werewolf being able to shift every day just means to them that this is the alpha, even though Sam already encountered regular degular werewolves that were shifting on the half moon? Kind of confusing.

G: Yeah. Mandy's kid is sick, and she's like, you know, taking care of him as he's like lying on the couch, sick. And Lucky comes in and gives a toy, and then the toy breaks, and they're like, "Wow! Lucky is such a good boy! Lucky knows that you're sick, and he wants you to feel better!" blah blah blah blah blah blah, which is also what we say to the kid when the cats come to her when she's sick.

C: Aw.

G: It's true, but this dog is a creep. [laughs]

C: So the thing about Lucky holding onto the toy and not letting go of it until the leg breaks off when Mandy tries to take it out of his mouth-

G: Is that supposed to be a metaphor?

C: What I thought was- I thought we were supposed to- because of all the standing over her naked stuff, I thought we were supposed to think that he was gonna come for the kid next, and like, [G: Noo.] this is just a sign of like resentment that he felt. [G laughs] I think we're supposed to think that he's gonna come for the kid next, but then later, they talk to him, and he's nice!

G: He's niceys to the kid!

C: Yeah. So like, why'd he break the toy, then?

G: It was just an accident.

C: If he wasn't gonna murder that child, why didn't he let go of the toy in the mouth? [both laugh] Those are the same thing!

G: Well, one, it was an accident. Two, I think it's supposed to establish that he has trouble letting go. [both laugh] And what if he does? What if he does have trouble letting go, Crystal? Have you considered that?

C: Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry.

G: As they go head out, that's when Sam and Dean come in. Mandy is walking the dog, leaves her kid by himself, all alone.

C: Yes.

G: I would have called someone to walk the dog, personally.

C: Well, walking the dog can be a really fast thing.

G: Yeah, but a child alone in the house. What if a stranger comes in? What if a stranger knocks-

C: There's locks.

G: - and the kid answers the door?

C: Tell the kid not to answer the door.

G: Yeah, but what if the guy goes, "Hey, your mom told me that you can answer the door for me, and-"

C: Wait, so do you think that no child who's conscious should ever be alone in the house?

G: A little bit, yeah! [laughs]

C: [laughing] You're revealing so many things today.

G: What if you accidentally left the gas open? The kid's just gonna die because the kid doesn't know what gas smells like.

C: And if you stayed in there, [laughs] then both of you would die.

G: No, but you would know, because you would know. You would connect the dots 'cause you're an adult.

C: Well, I think you could just be a person who doesn't leave the gas open. [laughs]

G: Yeah, but what if? Etc.

C: I think you can just not leave the gas open.

G: What if the kid goes, "Oh, I'm thirsty. I need water." And then they go and get water, and then they open the water, and they leave it open, and the house floods.

C: They probably won't do that. I think that if you know your kid-

G: The kid is sick! The kid is sick. You don't know what the kid is gonna do. The kid is sick.

C: Does being sick make children that stupid?

G: Yes! Yes! Not stupid, but it makes you forgetful, it makes you not consider things that you would otherwise consider. And when you're a child, I feel like that is double.

C: How old is this-

G: What if the child trips over while getting water, and now just has a bloody knee and a bloody head?

C: That can happen if you're in the bathroom in the house with the kid, too.

G: Yeah! [laughing] And like, you shouldn't! [C laughing]

C: Okay, you're just doing a bit at this point? We should probably move on.

G: No no no. The bathroom, I think, is fine, because that's quick. I think the ones that you shouldn't leave a kid at at all is when they're eating and when they're sick.

C: In case they choke?

G: I believe that. Because what if they choke? And what if they trip over and die?

C: Okay, well, what if you go to the bathroom while they're sick? Is that allowed?

G: No. I think if they're just solidly in bed at that point, you can.

C: Wait. [laughing] You're not allowed to go to the bathroom if your kid is sick and still awake?

G: Children are fucking weird, and children will do things when they're sick and start sleepwalking and shit.

C: Yeah, and sometimes you just have to let that happen! You tell them like, "Here are the guidelines to keep yourself safe."

G: Sometimes, a kid will fall down the stairs.

C: Yeah?

G: Yeah! Just let the kid fall down the stairs?

C: And they'll do that whether or not you're there!

G: Yeah, but if you're there, you can go, "Okay, let's go back. Let's not fall down the fucking stairs."

C: Yeah. And if you're out walking the dog for like five minutes, when you get back, you can say that.

G: [laughing] After they've fallen down the stairs and hit their head!

C: Yeah, that's unfortunate.

G: Well, some things a kid can experience, and some things after you get hit by a car, you're dead. So, you know.

C: Yes, I agree that some things will kill a child, and those things can happen whether or not you're there. [G laughs]

G: But they're less likely to happen if you're there!

C: Maybe. But I think there's an extent of caution that-

G: How old do you think this kid is?

C: I don't know. Like, five?

G: Do not leave a five-year-old sick by himself! If it's a ten-year-old, it's fine.

C: You send kids to school, and they're not always supervised there.

G: They are always supervised in school! Have you been in school?

C: They can run off somewhere.

G: They can, and there's guards in the school.

C: There's guards in the school?

G: There's security in the school, yeah. There's a guy guarding the gate-

C: There were not guards-

G: There's a guy guarding the gate.

C: There weren't guards at my school.

G: And so when a kid is running off into the road to get hit by a car, the guard can go, "No!"

C: There were not guards. I think there were gates, but I don't think they were fully locked.

G: They were gates and people who were guarding them. They're not locked, obviously. What if there's an emergency and you need to go out fast?

C: Then they can unlock them. I think we just had a different security and infrastructure in our schools.

G: Yeah, that is probably true. I went to school with guards.

C: I don't recall guards.

G: And I think that's true for every school I see, public or private, has had guards.

C: Yeah, I believe that. I don't recall guards at my schoo.

G: What if a kid goes out into the road? What if a kid goes out, and then it's taken by someone? Just someone?

C: Then that would be bad. You tell the kid, "Don't go out," and you try to make sure you have a good head count.

G: [laughs] Sure, yeah. If a fucking kidnapper gets your child, that's it. It's over.

C: Well, yeah. You could pay the ransom?

G: I am enamored by this confrontation. "You should leave a child when the child is sick" [laughs] is- I could not believe this. You're gonna die-

C: For a five-minute dog walk? Yes! Who cares?

G: I don't think it's a five-minute dog walk! She's outside, talking to people!

C: Yeah, so? You can talk to people when you're walking your dog outside for five minutes?

G: She's standing in the corner of the road!

C: Right, next to the house, which I guess is closer to what you want from her.

G: [laughs] Sure, yeah. I still cannot believe she walked that dog. Why can't she call someone and be like, "Hey."

C: She was so selfish for showering for five minutes earlier, too?

G: I don't think it's selfish. I think it's stupid! Which are different things.

C: [laughing] You're not allowed to shower when there's a child in the house?

G: No, child in the house is fine. If the kid can take care of itself, it's fine, but it's just-

C: Okay, until the child is ten, you can't shower unless they're asleep?

G: Sick! Sick! The child is sick!

C: Who cares? [laughing]

G: Oh my god! The child is- What if the child is lying down and then vomits and then chokes in their own vomit?

C: Well, you lay them on their side before you go to shower? [G laughing]

G: God! What if they turn? What if they turn in their sleep?

C: That's unfortunate.

G: Oh, god! [laughing] Are you seriously believe this, or are you messing with me at this point?

C: I do genuinely, strongly believe everything I've just said.

G: Well, I think kids feel sad when you leave them when they're sick, which I do often feel, and I did often feel as a kid.

C: I think you could say, "I'm going to walk the dog for a few minutes, or else it's gonna poop inside the house. You understand this. You have my phone number."

G: I don't understand why you can't call your neighbor.

C: To walk the dog?

G: Yeah!

C: I mean, you could, but your neighbor would say, "You're literally crazy for doing this." [laughs]

G: Well, that's because the Americans are individualists. [laughs]

C: I think that- Yeah, I think that an American neighbor might be less likely to. But I don't think that individualism has that much to do with the level of concern you're supposed to feel about leaving your sick kid in the house for five minutes.

G: A think a kid who is sick- Kids who are sick are not like adults who are sick.

C: I know.

G: Yeah! And you shouldn't leave them!

C: Many things are not like adults who are sick. [laughs]

G: No, what I'm saying is, there is a level of danger associated with a kid being sick.

C: Okay, if you have a dog, you leave the dog alone at home.

G: A kid is more likely to start fucking seizuring when they have a fever, for example.

C: Mm-hm. Yeah. And that's unfortunate.

G: Oh my god! And it's ideal, during those situations, you're there so you know, and you see. What if the seizure is done when-

C: I think it's ideal. I don't think it's necessary.

G: Well, I'm not gonna concede on this point, and neither will you.

C: Okay, I also won't, so we can move on, as I suggested. So-

G: What do I do with all this? Do I keep it in the edit, or do I-?

C: I think you can cut it. I mean, if you feel like it's a debate where you do want other people's input on it because of how strongly both of us feel in different ways, [G: Okay.] you can keep some of it.

G: Okay. If you are listening to this episode and you just heard that discussion, kindly send in an ask, a comment, a response, a DM, an email or whatever saying what you would do in this situation and if you think me or Crystal is right, and also how many kids you have raised. Thank you!

C: Thank you!

G: But anyway, they go back in, and she's talking to these guys. And Sam and Dean are like, "We need to take you," and she goes, "I can't, because my kid is sick." [laughs]

C: Yeah.

G: [laughing] And they tell her to go call a neighbor, and she's like, "I can't believe you're doing this to me." I thought for a second she was gonna go, when she was listing things, I thought she was gonna go, "Oh, I can't because my kid is sick and my boyfriend just died!" [C laughs] but she didn't. Her kid literally is just sick. And they tell her that, you know, she's in the vortex of all of this that are related to her. Also, earlier, [laughs] before she walks the dog, the dog doesn't want to go on a walk. [laughs] The dog is intently watching the news, which I did think was fun, and she found a little bit of blood on the dog, and that is wonderful. Love a dog that watches TV, just like that one dog who was watching us on the television-

C: Yeah, shout out.

G: - by that one asker from a long, long, long time ago. If you're still listening, shout out to the dog, and to you. Sam and Dean, they come in, and they ask her, "Oh, so your kid is sick. Were you with the kid all night?" And she goes, "Yeah, I was just gone. I had half an hour of sleep, maybe." So she watched over her kid the entire night. And it's so fascinating to me that she says this, and Dean goes, "Can we talk to your kid?" obviously leading to somewhere, and Sam was like, "What would that accomplish, Dean? How dare you even suggest we waste our time when it's so obvious where it's going?" So maybe Sam isn't a better hunter. Maybe he's actually a worse hunter.

C: Well, no, I think what Sam thinks is, he knows why Dean is asking, but she had the half hour of sleep, and that's enough for her to have gone out and killed Cal.

G: You think so. Or to have transformed even without her knowledge.

C: Yeah, 'cause, later, he says, "She still had time to wolf out, Dean." Like, "The last werewolf was in bed, with me, and she wolfed out." [both laugh]

G: No, yeah, I think they also just never really brought up the fact that Madison didn't know and that that's an important part of that episode. That she didn't know she was a werewolf. Here-

C: I think they know. Because they they think that Cal blacked out and did all the killings, so I think they are aware of it.

G: So you think it's implied, that that's the implication.

C: Yeah.

G: Okay, yeah. And also, here, I suppose they were like, "She slept for thirty minutes. Then that means-"

C: Yeah.

G: Okay. I mean, from what it looks like, the dog also went out when she was sleeping, which makes sense because if the dog was missing while she was awake, that would be weird. [C: Yeah.] So it was the same thirty minutes that he slept in, so she's still a suspect. [C: Yeah.] Sam says that her alibi is a lie. Yeah, he brings up Madison, and Dean goes, "Don't make this personal." [C laughs] So true.

They split their tasks so that Dean is gonna go out and look at the crime scene some more, and Sam's gonna stay with Amanda. And my immediate response was like, "Whoa, don't do that," and so is Dean's. But Sam insists, "Dean, I can do my job, and you can just trust me on this one." And it's like, okay.

C: [laughs] I would not have trusted Sam on that one. Well, wow.

G: Well, first of all, I also would have not, so. But Dean did acquiesce.

C: He did. I just think it's so wild that in the beginning of Season 5, he wouldn't split up from Sam because he was like, "You're gonna go off and drink demon blood. I don't trust you." But like, now he's putting this woman's life at risk with soulless Sam, and he's willing to trust him on this? I don't know I wouldn't have weighted those in the way that Dean did in levels of trust.

G: Yeah. It's because it's Sam doing something to affect himself, which Dean frowns upon more than he would Sam doing something bad to other people. [C: Yeah.] And here, it's not like Sam can get worse. [laughs] He's gonna continue being soulless, no matter what.

C: Sure. But later, Dean does say that Sam's soul is less important than getting a 150 people not turned into creatures, so like.

G: Yeah, but I think that's a different computation, that one.

C: Yeah, one person versus 150.

C: So Sam's watching the house. Yeah, he sees Lucky turn into a naked man.

G: Lucky the guy, yeah. And it's just this tense scene where Sam's trying to hide in the shadows with his gun, trying to get a clear shot, while Lucky, he gets dressed. He goes outside. He sniffs around because he can sense that there's maybe somebody around. He talks to a guy who's played by the Gunner Lawless guy.

G: Is that true?

C: Yeah.

G: So fun.

C: You recognized him, right? You were like, "He looks familiar."

G: No, absolutely not.

C: Really? I was like, "I have seen this man. I know who this is, but I don't know who it is." So then I looked it up, and yeah, it's Gunner Lawless guy. But yeah, so he's talking with him. It seems like a tense conversation. They seem to have come to some agreement. And yeah, Sam's still trying to shoot. He fails to before Lucky realizes for sure that he's there and takes off running. It's fun. We see him jump over a fence, and Sam jumps over a fence, etc. until Lucky runs into the street and gets hit by a car! So true. And then the people inside the car freak out and take him into the car to take him to a vet. And Sam starts yelling like, "Hey, wait! That's my dog!" He just has a predilection for dogs who are hit by cars because of him.

G: No, for real. Well, this is his first. The second dog is in Season 8, so it hasn't happened yet. He will acquire, after this one, is the correct answer.

C: You're right. You're right. Sorry for the incorrect tense. In the motel room, Dean's looking at the phone, thinking about calling Lisa but not doing it in order to establish Lucky as somewhat of a mirror for Dean.

G: [laughing] No!

C: This guy? Like, they couldn't offer any empathy to Aaron Birch, [laughing] but this guy is a mirror to Dean, apparently. [G: No! I didn't-] Because he loves a family with a now-single mom and child. Son, specifically.

G: [screams] I did not connect that.dot at all. I was like, "There's a phone out. Of course he's going to try to contact Lisa and then not do it." God, that's hilarious.

C: 'Cause later, he's like, "I understand you. You love that family." during the interrogation.

G: [screams] No! No! You're right! You're right! Well, that is crazy.

C: They're trying to do a mirror thing.

G: "Dog Dean Afternoon" rights, I think!

C: For realsies.

G: Oh, that's so fun.

C: Yeah. But he decides not to call Lisa, and Sam calls him and explains who the creature is. I guess they also eat hearts in Supernatural, which is why they were mistaken for werewolves, and also, silver will also affect them, and they will infect you and turn you with a single bite. How do werewolves turn people?

G: I think also with a bite. 'Cause that's what Sam found on- what's her name? Madison. [C: Yeah.] He found a bite on her, right? But just a human, just a regular guy bite. [C: Uh-huh.] I suppose it could also be just a regular guy bite for this one in the Supernatural world.

C: Maybe. 'Cause he says, "They infect you with a single bite. Otherwise, they're basically a werewolf cousin," implying that werewolves don't. So I'm confused.

G: Wait, let's see. Let's look at that lline.

C: I'll look at the werewolf Supernatural Wikipedia page.

G: Because I think the "anywhere, anytime" is the difference in the lore. So I don't understand, too-

C: Yeah, so why isn't the "otherwise" sentence right after that one?

G: Yeah, there's a clause that is misplaced here, Sam Winchester.

C: Yeah, it's just a bite.

G: I love how this episode kind of shows them being a little bit bad at their job, too. Sam didn't catch this guy and Dean couldn't do that fucking shot. Love that scene, by the way.

C: When he's trying to yank the gun out of the crack in the glass or-? No no no, I liked that scene. You're talking about how he couldn't make it from the roof.

G: Yeah, he couldn't snipe that fucking guy.

C: No, I don't get it. Did he only have one bullet?

G: No no no, it's just they will scatter immediately after.

C: Yeah, fair enough.

G: "We get only one shot, Sam. One shot." The John F. Kennedy shooter shot like, two times. [laughs]

C: Slay.

G: And the second one is the one that hit!

C: Anyway, Sam says that he didn't get him, but he knows that he's at the animal hospital.

G: And they go, and like, [both laugh] it's like a pound, but it's like the confinement room of an animal hospital. So these dogs are like, confined, basically. [laughs] And they go there, and the dog's just there in a cage. Honestly, this is a really good setup for a case where the case is that the dog is a guy. [both laugh] Like, do you know what I mean? [C: Yeah.] It's a pretty good turn of events. In "Dog Dean Afternoon," the dogs are dogs, and Dean turns into a dog who can understand dog speak. Well, he doesn't turn into a dog. He turns into a guy who can understand dog speak, so when they go to the animal shelter, I think that one was actually a pound, 'cause he lets the dogs go afterwards. [both laugh] He lets the dogs out, and it was him. Literally unrelated to all this. I just wanted to bring up "Dog Dean Afternoon."

C: Lovely.

G: Dean crouches down, eye-level to the dog, and shows him the bullet case and goes, "This is all silver, just so you know that we warned you." And then he goes, "Yeah, we're gonna go out with us, okay?" And he holds up a chain, and then they do.

C: Well, he goes, "We could do this the easy way," showing him clothes, "or the hard way," showing him the chain.

G: Ohh! Is that what happens? Okay.

C: Yeah, and Sam laughs! Dean looks at him-

G: Sam, honestly, was a little bit mean this episode! I know he was gonna put that woman in a trunk and everything, [C laughs] but like, this was a little bit mean! Sam's being mean.

C: But it wasn't mean of Dean to say it? [laughs]

G: No, no, no, the part later where he keeps on throwing a ball to get the guy to catch it.

C: [laughing] Oh, yeah, that was mean.

G: That one was mean. This one, they're both equally mean because they are both making jokes about it. And honestly, I don't think it's mean. I think Dean saying it was a factual. He was trying to intimidate, and so I understand. [C: Yeah.] And then Sam just laughed a little bit because it is a bit funny.

C: Yeah. He goes, "What? Soul or not, that's funny." Good for him.

G: What happens is Lucky is now tied up as a dude in a room in a motel, and then they're interviewing him, and then they go like, "Oh, this is silver, and we can scratch you with silver before you start talking" or something. And Sam is asking questions like, "I mean, why did you shack up with a family? Is it like a kink thing?"

C: So real.

G: And "Do you like playing with your food? Roll over, Lucky. Speak." And the framing that they use, it's just his face. Oh my god, hi, Phil! It's just Sam's face in a way that I did enjoy. I enjoyed that he was mean and off-putting, and mean in a mean-spirited way. He wasn't mean for intimidation tactics, it seems like! [C: Right.] Like, he was just mean! And I support that!

G: So what this guy says is that- what Dean says is that this family, you love them. You care about them because you take care of every threat that comes near them, including the guy in the family. [C laughs] And he says, "What we want to know is, who is that guy that you were talking to?" And Lucky is cagey, but Dean says that like, "What's gonna end up happening is the girl and the kid are gonna be put in danger." And he does say "the girl."

C: Yeah, which is weird.

G: It is off-putting because obviously, this is a grown woman. But like obviously, the wording of "the girl" is like, narratively significant. Or not narratively significant, but that's a cliche term, right? Like, "save the girl," "get the girl."

C: Yeah. I mean, doesn't he also refer Lisa as "a girl" or "his girl" at points?

G: Yeah, I suppose. But like, I think because you can call someone "the woman." No, "the girl" is the- I don't know. I just think putting this here, he could have very easily said that "You're gonna put that woman and her kid in danger" or "that woman and the little boy in danger," and that would make complete, perfect sense. But the reason for putting "the girl" here is to claim that stereotype or claim that cliche. I'm pretty sure it's called a cliche, when you use that, it's called a cliche, right? I think.

C: Yeah, maybe. I believe it.

G: You're using the cliche term for it. So it's supposed to call into your consciousness the idea of saving the girl or getting the girl, which just makes it a little bit more uncomfortable [laughs] than it already is, [C: Agreed] the implication of it, rather than just saying that "you're gonna save the woman" or something.

C: Yeah, also, I was wrong. Bobby calls Lisa and Ben "a woman and a kid," so they do use "woman" there. So yeah, this is especially pointed, the fact that they're using "girl."

G: Yeah. And Dean says that their angle is helping those two people and that's why, you know, he has to cooperate with them. And basically, what is the information revealed to us is that there's a guy, but it's not just him. There's so many of them. I think he says five, right? They have their five in a pack.

C: He says there's 30.

G: Oh, yeah, it's 30 to 150, is what he said. But are they 30 in a pack? I thought there was five of them, and then thirty total or something. But his point is like there's more of them than what he even knows of, and he doesn't really know the boss that they have, just that they have one, and that guy will speak to them to do something when it's time to do something. Their plan is to turn 30 to 150 in one night by biting every person in a family.

C: Yeah, also, specifically, he was recruited because he was formerly homeless, and they just were like, "If we bite you, then you'll be strong and fast, and I guess can find a place to stay." [G: Yeah.] And I do think that this is interesting in terms of the recruitment tactics that we've been seeing so far this season have been vampires and then this. [G: Yeah.] And yeah, this whole I don't know preying on people-

G: - who are vulnerable of some kind.

C: - who are at risk, yeah.

G: So that's the info that we got.

C: I mean, I'm glad that they do make this character sympathetic because a lot of the tragedy is the whole like recruiting people who are at risk thing, which I feel like we didn't get a lot of sympathy for the girls in the vampire episode. So yeah, I am still glad that they made this guy a sympathetic character. I do think it's unfortunate that they then turn it so that the horror is these formerly homeless men about to turn on nice, suburban families. [both laugh] [G: Yeah.] Like, I think that's a little iffy. What if the horror was just the homeless men on the street getting turned? That's pretty bad already. [G: Yeah.] But yeah, unfortunate.

G: Anyway, this entire time, Sam is being a fucking asshole. So he's getting a ball, throwing it around, and going, "Fetch." I don't know. At some point, what does he go?

C: He whistles and throws the ball.

G: Oh, yeah. [laughs] He keeps on getting the ball and then throwing it. What's wrong with him? Well, he's soulless, number one, and that's why he's mean, allegedly. But anyway-

C: But he's supposed to not have any feelings. He's supposed to be doing things towards a particular aim. But this does seem like he has a feeling of thinking this guy sucks and wanting to make fun of him.

G: Amusement. I don't think it's like he's wanting to make fun of this guy because the guy sucks. I think he's pushing the limit. He's like, curious. I think that's it. Because it doesn't seem like he is bullying this guy in a way that is coming from a place of "I think you're beneath-" He does the guy's beneath him. But like, it's not coming from the place of "I want to make fun of you, and that's it." It's like, "Wait, I'm curious. If I whistle, are you gonna be into it like a dog would be? How much of a dog are you?" That's the kind of question he was asking, I think. Yeah, anyway, Dean says that "You have to cooperate with us because if you don't, your girl and kid are going to be in danger, and they're the only people who have ever shown you kindness in your life, so you might as well help us."

C: Yeah. Also, he implies that Lucky would have to kill that kid, but that's not true. He'd be turning that kid. I guess I don't actually see what's so wrong with turning them if they can control how they change. They could just decide to keep staying human and keep living exactly the way they are.

G: But they will be- they'll be tied to his pack. And that's family. [laughs]

C: Okay, but they're already tied to this pack, right? Why would them being turned mean that they need to listen to the leader more and become dogs in another house? [G: Ah.] There's no actual reason why that be the case.

G: They can be actively attempted to be harmed by the pack, right?

C: But they're already that. I'm saying that turning them doesn't give the pack any more leverage over them.

G: Oh, you're right, yeah. So why is it an inherently bad thing? Well, because Sam and Dean are hunters, and they're going to kill them if they get turned. [laughs]

C: Yeah. But like, I guess to Lucky, why is that an inherently bad thing?

G: I think it's like-

C: And also, why would the pack think they would be willing to go through with the plan to keep turning people?

G: If we're gonna go all psychological on Lucky, I think it's just the desire to preserve what is. [C: Yeah.] I don't think he's thinking necessarily that it's a good or bad, just that it's a good time right now. Why does it have to change? And if this changes, he's gonna have to reckon with the fact that this family is gonna know him. [C: Mm.] So that's something.

C: Yeah, I suppose so. But I guess this is also with the vampire recruiting thing, right? 'Cause they were like, "Oh, once we turn them, the guys will just be into continuing to bite girls because they love pedophilia, and the girls we're gonna mind control them into doing it." So I don't- what was the plan here? Because before, it was vulnerable people, and it was like, "You can either die on the street or do this." That's like a reason. But like, why would you do this?

G: First of all, in the lore of this thing, you can turn into anything, which is like, pretty fun. [laughs]

C: But why would you want to bite other people?

G: No, not saying that at all. I'm still on the conversation of whether it's honestly such a bad thing. [C: Yeah.] And also, all of the people who are going to be that way with you are dog lovers because they all have pet dogs! So like, that's pretty fun. You have your little clubs.

C: Just hang out.

G: Why you would want to bite other people. Maybe you want more people in your club. [both laugh] I don't know! It's like how, you know, people are dating right now through running. People say that, right? People are dating through running.

C: I've never heard of that, but I believe you.

G: Apparently, they're also doing that in Manila. Who would have thunk? It's like a worldwide phenomena, maybe. All cultures, as Sam Winchester would say. [C: Yeah.] Yeah. But maybe this is the new running club. [laughs] You meet people via the "I'm gonna turn into a dog" club.

C: I guess so.

G: I know some people are gonna be into that.

C: That's true. As Sam asks, "Is it a kinky thing?"

G: [laughs] Literally.

C: This plan just seems kind of dumb to me. I don't understand.

G: It is a convoluted thing.

C: Why can't you just be out, biting people, regular style?

G: I don't really like or understand the whole monster bit of this episode. I don't really understand what they're doing. And for a second, I also just didn't understand what was happening after this because like, it's not like they can catch the alpha at this point, right? [C: Right.] They don't know where the alpha is. They don't know who it is, and etc etc. And so honestly, after this, I was like, "What's the point? What are they- Saving the family? What's going on?"

C: Yeah, I think that was the point.

G: That was it?

C: It was mostly a red herring-filled adventure where Sam-

G: Literally DGAF.

C: - realizes that he wants his soul back and Dean realizes he's willing to work for Crowley if it means Sam gets his soul back.

G: Yeah, okay, got it.

C: Dean is saying, "We're not gonna capture the pack leader of these creatures. We are just going to kill him with a sniper rifle." And Sam says, "Crowley's not going to be too happy about that." And Dean says, "Who cares? Or else like this guy has the power to have all these sleeper agents turn on their families and turn 150 people into monsters." And Sam's like, "But what if we captured it and then it told us about where the alpha was, and then Crowley would give me my soul back!" And Dean's just really pissed at this. He's like, "You said that you're just basically Sam and so normo-schnormo, but you're fucking not. You have Sam's brain and body, but it's not you, so stop pretending!"

G: And Sam's response to this was like, "Okay, yay!" [C laughs]

C: Yeah, he said, "Yippee."

G: Yippee!

C: So the setup is that Lucky's told them where he's meeting some members of his pack, or he's called them over to this particular building so that Sam and Dean can have a clear shot. And they have an exchange where Sam's like, "I bet he'll double-cross us," and Dean's like, "No, because he loves that family!" And Sam's like, "Okay, fine. I would double-cross us." Absolute slay. [G: So true.] But yeah, there's a few people who come out, and Dean keeps trying to maybe get the main guy, the guy who's talking to Lucky in the park, but he can't get a clear shot. And those people head inside the building before Dean has a chance, so they have to do plan B. Inside the building, they have captured Mandy and her son and they've taken them inside, and generally- The point is that Lucky killed people without permission, and to prove that he's still loyal to the pack, then he has to turn Mandy and Adrian while they watch. Before that happens, Sam shows up and starts shooting people. [G: Yeah!] Slay! And Dean is up high with his rifle jammed through a hole in some glass in a window, and he's also shooting people.

G: Honestly, when they go "Plan B. What, do you have a plan B?" I wasn't expecting this, for some reason. I thought they were gonna bust in there-

C: I thought Sam was just gonna blow up the whole building or some shit. [both laugh]

G: Yeah, but I thought I thought it was- It's a different thing. I don't think we've seen anything like this in Supernatural yet. [C: Yeah.] I don't think we ever really had an episode where Sam and Dean were skilled shooters, you know? They have a gun, and they shoot it, but nothing to never really occupy our mind in a way where they're good with the guns in a way that is about accuracy.

C: Yeah, agreed. Maybe we forgot. There's been a lot of episodes of this thing.

G: No, I really don't think there has been.

C: Alright. I believe you. And Lucky is trying to help Mandy. He's like, "Come with me. I'll help you hide," and she's like, "I don't know you!" and he goes, "Yes, you do."

G: Ominous. He could have just said, "Please just come with me."

C: Yeah, or just like, "I'm not with these guys, and I want to help or whatever."

G: No, yeah. "I want to help!"

C: Yeah, so he bolts Mandy and Adrian inside- I don't know, not a cage, but an area where they'll be safer. There's just like a long thing where Sam's stalking around trying to get the last of the people in the warehouse. Some of them turn into dogs, and he kills them, and when he shoots them, they turn back into naked men. The guy played by Gunner Lawless is yelling at Lucky, saying like, "How dare you? I gave you your life back. You're nothing to them." And Lucky punches the guy in the face, and this starts a fight, and-

G: Lucky transforms into a dog!

C: Yeah, he turns into a dog, to the shock of Mandy.

G: And the family goes, "Lucky?"

C: Yeah. The Gunner Lawless guy is like, "I can literally just shoot you. You know?"

G: And then he does. Iconic.

C: He does, but not fatally. And then he is about to kill Lucky for real.

G: He has respect on the dog code. No, he was about to kill him.

C: He was about to kill him for real, but Dean gets him before that. So yeah.

G: We didn't really see the fallout of this with Lucky and the family. Because the next thing we see is the family at their house, and Lucky knocks at the door as a dude. And Mandy opens the door, and she's like, disgusted by him and wants him to go away. But he goes, "Hey, sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to tell you that you were like, the closest thing I had to family, and like, you were just so nice to me. It was the first time. And I just want to say, I know this sounds corny, tired, and played-out, but like, thank you." And she just goes, "Get away from us, you psycho! And if you ever, ever come near me or my son again, so help me."

C: I'm surprised there was no "And also, you killed my boyfriend" in there? [G: No.] That seems like maybe one of the most important components of this.

G: The guy's still talking when she cuts him off by closing the door. After a while, the woman opens the door again or something or looks outside, and there's a pile of clothes out there, and there's a dog walking into the fucking sunset. [both laugh]

C: And it's sad music and all that.

G: Yeah. And yeah, why did Lucky the dog cross the road? Truly a question of all time.

Anyway, Sam and Dean, they're going near a river. Of course they are. They're always going near a fucking lake or a river to speak to each other. As they're sitting on the bench, Sam goes like, "Dean, I have something to tell you. I was thinking... you were right." And then he goes, "I'm not your brother. I'm not Sam. All of that shit about being the old me, it's just crap. [C laughs] Lisa and Ben, right? I've been acting like I care about them. But I don't. I couldn't care less!" [both laughing] He's so iconic! Honestly, this line, it is constantly brought up as such a funny moment for soulless Sam. It still did not prepare me for how funny it actually is [C laughing] in the context of the episode. It's hilarious! He literally is just like- And I think it's the face that he makes that makes it. That little Sam frown of like, "I couldn't care less." And it's so important. And Dean's just like, "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" But Sam keeps on going. He says that like, "No, you said you wanted the real me, so I'm telling you. I don't care about them, and I don't really care about you, except that I need your help." And he says that "You're not gonna stick around if I'm not honest with you, so I'm gonna be honest, and here's the things that I've done. I've killed innocent people in the line of duty. I'm sure it's not something that old me could have done, and maybe I should feel guilty, but I don't." And then he goes, "I don't know if it's better or worse because it's different than what it was when I had my soul. You get the job done, and nothing really hurts, but it was harder in the past, but there were feelings that he was-" or like, "There are also things about it I remember that... Let's just say I think I should probably go back to being him," which does touch me. [C: Yeah.] A feeling of longing for your old self or something that Sam's- the feeling of having access to of in your emotional, you know, repertoire. [C: Right.] I think that is a relatable feeling, like, obviously not to the extent that Sam is exhibiting now that Supernatural has established that his soul, his literal soul, is gone. But like, I think it's a touching scene. And, like, I don't know. What do you think?

C: Yeah, I liked it.

G: What did you think about his lines? Do you think it makes sense for him to miss his old self, like with the logic that Supernatural is posing of what soullessness is?

C: Um, not really? [laughs]

G: Not really? I think I understand it, but also maybe I understand it, but I'm applying it wrongly in how I understand it. Because in my case, I would not have access to an emotion I used to feel or something, but I still have access to the other ones that allow me to miss that, you know? For this one, I'm not sure if it follows through with the logic Supernatural has proposed with how this all works, but I'm assuming, you know, the people who conceptualize this, the writer of this episode and such, is only probably only accessing it in the way that I am. And in that way, it's effective, I think.

C: Yeah, I guess- Okay, he has all of Sam's memories.

G: Yeah. So he remembers being happy.

C: He remembers choices and different situations, or feeling happy.

G: Or feeling satisfied, yeah.

C: So he might feel like it's sort of jarring when he does things that don't align with his memories of before, so it could be [G: Oh, yeah.] just wanting to resolve that kind of cognitive dissonance is sort of a way I could see it.

G: Yeah, I think that makes sense. The feeling of like, "I'm supposed to, but I'm not." It's like a wall that that you can't pass through. No, I love it. I don't know. I just, I love Sam! And there is a tenderness that I feel towards the idea that Sam loves Sam too. [C: Yeah.] Even without the emotional aspect of it that having a soul in this case would imbue him, he misses himself! And, you know, we talk frequently about how Sam is so miserable, always! [C laughs] [C: Yeah.] It's nice to know that Sam, to Sam, even without the emotional attachment and the guilt and all that, understand that there's something there, that there's something there that he wants for himself. Yeah, he says explicitly, "It was harder, and it was more complex and difficult," but that there's something there that he wants to go back to still. And it's such a- I understand that people- There has been discussions about whether this is an allegory to depression in some way, right? People have made that case. I think it is solid enough to think that. That concept is solid enough. I don't think it is directly, but it's an allegory, so of course it's not directly. [C: Right.] But I just think in that case, it makes me- Later on in the show, Sam is going to continue being miserable and continue being, you know, all these things, but something you can- I'm tearing up talking about it. [C: Aw!] But something you can't ever say about Sam is that he was hopeless in ways that are bigger than him. Even when he was trying to kill himself, he was hopeful for the world that it will end up leading towards, you know? He was always hopeful about things. I mean, that specifically, in Season 8, he was in a very bad place, but there was still this massive hope that this bad place will lead to a good outcome. And that is, for me, that is what characterizes Sam as a character, that hopefulness. And a part of me thinks, "Is that what he misses?" Because that's what I miss, you know? [C: Yeah.] And yeah, I love Sam so much! Aww! Corny, tired, and played-out. Or is it?

C: Or is it? I think it's wonderful.

G: Oh, thank you. Well, I shall think it's wonderful, too. And Dean is like, "Okay, yay!" [both laugh] [C: Yeah.] And then Sam asks, "So what are we gonna do?" And Dean goes, "We do what we got to do. We get my brother back." And they're at the side of a fucking body of water, [laughing] just like in every episode- like, every five episodes of Supernatural ends this way, and that's kind of important. [C: Yeah. Yeah.] It is always so funny to me, seeing the bones of the show, the format that the show follows. Did you notice that every episode so far- Not every episode, I guess, but the last three episodes or so, Sam is like, "Okay, I'm going to be so honest for real now," [C laughing] and then, at the end of the episode, he goes, "Dean, do you remember everything I said? Lies. [C laughing] I'm gonna be so honest for real now." I wonder if this is the end of it, or if next episode, we will have a "so honest for real" again.

C: What is the next episode?

G: Let's see. I think it's "Clap Your Hands If You Believe."

C: Oh! Love it! He was sleeping with patchouli!

G: Yes, "Clap Your Hands If You Believe." Well.

C: I think he was being for real in that episode. They have the exchange where it's like, [G: "I don't care."] "Well, I tried to get you back. And then, yeah, that was the extent of what I could do, so then I went and fucked somebody. What are you talking about, I was supposed to feel bad all night?"

G: Yeah. Well, let's do Best Line/Worst Line.

C: Alright. I think we know what your best line is.

G: We know what my best line is. It's specifically the part where he says, "But there are also things about it I remember that I... Let's just say I think I should probably go back to being him." I love you, Sam!

C: Yeah, I think that that is the best line. I think the only other line that I thought was okay was when they're interrogating Lucky, and Dean goes, "Oh, you went to sniffing people's butts? Yeah, that's a real step up." And he goes, "Well, it was for me." in a way that I think helps establish the sympathy for this character better than any other line.

G: Yeah. What's our worst line?

C: You did not like "the girl and the little boy" as a phrase.

G: I didn't.

C: But I don't think that's the worst.

G: I think because of the shock that imbued in me when I realized that the Lisa showing up on Dean's phone is supposed to be a parallel to this guy, I'm going to make that my honorary worst line.

C: So true. I did not like when Dean went, "Listen. You don't have to tell me why you're with the family. I get it." because of the mirror establishing properties of that line. [laughs]

G: Yeah, I suppose Sam going, "Fetch," the reason why I don't put it as my worst line is because I do think it is informative of Sam's character in a way that no other scene has been so far, that not really mean-spiritedness, but a curiosity that goes over the line of what is appropriate, which I think is more more characteristic of what he's going through. [C: Yeah.] So, yeah, I did actually like that scene for Sam character perspective.

Spreadsheets? Are we spreading those sheets?

C: I suppose we are.

G: Well, first of all, the topic of this episode, as was mentioned earlier, deserves points in the racism category just automatically. It is fundamental to the episode.

C: Yeah.

G: I would give it a 4.

C: Yeah, I agree.

C: Crowley reminds us of the Bobby kiss, but I honestly don't think that counts. I think that was a slay.

G: I think I count it. 1 point. No no no-

C: Okay. If you count it, I'll count it.

G: Okay, I'll count it 1. But what if he's just gay? I don't wanna- As I've said, I don't want to fault a queen for queening out!

C: Well, okay, the point of that was [G: The writers.] to humiliate Bobby. He was like, "Oh, is that Bobby? Well, reminder that I kissed him in a gay way, and he feels disgusted at himself about it."

G: Okay. And also it's about the writers, not the character.

C: Misogyny, I think there feels to be an undercurrent of it [G: There is.] through the whole saving the girl, blah blah blah.

G: I do think it's fundamental to the episode, but not enough to give it a 3. You know what I mean?

C: Yeah, it feels like a 2 sort of fundamental.

G: Okay, writers? Or, what's this? IMDb. This is an even episode, so I'm going first. I would give this one- I think people would maybe off-put by it. I'm giving it an 8.0.

So "Family Matters," I just checked is an 8.0, so I'm moving down my my grade to a 7.8.

C: I'll do a... 7 point... I never choose the right direction to go in.

G: Go against your heart.

C: 7.9. Let's watch me fail.

G: Okay, let's see, it's a 7.7!

C: Fuck! [sighs] Alright.

G: This one says, "As for the music, I miss the rock, but I don't mind the different style either." I noticed this. They use an egregious amount of music here that is weird.

C: Really?

G: Not weird as in the music is weird, but the choice of playing music in those scenes are weird. There's more like background music in this scene than there usually is, I feel, and it's always dramatically sad in a way that I feel like is uncharacteristic of Supernatural, the "sad scenes are characterized by a piano" show. [C: Yeah.] Just piano with one notes each, I remember one time I made a girl- Wow! "A girl." No, we were girls when we were kids. But you know, I made somebody play the Supernatural theme on the piano-

C: Yeah, you've shared this before.

G: - and she said it was too boring. Oh, fuck!

C: So they know who you're talking about. [G laughs]

C: This first one is doing a real reading response. "There are themes of surveillance and voyeurism which parallel and also intersect at a certain point. At what point does surveillance warp into voyeurism? Does it occur by incident or accident or does anyone even care? [G: Love that.] Traits of ownership, family and protectiveness permeate these themes. Who is the true guardian here? Lucky or the woman he watches over? Or are both guardians of one another in their own way?" I think it's great that somebody wrote all of that.

G: What an interesting- Yeah. Oh, this one says, "The contrast of a monster who looks after a family in his own way versus a cold and ruthless hero whose job is to track a case." I love this! Who reviewed this? Wonderful, misstofu!

C: Yeah. Oh my god, tofu! I love tofu!

G: No, literally! I love when people write good reviews to things because a lot of the times, the reviews right now are like, Letterboxd style.

C: Yeah, where they're just trying to be funny.

G: Yeah, and a lot of people use Letterboxd for movies instead instead of IMDb, so, you know, whatever. But I like when people write long reviews that are reviews the way you would see it in a newspaper or something, like the famous reviewers, for real for real-type reviewers, like reviews that I would read in a collection of Shakespeare-type reviews.

C: [laughs] Uh-huh. By who? Who would write-

G: No, I'm serious. I mean, Auden's reviews on Shakespeare were really good, like Shakespeare productions were actually good, but I'm reading the lectures, not the reviews. [C: Right.] I didn't get through the whole thing, but I read a substantial amount of the Much Ado About Nothing (Bloom's Shakespeare Through the Ages), and it's like, from the very first review of Much Ado About Nothing [C: Aw!] to like- I read until the 1950s. So like, reviews of productions that were produced. And it's it's such an interesting thing. And I do think- this is not true- Sorry, I'm nerding out. This is not true for TV shows because a TV show that was, you know, shown in 2005, we can watch again now, but for more spur of the moment- not spur of the moment. For more temporal forms of media like plays, it's so important, it's so important, and I do fear that we have lost that skill or that niche in society of having a reviewer. Because a lot of the times, it's those reviews that really shape perception. You can see or reflect perceptions in a way that you can only sense in the future through that. [C: Right.] Like here, we're reading reviews from 2011! We're reading reviews from 2010, we're reading reviews that embody what people thought at the time, and you can't, you know, bring that back, and it's so important, I think! Sorry.

C: Yeah, no, I agree.

G: I love Much Ado About Nothing and I love Shakespeare, and so many reviews are so good, and they're from the fucking 1800s, and that's so wonderful to me!

C: Yeah. One person thinks that soulless Sam feels forced and that he seems like too utilitarian or mean or whatever. [G: Huh!] But I don't know. I think it was fine.

G: I think there is a chance that that is the case, like, I'm not gonna deny it. I think-

C: I think the dick monkey confrontation with the detective did feel forced because we've seen him ask people questions before on cases, and he seemed to understand to generally be polite because that is how you get answers. The last review is titled "Kinda gross?" [both laugh]

G: And this is the kind of essential reviews that we need! [both laugh]

C: And it says, "Idk just the idea of a dog/human thing is ridiculous to me but not in a good way. This episode also didn't have any humour to it except ofcourse the wonderful Crowley." [laughs] and that's all of it. Literally, except, of course, the wonderful Crowley.

G: Well, that’s it for this episode of Busty Asian Beauties. Next week, we will be discussing Season 6, Episode 9: "Clap Your Hands If You Believe"! Leave us a rating or a review wherever you get your podcasts.

C: Follow us on social media! We are on Tumblr at bustyasianbeautiespod.tumblr.com. Our official tag is #BABPod, B-A-B-POD. Thanks to everyone who's donated to our Ko-Fi at ko-fi.com/bustyasianbeautiespod, which is where our outtakes live, and our Spotify Wrapped thing.

G: Yeah, our Spotify Wrapped thing. We recorded it immediately, the day of, which is so fun, as always.

C: Yeah, as always.

G: I think it will continue to be the thing we continue to commit ourselves to in the future.

C: Yeah. And check out our merch at babpod.redbubble.com.

G: You can email us any feedback, comments, or inquiries at [email protected]. See you guys next time! [both] Bye!

[guitar music]

[beep]

G: Hello, it's Grey. Just wanted to do two things. One is to correct myself. I don't think there actually are reviews of Auden that are play-specific. Maybe I misremembered. But there are his lectures on Shakespeare, which is what I have been reading. Two, I want to read you a passage from the Romeo and Juliet lecture on W.H. Auden's Lectures on Shakespeare, delivered- this lecture specifically was delivered in November 6, 1946, and this edition was reconstructed and edited by Arthur Kirsch, as in the lectures were reconstructed by Arthur Kirsch. Okay, well- And also, thank you to Crystal for sending over a copy of this book after I had to return the copy I was using to my school library. Okay.

What do you want, in falling in love? Not simply possession. It becomes important to my existence that you exist, and I want my existence to become important to you. I want to know you. Falling in love resembles other experiences that have these qualities. It is a gift, not a thing that you can make happen. There is no command, “Thou shalt fall in love”: the scriptural command is “Thou shalt love.” Falling in love does not demand the return of love. The Thou is not aesthetically or ethically defined, not a prettier or better person, but a unique person. Comparisons are futile for those who have fallen in love: lovers don’t care about comparisons. The Thou must also seem powerful. That’s why falling in love is not often reciprocated. If it is, the feeling of dependence upon one another ensues. And sex.

What are the possible experiences of Thou? (1) Contact with God: religious experience, and (2) the discovery of a vocation. It is characteristic of our age that no one feels that the lack of religious or vocational experience is significant, while no one doubts that the lack of love experience is. A weak self wants to be aggressive in love and to appropriate the Not-self, the lonely self wants to be related through protecting or being protected. In adolescent love, the two are brought together.

You find out who you are when you are in love. The experience is likely to appear at a critical juncture—adolescence, middle age—when a stage of life is being outgrown. The courtly love people were wrong in thinking one can will falling in love, but right in thinking that falling in love is impossible in marriage. There either Thou gets weaker, or we grow to understand Thou, and falling in love becomes love. We see Thou as not a ground for our existence but as someone we can help—perhaps by separation. Parents will separate from their children, for example, in order to wean them. If we equate falling in love with love, it leads to a frenzy of cosmetics, twin beds, etc. Love is different.

In literary tradition there are always obstacles to love. For the intoxicant of romantic love to remain effective it is essential that the relationship not change into something else, dwindle into friendship or domestic, married love, for example, with its ties to the community. No, something must come between the lovers that prevents their union—one of them is already married, there is an interfamily feud, there is a barrier of race, or religion, and should no barrier be present, the lovers themselves must provide one. The purpose of the obstacle is clear: it is to intensify desire by impeding its fulfillment. Now the obstacle that the lovers ideally require must be insurmountable. That is to say, their union must be possible only through their deaths. This is the secret, the religious mystery, of Romantic Love, the mystery that is represented by the suicides of Romeo and Juliet. If people marry on the assumption that love must always overcome obstacles, they will either become unfaithful or they will make things difficult. The better you know someone, the better you can torture him: man and wife become each other’s devils. Falling in love is a good thing if by means of it you become a self with whom it is possible to have a real relationship, if your I can develop. If a person falls in love every five minutes, people rightly suspect he has no heart. Falling in love can be bad if it leads to nothing. There are other ways of discovering oneself, but in our time falling in love seems the commonest. Because of the development of industrialization, [laughs] there has been a decline in religious feeling as well as a decrease in the number of jobs that are really vocations, and in big cities there is also a shrinkage of love and of important relationships to family.

What an interesting passage! What an interesting guy this Auden is. I just thought that was fun and interesting and doesn't need the context of the play, and also, everyone's already read Romeo and Juliet. I don't actually agree with this reading of Romeo and Juliet. I think he is so cynical about this story. Yeah, it's not romantic because they die, but I don't think it's two people making it difficult for themselves. There is an actual difficulty present that they are battling against and that is informing their decisions and their misery, and I don't think they're inventing that misery. Although I suppose what he was trying to say was, after all that, if they did survive, they would have invented misery for themselves because they have defined love as overcoming of obstacles instead of what is after those obstacles itself. Yeah.

#transcript #we did it! merry christmas if you celebrate

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boldlyvoid · 4 years ago

Text

the guy at the rock show

she/they reader x Spencer Reid

request for @boba-king-iroh ♥︎

summary: Y/N lost their parents when they were 17, finding a new home and solace in Penelope Garcia and taking the Garcia name. They're the top forensic specialist in D.C, in a band and they drive a motorcycle... not to mention they are madly in love with the cute doctor who works with their sister.

warnings: fluff, mutual pining, getting together, love confessions, friends to lovers, idiots in love, PDA, secret relationships

word count: 5666

a/n: there will be a smutty part 2 eventually because I can't not do that

THE PLAYLIST THAT GOES WITH THEIR SETLIST IF YOU WANT TO LISTEN WHILE YOU READ

Read on Ao3 here!

Taking Garcia’s last name wasn’t something they had to think hard about, Penelope basically raised them; she was like a sister, a best friend and a mother, even a bit of a fairy godmother to Y/N.

They met when Y/N was 17, they were sitting at a support group for dead parents in D.C. Right beside the lovely, overly cheerful, always helpful, Penelope Garcia. At first, Y/N couldn’t stand her, wondering how a person like that could be running a group for mourning people, it made her sick.

It wasn’t until she heard Penelope’s story for the first time, knowing how similar it sounded to her own and how, actually, you can take your grief and turn it into something beautiful. After the meeting, they pulled Penelope aside and gave her a big hug and a thank you.

It was the start of a lovely friendship, one Y/N didn’t know they needed until they were smothered in all the love you could possibly imagine.

The age gap between them wasn’t too big, Penelope was 10 years older than them which meant she was always one step ahead of Y/N and full of advice. Be it fashion, boys, girls and everything in between. They bonded in a way that was unbreakable, they were each other's family.

Penelope even helped her get into med school before she eventually switched to forensic science. Taking on the FBI academy, unlike Penelope, and joining the bureau officially. Penelope was there for her every single step of the way, making her career possible. She loved her dearly and wanted Y/N to succeed more than anyone in the world.

Getting to introduce herself to people as Agent Y/N Garcia, not to be confused with technical analyst Garcia, was one of the best feelings in the world.

Not many people ever mistook them, however, for whatever Penelope was, Y/N was the exact opposite.

Y/N preferred all black everything, she didn’t enjoy partying or close contact or the in-your-face-ness of Penelope’s way of life, she loved her band and motorcycle and being alone. They were quote-unquote edgy, not just for effect, but because it was how they felt the most comfortable, it was who they were and they liked it that way.

They were possibly the best Forensic Specialist the FBI had, keeping her in DC for all the most important cases. Helping her avoid Penelope and the BAU team as much as possible. They were great people, she didn’t hate them at all, it was just a lot of energy that they didn’t have to give to 7 other people all day long.

Spencer was the only one she could tolerate. Rather, he was the one she wanted to spend the most time with, even more than Penelope. He understood Y/N in a way others didn’t.

He was also quiet, like them, he didn’t pick on them or call them mini Garcia, baby-baby girl, or infant as some of them started to call her more recently.

He called them Y/N, he talked to them about star trek whenever he was visiting Penny, and he respected their pronouns. Using both she and they interchangeably, when he spoke of them, unlike most people who only used she and her because it made more sense in their small brains.

However, she wasn’t the only one who got teased. Spencer did as well, almost more because he was around the BAU team constantly. She hated hearing them bully him, he didn’t even count it as bullying but it’s basically what it was sometimes.

They put him down, they didn’t clue him in on things, they called out his stims and didn’t let him finish his sentences, especially when it had to do with his hyper-fixations. He was the brightest light in the room and they just picked his brain till he wasn’t useful anymore, before trying to turn out the light. It made Y/N furious.

They got called Mr and misses genius when they were on a scene together, remembering the first time she ever had a case with the BAU which was also the first time she snapped at someone for being mean to Spencer.

Someone asked Spencer a serious question, to which he did his fucking job and answered. Giving as much detail as humanly possible, being the absolute genius he is and should be praised for, only to have Emily poke him in the cheek and say; “wow, he’s so life-like?”

“Well yeah, cause he’s a fucking human who deserves respect from the people who use his brain all day,” Y/N cursed under their breath from the crime scene, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

Leaving the sweetest man on earth to find them later and give them a hug. Thanking them for all that they do, and appreciating what he has to offer. That’s when she realized she liked him, more than just the guy who sometimes sleeps on her couch because he’s friends with her sister.

It was difficult being surrounded by men unlike Spencer, specifically the older men in her field who didn’t understand anything outside of money, guns, and violence. The worst part of the job being the politics in the background; the hierarchy and ass-kissing all because she worked in the nation's capital.

They were sure it was probably better in a smaller facility, a local police station where no one knew her and they could finally have some peace and quiet.

But she’d miss Penelope, and Spencer too for that matter.

At first, they’d hide in their room when Penelope brought him over for movie nights or when he crashed on the couch after bringing her home drunk from the bar. In the early days, she worried that he was going to be her new boyfriend, taking all of Penelope’s free time and leaving Y/N with nothing.

But then he started coming over all the time just to hang out, sitting on the couch with nothing to say, being the third wheel while Y/N and Penelope spent time together. For the last 7 years.

Over that time they had many conversations alone, she learned that he was really smart, he was a lot younger than most of the team because he blew through high school by the time he was 13, and he was genuinely the sweetest man in the whole entire world.

One time, Penelope was running late when Spencer showed up at the door with chips and candy, ready to watch his weekly movie with his friend. Only she wasn’t going to make it home in time, and Y/N didn’t want him to have to go back to his apartment all alone.

“You can come in and watch it with me if you wanted to?” She offered, smiling softly. “What was it you picked for tonight?”

“It was Penelope’s night to choose, so you can pick instead if you want?” Spencer offered right back, walking in like he owned the place.

He was more confident now than he was in the beginning, but that was probably because he was 23 and she was 18.

Back then he’d barely look at her and sometimes he’d shake when they made eye contact or when she got drunk and hugged him goodbye after a long night with Penelope. He was like that with Penny in the early days of their friendship too, apparently, so she didn’t feel too bad about it.

He warmed up eventually, making her wait 7 years for him to do something about the growing feelings they both shared.

“You like Marvel movies right?” She bit the inside of her lip as she waited for his answer. Watching him walk around the kitchen for a bowl that he could put his snacks in.

“Yeah they’re great, I haven’t watched past the second Thor, I think the next one is another Captain America?” he’s all smiles as he joins her on the couch, closer than normal, as close as he’d sit with Penelope, but then again she was a cuddler and Y/N wasn’t.

Sometimes Y/N would come out of her room to find Spencer’s head on Penelope’s lap, resting on a pillow as she ran her fingers through his hair to soothe his perfect mind after a long day. A few times she’s walked in on him crying or even sound asleep in her arms. They had a friendship Y/N admired, they were each other's person.

They comforted each other in the exact way they needed it; Penelope giving him the physical touch he craved and he would often compliment her. He was always telling her she was the best and buying her gifts to show his appreciation, calling her the most beautiful and smartest person he knew. He knew that she needed to hear it, needed the reassurance that she was still a good person and he made her believe it.

It made Y/N love him more seeing how much he cared for her sister.

“The winter soldier is the best!” She gushed, sitting close so they could share the chips as she waited for the movie to load up.

He was very quiet when he watched movies, smiling and laughing at the right parts but typically he paid so much attention it was like he was a statue. Y/N spent more time glancing at him than the actual movie.

“Is there something on my face?” Spencer asked, nervous when he noticed her glance at him for the 100th time that night.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she panicked lightly, swallowing quickly before looking away.

“What?”

“I don’t know, I just think you’re fascinating,” she whispered because then she didn’t really say it, and it didn’t really count.

“Oh,” he smiled softly, leaving it at that and forcing his attention back on the movie.

After a while, Spencer started to get even closer. He put the bowl on the coffee table and sat back almost on top of her, reaching an arm behind the couch so that Y/N was right against his side. He had done it with Penelope before, confident in this little living room, almost forgetting it was Y/N beside him.

Y/N rested her hand on his knee, rubbing her thumb over his jeans in a soft little circle as she pretended to watch the movie. More concerned with Spencer’s breathing and the feeling of his hand inching towards their shoulder than anything else.

Then they heard keys at the front door. Pulling away from each other quickly to curl up on opposite sides of the couch and pretend they weren’t just cuddling.

“Hey, you still came!” Penelope cheered, a little drunk from whatever she was doing before.

“I’d never miss a night with the Garcia’s,” Spencer smiled at her, looking calm and collected as ever while Y/N turned bright pink.

“Oh, I love Bucky! Oh my god let me go change and I’ll come watch too!”

That was just the first time they ended up cuddling, certainly not the last.

—

It wasn’t often that Penelope was too busy to spend time with Y/N, rather the contrary. Sometimes Y/N had to beg her to leave her be at certain events. Like when their band was playing at any of the local bars and Penny started inviting everyone she knew to come and watch her sister play.

It was embarrassing, to say the least, but Y/N loved her support.

When Y/N peaked her head out to see the crowd before a show, normally Penelope was sitting in the front with a drink and at least 4 friends, cheering and chanting their name, ready to rock out to their covers.

Tonight she didn’t see Penelope at all, she knew she wouldn’t, Penelope was in London visiting Emily with Derek for the second time in the past year, leaving no one to come to the monthly show Y/N’s band put on, or so she thought.

Spencer came all by himself.

He was sitting in the front, at a table with a bowl of pretzels and a ginger ale, not interested in the drinking or the socializing, just there to support Y/N. It made her feel giddy, like a schoolchild seeing their crush at recess.

It was so nice of him that it gave her butterflies, and normally that didn’t happen. They could go on and play a show in front of ten thousand people and feel nothing, but the second Spencer Reid was there to cheer them on, they were a mess.

“What song are we doing first again?” Y/N asked Evie, their lead singer and best friend outside of work.

“Who are they?”

Y/N was taken aback, “What?”

“You’ve never been nervous, who came to see you?” Evie clarified her question.

“No one, for fuck sake, I thought we left all the profilers at home tonight?” she sighed, shaking the nerves out of their body as they jumped up and down lightly.

They paced back and forth for a few minutes to wear down the nerves but only managing to make herself sweat to death and discard the leather jacket she always wore on stage. She walked in a circle aimlessly, remembering the setlist in their mind and how the spotlights typically made it so they couldn’t see the crowd anyway so it’s not like she could fuck up by making eye contact with him.

And it’s not like it was the first time he had seen her play, Spencer comes every month with Penelope, he liked a lot of the music they covered from when he was an emo teen in university. They’ve bonded over it before sharing albums and records back and forth, but she was still scared shitless at the prospect of him caring about her enough to come alone.

Especially when he hated being in situations like this in the first place.

It was their turn to go on, the manager of the bar gathering them and telling them to go on and so Y/N started walking towards the stage door, only to be pulled back harshly by Evie’s cold hands.

“Don’t forget your sticks, god who do you wanna fuck so bad it makes you this stupid?” She placed the drumsticks in Y/N’s hands, “get it together.”

“Sorry, it’s the guy in the sweater vest, front row,” they whispered in response, putting their head down and heading to the stage before she could tease them about it.

“The Forensic Lyricists are here once again folks!” The Manager introduced them to the crown, “get ready for them to dig up some classics!” Always the same dumb joke before every show.

Opening with crushcrushcrush by Paramore, thank god she remembered, it was an easy song to play as they warmed up and pushed the nerves away. They could play it in their sleep, with their eyes closed, and so that's what they did.

Eyes closed, mouthing the words as the adrenaline of the night took over the anxiety and made them go insane, like most nights. They didn’t need drinks or drugs to feel hyped at most shows, all she needed was a smile from penny and a good luck text from Spencer.

Playing by memory until she felt more confident and then getting into it. “They taped over your mouth, Scribbled out the truth with their lies, your little spies…”

“Crush, crush, crush, crush crush two, three, four!!” Y/N sung backup for each chorus, finally getting into it.

“Nothing compares to, a quiet evening alone! Just the one, two! of us who's counting on! That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again.”

They tried their hardest to push the images of that night on the couch with Spencer out of their mind as they sang along, trying to harmonize and cover the backup for Evie as best as she could.

“Let’s be more than this now!”

She always took the bridge, as the drummer and the most passionate one, it only made sense. Y/N always got the crowd on their feet, roaring along as they jumped to the beat.

“Rock and roll, baby, Don't you know that we're all alone now? I need something to sing about. Rock and roll, hey! Don't you know, baby, we're all alone now? I need something to sing about! Rock and roll, hey! Don't you know, baby, we're all alone now? Give me something to sing about!”

“Nothing compares to, a quiet evening alone! Just the one, two! of us who's counting on! That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again, let’s be more than, noOoo!”

She had a crush on Spencer fucking Reid and one now noticed as they tried their hardest to focus on the words when all that came to mind right now was his body heat and how good he smelled and how nice it was that he came to support them.

“Nothing compares to, a quiet evening alone! Just the one, two! of us who's counting on! That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again, Let’s be more than this, more than thiiiiiis, oooooooh, mmmmmmhmmm,” she sang the ending of the song along with Evie, their harmony sounding more perfect than any performance before.

Critics always said the performance is better when you mean the words you’re singing. With that, they accepted their crush on Doctor Spencer Reid after 7 long years of knowing him. They pushed through nerves so that they could go and see him after and do something about it, now that Penelope wasn’t home to tease her for it.

Leading right into Dear Maria, Count Me In. Their bass player, Kat taking the lead for her favourite song. Being an all ‘girl’ punk band was her idea, and now they all enjoyed taking turns singing their favourite songs in front of mostly strangers, once a month.

Every single song made her think of Spencer in some way as she remembered the rest of the set, it had 5 songs in total and each one included at least one reference to something she knew about Spencer.

It was hard to not think about him while he stood at the edge of the stage with everyone and bopped his head along to the beat, a smile growing on his face as he also noticed the little references to them in the songs.

The Rock Show by Blink182 was going to hit a little too close to home as she sang the words all but to him, making eye contact with him as he moved to the best spot to see them play, much like Penelope would do every time.

She didn’t realize how much this song actually represented her life before tonight, starting to sing her song alone while Spencer watched. Deciding on the spot to dedicate it to him in the most fucking obvious way possible, taking her chances because he must have come for a reason.

“Hanging out behind the club on the weekends. Acting stupid, getting drunk with my best friends, I couldn't wait for the summer and the Warped Tour, I remember that it's the first time that I saw him there!”

Spencer was smiling then, noticing the lyric change as they made eye contact, nodding along as he watched. Genuinely enjoying himself and the show, it was lovely to see. She couldn’t help but smile against the mic as she sang and played. Wondering how his face will change with the next verse she watched him from the corner of her eye.

Her bandmates turning to see her as they played their guitars, nodding in agreement at the lyric change, they knew what she was up to. It wasn’t the first time they used the stage to bring someone home with them.

“He's getting kicked out of school cause he's failing. I’m kinda nervous, cause I’m sure all his friends hate me! He’s the one, he'll always be there, I took his hand and I’ll make it I swear,

“Because I fell in love with the guy at the rock show! He said what? and I told him that I didn't know. He's so cool, gonna sneak in through his window. Everything's better when he's around. Can’t wait until my parent goes out of town, I fell in love with the guy at the rock show!”

Spencer’s smile was priceless, it made them even more confident to sing all the words, wanting him with zero shame, it’s not like anyone who knew him would know about this.

“When we said we were gonna move to Vegas I remember the look your mother gave us 17 without a purpose or direction We don't owe anyone a fuckin’ explanation”

“Black and white picture of him on my wall, I waited for his call, he always kept me waiting, and if I ever got another chance I'd still ask him to dance, because he kept me waiting!”

“I fell in love with the guy at the rock show! He said what? and I told him that I didn't know. He's so cool, gonna sneak in through his window. Everything's better when he's around. Can’t wait until my parent goes out of town,”

“I fell in love with the guy at the rock show!” She had never been this passionate while playing this song in all the years they had played it together.

Her bandmates taking the lead singing, “with the guy at the rock show!”

“I’ll never forget you,” she sang in the middle of their chants, “I’ll never forget you, I’ll never forget you, I’ll never forget tonight, I’ll never forget tonight…”

She shot a wink at him before turning back in her seat to face the drum set the best way. The last two songs were Evie’s and Kat’s, she covered the backup vocals, making the occasional glance towards Spence as she thought of him.

Counting down the minutes till she could go see him.

Come a little closer by cage the elephant, an obvious title with lyrics that would clearly bring every memory of brushed hands against lower backs as they slipped past each other in crowded rooms, lingering as long as possible before they were gone again. Goodnight hugs when Penelope was already asleep and he could hold her a big longer and tighter, resting his head on her shoulder while she rubbed his back and breathed him in. And that night on the couch, not to mention all the mornings she walked in on him sleeping peacefully, brushing the hair out of his face, softly, in the hopes he didn’t wake up.

“Come a little closer, then you'll see, Come on, come on, come on, Things aren't always what they seem to be… Do you understand the things you been seein' Come on, come on, come on! Do you understand the things that you've been dreaming… Come a little closer, then you'll see! Come a little closer, then you'll see!”

And even when he did she had a coffee ready for him when he sat up and smiled, giving them a few hours alone before Penelope would wake up. Talking all morning about star trek and dr. Who, smacking his knee as he made jokes that genuinely made them laugh while trying to keep her voice down so they didn’t wake Penelope.

Not many people made her feel like that in her life.

“Come a little closer, then you'll see! Come a little closer, then you'll see!” Staring at him, enticing him to do it the next time they had the chance.

The intro to I’d Do Anything by simple plan was one of her favourites to play, smiling wide as she began to drum as her best friends sang the words.

Waiting for the chorus to sing the words at Spencer, really sending the message, he wasn’t dumb, not in the slightest, he would get it. He had to, she had already been so obvious there was no turning back now.

“This could be the one last chance to make you understand,”

Her arms were starting to hurt as she played along with the most energy she has had in years, playing like a teenager whose parents just died and she needed to hit something, once again. It was freeing, playing with what she could only imagine was love in her chest instead of anger. It’s how she was supposed to play.

"I’d do anything Just to hold you in my arms To try to make you laugh Cuz somehow I can’t put you in the past I’d do anything Just to fall asleep with you Will you remember me? Cuz I know I won’t forget you,"

Focusing on the drumming and ignoring the lyrics as her bandmates covered the lyrics, letting her go hog fucking wild on the drum set, almost kicking the chair out from under herself as they kept going. Joining for the chorus again before beating the shit out of her drum set.

I close my eyes And all I see is you I close my eyes I try to sleep I can't forget you Na na na And I'd do anything for you Na na na Naaaaaaa

“I’d do anything!” She closed her eyes as she pushes the words past her vocal cords, again and again, passionately playing the drums as her hair flew all over the place, worried she might break the sticks as she played.

“Cause I know I won't forget yoooou!” She plays the end of the song, snapping the left drumstick in half before throwing the right one into the crowd, right into Spencer’s hand, sending him a wink before saying goodbye to the crowd.

Sweaty as hell from playing the drums, they brushed their long black hair back behind their ears and in a low ponytail so it would fit under her motorcycle helmet on the way home. Putting their leather jacket back on and heading into the main bar to find Spencer.

“Hey,” he smiled as she walked towards him, the drumstick now resting in his pocket as he approached her.

“I can’t believe you came here all by yourself?” Y/N laughed slightly before pulling him into a thank-you hug.

“I wouldn’t miss it, I’ve been coming for a year now, it’s always a great time,” his smile was perfect, his teeth were so white and straight and she wondered how they’d feel against her neck.

“It’s been that long?” She pretended that she didn’t notice, biting their lip as he ran the calculations in his mind.

He nodded with a soft, pressed-lipped smile, the Spencer classic. “Yep, it’s been exactly 14 months straight now.”

“I know you don’t like bars and loud noises and people you don’t know, or germs which makes this like a nightmare of yours I guess because of the close proximity of people and the germs being spread as everyone screams in a crowd,” she ranted before he was pulling her into another hug, “so this means a lot to me,” she finished her thought beside his ear for only him to hear.

“Anytime,” he whispered as he held her, his arm on her back and chin resting on her shoulder.

“Did you need a ride home?” She offered, thinking about how nice it would be for him to wrap his arms around their body as he sat behind her on Patsy, her motorcycle.

“Yeah, unless you wanted to go to your place and watch another movie? I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting,” he spoke just loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Yeah, I’d love that, it’s been lonely while Penny’s gone,” a smile erupting on her face as she got the reference, “come on then.”

She took his hand in hers, interlocking their fingers and dragging him backstage towards her locker. She had a space to keep her things for practice and other shows she did during the week, keeping an extra helmet and jacket in the locker for nights like this, however, normally it was a cute stranger. Not the man she’s been crushing on since she was a teenager.

“Oh, you brought Patsy,” Spencer’s face went white.

“Did you not want to ride her? Come on, everyone wants to ride her at least once,” Y/N teased him as she put the helmet in his free hand.

Her bandmates staring at her with proud smiles as she took the guy from the rock show home; the one in the sweater vest from the front, the one who was the most into the whole show, they both gave Y/N a wave and a smile as they slipped out the backstage door.

They walked out to the parking lot, still hand in hand with their helmets in the other. Stopping at her dark purple Suzuki GS650 GT, it was her most prized possession because it used to belong to her parents.

She put her hair in the right spot before putting the helmet on, sitting down and starting the engine, revving it for everyone in the lot to see as Spencer put his helmet on and threw a leg over the seat, nervous as ever.

He fit behind her perfectly, just enough room on the seat for his chest to press against her back as he placed his hands gingerly on her hips. It made her laugh.

“You’re going to want to hold on better than that pretty boy,” she teased him before revving the engine once more, kicking the kickstand up and speeding out of the parking lot.

Spencer gripped her tightly as she took off down the street, taking the longest route possible to her home. She didn’t hit a single red light for at least 5 blocks, zooming through traffic as Spencer squeezed the life out of her.

He felt amazing, his hands were so big as he fully wrapped around her, reaching around completely so his right hand was on her left hip and vice versa. He was so close she could feel his heartbeat against her back.

He was nervous, he flinched every time she turned and held on even tighter somehow.

So she did another lap of the block, around the park’s bend so she could lean the bike as far as possible as Spencer’s fingers dug into her hips fiercely. Breathing deep enough that she could hear him over the engine, but he wanted her to keep going. Not ready to let go of her yet, this is the closest they had ever been to each other.

When she finally pulled into the parking lot of their apartment complex, they bumped over the curb and his hand grazed Y/N’s boob, he pulled back so fast it was barely there, she just shook her head and laughed. Parking the bike and putting the kickstand back down.

Spencer let out a sigh, relaxing against her as he rested his chin on her shoulder again.

“Have fun?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” he laughed, his voice deep and dry from breathing with his mouth open, it was cute.

He got off first when his legs were finally able to work again, still vibrating from the rev of the engine he walked like Ariel when she got her legs. It was priceless, no one has reacted like that after getting a ride from them, not even Penelope.

She took her helmet off while still on the bike, shaking her hair out of the ponytail as provocatively as possible before getting off. Spencer’s jaw fell open once more as he watched, breathlessly, just as she expected.

Either he liked them before and never told them, or he was going to start now.

Either way, it excited Y/N to their core, taking his hand once more and leading him inside, this time they could be as close as they wanted to and no one was going to walk in on it. She stopped at her locked apartment door, looking at Spencer as softly as possible so he’d know her feelings were real.

“I know this will cause the teasing we already get to skyrocket, so if you wanted to keep it between us, I fully understand,” she whispered.

“Is that what you want?”

He was so sweet it made her heartache, never before had anyone made her feel like this; like she wasn’t in control of her body or mind, like an override in the system her brain and heart chose Spencer and there was no stopping them.

“I just told a whole bar of people that I’m in love with the guy at the rock show before taking you home in front of everyone,” she laughed, “I don’t care if people know, I just hate when they tease us, they belittle everything we do like we’re 17 forever, it’s not fun for me.”

“I hate it too,” he pressed his lips together awkwardly once more, “I’d like to keep you to myself for a while.”

She cupped his face in her hands and pulled in, pressing her lips against his as they both tried to repress their tightlipped smiles. Finally, finally kissing after all those years staring at each other's lips while they explained something, passionately as ever with the most attentive ears.

“Exactly, me too,” she smiled wider as she pulled back from him, unlocking the front door and pulling him inside for that movie he mentioned.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 (dm me if you want me to remove you)

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

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choerrypuffs · 5 years ago

Text

my best friend wants to be abducted by aliens.

pairing: son of athena!renjun x daughter of aphrodite!reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 14.6k (this was supposed to be 5k 😌)

author’s note: hi so here is renjun’s chapter to my 00 line x camp half-blood series (i’m sorry, i know it took forever)! thank you so much for all of the support, and i hope you enjoy 💞

warning: one (1) makeout session

You are currently crouched behind a cluster of bushes, trying to get a glimpse of your targets through binoculars.

Does that sound stalkerish? Perhaps.

Are you actually a stalker? Debatable.

However, no matter how suspicious it looks, your motive is pure—for the most part.

You’re spying on Kang Daniel (son of Hermes) and Park Jihyo (daughter of Apollo), both of whom are at the Archery Range. Jihyo is showing Daniel how to shoot, encasing him with her arms as she nocks the arrow for him. The tips of his ears are so red that they could practically be a flare; you can see how flamboyant they are all the way from your hiding spot.

You start grinning like a maniac, excited that your plan is finally unfolding.

You had noticed how awful Daniel was at archery during a training session a couple weeks ago, and you casually suggested to him that he should ask Jihyo for some lessons. You’ve always known that Daniel has been hopelessly in love with Jihyo since the moment he saw her (it’s a child of Aphrodite thing—you can just sense it), but she’s been oblivious to it this entire time.

Well, until now.

Just as you guessed, sparks flew immediately. You could cut the sexual tension between them with a knife. You give them a couple more passionately-charged archery lessons before they inevitably surrender to their emotions and begin to date—and your predictions are never wrong.

“Another job well done, Y/N,” you mumble proudly to yourself, “Mom would be so proud.”

“Excuse me, ma’am. I’m going to have to ask you to stop loitering by these bushes and stalking those two campers over there, or else I’ll have to report you to the camp director,” a sudden voice from behind you says.

Letting out a loud yelp, you drop your binoculars in surprise and whip your head around to see who it is. You turn so fast that you almost fall backwards into said bushes, quickly using your palms to balance yourself.

“Renjun, you asshole!”

Huang Renjun, your long-time best friend and professional asshole, is standing in front of you. He’s wearing the iconic orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt with black jeans, his hands tucked inside his pockets. His dark hair is parted to one side, with a single lock of hair falling perfectly into one eye, giving him the I-wake-up-and-my-hair-is-naturally-like-this look (even though it’s most definitely not true). No doubt that he’s the best-looking person in the entire camp, but his brusque personality makes him a rose with thorns. Sharp thorns.

You often wonder how the two of you even became as close as you are. Children of Athena and Aphrodite notoriously clash due to their mothers’ history with each other.

You met Renjun four years ago at Arts and Crafts Center, which is a hotspot for children of Athena. It was your first time at the camp, and you wanted to try making a ceramic (maybe a bowl or vase) to bring back to your family as a souvenir. Of course, you failed miserably and got snickered at by other Athena kids. Renjun, who had been sitting beside you, was the only one who didn’t laugh. He even gruffly gave you some pointers. Grateful, you complimented his painting—a mix of pink, yellow, blue, and purple watercolors that meshed together to resemble a galaxy. In return, he gave it to you.

“It’s not my best work, so you can have it,” he had said nonchalantly.

Even though it was the most beautiful piece of art you’ve ever seen, and it’s remained one of your most prized possessions to this day.

After that incident, you basically attached yourself at the hip with him. He would constantly complain about you following him around, but he also didn’t do anything to stop it. He’s been complaining for four, going on five, years now, yet he’s become your closest friend. Renjun likes act like you’re a pain in the ass (which isn’t untrue), but you know he cares about you. Even if he doesn’t verbalize it, you can tell by his actions; it’s all about the small things with him. Despite being rough around the edges, Huang Renjun is actually just a big softie on the inside.

“—could you stop snooping around like a weirdo?” Renjun asks, cutting your trip down memory lane short.

You rise to your feet, dusting your palms off and glaring at him. “I’m not snooping around like a weirdo. I’m just snooping around on one of my projects, like a good matchmaker.”

“Sure,” he says, rolling his eyes. He leans down and picks up your binoculars, handing them to you.

You take them and hang them around your neck. “Why are you here anyway?”

“Aren’t you the one who asked me to meet you at the Dining Pavilion for lunch?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, sorry! I lost track of time,” you exclaim. “How’d you find me?”

Renjun gives you a pointed look. “Well, seeing as how Daniel and Jihyo are your current quote-unquote project, all I had to do was figure out where they were because I knew you’d be somewhere close.”

You give him a sheepish smile. “You know me so well, Junnie.”

“The hell? Don’t call me that, it’s gross,” he snaps, pretending like he’s about to gag.

“You’re not cute at all,” you huff.

“Neither are you,” he replies.

“You are so rude! You’ll never get a girlfriend with an attitude like that!” You place your hands on your hips.

“I’ll live,” he says, shrugging.

You don’t know much about Renjun’s love life because he refuses to tell you anything; he’s like a stubborn clam that won’t open up. However, he’s made it very clear that he does not want your assistance when it comes to finding romance. Obviously, it hasn’t stopped you from trying, but this is one of the few things you can’t seem to make him give in to.

Yet.

“Whatever,” you sigh. “Let’s go eat.”

The two of you walk to the Dining Pavilion, which is a relatively long walk from the Archery Range, but you make enough conversation that it feels short. When you arrive, you see that they’re serving chicken curry and rice. Your stomach growls embarrassingly loudly when the mouthwatering scent hits you, which prompts Renjun to laugh at you. You give him the middle finger and then turn around to grab a lunch tray. Once you get your food, you two sit at a table in the back.

Before you begin to eat, you notice that your curry has chunks of potatoes and slices of carrots on it—you abhor carrots more than anything in this world. Noticing your disgusted expression, Renjun slides his plate over without even batting an eyelash, so you can pick out the carrot slices and give them to him. It’s a routine thing for the two of you, since you’re an extremely picky eater and he’s not.

After you take out all of the carrots, you begin to devour your food. You’re wolfing it down so fast that you’re basically asking to choke, in which you immediately do. A piece of chicken lodges itself in your throat, and you begin to cough violently. Renjun sighs, patting your back before handing you your cup of water.

“I feel like I’m babysitting a toddler every time I eat with you,” he points out as you gulp down your water.

“Thanks,” you say after you recover.

“For dislodging the food in your esophagus or calling you a toddler?”

“Both!” you say cheerfully.

Renjun shakes his head at you, but he’s smiling. You take advantage of his good mood by quickly reaching over and swiping a couple of grapes from the fruit bowl on his tray. He rolls his eyes when you pop them into your mouth and wink at him.

“Um, Renjun?” A small, different voice cuts in. Both of you turn around to see who it is.

Hwang Yeji, daughter of Iris and one of the most popular girls at the camp, is standing there. She’s fidgeting, and you can see pink dusting her cheeks. Her friends are at the table right behind her, giving her supportive looks. She smiles shyly at Renjun.

“Can I help you?” Renjun asks, deadpanning. He isn’t rude per se, but it’s also not a friendly tone.

Yeji slightly falters at his lackluster response. “Oh, um, I’m going to be performing at the amphitheater tonight...and I was wondering if you could come watch?”

“Why?”

You know Renjun is asking because he’s genuinely baffled, but it doesn’t lessen your urge to want to slap him upside the head.

“N-No particular reason! O-Okay, bye!” Yeji turns on her heel and runs away. You watch her go back to her table, head hung low in defeat.

“What was that all about?” Renjun is still bewildered.

No longer able to control yourself, you punch him in the arm. “You moron!”

“Ow! What the hell, Y/N?” he hisses, rubbing his arm.

“She invited you to watch her perform because she likes you!” you hiss.

“What? No, she doesn’t.” He furrows his eyebrows.

“Yes, she does! I should know of all people, you dingus. Even without powers, literally anyone else would be able to see that Yeji likes you!” You’re trying your best to keep your voice down, but he’s making it difficult for you. “You are the densest person on the planet!”

“Look who’s talking,” Renjun mutters underneath his breath.

“I can’t believe you just blew her off like that,” you continue, not hearing what he said.

“How was I supposed to know she liked me? I’ve never even spoken to her,” he protests.

You stare at him in disbelief. “Couldn’t you tell by the context clues?”

“What context clues?”

“Oh my gods,” you groan, covering your face with your hands.

“What do you want me to do then?” he asks tiredly.

“Go to her performance tonight,” you say immediately, uncovering your face and whipping your head to look at him with a hopeful expression.

“I don’t really want to though. There’s no point in getting her hopes up if I don’t like her back,” Renjun states matter-of-factly.

“How do you not even have a little bit of interest in her? Look at her! She’s stunning!” You feel like your eyes are about to pop out of your head.

“I’m not saying she isn’t, but I just don’t feel anything special towards her,” he explains.

“You’re actually insane,” you say incredulously. “There’s no way someone can look at Hwang Yeji and say they don’t feel anything special.”

“If you feel so strongly about it, you could date her,” he suggests.

“No, I’ve decided,” you cut him off, slamming your hand on the table with determination. “I’m going to find you a girlfriend.”

“I’ll have to respectfully decline your services,” he answers, sighing.

“Give me one week,” you plead, “all of my matches have worked out within a week. Please, Renjun? The worst thing that can happen is that you actually like someone and you two become a couple.”

“And what if it doesn’t work out?” He tilts his head.

“Then, I’ll drop the girlfriend topic for good. I swear on River Styx. And I’ll also give up my title as Camp Half-Blood’s official matchmaker,” you promise.

“You gave yourself that title.”

“Shut up.”

“Why are you so adamant on finding me a girlfriend anyway?” he asks.

“Because you’re so set on not getting a girlfriend, and that drives me crazy. I want to know just who on this Earth can make you feel something special, if even Yeji can’t do it. I want to crack you, like a walnut,” you admit.

“Bad analogy.”

“Yeah, it sounded better in my head.”

Renjun falls quiet, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he weighs the pros and cons of your proposition. Athena kids think way too much and way too loudly; they need to let loose and follow their hearts more.

You sit in anticipation for just a little longer before you see the tension on his face begin to dissipate and his features begin to droop. It’s an expression you know well; he’s going to let you have your way, like he always does.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “You get five days. That’s it.”

You squeal loudly, launching yourself at him so you can envelop him in a big bear hug. He grunts as he catches you, saving the both of you from toppling backwards onto the floor. “You’re the best, Renjun!”

Even when he’s irritated or annoyed, Renjun never pushes you away when you hug him. He isn’t exactly the affectionate type, yet his embrace is always so warm and calming. His words may be cutthroat, but his actions are always gentle.

He circles his arms around your waist loosely as he sighs into your hair, seemingly waiting for you to pull back to face him before he says anything. When you do, he flicks you on the forehead instead.

Okay, so you take the his actions are always gentle part back.

“Ouch!” You shrug yourself out of his hold, rubbing the probably reddening spot on your forehead.

“Payback for punching me earlier,” Renjun says, crossing his arms. “But are you sure about this?”

“What do you mean?”

“You have a perfect record when it comes to your matches. Plus, you’re losing two out of your usual seven days. Are you sure you want to risk breaking your streak?” he asks.

“What makes you think it’ll get broken?” you shoot back.

“I don’t just think; I know it will,” he smirks arrogantly. “That’s why I’m asking.”

You feel your left eye twitch. Riled up by his cocky demeanor, you grab your cup and chug the rest of your water, wincing like you just downed a shot. Wiping your mouth, you point your finger at him.

“Huang Renjun, just you wait. I’ll make you fall in love so hard that you’ll forget your own name.”

ও DAY ONE.

The Athena Cabin is a marvel to you every time you enter it. Rather than a cabin, it’s a workshop and a library in one on the inside. There are beds pushed haphazardly against the walls, and if you didn’t know that this was the official Athena Cabin, you would’ve thought that the Athena children had simply just crashed at a random facility at the camp and decided to call it their place of residence.

Renjun is still asleep, despite the commotion of his brothers and sisters running around in the library and/or constructing something in the workshop. His bed is located in the very back, hidden by a bookshelf that’s not frequented often. He’s curled up into a ball, with the blanket covering his head but you can still see tufts of his hair sticking out from under it.

“Rise and shine!” you sing, lifting blanket off his face.

His peaceful expression twists with discomfort as its exposed to light, and he immediately rips the pillow out from under his head and puts it over his face. He says something to you, but his words are muffled. You just assume it’s some sort of profanity.

“Come on, Sleeping Beauty! We have business to attend to,” you say cheerfully, taking the pillow away and tossing it to the foot of his bed.

“And what exactly is this supposed business?” Renjun asks dryly, opening his eyes and squinting up at you.

“We’re going to scout for potential candidates for you,” you answer as you grab his arm and pull him up. He reluctantly lets you, slumping forward like a limp puppet.

“Isn’t that your job?” He raises an eyebrow, running a hand through his messy bedhead. Renjun always looks particularly adorable when he wakes up. His pajamas consist of a pair of basketball shorts and an extremely stretched-out t-shirt. The shirt is so big that it’s slipping off his shoulder, which makes him look like a little kid. His hair is sticking up in all sorts of directions, and you can’t help but grin at how cute it is.

“Yes, but you’re a special case.” You talk to him like he’s five, running your hands through his hair and messing it up even more. Renjun scowls at you, but he sits there and lets you do it.

“Geez, who peed in your cornflakes?” you tease, seeing his stormy look.

“You.”

“Okay, fine! I’ll wait for you outside, but don’t take too long to get ready,” you say, finally retracting your hands. “No more than thirty minutes or else I’m gonna come find you!”

He gives you another nasty look, and you blow him a kiss before skipping away. As you head back to the entrance, you greet a couple of Athena kids who pass by. Normally, Aphrodite and Athena children stick their noses up in the air and ignore each other, but you’re such a frequent visitor that they have had no choice but to accept you. It also helps that Renjun is quite popular, so the campers that don’t like you are forced to tolerate you anyway because you’re his best friend.

That’s another thing you don’t understand—why Renjun hangs out with you when everyone around him is practically foaming at the mouth at the prospect of being his friend (or something more). But for reasons unknown to you, he chooses to ice them out and spend time with you instead.

It’s not that you’re inherently unpopular or someone that would “tarnish” his reputation, but he could probably find someone that annoyed him less and didn’t cause as much trouble as you do. However, you’re glad that he’s choosing to stay by your side in spite of how crazy you can get, because you’re not really sure what you would do without him.

Not that you would ever admit that because Renjun would roast you to high Olympus.

As if on cue, you spot Renjun trudging toward you. True to your request, he got ready within thirty minutes. In fact, it only took him about fifteen. He doesn’t look very happy, but he’s always had a resting bitch face (though you’re pretty sure he’s just pissed at you right now).

Strangely, you’re a little embarrassed to see him. You’re not sure why you suddenly thought of your friendship with him and got all sappy. You’ve never really been good at handling the mushy-gushy stuff—only helping others find it.

“Let’s get this over with,” Renjun says begrudgingly when he reaches you, crossing his arms.

“Okay, well, first thing’s first,” you respond, trying to get back on track. You loop your arm through his, which prompts him to instantly uncross his own so you can cling onto his bicep. It’s such a natural action for you that you don’t even think about how quickly he accommodates you. “What’s your type?”

“Where are we going?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows as he lets you lead him around.

“That depends on your answer to my question,” you reply breezily.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the one who figures that out? You know, with your whole Aphrodite-love-sense-tingle thing.”

You ignore his dig at your ability. “Normally, yes. But seeing as you’re incapable of feeling any emotion other than bitterness, I have to directly ask you.”

He laughs at your comeback. “I see. But even if I do tell you my type, what makes you think she will like me too?”

“If she doesn’t, then just woo her with your irresistible charm,” you say sarcastically.

“My irresistible charm has a tendency to make people hate my guts, actually,” Renjun says, shrugging. “Wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“Renjun, you are fully capable of making a girl fall for you,” you chide, huffing at his negative attitude. “I’m not concerned with that. My main issue right now is finding someone that will make you care enough to want her to like you back.”

“You think so?” he asks quietly, looking down at where your hand is resting on his arm.

“Hm?”

“I hope you’re right,” he says a little louder, dragging his gaze away from your hand and giving you a small smile. “About being capable.”

When Renjun looks into your eyes, you feel him for the first time. Your heart wrenches with his, like a knife was driven into it and something keeps twisting it. It’s an excruciating pain that makes your lungs want to cave in, a pain so unbearably sad that it makes you want to assume fetal position and bawl your eyes out, an exhausting pain that drains you of all your energy until you want to collapse, a pain that makes you hate yourself—but it’s a pain you never want to get rid of. It’s a pain that makes you happy. It’s a pain you’re willing to endure for...for...for what?

But the pain only lasts for a moment, flashing by like lightning. As you try to reach deeper, it slips through your fingers. Just as suddenly as it hit you, it vanishes. What remains in its place is the metaphorical iron wall that you always seem to run into every time you try to look into Renjun’s heart.

You can already feel your body starting to forget the pain. It’s so fast that you begin questioning if you even truly felt it in the first place, or if it was all some fever dream. You could also be having a stroke, so there’s that.

All jokes aside, you’re not sure what you’re more surprised by: the fact that Renjun has been feeling like this or how well he’s managed to hide it.

And you’re not sure what you’re more hurt by: the fact that Renjun didn’t tell you or if you’re the one he’s trying to hide it from.

“—hello? Y/N? Earth to Y/N?” Renjun waves his hand in front of your face.

You jolt, blinking several times as you detach yourself from your whirlwind of thoughts. “S-Sorry! What were you saying?”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, brows furrowing in concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Ghosts don’t exist,” you retort automatically.

“Yes, they do! How many times have I told you there’s no way that my glass bottle could’ve fallen from my bed without shattering, yet it was underneath my bed, completely and totally unsc—” He begins to protest.

You cut him off by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a hug. Thankfully, Renjun stops rambling about his ghost story that you’ve heard about a million times and trails off. His hands slowly come to rest on the small of your back, giving you soothing pats. It makes you sad that he’s always ready to comfort you when he’s the one that needs it. Your vision gets blurry with tears, but you hurriedly blink them away.

“How can you be so smart yet so dumb?” you whisper into his shoulder, clutching him tighter.

“You know, you’re sending me mixed signals here,” he says wryly.

You hug him for a couple more seconds before pulling back. Reaching your hands up, you cup his face. Unfortunately, you do it a little too enthusiastically and basically slap both of his cheeks. “Shit! I’m so sorry, Renjun!”

“Ow! What is wrong with you?” he demands, wincing. His lips are adorably jutted out and his words probably aren’t as angry as he wants them to be because you’re squishing his cheeks way too hard.

“I just wanted to tell you that I will definitely find you a girlfriend. No matter what,” you declare with determination in your eyes.

Because I don’t want you to be in pain anymore. Because you deserve to be happy. Because you should have someone to lean on too, you want to say.

Renjun is staring at you like you’ve grown another head. “Y/N, you’re scaring me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you dismiss. “Now, hurry up and tell me your ideal type.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Oh my gods, I’m fine. Stop with all the questions and just answer me!” you say, placing your hands on your hips.

“I think I’m starting to reconsider my ideal type right now,” he replies, eyeing you suspiciously.

You sigh loudly. “Could you tell me one character trait that you would like in a girlfriend? Just one. Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

He snorts, and you begin to grow frustrated. “Renjun—”

“Stubborn,” he answers.

You raise an eyebrow. “Of all the things you could’ve chosen, you went with that?”

“I finally answer your question and now you’re shaming me for it?” he shoots back.

You put your hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, sorry. Anything else you can think of?”

“Unpredictable. Hotheaded. Infuriating. Nosy. Reckless. Unable to take anything seriously. No concept of personal space,” he lists them off like he’s has it memorized.

“These are all terrible traits,” you point out, frowning.

“Tell me about it.”

“Stop messing around,” you snap, giving him a small shove. “Some positive ones, please.”

Renjun pauses. “This might take a second.”

You give him a pointed look, crossing your arms and tapping your foot impatiently. At this point, you’re not even sure if he’s just joking or if he actually means it. However, it’s the only thing you’ve gotten out of him so far, so you have to work with it.

“Dedicated,” he finally says after some intense pondering.

You exhale in relief. “Thank gods. What else?”

“Kind. Cheerful. Carefree. Funny. Always makes me smile. Marches to her own beat. An open book when it comes to her feelings. Says whatever is on her mind without thinking twice. Gets excited about things that don’t matter. Has a wonderful laugh. Able to see the good in me, even though I’m an asshole—”

As he continues, you eventually stop paying attention to his words and watch his expression. All of his features have softened, and there’s a warmth in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. He has the gentlest smile on his face as he talks, but you’re not even sure that he’s aware of it.

You wouldn’t be a child of Aphrodite if you couldn’t recognize a boy in love, and Renjun certainly fits the bill.

Suddenly, you feel an ugly sensation twisting in the pit of your stomach, coiling like a poisonous snake. It’s an awful feeling, and it makes you ashamed because it resembles jealousy way too closely for your comfort. You hate feeling like this, but you don’t know how to stop it. In fact, you don’t even know why you’re feeling this way. It’s foreign to you, but you know it’s not coming from Renjun. This is all coming from inside you.

“Stunning in every way,” Renjun finishes quietly. His voice is barely a whisper, but you can hear it clearly, as if it’s right in your ear.

Digging your nails into your palms, you let out a low whistle. “That was very...specific.”

“Afraid of a challenge?” he counters, smirking.

His banter makes you grin. It’s almost enough to make you forget the feeling in your stomach. You wonder why you keep getting worked up by yourself. Maybe the summer heat is getting to you, and you really are on the verge of having a stroke.

“It’s like you don’t even know me,” you retort dramatically, clinging onto his arm again. “Alright, let’s go!”

“Where?”

“The Training Grounds!”

“Why there?” His nose crinkles.

“Your ideal type is as Ares kid as it can get,” you say, snorting. “So, obviously, we’re going to their turf.”

“Ares children are obnoxious and arrogant,” Renjun scoffs.

“And you’re a smartass, so it’ll be fine,” you say breezily.

He rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath.

“You’re such a drama queen. Besides, it won’t be only Ares kids there,” you point out.

He shrugs in a noncommittal manner but ultimately lets you lead him to the Training Grounds. When you arrive, as expected, it’s mainly Ares kids there. For people who aren’t used to it, the Training Grounds could be mistaken for a battle royale, judging by how vicious it can get at times. Even though it’s just a bunch of sweaty young adults angrily swinging swords at dummies and each other.

Stroking your chin, you begin to scan the area. It’s only when your eyes fall onto Park Sooyoung, the daughter of Ares that’s infamous for making men cower to their knees, that the lightbulb goes off in your head.

“What about Sooyoung?” you ask excitedly, tugging on Renjun’s shirt.

He frowns. “She hates me.”

“You don’t know that,” you say.

“She tried to throw a dagger at my head once,” he states flatly.

“She does that to everyone,” you dismiss. “I think you two would work well together.”

“Please, enlighten me.”

“She could be the brawn to your brain. She’s super rambunctious, while you’re more reserved and can keep her in check. But she’ll be able to teach you how to live a little, and you’ll just perfectly balance each other out. You know, that whole opposites attract and enemies to lovers trope,” you explain.

“Enemies to lovers?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you say dreamily, “You two start off absolutely despising each other, but neither of you can fight the tension building and eventually just get entangled in the throes of your passion!”

“Okay, Fifty Shades of Grey, calm down,” Renjun says, scrunching up his features in disgust. “Stop writing fanfiction in your head and come back to the real world.”

You glare at him for killing your vibe. “Just go and try to talk to her.”

“I don’t want to be mauled.” There’s actually a small glimmer of fear in his eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s not gonna kill you. At least not in front of everyone like this,” you reassure him.

“So you’re admitting that there is a possibility she would kill me.”

Fed up, you snatch his wrist and begin dragging him. He makes noises of protest, but you keep a vice-like grip on him. Sooyoung is sparring with some of her brothers (and frankly, handing their asses to them). You’re envious of how beautiful she is even with sweat dripping from her chin and tendrils of hair stuck to her neck. Her face is flushed with effort, but it makes her look like a peach.

However, don’t ever judge a book by its cover because she proceeds to lift one of her brothers, as if she’s bench pressing him, and tosses him aside like a rag doll. He comes flying directly toward you, but Renjun wraps an arm around your shoulders and yanks you aside with his surprisingly quick reflexes. Sooyoung’s brother lands with a hard thud, right beside your feet.

Renjun holds you tightly against him as he scowls at Sooyoung, who is smirking at him. Your heart is pounding wildly, though you’re not sure if it’s from the adrenaline rush of one of Sooyoung’s brothers hurling towards you like a projectile or the way Renjun is cradling you to him.

“Are you out of your mind?” Renjun demands, livid.

“Sorry about that,” Sooyoung says, trying to hide her amusement.

“No, you’re not. You did it on purpose,” Renjun snaps.

“Remove head from ass, Huang. If I didn’t think you’d be able to get her out of the way in time, I wouldn’t have done it,” Sooyoung responds, sounding bored.

“What if I hadn’t? Your tank of a brother would’ve knocked Y/N out,” Renjun says angrily, gritting his teeth. “And trust me, she doesn’t need any more screws loose than she already has.”

“Hey!” you chime in, offended. His arm falls from your shoulders and back to his side when you give him a dirty look. He seems a little surprised, whether the reason be from your sudden protest or how long his arm’s been around you.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sooyoung says, rolling her eyes. “Anyways, what do you want? You’re here to see me, right?”

Renjun opens his mouth to say something, but you slap a hand over his mouth. “Renjun thinks you’re really pretty and wants to train with you.”

Perhaps you could have delivered it in a smoother manner.

“Mm?” He stares at you with wide, horrified eyes. He’s trying to speak, but it’s all muffled by your palm.

Sooyoung snorts, crossing her arms and tilting her head. “Does he now?”

“Yes. He’s just too shy to admit it,” you lie through your teeth.

“Mhm, I’m sure he is,” she laughs. “What’s the actual reason you’re here?”

“Whatever are you talking about? That is the reason,” you answer sweetly. “So, what do you say? Wanna spar him?”

“Mmmmmm!” Renjun has you by the wrist, trying to remove your hand from his mouth, but you won’t budge.

“You must think I was born yesterday,” Sooyoung sighs. “You’re trying to set us up together, right? Glad to see you’re sticking to your whole matchmaking schtick.”

“Maybe,” you admit sheepishly. “Also, it is not a schtick! I have a natural affinity for finding people that are compatible with each other, like all Aphrodite children, and it is my duty to use that ability in order to help others.”

Despite how proud you look, Sooyoung and Renjun exchange knowing glances, and she reaches forward and gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Stray strong, soldier.”

“Mm,” he responds, sounding tired.

You watch the interaction with a baffled expression. Neither one of them seems intent on providing any context for you. You’re hit with another pang of jealousy.

“While it would be my utmost honor to be Renjun’s girlfriend, I will have to decline. Firstly, because I would definitely murder him by our third date tops. And secondly, because I already have a girlfriend,” Sooyoung says nonchalantly.

Your hand goes limp and falls off of Renjun’s mouth, finally freeing him. Your jaw is hanging wide open, a direct invitation for flies. The both of you just stand there and gawk at her.

“What?” you exclaim, grabbing her by the shoulders. “You have a girlfriend?”

Most Aphrodite kids are just naturally aware of all the couples at Camp Half-Blood whenever they see them, but you make it a point to keep tabs on them so you can avoid incidents like this while you’re trying to find matches for others. Clearly, you’ve missed one.

“Ye—”

“Who is it?” you demand, resisting the urge to shake her until her bones rattle. “How could I not know about it?”

“Well, that was the goal,” Sooyoung explains, “we want it to be a secret.”

You’re gripping her so tightly that the tips of your fingers have turned white, though you’re sure it doesn’t bother her since she’s pure muscle. You want to know who it is so badly, but you respect her privacy, so you decide to let it go. Even if you really don’t want to.

“I understand,” you say solemnly, begrudgingly releasing her. Your body is slightly twitchy as you fight to control your need to snoop.

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” Renjun cuts in, half-joking and half-concerned.

“Today has not gone well for me,” you sigh, spirit crushed by the sudden news and exhausted because of your weird mood swings that have been happening. “I’m hot, and I just want a nice, cold shower, followed by some nice, cold ice cream, and then followed by a nice, warm nap. We’ll try this again tomorrow.”

“Want me to walk you back to your cabin?” Renjun asks.

You nod, shoulders slumped in defeat. “Sorry to bother you, Sooyoung.”

“No problem. You’ll get ‘em next time,” Sooyoung says, trying to sound encouraging.

As you turn to pitifully walk away, you notice Sooyoung and Renjun exchange another look in your peripheral. She gives him a thumbs up and he smiles wryly before he also turns to follow you.

It’s just the icing on the cake for your awful day.

The walk back to your cabin is pretty quiet; Renjun sensing your foul mood and making the wise decision of letting you pout all by your lonesome (not that he’s much of a chatterbox anyway). You’re looking down at your feet as you walk, and he kindly navigates you through crowds and moves you out of the way when campers run by. This is something Renjun does often, since you have a tendency to not pay much attention to your surroundings on a regular basis, so you don’t even think twice about it.

When you finally arrive, Renjun gives you a comforting pat on the back. “See you tomorrow. I’ll meet you here. Do not barge into my cabin and give me another rude awakening like you did today.”

You give him a strained smile and wink. “No promises.”

Of course, your act doesn’t fool him. He sighs. “Did it really bother you that much that Sooyoung managed to hide her relationship from you? It’s not like you to be so down after one failure.”

Honestly, that’s the least of your concerns right now. Did it hurt your pride? Yes, but you’ve recovered from a wounded pride countless times.

What bothers you the most right now is the vile jealousy that you’ve stored in your heart. How shitty you felt when he was describing his ideal type (and how absolutely lovestruck he looked), or how bitter you were when you saw that Sooyoung and Renjun were in on something you weren’t. It eats away at you, seemingly within moments, before you even know what’s happening. But why? Where is it all coming from?

This is Renjun you’re talking about. Renjun, your best friend. Renjun, the one who’s always there for you. Renjun, the closest person to you other than your bloodline.

Or so you thought.

The pain that you felt from him earlier still haunts you, even if it’s faint. You’ve always seen Renjun as someone you can confide in, no matter what, yet it doesn’t appear like he feels the same towards you. In fact, an irrational part of you thinks you may be the one he’s trying to keep it from.

And the paranoid part of you thinks Sooyoung knows about it too.

You know it’s horrible to think that, but you can’t control it. Renjun isn’t required to tell you everything he feels just because you do, not that it doesn’t hurt any less. It just bugs you that there could be someone closer to him than even you, which is an incredibly toxic mindset to have. You’re upset by the fact that you’re so possessive of him, yet you can’t seem to let him go either.

I guess it’s alright if it’s Sooyoung, you admit to yourself, since she has a girlfriend.

You blink.

Wait, what?

Before you can figure out what the hell your brain meant by that, you feel Renjun place his hand on your forehead. It jars you from your thoughts and you come back to reality, where Renjun is staring at you with furrowed brows as he checks your temperature.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright? You’ve been spacing out all day,” he says, clearly worried.

“F-Fine!” you answer way too enthusiastically. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismisses. “Just go get some rest.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you nod hurriedly, giving him a two-finger salute. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early! Don’t oversleep!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off, smiling. You can tell he’s still concerned, but your brighter attitude relieves him just a tad. “Oh, and Y/N?”

“Mhm?”

“I forgot to mention one more trait for my ideal type.”

“What is it?” You wish you had never asked him in the first place. Just when your mood was getting a little better, it sours just as quickly.

“Dense,” he adds.

You give him a puzzled look. “Huh?”

“I want her to be dense,” he states simply.

“No way,” you argue, when his words finally register. “How is it gonna work out if both of you are dense as hell?”

“Who knows? Maybe our denseness will cancel each other out, and we’ll fall in love instantly,” he shrugs.

“Of course. PEMDAS and shit,” you jokingly agree.

“Exactly,” he says, nodding with a deadpan expression.

You laugh loudly—a big belly laugh that makes Renjun beam. The tension eases off his features, and he seems much more reassured. Your heart swells at how hard he’s trying to make sure you’re okay, not that he would ever admit that.

“Okay, for real now. Bye, Y/N.” He gives you a lazy wave before walking away, shattering your touching moment.

You huff at how he turned around without even letting you respond, though you still wave back (even if he can’t see it), and go back into your cabin. The moment the door closes behind you, you make a beeline for the shower. Peeling off your sweat-soaked clothes, you close your eyes in bliss when the cold water hits you.

As you let the water run down your body, you begin to feel more and more like a petulant child that just threw the biggest tantrum ever. You’re embarrassed that you overreacted like that and got so emotional for no reason. You chide yourself for being selfish. Just because you’re upset that Renjun doesn’t confide in you the way you do him, it doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t have someone. You should be happy for him when he finds a person he can fully open up to, even more so than you. Isn’t that what you’re trying to do for him right now?

You shut the water off before slapping your cheeks hard, giving yourself a wake up call. Resolving to be more composed tomorrow, you decide to just take a nap for now as you change into comfortable clothes and dry your hair off.

When you get to your bed, you see a small bowl of ice cream on your nightstand. Luckily, your shower didn’t take too long, so it’s still relatively frozen. It’s two scoops of chocolate, which is your favorite. You’re so excited that you almost miss the note tucked underneath the bowl.

don’t know when you’re going to get out of the shower, so this might just be soup by the time you’re out. if that’s the case, drink it anyways since i went through the trouble of getting it.

You snort. It’s so like Renjun to write a tactless note like this and not even bother signing off on it. If he’s going to be sweet, he shouldn’t ruin the moment by doing what he always does—opening his mouth (figuratively, in this case).

But it’s not enough to wipe that big grin off your face, as you carefully fold up the note and put it in your drawer.

He’s not cute at all.

ও DAY TWO.

The next day is about as successful as the first one, if not worse.

You had woken up with a game plan. Before you went to meet Renjun, you drafted up a list of campers that matched his ideal type (for the most part, since he was a little too specific). The goal was to narrow it down to a couple names before trying to march in head first, since that went disastrously yesterday.

Unfortunately, instead of things going smoothly like you had hoped, you find yourself banging your head against a tabletop repeatedly.

You and Renjun are currently sitting in the library of the Athena Cabin, having been there for almost an hour now. He’s nearly eliminated your entire list that you so meticulously curated this morning. You’re starting to wonder if he’s purposefully being difficult just to see you riled up.

Renjun watches you hit your head a couple more times before outstretching his hand, catching your forehead in his palm and blocking you from hitting it against the table again. “Stop before you bleed all over the table, and I get stuck scrubbing it out later.”

You raise your head to glare at him. “I’ll show you bleeding all over the table.”

He doesn’t even blink at your threat, infuriatingly unfazed. “Are you done with your list already?”

“No,” you grumble, “I still have some left.”

“So, if I’m not interested in the rest, does that mean we’re done for the day?” he asks.

“Haha,” you say wryly, “you wish. If you don’t pick one, then I’ll just go through the list myself and pick one that I think is the most compatible with you.”

“Damn it.”

“Okay, what about Hyun Seunghee? She’s an Apollo kid. Super talented and sweet, one of the most adorable people on the planet, and loves art just like you,” you suggest.

“Seunghee is a very sweet girl,” Renjun agrees. “But I don’t think I have the energy to keep up with her. She’s even bubblier and more hyperactive than you, and I can barely manage dealing with you.”

Sighing, you cross out Seunghee’s name on your list while simultaneously flipping off Renjun with your other hand. “Okay, what about Lee Mijoo? She’s one of my sisters, and honestly, she’s way out of your league but I’ll keep her in the running for now.”

You figure it’s best to not mention that, despite being way out of his league, Mijoo has expressed some very...explicit interest in Renjun before. It’ll make things awkward if they do end up talking, and you aren’t one to expose your own sister like that.

“Ew, no way, that’s weird,” Renjun says, scrunching up his nose.

“What, why?”

“I don’t want to date anyone related to you. That would make us sort of related too, and the last thing I want is to be your brother.” He spits out the word like it’s a stale piece of gum that he’s been chewing for four hours.

“First of all, slow down, tiger. You would have to marry her for us to be related. This is just a casual thing. No one said anything about marriage. Second of all, that is so mean! Why wouldn’t you want to be in-laws with me?” you demand, offended.

“Don’t most people enter relationships with the intention of spending the rest of their lives with each other?” he asks, skillfully dodging your question. “I won’t date someone if I think we’re just going to breakup down the road.”

There’s a beat of silence as you stare at him with wonder. Your lips curl into a gentle smile, and you can’t hide the adoration in your expression. Renjun truly is all bark and no bite. Who would’ve guessed there’s such a lovely and pure person behind his sharp tongue?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks warily. You swear you can see a little pink dusting the shells of his ears and the tip of his nose.

“It’s just...you’re much more of a hopeless romantic than I initially thought, Huang Renjun,” you say teasingly.

Now, you can definitely tell he’s embarrassed. He mumbles a “shut up” under his breath, but you can barely hear it.

“Don’t put so much pressure on yourself,” you advise, “it’s totally natural to date and breakup. You can love someone with all of your heart, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be your life partner. Loosen up, my friend, and just have fun! Fall in love recklessly, and don’t think about anything else! That’s what youth is all about!”

You expect him to make fun of you for lecturing him like you’re centuries old, when the both of you can barely label yourselves as adults, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he’s gazing at you with a deep melancholy in his eyes. You’re sitting right across from him, but the way he looks at you makes it seem like you’re galaxies away. Your gut wrenches at how hurt and helpless he seems, like he’s yearning for something that is out of his reach.

Time seems to slow down as the two of you stare into each other’s eyes, as if you’re both entranced. It’s hard to tell how long you stay like that, but it feels like you’ve woken up in the middle of a sweet dream when Renjun finally breaks eye contact. You’re slightly disoriented, even though it’s probably only been a few seconds.

Clearing his throat, Renjun mutters, “Anyways, don’t put anymore of your siblings on the list.”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts before sighing. “Fine. But now I’ve run out of names on my list.”

“Well, gosh darn it, what a shame,” he says in a terrible Southern accent while attempting to get up. “Look’s like that’s a wrap for today!”

“Not so fast,” you cut in, snapping your fingers at him to sit back down. “We’re not done yet.”

He groans but reluctantly obeys, dramatically throwing his head into his arms when he does.

“Behave while I go through this list again,” you order, putting stars next to names that you’re going to force Renjun to reconsider with.

“Now, you’re making me want to hit my head against the table,” he complains, voice muffled by his arms.

You ignore his whining, focusing on your current task at hand. Just as you finish narrowing it down to a select few, someone brushes past you and it’s like you hear angels singing. Seo Soojin, daughter of Nemesis and actual hotness personified, walks by.

Soojin is relatively new to Camp Half-Blood, having arrived for the first time last year. You don’t know much about her personality because she keeps to herself and her tight-knit circle of friends for the most part. You know for a fact that she’s a far cry from Renjun’s type, but you’re starting to think he doesn’t really know what he wants—seeing that he shot down every single person on your list already. She will be a nice change of pace for him.

“What about Soojin?” you ask in a hushed whisper, leaning forward.

“Who?” Renjun looks around, not lowering his voice or trying to be subtle in the slightest.

“Shhh!” you hiss, grabbing him by his shirt and yanking him forward. You pull a little too hard and end up knocking your foreheads together.

“Ow! Why is your head made out of cast iron?” Renjun winces. He tries to lean back, but you don’t let him escape.

“Shut up! You’re the blockhead, asshole,” you protest, getting offended for the second time. “Anyways, Seo Soojin. The girl over there. The one with the bangs, big lips, and is hot as fuck?”

He squints, finally zeroing in on her. “What about her?”

“That’s what I’m asking you, dipshit!”

Renjun shrugs noncommittally—an action that you’ve grown extremely accustomed to during these past two days, an action that makes you want to rip your own hair out. “She seems nice.”

“Well, try and talk to her then,” you say, spelling it out for him. “You know, so you can see if the two of you will hit it off or not.”

He gives you a look. It’s the same look that a twelve-year-old kid gives his mother when she makes him take a picture in front of a national monument that he doesn’t know anything about, nor does he care to. However, she insists, so he reluctantly trudges over to it and takes the picture—hands firmly balled up by his sides and his lips pressed into a hard line, no matter how much his mom tells him to smile.

So, in other words, Renjun looks like he wants to crawl into a hole and die.

“Are you sure that you’re human?” you ask incredulously. You’re not even being sarcastic at this point; you genuinely want to know how he is able to feel absolutely nothing for women that could rival the goddesses themselves.

“Technically—”

“If you say that you’re only half-human because we’re demigods, you’re going to get a pen through the jugular,” you warn, pointing your pen at him.

“Am I wrong, though?”

“You know what I mean, you smartass. Are you or are you not capable of feeling romantic attraction towards another person?” you demand.

“I am,” he simply says.

“That’s it? That was the most robotic answer I’ve ever heard in my life!” you exclaim.

“What else am I supposed to say?” he asks, throwing his arms up.

“Have you experienced any blackouts recently, like woken up without memory of the past twenty-four hours? Have you checked your body for any chip implants under your skin?” You eye him suspiciously. “Been beamed up by any UFOs? Gone somewhere haunted?”

Renjun gives you a pointed look, sighing. “While it is touching to know that you do, in fact, listen to me whenever I talk about topics I’m interested in, this is not how I wanted you to apply your knowledge.”

“You know, now that I think about it, you sure talked about alien abductions a lot,” you say, stroking a fake beard on your chin. “Could it be because you were actually abducted by aliens and got brainwashed into gathering information about us demigods, but they took away your ability to feel emotions so they wouldn’t get in the way of your mission?”

You pause, waiting for his reaction. Renjun is very obviously trying not to smile, with his chin being propped up by his palm and his fingers covering his mouth. “Please, continue.”

“But ultimately, that will be your fatal flaw and the downfall of your mission because you can’t empathize like humans can,” you finish dramatically.

“Alright, let’s say I was brainwashed by aliens. Why would I then draw more attention to myself by talking about the very thing that happened to me? Wouldn’t that be counterproductive?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Reverse psychology,” you explain, “you talk about them, so you won’t seem suspicious.”

Renjun exhales sharply before looking down at his feet. You can see his lips twitching as he tries not to laugh, though you’re pretty sure that exhale from before was a small laugh. You’re grinning, despite the fact that you’re also trying to keep up your detective act.

“I’m kind of wish I had been abducted by aliens right about now. Maybe brainwashed me would be a little more courageous,” he mutters under his breath. You’re not sure if you were meant to hear that, but you do anyways.

“That sounds exactly like something someone abducted by an alien would say!” you say in an accusatory tone, pointing a finger at him. He rolls his eyes, but a tiny smile eventually makes its way to his lips.

You gasp loudly, grabbing his face and pulling it towards your own. He makes a small noise of surprise, eyes as wide as UFO saucers. Your faces are so close that your noses are slightly brushing up against one another, but you’re not paying attention to that right now.

“Or you could be a lizard person,” you whisper, “you know, the ones that people think take the place of government officials.”

“They’re called reptilian humanoids,” Renjun corrects. His breath (which smells like the blueberry muffin he had this morning) rustles your baby hairs.

“Your eyes are glowing yellow, and your pupils are turning into slits,” you tease.

“Are they, now?”

No, they aren’t. His eyes are a cool, icy gray, like most Athena children. It’s always been a trait you’ve been jealous of. They sparkle like stars, or freshly fallen snow. They change according to his mood too. For example, when he gets angry, there are no stars. Instead of twinkling, they flash like lightning. His eyes are truly the window to his soul; they’re one of your favorite things about him.

Renjun slightly leans into your touch, and it finally hits you how close he is. You’re cupping his face with both hands, tilting his chin up, and it looks like you’re about to...kiss him.

It seems you’re not the only one who thinks so, because almost the entire library is gawking at you. Including Seo Soojin. She looks surprised, and slightly disgusted, by the two of you.

Oh.

You feel heat rise from your neck to your entire face.

Oh gods, they all think we’re a couple.

You recoil away from him, withdrawing your hands like your just burned yourself. “We have to get out of here.”

“What?” As always, Renjun doesn’t know what’s going on.

“Just come on,” you say quickly, grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the library.

Your face burns for a long time after that, and you can no longer focus on anything else. In the end, you decide to call it a day after a few more half-hearted attempts to find more candidates for Renjun. When you come back to your cabin, you take another cold shower.

You’re not sure what you’re so flustered by: the fact that you didn’t realize what you were doing or the fact that everyone in the library saw it.

Or the fact that you didn’t mind the notion of being mistaken for a couple with Renjun.

ও DAY THREE.

You don’t meet bright and early with Renjun today. He demanded to sleep in this time, since he’s not an early riser to begin with and the past two days have sucked all the energy out of him.

Which means you’re free until noon. You check the time—10 AM.

Two hours to kill.

You don’t feel like getting all sweaty and hot, so any activity outside is out. You really don’t want to be judged by more Athena kids in the Arts and Crafts Center without Renjun. So, you decide to head back to the library, despite how yesterday went.

You check out a book that goes into depth about some of the most believable conspiracy theories; Renjun actually read it a while ago (and totally geeked out about it to you), but who would have thought that you would end up reading it too? Past you definitely would’ve laughed in your face if you told her that.

Once you get back to your cabin, you curl up in your covers and begin to read. You get about two chapters in when you hear the door open and Jeong Jaehyun, one of your brothers, walks in. He’s wearing his orange t-shirt that’s soaked with sweat, and his hair is dripping from perspiration too. His pale skin glistens, and he looks like a sweaty and sparkly vampire.

“Hey, kid,” Jaehyun says, nodding at you. He isn’t that much older than you, but he’s gotten into the habit of calling you kid for some reason.

“This is a surprise. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you come back from training before 5 PM,” you tease.

He lets out a low whistle. “Way too hot out there. I needed to get some A/C before I had a heatstroke—is that a book in your hand?”

“What about it?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Jaehyun snorts. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you near a book, much less read one.”

“Rude. I am expanding my horizons,” you retort.

“It seems so. What was up with you and Renjun at the library yesterday?” Jaehyun plops down on the edge of your bed.

“How do you even know about that?” you ask, wrinkling your nose. “And go take a shower first before you sit on my bed! You stink!”

“Do I?” He waggles his eyebrows and throws his arms around you in a bear hug. You try your best to shove him off, but he has a hold on your like a python.

“I hate you,” you say when he finally pulls back, sniffing your shirt to make sure you still smelled like your fabric softener. “Anyways, how’d you find out about the library thing?”

“Rumors spread fast around here, dear sister. But, seriously, what’s the deal?”

“There is no deal, Jaehyun,” you sigh, closing your book. “It’s all just a misunderstanding. We were joking around while I was trying to find a potential girlfriend for him there—which, by the way, is going horribly. I don’t think he feels romantic attraction properly like everybody else.”

“Oh right. I forgot you roped Renjun into your matchmaking thing,” Jaehyun says, disappointed. “Damn, and here I thought he finally made a move.”

Your head snaps up to give him a quizzical look. “What?”

“What?” He tilts his head.

“What did you mean by that, the part where you said you thought Renjun finally made a move?” you ask.

Jaehyun stares at you for a couple of seconds, an astonished expression on his face. “Do you really not know?”

“Would I be asking if I didn’t know?” you shoot back, annoyed that he still hasn’t answered you.

“Gods, all this time, I thought you were just pretending like you didn’t know because you didn’t want to make things awkward,” he continues, shaking his head.

“Jaehyun, what are you talking about?” you demand.

“Renjun is in love with you, Y/N.”

You gape at him. It’s a good thing you’re already sitting down because you definitely would have fallen on your ass if you had been standing.

“Th-Th-That’s impossible,” you stammer, like an absolute idiot. “There’s n-n-no way.”

“Oh, come on, lil’ sis. He’s never even tried to hide it. He’s so obvious about it that I seriously don’t understand how you didn’t know,” Jaehyun snorts. “You don’t even need to have powers to see that he’s head over heels for you.”

“But—but how? I would’ve sensed it!” you exclaim.

“You’re so sharp when it comes to other people, but you’re dense as hell when it comes to yourself,” Jaehyun points out, shrugging. “You just never paid attention, Y/N.”

You don’t respond. Your mind is a mess, a jumbled mishmash of emotions. You’re feeling so many things right now, and you can’t pinpoint any of it.. You wouldn’t be surprised if you passed out.

“Do you like him back?” Jaehyun asks softly.

“I—no! Of course not. Renjun’s my best friend. If I liked him, why would I be trying to find him a girlfriend right now? That’d be stupid of me. Yeah, that’d be so dumb. Why would I do that?” You’re rambling now, and it’s glaringly obvious that you’re trying to convince yourself rather than Jaehyun (and you know he can see it too).

“It doesn’t seem like you’re trying that hard, though.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you ask defensively.

“The Y/N I know spends all hours of the day gathering information on her potential matches and making sure even the tiniest detail goes according to her master plan that she’s already drafted inside her head. She wouldn’t be sitting here, leisurely reading a book, especially if it’s going horribly. She would be doing everything in her power to get things back on track,” Jaehyun notes. “Ask yourself. Do you really want Renjun to get a girlfriend?”

“Wh-Why wouldn’t I?” You ask him, hoping he knows the answer, because you sure as hell don’t know.

“Because he won’t always be there anymore. He won’t have time to let you constantly drag him into your antics anymore. You won’t be his number one anymore. His girlfriend will be his first priority, of course, as she should. Think long and hard about that, Y/N. Will you be okay with that?”

“I—” The words seem to die inside your throat as you come to realization that you might not be okay with that at all. You’ve always gone to Renjun for everything and knowing that he may not always be there makes you feel lost, like a compass without it’s True North. You’re being selfish again, but it seems like you’ve gotten into the habit of acting selfish whenever it comes to Renjun. You’ve let yourself grow too reliant on him.

“Why do you care so much anyways?” Now, you’re deflecting. “Why did you tell me all of this?”

“Because you’re my little sister and I care about you. I want you to be one hundred percent sure of your own feelings, so your heart doesn’t get broken. The only reason I didn’t say anything sooner was because I thought you were already sure. Take some time and think about it, Y/N. It’ll be better for your friendship with Renjun if everything is crystal clear between the two of you,” Jaehyun advises, giving you a pat on the shoulder. He gets up, presumably to take a shower, and leaves.

You barely notice him go.

You sit in your bed, staring blankly at the wall, until Renjun finally arrives. He’s still a little groggy, probably having woken up ten minutes ago before coming. His clothes are a little rumpled and his hair isn’t styled, with his bangs flopping in his eyes. Normally, you would have made fun of him and mussed it up, but you have other things on your mind as of the moment.

Like always, he can tell something is up. He gets that concerned look on his face—the one where he has a deep crease between his brows and his rosy lips are turned downwards.

“What’s wrong?” He places a hand on your arm, lowering his head so he can’t get a better look at your face.

Physical contact with Renjun has always been something normal for you, but suddenly, you’re now acutely aware of everything about him. You can feel the pad of every one of his fingertips on your bare skin, the warmth of his palm, and just how easily his touch makes your body relax. Even when your brain is a whirlwind of thoughts, your muscles, like clockwork, instantly loosen up with just a brush of his hand.

“We need to talk,” you say shakily, moving away from him. There’s a flash of hurt in his eyes as his hand falls to his side. You feel bad, but the longer he’s touching you, the more confused you get.

You lead him a secluded area behind the Dining Pavilion, and he follows wordlessly. He waits for you to speak as the two of you stand there. Now that you’re here, you don’t really know what to say anymore.

“Are you in love with me?” you blurt before you can stop yourself. “Jaehyun said—”

“Yes,” Renjun answers. If he’s surprised or taken aback whatosever, he doesn’t show it. In fact, it seems like he knew this was coming. There’s no fear or hesitation in his eyes. He’s unwavering in his answer, and you wonder how he can always be so certain of his feelings.

“How long?” you ask tentatively.

“Probably when we first met,” he says.

“Why?”

“Are you asking me why I’m in love with you?” He raises an eyebrow.

You’re not sure. You’re not sure of anything anymore.

When you don’t answer, Renjun looks at you for a very long time. “You make me happy, Y/N. No matter how shitty things get, no matter how much I want to ram my fist through a wall, I see you and it’s like I can finally take a breath again. When you smile at me, I forget about everything that was bothering me. You and your daily shenanigans are the best part of my day. You’re obnoxious and frustrating and exhausting, but I fucking love you for it. I’m at your beck and call; I’d do anything for you. Whenever you’re happy, I become happy too. Nothing else matters to me anymore. That’s why.”

“You should have told me,” you say, voice cracking. Your heart is singing with joy, and you want to cry with relief. He talks about you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and you so desperately want to be exactly that for him. You’re not confused anymore. Everything has finally become clear for you now. You truly wonder how you managed not to notice anything at all—whether it be your own feelings or his.

“I knew it would upset you,” he murmurs.

But then it hits you.

You can’t even fathom how much Renjun has had to endure throughout the years. He’s loved you all this time, yet he hasn’t said a word—out of consideration for you. In everything he’s ever done during the course of your friendship, he has always put you first. Even if it hurts him, he was willing to withstand it for your sake.

Yet all you’ve done for him is force him into letting you try to find a him a girlfriend, despite the fact that he was against it, and he had to pretend like he was okay as he watched you parade around like a fool telling him to love someone else.

You don’t deserve to be loved by someone like Huang Renjun.

You don’t deserve to love someone like Huang Renjun.

Suddenly, you begin to feel nauseous—probably sickened by guilt. Black spots dot your vision, and your legs start wobbling. Your body collapses only moments after, but luckily, Renjun manages to catch you before you can hit the pavement.

“Y/N? Y/N? Hey, talk to me,” you can hear him say very faintly. He’s cradling you against his chest, and you bury your face in it. Your head is spinning, but you feel surprisingly grounded in his arms.

Has he always smelled this nice? His scent is a mixture of books and sandalwood, and you’re basically crushing your nose against his chest like an absolute pervert. You don’t feel embarrassed because you know you can blame it on being sick later.

Speaking of sick, even though Renjun smells so good, you proceed to lean forward and vomit all over him and yourself.

Once again, you don’t feel that embarrassed because you black out soon after.

ও DAY FOUR.

You wake up tucked nicely under your covers. Much to your relief, you’re also in clean clothes—your favorite set of heart pajamas. Unfortunately, that’s the only bright side to your current state.

It feels like you haven’t had a sip of water in ten years, and your lips feel like they’ve been glued together. Even the tiniest movement makes your head feel like someone is drilling into your skull. Your body feels twenty times heavier, and not to mention, you just generally feel like shit because of what happened with Renjun.

“Oh my gods, you look so creepy right now. Who just lays there with their eyes wide open? If you’re awake, you should say something,” a voice chides. Turning your head just a smidgen (and wincing because of the pain), you see your sister, Lee Mijoo. She has a glass of water in her hand, setting it on your nightstand.

“How long have I been asleep?” you ask hoarsely.

“Let’s see. Renjun brought you back at like 2 PM yesterday, and it’s now 8 PM, so...thirty hours?” Mijoo counts on her fingers.

“Fuck,” you groan.

“Heatstroke will do that to ya,” she says, making a clicking noise with her tongue.

“I had a heatstroke?”

“Yep. It was a pretty nasty one too. You really did a number all over Renjun’s shirt. It was like a vomit Picasso,” Mijoo says, sounding kind of impressed.

Your face burns from humiliation.

“Here, sit up and drink this water,” she orders, helping you get up. Your head is screaming in pain, like a million little jabs to your brain. You down the water in one big gulp, not realizing just how dehydrated you were until your lips hit the water.

“So, you and Renjun, huh?” Mijoo asks sheepishly.

If you still had water in your mouth, you would’ve spat it out. “What?”

“Jaehyun told me everything,” she explains.

Traitor, you think to yourself.

“Don’t be mad at him. Renjun looked like a kicked puppy when we saw him. There’s no way I wouldn’t have asked questions,” she says. “Did you break his heart, little sister?”

You sigh, putting the cup back on your nightstand. “I hope not. His heart shouldn’t be broken by someone like me.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means that he shouldn’t concern himself with me,” you sigh.

“Well, he does. He came to check up on you like a billion times. I had to ban him from coming back until tomorrow,” Mijoo snorts. “He’s a really good guy, you know.”

“Trust me,” you say, rubbing your temples. “I know that better than anyone.”

“So, what’s stopping you? I would be all over that.”

You glare at her before letting out another sigh. “He’s too good for me, Mijoo.”

“That’s for him to decide, no?” She raises an eyebrow.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just saying the truth,” you say.

“So, you won’t mind if I date him?” she asks seriously.

Your face falls instantly, and Mijoo doubles over laughing.

“Geez, Y/N, you looked like you were about to claw my eyes out!” She wipes away a tear.

“Very funny,” you say dryly.

“But what if I had been serious? What would you have done then?”

You don’t answer.

“I think you really, really like Renjun, Y/N,” Mijoo whispers loudly.

“I think I love him,” you whisper back.

“Then, you should probably tell him.”

“Yeah, I should,” you echo.

Ignoring the major migraine you have and the fact that you’re still a little sluggish, you throw your covers off of you. You don’t change out of your pajamas, simply throwing a thin cardigan over it.

“Uh, Y/N, maybe you should wait until you feel be—”

“No, I have do it now before I change my mind,” you cut her off, slipping on your tennis shoes.

You hear Mijoo call after you, but you’re already out of the door. The Athena Cabin isn’t too far from the Aphrodite Cabin, so the walk is short. Much to your surprise once you’re inside, he isn’t there.

Grabbing the nearest Athena kid you see, you ask, “Where’s Renjun?”

“Um, I think he went to the amphitheater?”

The amphitheater is a bit further, so you promptly release and thank the kid, before taking off. You’re not sure if running is recommended right after a heatstroke, but you do it anyways. By the time you get there, your cardigan is slipping off and you’re dripping with sweat from the humid summer heat.

The amphitheater is extremely crowded, since there was probably a performance tonight. It’s actually a little hard to see over all the people. However, you find Renjun pretty quickly.

You see him standing off to the side, away from everyone else. He’s staring emptily at the stage, hands tucked inside his pockets. He looks so tired and dejected. His entire body slumps as if it’s too exhausting to stand up straight anymore.

All because of you.

You wait until you finally catch your breath, opening your mouth to call out to him. But you don’t ever get the chance to because a girl walks up to him. You can’t tell who she is because the back of her head is facing you, and you see Renjun give her a small smile before saying something.

The girl laughs and turns her head, giving you a view of her side profile.

Hwang Yeji.

All of the courage you had inside you withers away like a dying flower.

You take a step back, accidentally bumping into someone behind you. They say something to you, but you don’t hear it at all. Instead, you turn on your heel and run. You run wildly and blindly, nearly whizzing right past your cabin. You’re barely able get back inside, eyes so blurry with tears that you can’t even see where you’re going.

When Mijoo sees you, she doesn’t ask any questions. She just turns on the shower for you, extra hot. You step in without a word, letting the water mix with the tears running down your face.

It’s not that you think Renjun is in love with Yeji now. In fact, you know he’s not. It’s just that they would be much better together.

Yeji is one of the sweetest girls you know. She would treat Renjun with the kindness he deserves. She would consider his feelings first before making him do anything. She would make him happier than you ever could. They would be so compatible, and if you weren’t in love with Renjun yourself, you would definitely be trying to set the two up.

After your shower, you change into the clothes Mijoo set out for you—an oversized sweater with cotton shorts—and miserably crawl back in bed. You’re so drained that you don’t even have the energy to drink the fresh glass of water on your nightstand.

Everything hurt—mentally and physically.

Your heart aches most of all. You’ve dated here and there, gone through some breakups, but nothing has ever been as painful as this.

It’s a pain that consumes you whole. A pain that makes you want to scream but no sound will come out. A pain that makes you want to tear your heart out. A pain that makes you wish a bunch of aliens abducted you and brainwashed you into not feeling any emotions anymore.

It’s the same pain that you thought you felt from Renjun on the first day of when this all began.

And then the last puzzle piece finally falls into place.

That pain was never his.

It has always been your own.

You love Renjun too, and you’ve loved him for a very long time.

ও DAY FIVE.

“Come on, Y/N. At least get up to wash your face and brush your teeth,” Mijoo pleads.

You ignore her, pulling your covers over your head and turning away. It’s already well into the afternoon, but you’ve been feigning sick so you didn’t have to get up. The rest of the Aphrodite children have left and gone about their various activities throughout the camp, but Mijoo was tasked by Jaehyun to take care of you.

“If you just do that, I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day,” she bargains.

You think about it for a second before sighing, begrudgingly sitting up. You can see the pity dripping out of her eyes when you brush past her to head to the bathroom. When you see yourself in the mirror, you can understand why.

Puffy eyes, matted hair, tear-stained cheeks, and chapped lips. It’s too bad you hadn’t been wearing mascara last night because the only thing you’re missing in your hot mess look right now are those dark smudges right under your eyes.

You brush you teeth, which takes a lot more effort than you realize, and splash water on your face. Not even bothering to brush your hair, you head straight back to bed. True to her word, Mijoo doesn’t say anything else after that.

That is, until a couple hours later.

“Um, so I know I said I would leave you alone, but I think you might want to get up for this one, Y/N,” she whispers. You can’t see her because you back is turned to her, but you can tell by the tone of her voice that it’s important.

Irritated, you yank the covers off you and sit back up once again. “Mijoo, I—”

You almost choke on air when you realize Mijoo isn’t alone. Renjun is right beside her, looking not much better than you. He’s in a wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair looks like he just ran his fingers through it and called it a day, and he has purple bags under his eyes.

“Can we talk?” Renjun asks.

You hesitantly nod.

“I’ll, uh, give you two some privacy,” Mijoo says awkwardly before turning around and running out of the cabin.

You don’t know what to do now, staring down at your clasped hands. You hear Renjun take a step forward, and you feel the edge of your bed dip under his weight. There’s a sizable gap between you and where he’s sitting, but he’s still close enough for his scent to waft over to you. He smells wonderful like usual, and you hope you don’t stink in return.

“How are you feeling?” Renjun asks quietly.

“Like shit,” you answer honestly.

He laughs under his breath. “I know what you mean.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel giddy all of a sudden when you see him smile. How did you manage to turn into a lovesick little schoolgirl over night?

“I talked to Yeji last night at the amphitheater,” Renjun says after a moment.

“I know,” you mutter.

He blinks. “You do? How?”

You’re not sure how to answer that.

“Well, that doesn’t matter right now,” he dismisses, taking in a deep breath. “I just wanted to tell you that I ran into her after I checked up on you, and she invited me to watch her performance. I wasn’t going to say yes at first, but I thought it would make you happy if I did. I tried, Y/N, I really tried. Yeji’s a nice girl, but I can’t help how I feel. I love you, Y/N. It’s always been you, and it always will be. I’m not asking you to love me back. I just want to stay by your side, as your friend, if you’ll allow it. I—”

“Stop,” you interrupt, scooting closer to him and putting a hand over his mouth. “I have to tell you something.”

Renjun gives you a bewildered expression but nods nonetheless.

You remove your hand from his mouth, before taking in a deep breath of your own. “You’re my best friend, Renjun, and I’ve always confided in you for everything. I took you for granted, and I only thought about myself. Deep down, I think I’ve always known about your feelings and my own, but I was afraid to dig for it. I was comfortable, and I didn’t want to ruin that, even though you were hurting. I’m truly sorry for treating you that way, Renjun. From now on, I want you to tell me everything—the good, the bad, the ugly. Don’t bottle things up for my sake.”

He goes to say something, but you hold up your hand to stop him.

“The reason why I knew you were with Yeji at the amphitheater last night is because I was there too. I went to look for you,” you finally confess. “When I decided I was going to find a girlfriend for you, I thought I would be able to step aside when you did find someone. But once I saw you with Yeji, I realized that I couldn’t do it. What I want with you isn’t a friendship anymore. I’m in love with you, Renjun. I have been for a long time, and it took me four, almost five, years to see that because I never thought to listen to my own heart until now. I don’t think I will ever deserve you in his lifetime, but I love you. I’m selfish and I’m a mess and I always cause trouble for you, but I—”

Renjun wraps an arm around your waist and tugs your body flush against his. His hand comes up to cradle your cheek as his thumb lightly runs across your cheekbone. You’re clutching his shirt like a lifeline, holding your breath, as you stare into those gray eyes.

“You,” he whispers, his lips barely brushing against yours, “are more than I deserve.”

He leans in and closes the infinitesimal gap between your mouths. He kisses you desperately, like you’ll disappear any moment, and you can feel all of the emotions he’s been locking away. His arms are wound tightly around you as he pulls you into his lap. You weave your hands through his hair, and he deepens the kiss. Your shirt rides up as you shift, and you feel his hand slip up your shirt and rest against your back. It ignites a fire within you and you want to tell him to take it off completely, but your lungs are screaming for air, so you have no choice but to pull away.

“Sorry,” Renjun says breathlessly, his chest heaving up and down, as he takes his hand out from under your shirt.

“No, I liked it,” you say, shaking your head and placing your forehead against his. “I just ran out of air.”

“No,” he disagrees, “I didn’t mean for it to go that far. It was supposed to be a sweet kiss, but I lost control.”

He tugs your shirt back down and gently sets you back down next to him. You can’t help but giggle at how flustered he is. It’s not often that Athena children, especially Huang Renjun, loses control of their emotions like that.

“I’m glad you find this amusing,” he says wryly, rolling his eyes.

“You know,” you say in a sing-song voice, “I still technically never broke my streak. I found you a girlfriend within five days.”

“Does it really count if you ended up being my girlfriend?” He raises an eyebrow. “Seems a little unprofessional to me.”

“Don’t be a sore loser,” you taunt.

“You also said you were going to make me fall in love so hard that I’d forget my own name,” he points out. “And I didn’t, so that’s false advertising. Unprofessional and unethical? I could sue you.”

“You are so petty,” you squint. “And come on! That kiss didn’t make your forget? It made me forget!”

“I don’t like you that much.” He deadpans.

“Huang Renjun, you are so not cute!”

4 YEARS AGO.

“It’s not my best work, so you can have it,” Renjun says, trying to act casual about it.

You look so happy that Renjun would have painted a thousand more if you asked him to. You have a smile that could make the goddesses envious, and he can barely hear what you’re saying over the thumping of his own heart. He hopes his expression looks somewhat elusive because he’s not sure how to handle himself right now.

You’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen in his life.

Renjun feels like he’s been shot by Eros’ arrow. He used to never understand why everyone was so wary of Eros; he’s basically just a mascot for corny Valentine’s Day cards. Apollo and his children avoid Eros and his children like the plague. Though granted, Eros did force Apollo to fall in love with Daphne and then she ended up turning into a tree. So, there is a little bit of history there. Point being, Renjun just didn’t get it.

But he think he does now.

“Thank you so much!” you say excitedly, extending your hand. “I’m Y/N!”

Renjun just stupidly stares at you. He’s not even sure if he’s worthy to touch your hand, but he also doesn’t want to be rude. He carefully shakes your hand, unable to say a word.

“What’s your name?” you ask, tilting your head.

Is it possible for a person to be this adorable? he thinks to himself.

“I’m...”

You’re looking at him, waiting expectantly.

“I’m...”

You’re still smiling, but he can see the slight confusion in your eyes. He’s never felt like more of a moron in his life.

“Ren...jun,” he finally says after an extreme amount of concentration.

You beam at him, and he wonders if he’s the only one seeing the ring of light surrounding you. There’s no way you aren’t Aphrodite’s favorite child.

“Nice to meet you, Renjun! Let’s be friends.”

Renjun isn’t sure he wants to be just friends, but he finds himself nodding along anyways.

Fuck, he thinks, I’m in trouble.

#neowritingsnet #ncitynetwork #cznnet #NCT-WRITERS #nct scenarios #nct imagines #renjun fluff #renjun angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream imagines #renjun #nct #choerrypuffs #demigods

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histrionic-dragon · 4 years ago

Text

Leverage and the Black Widow

Found some scraps/scenelets I wrote a while back.

“Look at this,” Hardison said, staring at the security footage. “She’s like if Eliot and Parker had a scary ninja baby!”

“Ew,” Eliot and Parker muttered at the same time.

“Wait, she was at the thing earlier. She’s Goffson’s newest secretary-slash-trophy-girlfriend. Facial ID confirms it. It’s her. But her identity is airtight, guys—she’s got a Masters in HR from NYU and grew up in Wisconsin, series of moderately crappy boyfriends, no criminal activity. There is no reason this lady should be skulking around on a rooftop beating people up. There’s no way she should know how.”

“Well, obviously, she does.”

“Ohh, shit. Facial recognition just gave another ping. But something’s wrong—there’s only two records I can find here, it’s like it’s been . . . it’s been scrubbed, like what I do for us after a job. Only here, someone missed something. And she’s a totally different person. This was in Nevada eight months ago, and she was a historical monument docent or something.”

The shadowy figure slipped over the side of the building and down.

[later, they all surprise each other on the rooftop and the Widow Bites come out]

“I was wrong earlier.”

“Wrong about what, Hardison?”

“She’s like you and Sophie had a scary murder baby and then Parker raised it in the ways of the rig and the taser.”

“Can you stop saying stuff like that?!”

“You know her? You know her. –Pretty lady who can kill us, of course Eliot knows her.”

“Shut up, Hardison.”

“I’m just saying, it’s pretty much par for the—”

“And I’m just saying, shut up!”

“Long time since Romania.”

“I hear you’re working for another side since then.”

“I hear you went freelance.” Her eyes flicked to Parker and Hardison. “But apparently not anymore.”

He took a step closer to the others, putting himself between her and them, knowing she’d read it as acknowledgement. “Found a good crew. You?”

A corner of her mouth turned up. “They sent a smartass with a bow and arrows to kill me, and he decided to recruit me against orders. I thought that was . . . interesting.”

“I kinda know what you mean.”

“Well, it’s been great catching up, but I’m afraid I can’t let you cover for Goffson.”

There was an offended squawk from somewhere behind them. It had to be Hardison, because the “Hey!” was Parker. Very stealthy.

“We’re not covering for him,” Eliot said, watching her carefully.

“No?”

“But we thought you were.”

“I have reason to believe he’s been selling classified information,” the Black Widow said. “I’m here to make sure he sells something else. Swap the intel, wipe everything that’s valid, let the rest play out.” By which she meant let them find out they were sold bad intel and take retribution. Elegant and brutal. “If you’re not protecting his sales, what are you here for?”

Apparently this sounded enough like a briefing that Hardison thought it would be a good idea to jump in, yelling out from behind the stack of crates they were using as cover for his little workstation. Great. “We’re actually more interested in his quote-unquote ‘legitimate’ business, by which I mean the way he’s been ripping off hundreds of people’s life savings to bribe his way into…something. Which is guess is your thing.”

The Widow frowned. “What does a group of thieves get out of that?”

“We’re the good guys now,” Parker said from behind her, just about giving Eliot a goddamn heart attack. “We steal from people who steal from people who need the money, and we give it back. Oooh, this rope is tiny. What is it?”

Fortunately, the Black Widow didn’t automatically kill people who snuck up on her. She had the look on her face that most people did when they first met Parker, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. “How did you get that without me noticing?”

“Thief,” Parker said, pointing to herself without looking up from the thin coil she was inspecting. “Hacker.” She pointed to Hardison. “You know Eliot. We’re as good at what we do as he is.” She finally looked up, though she kept fingering the rope. “You’re not as good as me.” She smiled. “You’re close, though. And I really like your gear,” she added, with the look that said she was remembering one of Sophie’s lessons, probably about softening interactions with compliments. “Seriously, where did you get this?”

“It’s carbon fiber,” the Widow said after a moment. “And it’s not available to the public.”

Parker shrugged. “That’s not a problem,” she said, and waited expectantly.

“Don’t steal from the SHIELD depot, Parker,” Eliot said, sighing, and gestured toward the ledge of the rooftop: truce? Let’s all sit down?

“Why not?” Parker demanded, as the Widow gave a sigh of her own and sat down next to Parker. It didn’t make her any less dangerous, but it was still probably a good sign.

“Professional courtesy,” Eliot answered.

Parker frowned. “But our profession is thieves.”

“Ours is,” Eliot said. “Hers isn’t.” He looked at the Widow. She was wearing a very small, patient smile. “She’s a spy.”

“She steals intel instead of money,” Hardison said, walking up to them. “I’ve disabled all the motion detectors up here for another ten minutes,” he added. “We can talk. But I’ve re-activated other parts of the security system and I’m not telling you which ones, so if you try to do anything—”

[They talk. Hardison has heard of certain shadowy operatives but….]

“No. That’s not real. That’s a myth. The Black Widow doesn’t exist.”

“Well, then if I have to kill you, you’ll be pleased to know you’re dead of natural causes.”

“You—buh—that’s like saying you’re Slenderman or something!”

It actually didn’t take long to come to an agreement, even if Nate was sputtering on the coms the whole time. Their aims weren’t in conflict, just their methods, and they could be more efficient if they teamed up. Hardison would bring down the security system. The Widow could go in and get her data directly, skipping about three steps of her existing plan, and plant some of their evidence while she was in. The Leverage team wouldn’t have to go in at all that night. She’d make sure they had access during the confusion of the bust the following afternoon.

“What if it’s a setup?” Sophie kept fretting. Nate wasn’t fretting; he was just yelling.

“She wouldn’t bother,” Eliot said. “We don’t have anything useful to the US government and she’s not in any kind of law enforcement that would bother with us. If she wanted us out of the way, we’d be dead.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you seem to believe it is.”

The files were all in Goffman’s office—not even in a safe, just in a locked drawer in a filing cabinet. Parker seemed personally offended by that. But there was one more thing they found when they checked the “secretary’s” desk. Nora Riddel had obviously left in a hurry, and everything she’d left behind would corroborate her cover story, from the tissues in the trash can to the photos on the desk, but one thing didn’t fit: A silvery envelope tucked under the keyboard, labeled only “Leverage.”

The envelope contained a list of account numbers that would make going through Goffman’s files even easier, and—Parker squealed—a length of very thin, very tough rope.

#Leverage #MCU #Parker #Hardison #Eliot #Natasha Romanoff #Black Widow #why do all the MCU Leverage crossovers have Bucky and no Nat #it's a MISSED OPPORTUNITY I tell ya

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shhhlikeme · 5 years ago

Note

I ALMOST NEVER SEE ANYONE WRITE ABOUT ARAN SO IM JUMPING IN- ;-; Can I ask for his girl helping him relieve some stress, massaging him and his hands then just a nice cuddle session after..? also Ive been shy to hop in but hi you're pretty and Id love to be friends with you ;-;

UMMM A BIG ACCOUNT LIKE YOURS THAT JUST REACHED 1.25K followers (congrats beb!!) peeps my work ?? And compliments me + gave me my first Aran requestttt ?!

*faints*

I feel like this is a proposal and the answer is YES boo 💍🥰 friendssss 🥺🤗

Anyway I hope you like it newest friend💞

————————————

Some Aran Ojiro x Reader Romance 😩🌹

————————————

you and your boyfriend Aran haven’t been able to see eachother much in the past year at all

He just made the Japan National Team which meant he was practicing and travelling all the time

You two keep up with nightly Facetime dates every night which is great but he almost always falls asleep on you in the first 20 minutes

sleepy muffin that we love so much

You don’t blame him considering his training regimen.

When he wakes up he’s literally talking your ear off apologizing because he feels like a shit boyfriend for falling asleep every time

“I did it again and I know you say it’s fine but it’s not. I’m so sorry Y/N. When I get home, I promise I’ll make it up to you baby girl, I promise. Have a great day Queen and remember I’ll be home to spoil you in 10 days. You’re not ready. I love you! Peace!”

As you lay in your empty bed the next morning, you just smile at the video of him apologizing to you while he is running around his hotel room to get ready for morning practice

Your man works so hard but he never fails to make sure he’s the first thing you see when you wake up and the last person you see before you fall asleep. It’s endearing

He is super super busy being a professional athlete but that doesn’t stop him from making you feel special in the little and big ways

Sometimes, he orders you breakfast or dinner from your favourite brunch or sushi spot that you two like to go to so that he can put a smile on your face when he’s travelling

All he asks in return is a cute selfie of you in your pjs and messy bun with the food and that is the only thank you he needs

Seriously send it though or he’ll spam your phone lol

Can I tell you a funny story related to your mans sweet foodie gestures?

Okay so One random night last weekend.....

You heard a knock on the door of your condo and you quickly paused your Netflix movie to dust the popcorn crumbs off Aran’s t-shirt you were wearing

You opened the door excitedly thinking it might be another Uber Eats surprise from your boyfriend but instead you see a grumpy looking Osamu standing in the delivery guys place

“Your boyfriend is annoying.” Osamu deadpanned as he glanced at you once before letting himself in.

“Uh, Nice to see you.....too, Osamu-san.”

Samu murmured something in response grumpily and went over to your kitchen island to place down a large brown paper bag.

“Stupid professional volleyball playing friend and brother,” He muttered under his breath. You watched him take out lots of food from his restaurant from your spot by the door, by the look (and amazing smell) of it the bag was packed with all your favourites. You were thrilled even though the grey haired boy in your kitchen wasn’t.

“Look at me! I’m Aran. My stupid Uber Eats app won’t work from mutant-spider Australia so instead of just chilling like a normal person I call and beg my very handsome and very successful restaurant-owner friend to make my girlfriend all her favourite dishes and drive them over in the middle of a rain storm. A rain storm!”

You held your ground back at the door (knowing good and well not to get in the way of Samu when he was in one of his signature bitchy moods) as a smile crept on your face. It felt like someone was squeezing your heart as you watched Osamu comfortably rummage through your cabinets and find your dishes. He plated your food beautifully like the professional chef he is, all while mumbling angrily under his breath about his quote unquote “Simp of a best friend.”

When he was done with the food, Osamu also pulled out a bottle of your favourite wine from his restaurant that only Aran knows about and poured you a glass perfectly, swaying the liquid around first to make sure it was rich. Satisfied but still annoyed, Osamu cleaned his restaurant’s paper bag contents away and then walked over to your spot on the couch to take a handful of popcorn. Still a grump, he met you back at the door.

Samu looked down at you with the irritated expression you’ve become accustomed to over the years.

“Aran also told me to give you this.” He deadpanned before leaning down to kiss the top off your head then left. You smiled, unable to stop bubbling over in giggles because you knew Aran just added that to annoy his affection-challenged best friend. You poked your head out to the hallway of your condo building, seeing Osamu’s retreating figure you sang:

“Thank you, Samuuuuuu! 🎶”

Effectively adding to his annoyance just like your boyfriend would have wanted you to.

Without looking back, Osamu just lifted up a cool peace sign that your boyfriend and the two brothers were notorious for.

That trio, man.

dinner that night was the best you’ve had in forever

Not only was it delicious but

You realized that very night that your boyfriend was the most remarkable human in the world and you didn’t deserve him

You checked your phone as you sipped your wine because you received several texts from your boy asking where his picture of you eating is and also asking how funny Samu’s reaction was

You giggled as you read the text and then you had an idea! 💡

You put down your phone and quickly changed into some lacy lingerie for the picture:

Your boyfriend always asked for simple ‘rates PG’ pics because he loved to see you bare faced and wearing his big clothes. It was so cute to him.

he would make each new picture you sent his two backgrounds on his phone and he relished in the fact that you were so beautiful when you didn’t try

You knew this, but you also knew that your man deserved a little ‘sumn sumn’ for making tonight so special for you 😉

You put on a little sultry makeup to go with your sexy number and went back to the kitchen to your food and wine

You took a much sexier picture than he would ever expect

Actually you chose to send him a boomerang:

one of your hair slightly disheveled and your tits basically out despite the lacy cover. You pressed the wine glass to your red lips and winked in the boomerang, wiggling your hips ever so seductively

•••

in a luxurious hotel in Australia, your stunning boyfriend just finished his shower in his hotel room

He dried his face with a towel and opened his iMessage app on his phone... effectively ignoring the:

“🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼it’s done.🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼”

text from his best friend Osamu and clicking your name instead

Aran swiped left on his phone hoping to see another cute picture of his girlfriend being sent to him that makes his day the brightest but what he actually sees instead almost makes him drop his phone out of his wet hands

No Deadass he almost dropped it! it slipped out of his hands 4 times

His heart beating because of his phone but mostly because you were the finest woman he’s ever seen, he replays your sexy boomerang 30 times, literally engraving every detail about you into his mind. If his teammates weren’t so nosy he’d love to make what you just sent him his background on his phone......but that wouldn’t work

He really treasured you and what you sent though. For Aran, the next 9 days at this Global Tournament could not go by fast enough.

Aran’s never asked for naughty pictures from you not once because he doesn’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, but seeing that you did it on your own, of course it made him want to skip his National game tomorrow just to fly back and make love to you all night then rub your back the way you like until you fell asleep

Mans is in LOVE, you feel me?

He wanted to show you just how treasured you are for sticking by his side through all this travelling shit. He wanted you to always know you were his queen even if he was miles away

So, by you sending this sexy Boomerang and treating him like a King even though you didn’t have to, your man fell even harder for you

He had so much planned when he came home like always: spoil you with a shopping trip with your girls, a romantic spa trip for you both and a trip to the amusement park, but it seemed so far away now

Frowning, Aran texted you back a paragraph telling you how beautiful you are and how lucky he was to have you in his life for a plethora of reasons

He Facetime’d you for the expected classic 20 minutes while you wore that lingerie BUT he actually stayed up for 36 minutes because he was fighting sleep like a damn boxer. He wanted to see you... but of course his fatigue got the better of him and he fell asleep with a big smile on his face because you whispered goodnight

•••

the next day, after sleeping in, Aran woke up for his first tournament game and did all of his pre-game rituals which included calling you, and his best friends Kita & the twins.

He proceeded to his 6:00pm game as planned in the grand court of Sydney.

Aran sweetly signed autographs and Jerseys with his name on it that fans and little kids eagerly presented to him before and after the game that they had won.

“Mr. Ran’! Mr. ‘Ran! Volleybwall is my most favouritest sport to pway , too! Can I have hug???” Asked a particularly bouncy little African-Australian girl in the crowd. Aran glances at the dad for permission and upon granting Aran nodded kindly and picked up the toddler so she was propped up on his hip. The girl wrapped her miniature arms around the big volleyball star’s neck and squeezed tightly. Aran chuckled in his deep voice, exclaiming an “Ow! You’re a strong one, aren’t you? A future Ace for sure.” The little girl gasped at her idols words and hugged him harder. The dad had to literally rip her out of Ojiro’s arms because she didn’t want to let go.

“Don’t break the volleyball player, honey. They’re sore.” Said the father to his daughter.

Aran reached in his gym bag to collect a clean tournament shirt from his bag and handed it to the hysterically crying little girl. “Sore is an understatement. But....here, ‘future Ace.’ When you make the National Women’s Team and I’m the one at one of your games, maybe you can give it back to me.”

The little girl’s whole life was made as she immediately stopped crying and smiled widely, hugging the shirt close to her chest as if it might disappear if she let go.

Because he was a teddy bear and wanted to sign as many kids memorabilia as possible, plus give the youth encouraging messages....Aran usually stayed an hour or two later than the other players after their away games. Telling his teammates to go on ahead back to their hotel without him

HE’S PERFECT 😩

Sore as hell and more tired than ever after his big games, he picked up his phone to call you on his way back to the hotel

He loved hearing your voice it was so soothing to him

No answer. He tried 5 times.

Thinking you were probably working hard from home, Ojiro dragged his feet past the hotel concierge and used all of his slumped body weight to push open the door to his hotel room.

He didn’t remember it being this dark in here or even shutting off the lights when he left, but being too tired to care he dropped his huge bag on the floor, gripping his aching shoulder as he took one step to the right to flip on the lights

When he did, he had to rub his sleepy eyes because he couldn’t believe what he saw

“Y-Y/N?!”

Standing in the middle of his hotel room, you smiled brightly and ran to your boyfriend, wrapping your legs around his waist in a koala hug. You wore that lacy number you used in the picture you sent him last night. Your man stumbled back from the impact and overall surprise but once he was stable he hugged you back tightly.

“Oh my God, you look incredible, what-what are you doing here?!” He asked, still in disbelief.

You pecked his lips and jumped down. “After last night I missed you so much. So I just called into work, booked a 9-hour direct flight and now I’m here! I’m staying for the rest of the tournament. Hi, handsome!!!!” You had so much happiness and light in your eyes that it literally woke up your boyfriend by contentment, even though he was just on the verge of collapsing on his bed from fatigue minutes ago.

He grabbed your face softly in his large hands and tilted your head up towards his to give you a proper kiss, letting you know how happy he was through the kiss.

You pulled away. “Whoa! Someone’s happy to see me!” You poked his tummy.

“An understatement—Wait, what is that?” Finally looking away from your face for the first time since he entered his room, Aran looked behind you in awe. There was a rather large massage table set up in the centre of his suite.

“Oh, that old thing?!” You questioned playfully as you jogged over to the big table and showcased it with your hands like a Wheel of Fortune prize girl. “I tried to book a massage for you for tomorrow because I know you always forget, but they were all booked obviously so I just asked the guy downstairs—after name dropping you—if they could bring this up and they had no problem with it!”

Aran looked at you incredulously so you continued. “Lay down, babe. I know you must be sore after your game. I ordered food for you too but they said it will be up here in an hour and a half. So, I’ll get out some of your kinks now, we’ll eat, and then I can massage you more until you fall asleep.”

Aran couldn’t believe this was happening.

“But you just got off a flight, Y/N! You must be tired, too! I couldn’t possibly—“

You gave your boyfriend your best Osamu impression with your seriously annoyed frown. “Aran. You do everything in your power to make sure that I’m feeling more than amazing every single day even when you are halfway across the world. So now since I’m a mere halfway across the room, I want to do this for you. Please. Let me return the favour.”

Feeling too tired to bicker and knowing you meant business, your big man gave in. He removed his shirt when you asked and settled face down on the comfortable table.

You put on some soft r&b and took out the essential oils you bought from the spa and began to give your man a sensual but remarkable rub down, taking immense care in soothing his muscle pain in his legs and back

You listened for his groans when you reached particularly sensitive spots on his back and spent a lot more time in those areas

When you were massaging his shoulders you made sure to lean down every few minutes to kiss the side of his neck and Aran would sigh in delight every time.

“Y/N. I know you want to get all of my kinks out and trust me this feels amazing, but, if you keep kissing me dressed like that I’ll stop this massage to make love to you on this table. Okay?”

You giggled and smacked his booty.

“Kay.” 😇

When the food came, you and Aran opted to sit on the couch and eat, feeding eachother and kissing and just being all cute n shit—🙄

A/N: Can you tell how jealous I am?

After dinner and your night routines, you told your baby to give you his hands in bed.

you lotioned them in between your smaller ones and gave him a long, much desired, kneading hand massage in the pitch black room until he was on the verge of falling asleep.

“I love you, Y/N.” whispered Ojiro, his deep voice slower because he was half asleep. “Please be here when I wake up....” He whispered before succumbing to a deep slumber.

You stopped your massage, kissed both of his hands and cuddled into his warm body.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, Aran.” You closed your eyes too, feeling sleep wash over you as well.... “I’ll always be here.”

#aran ojiro #aran ojiro x reader #aran ojiro x y/n #aran ojiro x you #black anime fans #fluff #hq fluff #haikyu romance #hq romance #haikyu fluff #fluffville #kaylas fluffville #inarizaki #kiba hq #haikyu headcanons #osamu hq #hq atsumu

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zukoskataraa · 4 years ago

Text

a request i got from @blood-and-lychee a long time ago! sorry this took so long, i hope you like it!

prompt #39: we need to talk about what happened last night

“Katara, open the door.” Zuko says, sighing.

“Go away.” Katara replies, not wanting to see him.

“Katara, I’m not the one at fault here.” Zuko says, and Katara sighed, knowing he was right. She slowly opens the door to her apartment, and Zuko walks in. Silence was hanging in the air, neither of them wanting to talk first.

“L-Let’s sit down.” Katara says, avoiding eye contact with Zuko as she walks to her bedroom. Zuko follows, going into the room he had been in many times before. Katara sits in the middle of the bed, crossing her legs, and Zuko sits down on the edge of the bed. The silence was awkward, and Katara wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“We need to talk about what happened last night.” Zuko finally speaks, looking at Katara. Katara avoids his gaze, biting her lip. She knew that Zuko had come over to talk about it. She knew that what she had done was wrong. But, she didn’t feel bad about it.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Katara says, and Zuko scoffs.

“One doesn’t simply kiss their bestfriend on a fake date, Katara.” Zuko says, his tone harsh. Katara looks up at him, sighing.

“It was your fault for inviting me.” Katara says, defending herself. Zuko raises an eyebrow, an amused look on his face.

“I’m not the one who kissed you.” Zuko fights back, and Katara lies down, staring at her ceiling as she recalls yesterday’s events.

—

“You want me to do what?” Katara asks, eyes wide. She looks at Zuko, who was sitting next to her, looking desperate.

“Pretend to be my girlfriend. Just for tonight.” Zuko says, pleading. Katara was still processing the question that Zuko had asked.

“Tonight? Are you crazy? And why would you pick me? Ask Mai or Ty Lee or Toph.” Katara says, avoiding looking at him. Her heart was beating fast. Sure, Zuko was her best friend, ever since high school. They were now in college, and Katara would be lying to herself if she didn’t develop feelings for Zuko over the years. But, she didn’t want to ruin their friendship, so she never acted on her feelings for him.

“I was supposed to go with Mai, but she cancelled on me! And Ty Lee said no, very bluntly. So did Toph. And Sokka would kill me if I asked Suki. So, here I am.” Zuko says, and Katara scoffs.

“So you’re coming to me because you have no one else to turn to? I’m your last choice, huh? Go fish.” Katara says, rolling her eyes. She had already made up her mind, but she wanted to toy with Zuko for a bit. In an instant, Zuko was on his knees in front of her, and Katara widened her eyes.

“I didn’t mean it like that! I just didn’t want to burden you with this, so I never planned to ask you, until now. Please, Kat? I’ll do anything!” Zuko was clearly desperate, and Katara sighed.

“Man, I can’t believe you’re right here, begging in front of me. It’s a sight to behold, if I’m being honest.” Katara teases. “But, I’m no sadist. Get up, dude. I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend.” Katara says and Zuko stands, hugging Katara.

“Thanks, Kat!” Zuko says, smiling as he pulls away from the hug. Katara blushes and looks away.

“Y-Yeah. No problem. Where are we even going?” Katara asks, standing up from the couch.

“It’s just a formal dinner party. My parent’s company is hosting it to celebrate a new partnership. And my dad told me that I had to bring my significant other, who is non-existent.” Zuko sighs, sitting down on Katara’s sofa. Katara giggles.

“Well, why would he assume that you had a girlfriend in the first place?” She asks and Zuko shrugs.

“He thinks that Mai and I are still together. And as you know, we broke up last month, but we’re cool.” Zuko says and Katara nods.

“But he already knows who I am. If you bring me as your date, won’t it be awkward?” Katara asks and Zuko shakes his head.

“He thinks we, quote unquote, look good together. So, he’d probably be ecstatic if he thought that we were dating.” Zuko explains and Katara blushes, biting her lip. Well, at least his family approves of her.

“Okay, fine. Now get out of my apartment, Zuko. I have to get ready for dinner tonight, which I don’t even want to go to.” Katara says, joking.

“Hey, at least you’ll get free food.” Zuko says. “And like it’s still 2pm? Dinner isn’t til 7. You can get ready later.” Zuko says, and Katara rolls her eyes.

“You really don’t understand women.” Katara says, shaking her head. She grabs Zuko by the hand, who willingly follows her, as she walks towards her front door.

“I will see you later.” Zuko says as he opens the door and Katara let’s go of his hand. “I’ll pick you up at… 6:30? Sounds good?”

“Yup. Later, loser.” Katara says and Zuko chuckles.

“Wear something nice for me, okay? The theme is black, green, and blue.” Zuko winks and Katara rolls her eyes.

“Whatever.” Katara says and Zuko smiles.

“Bye, KitKat.” Zuko says and Katara blushes before sticking her tongue out at him and closing the door. Zuko would be the death of her. She nearly trips over the edge of her bed as she walks to her closet, looking for something to wear. Zuko was lucky that Katara had a green dress in her wardrobe that was formal enough. Her black dress was a little too provocative, and her blue dress wasn’t fit for the occasion. Katara also wanted to wear something nice, to see Zuko’s reaction - to tease him a little. Katara was sure that Zuko didn’t think of her romantically, that he only saw her as a friend. And that was okay with Katara, because she cherished her friendship with Zuko.

Katara took a shower, and got ready. It was a few minutes past three, and Zuko would pick her up at 6:30. So Katara had at least three more hours to prepare. She spent the first hour eating and watching a show, the second hour doing her hair - which Katara hated because her hair was a mess, and did her make up. Katara was changing into her dress when the doorbell rang, and Katara sighed as she was still struggling to zip up the dress from the back. She would get Zuko to do it, she decided, as she walked to the door.

Zuko gasped when the door opened to reveal Katara. She was wearing a satin, emerald green dress, with the neckline plunging low. There was a slit on the right side, showing her long, dark legs. Her hair was straightened at the top, but was wavy midway to the tips. She had a pearl clip on one side of her hair. Her makeup was just enough - lipstick, eyeshadow, eyeliner, but there was a hint of pink on Katara’s cheeks as Zuko had stared at her for what seemed like minutes.

“What? Do I look ugly?” Katara asks, unsure. Zuko shakes his head, embarrassed.

“You look great, KitKat.” Zuko says, smiling. “I mean it.”

“Thanks, Zuko.” Katara says, blushing. “Ah, can you zip this up for me?” Katara asks, turning around. Her dress was still zipped open, down to the small of her back. She felt exposed, but it’s not like she could have zipped it up herself.

“S-Sure.” Zuko says, gulping as he reaches for her dress. His fingers touch Katara’s back, and Katara closes her eyes. Silence is in the air as he slowly zips the dress up, and Katara grabs her hair and puts it at the side so he can finish zipping it up. “All done.” He says. Katara lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and turns around to look back at Zuko.

“Thanks, loser. Come on in, just lemme grab my things and then we can head out.” Katara smiles as she walks away, letting Zuko enter her home. Katara goes into her room, with Zuko behind her, and grabs a small gold purse, putting her phone, lipstick, keys, and some money inside. Zuko leans on the doorway, arms crossed.

“You look really stunning, KitKat.” Zuko compliments her again, and Katara blushes. Thankfully, her back was facing him, so he couldn’t see her reaction. She takes a deep breath before looking at Zuko. He looked good as well - in Katara’s defense, he looked good no matter what he wore - with an all black outfit, except for the emerald green bowtie, which ironically matched Katara’s dress. His hair was slicked back, except for a few loose tendrils flying around.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Zuko.” She says as she grabs a gold necklace from her jewelry box and puts it on, centering the pendant in the middle of her chest. “Your tie matches my dress.”

“That it does.” He says, amusement in his voice. “Wasn’t expecting it, to be honest. But hey, we still look good.” Zuko says and Katara hums in approval as she walks past him and puts on her gold heels. Zuko was watching her the whole time, and Katara could feel his eyes burning into her.

“Stop staring, creep.” Katara says. “Come on, let’s go.” She says and Zuko chuckles as he follows her out of her apartment.

“I could be watching a movie right now, in my pajamas. Eating takeout.” Katara sighs as Zuko revs the car, the engine sputtering to life. Zuko laughs.

“This’ll be worth it. I promise. Plus, wouldn’t you rather look at me, your handsome best friend who is currently your fake boyfriend right now, than some actor on your tv?” He says as he starts to drive. Katara snorts, blushing.

“Puh-lease. I’d take Henry Cavill over you any day.” She says and Zuko chuckles.

“You wound me, Katara.” Zuko says and Katara giggles. “Okay so, if anyone asks. We’re dating, obviously. That’s been established. Uh, let’s say we’ve been dating for about two months now. I made the first move when I drove you back home from a dinner date. You said yes, and boom.” Zuko makes up a story, and Katara wishes it were true. “Also, I might like, touch you. You know, putting my hand on your waist, holding your hand, that sort of thing.” Zuko adds and Katara sighs. This would be so hard.

“Ew, you’re gonna give me your germs.” She jokes, trying to distract herself. Zuko laughs. “But fine. You owe me big time, Zuko.”

“That I do, my friend.” Zuko says. The rest of the car ride was filled with them bantering and laughing, both of them hoping to ease the tension before having to be serious at the dinner party.

They pull up to the hotel, which was very fancy, and Katara gulps. One room probably cost more than her tuition, she thought. The valet opened the door for her and helped her get out, to which she smiled and said thank you to. The valet then walked over to Zuko, and gave him the keys. Zuko walked over to Katara, smiling.

“I haven’t seen my parents in six months. To be honest, I’m kinda nervous.” Zuko says, and Katara wraps her arm around his.

“Don’t be nervous. I’ll be with you the whole time.” Katara assures her best friend, and Zuko nods.

“Well, Kat, off we go.” Zuko says and Katara giggles as they walk inside the hotel, towards the ballroom.

“You know, this is pretty boring.” Zuko whispers in Katara’s ear. It had been at least two hours since the dinner started, and there had been 5 long, dull speeches - all of which were talking about the same thing more or less. The food was exceptional though, and Katara had to give it to the chef’s, they knew how to cook. The appetizer was delicious, the main course was enamoring, and the desert was mouth-watering. The waiter had given them wine to drink, and they clinked their glasses.

“I know. This is why I should have just stayed at home.” Katara giggles, whispering back to Zuko.

“Sorry for dragging you here. I haven’t even seen my parents yet.” Zuko replies. “Well, I have, but they seem busy, so I’d rather not approach them.” Katara takes a sip from her wine and sighs.

“You could always-” She starts but is suddenly cut off.

“Zuko!” A deep voice calls out. Zuko immediately stands, looking at his dad. Zuko was almost as tall as his dad, Ozai.

“Hi dad.” Zuko greets. Katara stands up, smiling.

“Ah, Katara. So good to see you again.” Ursa, Zuko’s mother, smiles and gives Katara a hug.

“Hello, Ms. Ursa. Mr. Ozai. It’s nice to see you.” Katara says as she hugs Ursa.

“Katara, what a surprise. Zuko said he was bringing his girlfriend. Is that, perhaps, you?” Ozai asks, surprised. There was no malice in his voice, just shock.

“Yup.” Zuko responds, taking Katara’s hand in his. Katara wanted to die.

“Y-Yes. Zuko and I are dating.” Katara says, smiling. Ursa smiles and clasps her hands together.

“I can hear the wedding bells!” Ursa exclaims and the fake couple blushes.

“Mom! Stop.” Zuko says and Ursa giggles.

“I have to continue making my rounds. But it was good to see you, son. You too, my dear Katara. I have high hopes for you two.” Ozai says as he and Ursa walk away. The fake couple let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding, but Zuko hadn’t let go of Katara’s hand yet.

“Well, we passed. Can we go now?” Katara asks as she lets go of Zuko’s hand. She didn’t want to, but wine was more important at the moment. Zuko chuckles.

“Don’t you want to dance?” Zuko teases. There was a slow song playing, and some people had gone up to the dance floor, holding each other in each other’s arms. Katara scoffs.

“You know I don’t dance.”

“Yes, but, you’re not gonna die if you dance with me.” Zuko says. ‘I beg to differ’ Katara thinks. “I’m not going to force you, though. It’s up to you, KitKat.” Katara sighs.

“One dance. And then you’re taking me home.” Katara says and Zuko nods. He takes her hand and leads her to the dance floor. Katara puts her hand on Zuko’s shoulders, and Zuko puts his hands on Katara’s waist. The awkwardness would be the death of Katara. She looked at the ground, slowly moving to the beat. Zuko gently tilts her head up, brown eyes looking into blue ones.

“Hey, look at me.” Zuko smiles and Katara blushes. She didn’t know if it was the wine or something, but she suddenly wanted to make a move. They danced, looking into each other’s eyes the whole time. Katara was feeling brave and confident. If she didn’t do it now, she would never be able to do it. The song was about to end, and she would never get this chance again. She closed her eyes before leaning up to kiss Zuko. It was quick, and a bit rough. It was a peck, that’s all that Katara thought of as she pulled away. Zuko looked at her, eyes wide. And she knew she made a mistake.

—

“Hey, you owe me a favor right?” Katara asks as she sits back up, looking at Zuko. Zuko hums. “Okay. My favor is, just forget about what happened last night. Forget about the fake dating, forget about the kiss.”

“That’s hard to do, KitKat. I’m curious though, where did you run off to? I chased after you but you were gone.” Zuko says and Katara snorts.

“I hid in the bathroom for a few minutes before calling a cab.” Katara explains and Zuko chuckles.

“You shouldn’t have run away. I was going to say something before you dashed off like you were the flash.” Zuko jokes and Katara shakes her head.

“I was embarrassed. And… I never did get to apologize for last night, right? Sorry, Zuko.” Katara says and Zuko scoots closer to her.

“What’s there to be sorry about?” He asks, looking into her eyes. Katara gulps. “The reason that I can’t forget about last night, is because I like you, KitKat.” Zuko says and Katara’s heart skips a beat. “That wasn’t the ideal first kiss, but it’ll do.”

“W-Wait a minute, you LIKE me?” Katara says and Zuko nods. “Since when?”

“Well, I’m not gonna say. A man has to have a few secrets after all.” He winks. “I was waiting for you to make the first move, that’s all.” Zuko says and Katara blushes. Zuko leans closer to Katara, his eyes glancing at her lips. Katara gulps. Zuko’s hand caresses her cheeks, tucking away a strand of hair.

“You’re such a tease.” Katara says, her voice barely a whisper. Zuko chuckles before connecting his lips with hers. The kiss was slow and sweet. Zuko’s thumb caresses her cheeks, his other hand on Katara’s waist. They pull away a few seconds later, Katara avoiding his gaze.

“If fake dating was all it took for you to be mine, we should have done it sooner.” Zuko says, teasing as he pulls Katara in for a hug.

“Shut up. I hate you.” She says into his neck, voice muffled.

“No, you love me.” He replies. Katara smiles. ‘Yes, I do love you.’

masterlist | AO3

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seavoice · 4 years ago

Text

Horse Trading

(link to ao3 on title, or continue reading after the read more)

“Octavian was an asshole,” Reyna said, a contemplative look on her face as she laid on the floor of Hazel’s Praetor Villa, “but sometimes I think, can you really blame him?”

“Yes,” Hazel said, from her position on the floor next to her, where she was trying to sketch Reyna, a task made inordinately difficult by the older girl’s constant moving around. “I really can.”

Reyna sighed. It was a long and contemplative sigh. It wasn’t unusual to see Reyna with a brooding, thinking look on her face, but the relaxed and content expression added a new dimension to it. It was something structural; it somehow made her look younger yet more self-assured at the same time. “Octavian,” Reyna repeated, “was an asshole. But this Villa, Hazel. This Villa. I can see why Octavian was so desperate for praetorship. This house almost makes up for the stress of leading a child army.”

“It does not,” Hazel said. “It really does not, Reyna. Distance has just made your heart grow fonder. And delusional.” She sighed as Reyna shifted her position yet again. Reyna winced as a wordless apology. “Also,” Hazel said, reaching for her eraser, “Octavian didn’t want the praetorship for the house. He wanted it because he was a power hungry and blood thirsty politician.”

“At least you agree the bed is worth it?”

The bed was very nice, Hazel had to admit. Californian King, which seemed excessive, but was appreciated, and the fluffiest pillows Hazel had ever laid her head on. “Maybe. But I’m not agreeing with you when you literally opted for laying on the floor instead of the bed.”

“Fair enough,” Reyna said. She stretched on the floor, some complicated starburst. Hazel decided to give up her endeavour at drawing Reyna and flipped to the previous page in her sketchbook where she had been working on a drawing of Arion. It was half completed, and it was an attempt at drawing purely from memory, but Hazel enjoyed the challenge. “But it’s good for your back, believe me.”

“You’re an immortal Huntress now. Does that really matter?”

“Also fair enough,” Reyna agreed. Reyna rolled over to prop herself up on her elbows and peeked at Hazel’s sketchbook. She raised a single eyebrow. “Oh, that’s certainly more...horse-y than I usually look.”

“I gave up. You move too much.”

Reyna inclined her head in acceptance. Still on her belly, she folded her arms and laid her head down on them.

It was weird to see Reyna so carefree. Weird in an undoubtedly good way, but weird nonetheless. Immortality had, perhaps ironically, taken years off her shoulders.

Hazel hadn’t invited Reyna to New Rome to draw her, but inevitably, that was what the visit had come to. She had written to her asking for advice — advice on running an entire city, advice on leading a quote unquote “child army” in times of peace, advice on not going crazy with stress — and Reyna had accepted so readily that a ventus spirit had brought her letter the very day Hazel had sent hers. Hazel had prepared for the visit with a single minded focus; she had brought a notebook for note taking, three different colours of pens, a highlighter, and her firmest handshake.

But then they had skipped the firm handshake and instead had hugged, tight, and Reyna had snagged a bowl of jelly beans from the Praetor office, and for the next few hours they had done nothing but lay on the floor of Hazel’s newly acquired Praetor Villa, swapping stories after stories, lazing around and sketching. Reyna had told her about the Hunt’s newest undertaking, some mythological boar or the other, and also about Thalia’s new obsession with 80’s rock. Hazel had told her about Lavinia’s latest shenanigans, and Gwen’s new job as a much valued mental health counsellor for the Legion. No notetaking had taken place. No praetor advice had been shared.

“It’s very good,” Reyna said, gesturing to Hazel’s drawing of Arion. “The likeness is stunning.”

Hazel beamed. “Really?”

“Of course!” Reyna scrambled to sit up. “It’s uncanny. This is really, really good, Hazel. It’s like…” Reyna made a hand gesture like she was pulling something; Hazel recognised it as an unconscious tick that Reyna had, one usually employed in Town Hall meetings when she was struggling to find the correct words to use for convincing reluctant denizens. “It’s like make a career out of it good,” she finished.

It was a warming compliment. Hazel’s smile grew wider; this was a pride unlike any other, something simple and easy and painless. Hazel had convinced herself to take pride in the smaller things more often. It made a dreary life just a little bit happier and easier when she could take pride in mastering her mist magic, in baking a sweet cupcake to perfection, in a good sparring session, in making a friend smile. But this pride in her artwork was somehow—brighter. It was something she’d dedicated long hours to.

“Horse artist?” Hazel said. “You think there’s a market out there for that?”

“Are you kidding me? Pet artist! Lucrative as they come.” Reyna laughed, an easy, lovely sound, and this too was unusual, this too was good, this too warmed Hazel. “People go crazy when they get pets. Put them in all cute little kinds of outfits and hire professional photographers, artists...I’m serious, Hazel. Business idea.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Hazel said, with a laugh of her own. Then she sighed and set down her pencil. “I appreciate the business advice, though honestly, what I need more is Praetor advice. I feel I’m going insane.”

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Reyna said. “You don’t need my advice, Hazel. You’re a force of nature.”

This was a sweet sentiment, and Reyna probably meant it, but it didn’t help Hazel’s case. “Thanks,” she said. “Like—genuinely. But I do feel...I do feel like I’m going insane. It’s—it’s a lot.”

Reyna’s eyebrows furrowed. She looked older at once, older in all senses of the word. Like the Reyna of before the Hunt, and the break from her duties—Reyna in charge, Praetor Reyna, sixteen year old Reyna with the world on her shoulders. She sat up straighter. “Is someone giving you trouble?” Reyna asked. “I was joking about Octavian earlier, but gods, if someone’s coming up to take his spot as Asshole of the Year—“

“No,” Hazel said quickly. “It’s nothing like that. That’s nothing. I could deal with someone like that no problem. It’s just—like you said...child army.”

Reyna exhaled softly and closed her eyes. “Yeah.”

Hazel hated bringing the mood down, hated evaporating Reyna’s good cheer, but she set that uncomfortableness aside for the time being. She pulled up her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. And there was solidarity in this too, acknowledgment. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Everything’s—okay, now, for the time being. Doesn’t mean it’s going to stay that way forever.”

“That’s not really ever in your control,” Reyna said with a rueful smile. “But I do...I do get what you mean. I understand.”

“I thought you would,” Hazel said. “That’s why I wrote to you.” She’d thought of going to Frank with these thoughts too, and she was sure he’d give good advice, and be kind about it, but a part of her—a stubborn part, maybe, a conscious part, sure, but a valid part, nonetheless—hadn’t wanted to show a weakness to her co-Praetor, even one as familiar as Frank.

“I don’t know if I can give you any great advice,” Reyna said at last. “I don’t know if I can tell you anything you don’t already know, and you are doing a great job.”

Hazel tried to keep the sadness out of her smile. “Hm.”

“What I needed?” Reyna said. “What I needed when I was a praetor was...gods, just a ear. Just someone to bear it with me. Someone to understand. Jas—he was gone, and it was just me. For the longest time. But then with Frank, it wasn’t as hard again, because we could...we could switch off. We could share. That’s the only thing I can really tell you, Hazel. Only advice I can give you. Share. Share it with me, always. With Frank. Lavinia. Nico. Your friends. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re alone. You don’t have to be.”

“I know,” Hazel said. She’d been alone for so long in Asphodel she had thought she could survive loneliness, if she had to. But she didn’t have to. And she didn’t want to. “And you sold yourself short Reyna—you do give great advice.”

“Sounds like I didn’t say anything you didn’t already know.”

“But I think I needed to hear that from you,” Hazel said. “From someone else. You said it yourself—I just needed to know someone else understood. Otherwise it gets...it gets lonely.”

Reyna’s smile was soft. “You’ve got good instincts, Hazel. You’ll be just fine.”

Gods, she hoped. “Thanks for coming out here on such short notice. You probably were busy with the hunt.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Reyna said, and there was that strange new lightness to her again, a relaxed happiness. “Haven’t you heard? I’ve got time now.”

Hazel picked her pencil back up. “You know, if you try sitting still, maybe I can still do a quick sketch. Before you leave.”

“Actually,” Reyna said, and was Hazel imagining things or did she actually look self-conscious? “I have a sketch request, if you’d accept.”

Hazel was intrigued. “Oh. Oh. Sure. Who?”

Reyna smiled a little sheepishly. “Don’t laugh okay? I miss him. Scipio.”

Pet artist...Hazel let out a small giggle. “Oh, so when you said people go crazy when they get pets, you meant—“

“I told you not to laugh!” But Reyna was laughing herself. It wasn’t sad, but it was sort of wistful. “I never dressed him up or whatever, but he’s been on my mind lately; I’ve been wondering when he’ll reform. Pegasi reform slow, apparently. I thought I’d never see him again in this life, but now that I’m a Hunter—holy Pluto, I can. And you drew Arion so well—“

“I think it’s sweet,” Hazel said. It was, exceedingly so. Hazel was trying to recall Skippy in her memories, and she felt a pang of sadness as she remembered him soaring above them during the War Games. It had been a long time since she had seen him, but she thought she remembered enough to manage a sketch for Reyna. “It might not be a perfect likeness—“

“I’ve got a photo.”

Now, Hazel absolutely couldn’t control herself. She smiled wide, a fond laugh bubbling in her chest. “Oh, Reyna—“

“Will it, or will it not make it easier to draw him?” Reyna asked, tips of her ears a faint pink.

“It’ll be perfect,” Hazel promised. “Where have you got it? In the Praetor office?”

Reyna reached into her pocket and brought out a worn out photograph. As much as it was hilarious, it was also heart-warmingly sweet, a touch melancholy. Hazel sympathised with her—she couldn’t imagine losing Arion. She probably would start carrying a picture of him everywhere too; it wasn’t a bad idea.

“Sure,” Hazel said, studying the picture. “I can do a drawing for you no problem. You can carry it everywhere along with the picture. A horse drawing in exchange for solid advice. My first political quid pro quo as Praetor.”

“That’s a terrible deal, Hazel. I can literally commission you, if you want.”

“I’ll settle for a refill of my jelly beans,” Hazel said, gesturing at the now empty bowl of jelly beans. They’d made fast work of it. It hadn’t survived the first hour.

Reyna sighed and stretched out on the floor. “Oh, I forgot,” she said glumly. “One more piece of advice, Praetor to Praetor.”

Hazel looked up. “Yeah?”

“Stock up on those beans,” Reyna said mournfully. “And never let anyone break into your stash. You’ll need them.”

#hazel levesque #reyna avila ramirez arellano #reyna ramirez arellano #pjo #heroes of olympus #voop fic #eh this is kind of choppy but i do really love these two and think they should be friends #also not relevant to this story at all but frank and hazel are very much NOT a couple here. just co praetors and good friends #goodnight I’m going to bed

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miracle-sham · 5 years ago

Text

When Sitting on the Roof, We are but Coffee Sleuths.

| {Sequel to Death is the Stage, My Art is Your Grave.} |

| {Repost due to original post disappearing from tags.} |

| Triggers/Warnings: Mentions of drugs/drug ring (in regards to a case), Mild language. |

| After a long day of boring casework, there's nothing better than getting a new commission, and then drinking coffee and having a chat on top of a roof with a certain bat. |

| Word Count: 3051 |

==–==

| A/N: First of all, I'd like to quickly thank everyone for all the positive response and support the original oneshot got on both Tumblr and Ao3! It really motivated and inspired me to continue with this Au (expect at least another sequel, maybe more if I get more inspo but even if I don't there's definitely gonna be one sequel minimum to this). I'd also like to mention, that this took a lot longer to write as I got a cold halfway through writing it and also it's romance based fluff (which is not my forté), but thanks to those who've waited for this! And finally, for reasons that I'll explain in a separate post later, it might be a "little" while before I can start work on the sequel to this one but it will get written at some point. |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics, or a specific Au, then send me a DM or an ask! |

| Also side note, Don't Like? Don't Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

==–==

It's been a month since Marinette got kidnapped, kissed Red Robin, and solved the Elemental Park Serial Killer case. For three weeks she's been held off active duty to make sure her bruised ribs heal but now that she's able to be on active duty again, all the available cases are those that are paperwork heavy. A small part of her misses the immediate healing of the Miraculous Cure but she's not Ladybug anymore and even if she was, it would raise too many flags for her to even use it anyway. But logic doesn't stop her from missing the days when she could literally and metaphorically magic away her aches and pains.

Marinette groans and slumps into her chair, it's been a surprisingly slow day at the GCPD, so when her phone beeps rapidly for a few seconds, she thinks, please be something interesting, and can't help but take a quick glance to see what new notifications she has. The screen reads: '3 new messages from Red'. So she taps the notification and reads through each message.

>RedRob: Hey, found some new evidence on our case, want to meet up for coffee to discuss it?

>RedRob: Rooftop coffee after dark, of course.

>RedRob: I mean I could waltz into a coffee shop during the day in my suit but that might get too much attention for case talk.

Marinette snickers to herself as she reads the messages over a second time. She quickly taps out her response.

>MariBlue: Will we need to worry about one of the other Gotham vigilantes crashing our coffee not-date?

Almost instantly she receives a response.

>RedRob: I'll bribe Oracle or Batgirl, maybe even Black Bat, into keeping the others away.

She sends a heart emoji back, then returns to sorting out her boring paperwork.

Detective Grayson raises an eyebrow at her from over the desk, clearly having caught her looking at her phone. “Red Robin again?”

She flashes him a sheepish grin. “How'd you guess.”

He gives her a deadpan stare. “He's the only person you respond to when working.”

Marinette bites her lip. “Whoops, that obvious?”

“Yes.” Detective Grayson hesitates for a second, he leans in closer—and like a teenage girl at a sleepover in a cheesy teen drama, asks, “So are you dating yet?”

She shrugs. “Well neither of us have asked the other so not really.”

“But you guys are perfect for each other!” He exclaims, gesturing towards her with an outstretched arm—very narrowly avoiding knocking anything off the desk.

It's Marinette's turn to raise an eyebrow. “We literally have only seen or talked to each other when working…”

“So? What do you call you quote unquote "not-dates"” He huffs, making air quotes as he speaks.

She huffs and shakes her head. “There's a reason they're called "not-dates" and that's because we discuss work at them. And anyway it's too early to rush our relationship.”

“Fair.” Detective Grayson stills, frowns and then almost hesitantly, he asks, “Is it because if the mask? The whole not knowing his real identity?”

Marinette rolls her eyes and shakes her head again. “Nope, I couldn't care less about finding out his real identity—at least not without his consent that is.”

He hums, a pensive look on his face. “So you're not curious?”

She shrugs. “Not particularly, why?”

Detective Grayson shrugs back. “Just wondering,” he leans back on his chair and for a split second, Marinette fears he might topple over but somehow he seems unaffected by gravity, “I think you're the first person I've met, who doesn't want to know who's behind a vigilante's mask.”

A smile tugs at Marinette's lips. “I think it's kinda dumb that so many people are obsessed with the people behind the masks because if they're doing good, unmasking them will only deter them from continuing fighting the good fight and all that, y'know.”

He nods slowly, “huh, that's one way of putting it I guess but I agree, the vigilantes do more for this city than people think they do.” Detective Grayson then tilts his head towards the Commissioner's office. “Anyway back to work, don't want to get in more trouble with the Commish than we are already!”

Marinette huffs in amusement and rolls her eyes but complies nonetheless. Wouldn't do to get in trouble so soon after getting back onto active duty!

==–==

It isn't until gone seven pm, that Marinette finally gets home. She slips through the door, locking it behind her. Now that she's in, the first thing she does, as she does every day, is check her online portfolio and commission site.

Marinette plops herself down in her wheely chair and logs onto to her computer, going through all the verification and security Max had kindly added. A new commission notification grabs her attention. With three clicks, she brings up the new commission's details. She scrolls down to the name of the commissioner: one Mr 'T. Drake-Wayne'.

Curious as to why the name sounds vaguely familiar, Marinette opens up a tab on Google with a hum and types in the name. Upon reading the top results, she half chokes in shock and thinks to herself, Are you kidding me? She blinks and breathes in, a small part of her very glad she wasn't drinking anything otherwise she definitely would've fully choked on that or spat it all up from the shock. I know a bunch of well-known celebrities have all commissioned me many times before, but still why the heck is a fortune 500 CEO commissioning me? I'm not Audrey Bourgeois, Gabriel Agreste, or even Valen-hecking-tino. I do celebrities, not fortune 500. The heck. What. The. Actual. Heck.

Eyes wide and gobsmacked, Marinette shakes her head and clicks back to her latest commission's details page to read through the actual commission. After reading the first line, she scrambles for her sketchbook and begins jotting down notes and scribbling down ideas.

Half an hour in, Marinette takes a break to sort out and eat dinner, no point designing on an empty stomach but once she's done eating and washed up, she goes straight back to designing.

Even at a quarter past midnight, she's still at it—surprisingly only three drafts in and so thoroughly lost in her own head in designing, Marinette nearly misses the knocking against her window facing the fire escape.

The rapid rap-tap-tap spooks her so much that she falls out of her chair with an “Eep!”

Marinette, face flushing bright red, scrambles up and scurries over to the window in question. Shoving her blinds out the way, she stares through the window and is greeted with the absolutely glorious sight of a beaming and uninjured Red Robin holding two takeaway coffee cups on the fire escape. He waves at her with one hand and gestures for her to join him on the fire escape.

She can't help but grin back at him and deftly opens the window and slinks out onto the fire escape. He hands a coffee cup towards her and instead of taking it, Marinette gives him a good ol' bearhug—smooshing pressing her face into his Kevlar armoured chest. Which is unsurprisingly, very uncomfortable. She shifts her head to stare up at him (as he's at least whole head taller than her) “Hey,” she greets.

Awkwardly hugging her back, as to not spill either of the coffees in the process, “hey yourself,” Red Robin responds, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

Marinette pulls back from the hug and nabs the coffee cup that had been offered to her before their hug. “Thank you~!”

“No problem.” He then gestures towards the fire escape stairs leading to the roof, “after you.”

“So which of our cases did you manage to get a lead for?” She asks, making her way up to the roof.

“The one pertaining to the new drug ring in the fashion district. I've narrowed down where they're storing the drugs to potentially three warehouses near Miller Harbour.” Red Robin answers, following after her.

Reaching the roof, Marinette sits down on the half wall around the roof edge. She glances over at Red Robin as he joins her on the improvised seat. “That's the drug ring dealing Miraclo right?”

“Yeah, that's the one.” He pauses to take a sip of his coffee, “I got the intel from an old friend of Catwoman's called Mackey lives in an apartment that overlooks the Harbour and saw a shipment of the drug arrive at the warehouses.”

Taking a sip of her own coffee, Marinette raises an eyebrow. “And will Detective Grayson and I will be able to get that intel as witness statement?”

Red Robin nods. “Yep, Catwoman's vouching for you both.”

She jerks back in surprise, nearly toppling off the half wall but managing to cling to the edge in time to keep her from falling. Miraculously somehow managing to avoid dropping or spilling her coffee. Oof, if it wasn't for my stint in Spandex I definitely would've made a fool of myself in front of Red Robin. And here I thought that part of my life had since passed. Marinette thinks to herself, wincing at the newly gained superficial graze across her palms. She clears her throat and attempts to look like she didn't just nearly fall off a half wall. “Catwoman's vouching for us? Since when? I've literally never encountered her before.”

Red Robin, the traitor, snorts at her predicament. “You are the epitome of elegance. And Detective Grayson's bumped into her a few times on the job.”

“Thanks.” She responds drily, layering on the sarcasm thickly. She shakes her head and sighs. “So do you know what the addresses are for the warehouses and this Mackey's apartment?”

He takes an excruciatingly slow sip of his coffee before speaking. “Of course I can, what kind of vigilante do you take me for?” He then proceeds to rattle off the addresses.

Which Marinette jots down on the napkin that came with her coffee, and puts it into a pocket for safekeeping. “Thank you.” With it written down, she pauses then starts kicking her legs in the air. She sniffs. “And I take you for the kind that flirts with innocent police officers.”

Red Robin grins at her as he gently elbows her in the ribs. “I don't hear you complaining.”

Marinette scoffs and slaps her hand to her chest in an overly dramatic mock of shock. “Unfair! If I complained I wouldn't get any hugs or kisses from you!”

Humming he wraps an arm around her shoulders and presses a kiss to her temple. “That's true, what a shame it would be for you to miss out on all those hugs.”

She hums back and the two ease into a comfortable silence; leaning against each other and sipping their coffees whilst staring at the night sky.

Once Marinette gets halfway through her coffee, she glances at Red Robin and hesitates, her earlier conversation with Detective Grayson springing to mind. “Communication is key in healthy relationships,” she prefaces, “so are you okay with our current relationship? Y'know the flirting, the not-dates, the whole me not knowing your identity?”

Red Robin laughs, sounding slightly bitter. “Of course I'm fine with the flirting and not-dates but I'm not going to lie and say I don't have any worries over you not knowing my identity. It's one of the reasons a relationship I had with a fellow mask didn't work out.” Rubbing at his jaw, he tilts his face away from her slightly, as though reminiscing about something. He then shakes his head and turns back to her. “Really, I ought to be asking you that. So what about you, are you okay with how our relationship is?”

Marinette hums. “This isn't the first time relationship I've had with a masked hero.” Then takes a calm sip of her coffee.

“So you've got a thing for masks then huh? Lucky me I guess.” He responds, smirking mischievously, and whilst she can't see the rest of his face thanks to the cowl, Marinette just knows that he's wiggling his eyebrows at her from underneath that cowl.

His comment nearly sends her tumbling off the half wall—again. She coughs and splutters in laughter as she nearly spits up her sip of coffee. It takes her a full thirty seconds to recover and mock gripes, “remind me why I love you again.”

Red Robin cocks his head to the side and grins. “Because I bring you coffee?”

She huffs, “good point.”

“So back to the mask thing, can I ask what happened with your masked hero relationship?” He asks, tone hesitant. He stares at her, ready to back off the topic at the slightest sign of discomfort from her.

Marinette hisses through her teeth and states, “I can trust you.”

His stare conveys an 'I would hope so' whilst he bobs his head a little in a 'yes you can' and a 'please continue' gesture.

She takes a deep breath before speaking, “I used to be a hero, back when I lived in Paris.”

“Oh?” Red Robin freezes, thrown off guard by her admission.

Nodding, Marinette continues. “It was difficult. We started when we were barely teens and had no training and no support except for temporary heroes we could bring in when the battles got too hard for just me and my partner to handle. When we started, we were repeatedly told to never, under any circumstances, let anyone find out our identities. My partner and I, neither of us knew who the other was beneath the mask. And we only knew the identities of the temporary heroes because we gave them the ability to become superheroes. But even then we didn't always know their real identities and they certainly never knew ours.”

“Yikes.” Is all he can respond with, mind racing with questions. “That can't have been good, at least I had Batman and Nightwing when I was starting out, but you had no one to talk to about being a mask, outside the mask.”

She flashes him a watery smile and sighs. “No, I did have someone. Tikki. But we're uh, not in contact any more. Since I retired.”

Still, Red Robin makes a noise of concern at that.

“Anyway, one thing led to another led to another, and my partner found out my identity.” Marinette puts her coffee down then tips her head back and closes her eyes. “We started dating not long after that. But once we defeated the BBEG terrorising Paris and some… concerning things came to light, our—we,” She shakes her head, “we realised that because of that, neither of us were emotionally able to continue our relationship in a romantic way. So we decided to stay friends and I—uh, I retired and moved to Gotham.”

He puts his coffee down as well, and pulls her into a tight hug, although making sure it wasn't too constricting as to not make her uncomfortable. “I'm sorry.”

She leans into the hug, rests her head on his shoulder, and delicately wraps her arms around him in return. “What? Why? It's not your fault.”

Red Robin frowns, not that she can see in their current position, “I know but no one should be forced into becoming a hero at such a young age with no support network.”

Huffing, Marinette buries her face in his shoulder, somewhat muffling her voice but not enough to make her unintelligible, “what about Spoiler? She became a hero around that age and had no support network.”

He sighs. “Spoiler chose to become a vigilante, she wasn't forced. And anyway, she had Robin and the rest of the bats to support her once they realised what she was doing.”

“Hmm… fair.” Marinette pulls back from the hug and pauses. “On a lighter note, I got a commission on my fashion site from Tim Drake-Wayne!”

Red Robin raises an eyebrow and with poorly concealed amusement, responds, “Oh? And what's so special about him”

She rolls her eyes at him. “He's the youngest fortune five hundred CEO, founded the Neon Knights among other charities, and often donates to various charities around Gotham! Plus Wayne Enterprises is one of, if not the most ethical company in the fortune five hundred bracket. Employees get living stipends, and training and higher education paid by the company. They get healthcare and dental insurance. They get flexible work hours, paid breaks, and receive above minimum wage pay!”

He laughs. “I guess he is a pretty decent sounding guy then.”

“Mhmm.”

“So what's the commission then? Or is it a secret?” He teases, leaning towards her.

Marinette dramatically places her hand over her heart. “I guess I can spare you the details this one time.”

“Wooh!”

She bites her lip before launching into a long ramble about the commission, gushing over what design and colour palette she's thinking of going with, what bots and bobs and patterns to add, what stitch to use and how to make sure it fits his style, etc.

Red Robin spends the entire time listening attentively, despite not really understanding half the fashion terms, and staring at her like a love-struck puppy.

“Damn, I love you!” He exclaims once she finishes speaking, then leans in to kiss her on the lips.

Marinette bursts into giggles and kisses him back. Her giggles are seemingly infectious, as once they part from the kiss, both are giggling and flushed red.

A bright flash of white followed by a camera shutter sound immediately distracts them both. They just manage to catch sight of Nightwing swinging away.

She gives him a look, which is somewhat less effective as she's still smiling from the kiss. “What happened to bribing Oracle, Black Bat, or Batgirl?”

Red Robin groans and drops his face into his hands. “Clearly Nightwing was able to one-up my bribe. Probably in the form of giving them copies of the photos both he and Detective Grayson have taken.”

“You mean to tell me those two are working together? No wonder Detective Grayson was asking about our relationship earlier today at work!” Marinette gasps, sounding mildly horrified and betrayed.

“Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” Red Robin asks, lifting his head up and grinning deviously at her.

She smirks back, “Revenge?”

He nods—the sagely kind of nod. “Revenge.”

==–==

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

@casual-darkness

#Miraculous Ladybug #ML x DC #DC x MLB #Maribat #Timinette #MariTim #Timari #Marinette x Tim #Tim x Marinette #Death is the Stage My Art is Your Grave #DitSMAiYG #DitSMAiYG Sequel #When Sitting on the Roof We are but Coffee Sleuths #WSotRWabCS #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

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jingabitch · 5 years ago

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Not Enough ch.2

Summary: When Jin cheats on his girlfriend while on tour, it’s the last straw for their already strained relationship.

Pairings: Jin x OC

Warnings: infidelity | angst | non-explicit sexual acts | breakup fic

A/N: wrote this a little while ago and had it on my ao3. This is the last chapter I have planned for this verse, although some people have commented that there's room for more to come. If this series is popular, I might write requests for it.

Chapter 1

Three months later

“You what ?!” Sangmi sank down into her bed, whining into her pillow at her friend’s furious shriek.

“I know, I know…” she said, her voice muffled by the pillow her face was still buried in.

“Mi-ah, you can’t keep hooking up with Jin! It’s not healthy!” Seoyoon continued, resting her hand on Sangmi’s back. “I thought you were seeing someone, anyway?”

Minyoung rolled onto her back and scoffed, staring at the ceiling fan lazily rotating. “He thought because I like it when he tells me what to do in bed, I’d like it when he tells me what to do with my career.”

Seoyoon winced. She didn’t even want to imagine how quickly Sangmi would have put him in his place. Submissive tendencies aside, no one told her what to do.

“Still, this isn’t helping you get over him,” Seoyoon persisted.

“I know…” Sangmi groaned. “You know what’s fucked up though, is that I think I had sex with him more times that night than in the last year that we were together.”

“That’s because he’s a dipshit who’s never deserved you,” Seoyoon sniffed. She was the one who had introduced Sangmi to Jin, and truth be told she’d felt a little bad about it for years when it became apparent that as long as they were together, Sangmi wouldn’t have normal experiences in a relationship. It had really lasted longer than she’d expected.

“He wasn’t always that bad,” Sangmi protested.

“Mi-ah, he cheated on you ,” Seoyoon cut her off. “You shouldn’t be defending him!”

Sangmi sighed heavily and looked so sad and small lying on her bed that Seoyoon lay down next to her and hugged her close. “I know, unnie,” she said in a small voice. “It’s just hard, you know? We were together for so long, and he was my first serious relationship.” High school flings didn’t count, they both knew that. He’d been in her life for so long that it was hard to cut him out just like that.

Two nights ago

Jin frowned at the persistent, obnoxious pounding on his door. It was almost midnight; the doorman should have let him know if he had a visitor. He’d have turned the annoying person away anyway.

He ignored it for a while, hoping whoever it was would get the message that he wasn’t feeling up to company tonight and go away. When the pounding got even louder and more insistent, he growled and slammed down his chopsticks to get the door and give whoever was on the other side a piece of his mind.

“What the fuck do you think… oh.” On the other side of the door was Sangmi, looking so innocent and wide-eyed that he had trouble believing it was her who’d created that din earlier. She swayed a little and hiccuped.

“Are you drunk?” he asked suspiciously, eyeing her flushed complexion that he’d earlier dismissed as being the result of the exertion of attempting to bang his door down.

She giggled. “Maaaybe,” she drawled, pushing past him and drifting into the apartment. She kicked her shoes off carelessly and went straight to his ramen, picking up his chopsticks and helping herself.

“What happened?”

She pouted. “I miss your ramen.”

He took a seat next to her. “I know I make amazing ramen, but I don’t think you came here to steal half-eaten instant noodles.”

She sighed and put the chopsticks down, suddenly looking so forlorn and lost that it was all he could do not to wrap her in a blanket burrito like he used to when she got anything less than an A in college.

“Oppa, do you miss me?” The question came so suddenly and so quietly that at first he thought he’d heard her wrongly.

“Do I… miss you?”

She nodded slightly, looking into the bowl of ramen like it held the answers to life.

“Mi-ah, I miss you every second of every day,” he said, the words leaving him with the force of a runaway train.

A second later, his arms were full of Sangmi, and she was kissing him like her life depended on it.

“Wait, wait,” he protested, pulling away slightly and restraining her when she whined and tried to follow his lips. “Mi, what are you doing?”

“Trying to get some dick, what does it look like?” she sulked as she wriggled in his grasp.

“Mi-ah, is there something you want to talk about?” he asked carefully, trying to keep his wits about him, something that was proving incredibly difficult as the love of his life whined and squirmed like he was the thing she wanted most in the world.

She deflated sadly, her cheek resting on his shoulder. “Jin-oppa…” she said mournfully. “I haven’t had sex in three months, and every guy I date is a loser.”

Jealousy flared through him at the thought of her dating other men, even though he knew he, of all people, had no right to feel any such emotions about her.

“That can’t be true,” he murmured, trying to keep his feelings under control so he could be there for her.

Sangmi sighed. “The guy I was with earlier tried to order my food for me, and then told me if we were going to be together I would have to scale back my hours at work to have time to quote, take care of me, unquote,” she said, disdain colouring her voice as she wrinkled her nose. “All because I let him choke me when he kissed me the last time I saw him.”

Jin’s mind filled in the blanks. She’d stormed off in a rage, gotten drunk, and then decided to come find him. “And I left work on time three times for him, too,” she sulked. “What a waste of time. I bet they all thought I was losing my mind.”

“Mi-ah, you know I’d love nothing more than to give you what you want,” he said carefully, “but you’re going to regret this in the morning when you’re sober.”

Sangmi pulled back and rolled her eyes. “I regret enough things about this relationship. For once, let me regret something that was my decision,” she snapped and surged forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and tugging him closer to her as she kissed him again. This time, he didn’t hold back, nipping at her bottom lip as he grew hard in his sweatpants.

“Sangmi,” he murmured into her mouth, the word a prayer on his lips. His arms tightened around her as he started carrying her to his bed, bumping into furniture and walls the whole way there because he wouldn’t stop kissing her.

He put her down carefully on the bed, like she was fragile, but she wasn’t acting like it as she pulled his shirt off roughly, dropping it carelessly somewhere on the floor. “Mmm, oppa,” she moaned as she bit her lip in appreciation, looking at him splayed out across the bed as she straddled his hips. “You’re just as hot as ever,” she complimented, her hands on his belly running up over his chest and his broad shoulders.

“Of course,” he smirked. “I’m -”

“Worldwide handsome, I know,” she cut him off with a mock sigh and an eye roll, although the teasing smile she couldn’t quite stifle gave her away.

Playing along, he gasped in mock affront and rolled over, trapping her under his body. “Are you mocking me?” he demanded as he bent down and sucked a livid bite into her collarbone, feeling her moan and squirm under him with satisfaction.

“No, sir,” she breathed, her eyes wide and dark when he sat up to look at her.

His lips curled up into a smirk. He was still the one who knew her best, whichever loser she was letting touch her bedamned. “Good girl,” he praised as he urged her up so he could unzip her dress. She looked at him with those soft, adoring eyes as he did, her breath coming out in soft pants against his neck.

“I’m going to wreck you ,” he promised darkly as the dress fell from her shoulders, revealing the lacy lingerie she’d worn for another man. He was going to fuck her so hard and deep she never forgot what it was like to have him inside her. No man was ever going to erase the imprint he would leave on her.

Two years later

Sangmi clutched the letter with trembling hands, holding it as delicately and preciously as she knew how. It was difficult, though. Her fingers didn’t seem to be working.

“...so if you’d like, we would like to post you to the New York office, where you would be promoted from assistant consultant to consultant…” Her boss was still talking, and she forced herself to look up at him, to pay attention.

“Sangmi-ssi?”

“Yes.”

“Are you all right? I understand that this must be a big shock, I’m willing to give you a few days to discuss it with your family and friends and -”

“Yes. I’ll go.”

How could she not? It was New York. She was being sent to her firm’s main office, for the adventure of a lifetime. There was nothing that could keep her from it.

He gave her a bemused smile, all too aware that she was basically vibrating in her seat. He’d always liked her, raw ambition poorly cloaked with sparkling eyes and a caustic sense of humour all wrapped up the most innocuous frame possible. Tall, slender and gorgeous with a flawless sense of style, he’d watched so many people underestimate her only to be lacerated by her quiet, cutting remarks and forced to give her the respect she deserved.

“Well, nevertheless, you may want to take the rest of the day to think about it. I’ll see you again tomorrow morning and you can tell me your final decision then.” With a nod, he dismissed her, watching her fly from his office.

Sangmi all but ran from the building, but then stopped, when she stepped onto the sidewalk, blinking dazedly against the glare of the afternoon sun. Where should she go? Who should she tell? All her friends were at work, and her parents were definitely enjoying their afternoon nap, which she didn’t want to disturb. There was a time in her life when the first person she would have run to was Jin, but she couldn’t do that now.

Fuck it, she decided as she hailed a cab to go to Jin’s studio. He’d seen her naked last night; he could let her scream about it while she worked the excitement out of her system.

Ten minutes later, she stumbled from the taxi, excitement making her clumsy. She waved at the security guard as she entered the building, and he waved back. Although she’d broken up with Jin over two years ago, she’d remained friends with them all, and still popped by once in a while to say hi.

“Jin-oppa!” she cried out as she opened the door to his studio without knocking. She’d already taken two steps into the room when she registered what was happening on his couch. Another girl was half-naked under him and it looked like if she’d been a little later, he would have been naked too.

“Oops, sorry,” she giggled as she backed out of the door. Maybe another time she’d be a little insulted that her fuck buddy was sleeping with other women and right after they’d hooked up, too, but today it felt like nothing could get her down. “Carry on!”

Just as she was about to close the door behind her, she heard his voice, low and raspy in the way that made heat pool in her core. “Mi-ah? What are you doing here?”

“I had some news, but it can wait! I’ll go say hi to the others while you finish up!” she called as she shut the door behind her.

After that first time she’d turned up at his apartment drunk, she’d sworn up and down that she wouldn’t ever do that again, that it was just a drunken mistake.

But it had. Again. And then again. And eventually she’d had to admit to herself that perhaps no one would ever make her body sing the way Jin had and that besides, dating was too time-consuming when she had her career to focus on, and they’d settled into this friends with benefits situation, sleeping together whenever they were in the same city.

It happened less and less often, these days, because in the past few years her career had really taken off and she’d been travelling more around Asia, and even to Western countries because her English had always been good. Still, when they did meet up, the sex was always good.

Bursting into Jungkook’s studio down the hall, she cackled as he turned around, startled.

“Mi-noona!” he exclaimed, tearing his headphones off. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?” He always joked that he never saw her in daylight because she’d been at the office all the time, so she must be a vampire.

Without a word, Sangmi pulled the letter out of her bag with a flourish and waved it in his face.

“What is this?” he asked, bemused, gently plucking the piece of paper from her fingers. “Park Sangmi-ssi, in light of your excellent performance with us over the past few years, we are pleased to offer you…” he read out loud, his eyes widening as he took in the words.

“Oh my God, Mi-noona! Are you going to take this? Does Jin-hyung know?”

She laughed in his face. “Of course I’m taking it! Did you see how much they’re going to pay me?” she asked, stabbing at the number printed on the paper he was holding.

“Mi-noona, I’m really happy for you,” he murmured absently, staring down at the sheet of paper.

“I went to tell Jin-oppa, but he’s busy,” she explained, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Busy? How could he be too busy for you?”

“Oh, you know,” she waved her hand airily. “Girlfriend of the week, and all that.”

“Oh… aren’t you upset?”

Sangmi looked surprised. “Why would I be upset? We broke up over two years ago.”

Jungkook eyed her. He didn’t know why she and Jin continued pretending like they weren’t sleeping together when everyone else in the band knew but any time any of them tried to talk to either of the two about it, immediate denials would abound. “Right,” was all he said out loud though.

Sangmi ruffled his hair. “Are any of the others in? Good news has to be shared,” she said, taking the letter back.

“Oh, I think… Suga-hyung might be in.”

“All right, see you later!”

“Noona, wait!” Jungkook called.

“Yeah?”

“When are you going to cook for us again?”

Sangmi rolled her eyes. “That worked when you were fourteen, Kookie-ah. It’s not as cute now that you’re taller than me.”

“You’re leaving, though…” he said sadly, pointing at the letter in her hand.

Sighing, she capitulated as they both knew she would. “All right, I’ll let y’all know when to come over.” She couldn’t help it. He was her baby.

He grinned at her. “Okay!”

She scoffed at him as she turned to leave.

“And congrats again!”

“Thank you,” she sang as she shut the door.

The light spilling out into the corridor from Yoongi’s studio told her that he was, indeed, in, and she knocked on the door softly. He’d never been as boisterous as some of the others, and their relationship had always been one of mutual respect and understanding. Born in the same year, they’d had a unique connection, although the same could be said of her relationship with all the boys.

“Come in,” she heard him say, and opened the door.

“Hi,” she greeted politely, and he smiled back at her.

“Come sit,” he said, gesturing towards the couch as he turned around in his chair. “What brings you here before ten pm?” he asked, teasingly.

Sangmi frowned. “That’s not fair,” she protested. “I came during the day sometimes.” Why was everyone giving her a hard time about it today? Jungkook had alluded to the same thing.

“Not since you graduated,” he laughed.

Sangmi tried to think of one instance to prove him wrong, but came up empty. “All right, fine,” she conceded. “Maybe I have an unhealthy relationship with work.”

Then she brightened. “Not that unhealthy, though, since it’s paying off!” she exclaimed, waving the now slightly crumpled letter in his face.

Yoongi took the letter from her. “What is it?” he asked.

“Read it,” she instructed, belatedly, it turned out, since he’d been skimming through it even as he’d asked her the question.

Ten seconds later, he was gaping at her. “This is an amazing opportunity, Sangmi,” he said, smiling at her. “I’m so proud of you.”

She smiled back at him. “Thank you,” she replied, genuinely touched. Somehow his quiet congratulations felt as good as Jungkook’s exuberance.

“What about Jin, though?”

Sangmi raised a brow. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” she wondered. “We aren’t together anymore, you know.”

Yoongi raised a brow right back at her.

“I haven’t told him yet,” she mumbled, chastened. Yoongi was the one she could never lie to. “He was busy when I dropped by his studio.”

“Well, you’d better go figure it out, then,” he said, handing the letter back to her.

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled petulantly, feeling like a child who’d just been told to do her chores.

Heading back to Jin’s studio, she knocked this time, having learned her lesson the last time she’d burst in on him without warning.

“Come in,” he called, and she entered, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. She suddenly felt inexplicably nervous and uneasy, sweat forming on her palms.

“Hi,” she said unsurely.

“Mi-ah, hi.” He shot up from the chair he was sitting in when he heard her, taking a few steps towards her awkwardly. “Uhh, I wanted to apologize for earlier,” he said, rubbing his hands against his thighs nervously.

Sangmi waved it away. “It’s fine, I shouldn’t have entered without knocking.”

He felt more guilty than he should, since they weren’t even dating anymore (at her insistence, not his). “So, uh, what brings you here at this time of day?”

Three for three. Sangmi frowned. “You guys really like to get on me for having regular office hours,” she murmured as she handed him the letter.

“Office hours are nine to six, Mi, not seven to ten,” he responded absently as he started reading it. As he read quietly, she wondered idly if she should feel more angry about the fact that he kept calling her by that silly nickname he’d given her when they were dating. After all, now they were just friends… who happened to fuck once in a while.

(All right, maybe she hadn’t had sex with anyone else since they’d broken up. Sue her. Her work didn’t leave her with a lot of time.)

“Mi… are you going?”

His tone of voice surprised her. He sounded like he’d been sucker punched, all the air sucked out of his lungs.

“Of course…” she replied immediately. What kind of question was that? Did he realise what an amazing opportunity this was?

“Oh…” he looked so sad at that, and it made anger rise in her chest.

She snatched the letter back defensively. “I wanted to come share my good news with you because I thought you’d be happy for me, but I guess that was too much to ask for,” she snapped. She was reaching for the handle of the door, ready to storm off, when he stopped her.

“Wait!” he cried, grabbing at her wrist.

She turned, raising a brow at him.

“I’m happy for you, really! I know how hard you’ve been working all those years, and they finally recognize your potential. It’s just…” He ducked his head, looking embarrassed.

Sangmi stepped closer. “What is it, Jin-oppa?” she asked, looking up at him.

He bit his lip. “New York’s really far,” he finally admitted. “I’ll miss you.”

Sangmi exhaled slowly. “Jin-oppa…” she said, not really sure how to continue. To say anything more would be to acknowledge the existence of some unfinished business between them, and she wasn’t about to do that.

“New York isn’t that far away,” she said. “Besides, you guys are in the States all the time.”

“Not New York, though…”

“You’ve gone to New York before. I’m still jealous that you got to meet Stephen Colbert, by the way. The man is my spirit animal.”

He smirked at her, and just like that, the tension was gone. “I got you a signed T-shirt, babe.”

She couldn’t help but smile back at him at the thought of the souvenir that had become one of her most precious belongings. “You did,” she agreed, smiling at him softly.

“I really am happy for you,” he said, pulling her in for a hug. He bent his head and inhaled her sweet scent, trying to fight the inexplicable tears back. He couldn’t ruin this moment for her. She deserved to bask in the glow of her success.

#bts fic #bts angst #jin x oc #jin #kim seokjin

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cyn-00 · 5 years ago

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Moreid one shot, 17 - "my hands"

Season 9, episode 3 "Final shot" (this is the one where the team has to catch a sniper: initially they thought the unsub was motivated by racism, and when they discover that the gun was the same used a few months before by "The General" - in prison, ex leader of a white supremacists group - to kill a black councilman - Adrian Clay - AND that in one of the shootings the assistant d.a. prosecuting him for that crime was killed; they decide to interview him. Re-interpretation of the scene where Morgan and JJ hold hands to make uncomfortable "The General" - racist son of a b*tch - during the interrogation... only there's Reid instead of JJ ;)

I believe @amplifreid and @smileythirteen asked me to tag them ❤️

Also, in my imaginary world, Morgan and Reid are a well established couple by season 9, but to illustrate this scene properly I think it was way better to assume they weren't a couple yet. Also with the same intent, the interview to "The General" (Adam Dawson) happens in an interrogation room with the one-way mirror glass and everything. Bear with the divergence from the actual scene - some of Dawson, Morgan and JJ's (=Reid) lines do remain pretty much the same, though

Read it on AO3

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

"Look at the change in his posture when Morgan got in..." Blake sighed, staring attentively at the interrogation room on the other side of the one-way glass. "Cocky. This guy's not gonna give us anything useful."

Rossi gave her an agreeing look, silently mimicking her head-shake while his hands slid in the pockets of his jeans.

"We'll have to work with that. Playing the black agent card is our best and only shot." Hotch replied.

"It's also very much obvious..." Blake added half-heartedly.

"He'll be too blinded by hate to even notice." Reid reassured her with a shrug, finally saying something after being glued to the glass for a few minutes with his arms folded on his chest, concentrated on the interrogation.

"Mr Dawson," Morgan greeted the convict with a fake polite tone, closing the door behind his back.

He sat in front of him and crossed his hands atop the metallic table. "Do you happen to have wondered why you're here?" he asked, squinting his eyes.

"I have a few guesses, yes." Dawson answered confidently.

Morgan tilted his head, while his brows shot up. He'd already picked up on what type of attitude the guy was planning to pull off on him for the whole duration of the interview.

"Would you mind naming a couple of those for me?"

Dawson sighed, nodding his head. "I guess we're talking about my past involvement with the Southern Aryans."

"Past?"

"Past. Look, I even got my tattoos removed." he confirmed, not hesitating to show him the laser scar on the inside of his arm with a self-complacent grin, even if constricted in his movements by the cuffs chained to the table top.

Morgan couldn't bring himself to feign praising at the thought the guy once marked his skin with symbols and slogans to proudly remind himself and others that not only he was a racist son of a bitch, but more than that he also acted upon those retrograde and disgusting ideologies of his. So he just nodded, not even bothering to actually look at Dawson's arm.

Hotch's phone rang in his pocket, distracting him from the dynamic slowly - very slowly - unfolding in the other room.

"What is it Garcia?"

"My baby is in there with Dawson right?? Not that you aren't my baby too, sir- I MEAN you guys ALL are my babies regardless of our age gap-"

"Garcia." Aaron reprimanded her.

"Yes! I'm- I'm sorry, back to business: I managed to dig deep and dirty into every single detail about the murder of Adrian Clay, and in general every little, petty criminal activity this group of disgusting bigots have committed." she paused, gulping so noisily they could all hear it through the phone.

"They- they have engaged in a series of, quote unquote, 'harassments of any sort', in those areas of the city principally frequented by the lgbtq+ community through these past couple years. And- and Clay himself was rumored to be homosexual, but there's no reliable source for that." she explained in a rush, like she wanted to get it out of her brain as quickly as her breath allowed her to.

"...don't know about you, but I'm not all that surprised the shitheads are also homophobic. Those things don't sound like anything a group of neo-nazis wouldn't do, am I right?" Rossi snorted. "They'll target anything 'impure'." he air-quoted the word.

"Yes, that's what I had imagined too, I just- I just hoped I didn't have to get to the point of reading proof of it with my poor, pretty eyes! Like these guys weren't evil on earth already..."

"Garcia, is there a reason why you're telling us this?" Hotch furrowed his brows. They were running out of time, and Morgan was running out of questions aiming at making Dawson say what they wanted him to say.

"Actually sir, I hoped you'd ask because YES, there is a reason, and I know that this is not part of my job but I was thinking that maybe...you guys could use his homophobia at your advantage?" she kept it vague and stopped for a second to catch a reaction. Anything at all. But the others stayed silent to digest that idea.

"like, one of you boys could go in there and act a lil? Believe me I would sacrifice myself for that role, but you know-"

"Actually, that's not a bad idea at all. As Blake said earlier, Dawson was probably expecting us to use a black agent anyway, but this could actually set him off because it's a part of the group's criminal activity that's been hidden from the media and the general public. We're not supposed to even know about this." Reid spoke his mind out loud, receiving in response complete silence and three - well, four, if you count Garcia - pairs of eyes staring at him.

He stared back at them with his lips parted. "W-what? I'm right, right ?"

"You are." Blake simply said, raising a brow.

With a little delay compared to the others' - which NEVER happened - Spencer's mind started to process what that whole staring contest was supposed to mean.

"No- guys, I'm- I'm too young he won't- he'll never fall for it! If you take in account that I look way younger than I am, the age gap between me and Morgan is too wide, he's not a fool I can't-" he was starting to stutter and flush and almost hyperventilate to the point Hotch had to interrupt him.

"Reid. You know it has to be you." he gave him an apologetic look.

Reid wasn't trying to dodge the situation because he had a problem with fake flirting - he did not have a single problem with doing that. On the contrary: fake flirting for an interrogation or the like was the only way for Spencer to manage to pull off a flirty attitude with someone, covering it up with the fact that he was simply good at acting, since in actuality flirting wasn't exactly his first natural skill - it was Derek's. Problem was: he had to flirt with Derek Morgan, not someone.

On the other hand, Spencer also perfectly knew why it was their best shot to send him in instead of Hotch. Still, it was worth the try to dissuade him.

"You could do it, right?" he asked apprehensively, the tone of his voice lower and less certain than before.

Hotch knew he didn't need to explain it to him, so he didn't bother, keeping his gaze steady. Blake took on that duty for him, though:

"Spencer, you are exactly Dawson and his followers' stereotype of ideal human being. You're young, educated, intelligent, attractive, and more importantly: white." she paused, seeing that Reid had embarrassedly dropped his eyes when she mentioned him being attractive. Guess Morgan wasn't the only one labeling him as 'pretty boy' then.

"The only thing that parts you from being total perfection in his eyes, is your sexual orientation." she concluded.

"The minute we send you in, he'll think you're there to save him from an uncomfortable interview with a black agent. But when you'll start making avancés on Morgan, the guy will freak out." Rossi added, straight up.

Making avancés on Morgan. Dear God - Spencer knew he could do that with a minimum effort, and certainly without Derek making a big deal out of it; however the issue was: he would never get away with the physical reaction the avancés on Derek 's part would certainly trigger in his body, would he?

"THAT's what I meant!" Penelope's squealing voice filled the room all of a sudden, reminding them that she was still on speaker phone.

"Alright, thanks Garcia, that was a good catch." Hotch's firm facial expression never wavered an inch, even when he complimented her.

"Duty, sir."

"We can't call Morgan out, though. It has to be unexpected." he added, now only talking to his teammates in the room.

Without waiting for the others' agreeing - there was no need for that: he was right - Hotch pressed the button that allowed him to talk into Morgan's earpiece.

"Morgan. Guy's not only racist, but also homophobic. We're sending Reid in."

Morgan swallowed, trying not to make Dawson notice that he received an unspoken command he wasn't quite sure whether he'd be ready to obey, nor handle - emotionally AND physically.

When the door opened a second after, though, and he glanced over his shoulder at his tall, lean colleague standing behind him, waiting for permission to come in, Derek figured it shouldn't be all that hard to flirt with that.

"Pretty boy! Have a seat, we're having fun here." he gave Spencer his brightest grin, hand gesturing at him to come closer.

The younger agent smiled awkwardly and closed the door, making his way to the chair only 5 inches beside Derek's - who, by the way, was overly aware that their knees would inevitably touch if he didn't pay attention to keeping his legs glued together.

As Spencer got comfortable in his seat, keeping eye contact with him and subtly brushing his tongue in between his pink lips, Derek wondered if that was gonna come naturally to Spencer as it surely was to him. From the look on his face and his body language, Derek was leaning toward yes as an answer to that question.

"Mr Dawson is sick and tired of me." Derek scoffed, leaning back in his chair to stretch an arm on the backrest of Spencer's. "Guessing you came here with a few questions of your own?" he asked him.

"I did." Spencer replied, squinting at Dawson with an inquisitive look. "Mr Dawson, by any chance you've kept in contact with the other members of the Southern Aryans' group?"

"Agent-"

"Doctor." Derek pointed out dryly. "Doctor Spencer Reid." the way he pronounced his name caused Spencer to shift in his seat. Morgan wasn't quite sure why.

"Doctor, then." Dawson snorted, eyebrows raised in surprise as to why the older agent cared that much about specifying the other's title. "As I was saying: I'm in prison. My opportunities to socialize are...somewhat limited." he replied sarcastically. Which was how he'd been doing it at every single question Derek had asked.

The fact that he was managing to keep that cocky attitude was a sign that he wasn't uncomfortable enough. Everyone had imagined he would've got all jittery the second the nickname "pretty boy" would've come out of Morgan's mouth. Apparently so, Derek had to step up his game.

"Spencer, baby," Derek called him so he'd lean back in his chair as well, drawing his face farther away from "The General" and from under the blinding neon light beam illuminating the area of the table.

Reid leaned back as Morgan had implicitly asked him to, crossing his arms on his chest. Spencer, baby. The instinctive part of his brain didn't hesitate a second to recognize the combination of pet name + uncommon use of his first name, associated with Derek's deep voice. Probably because he'd imagined his colleague calling him that a thousand times, along with other names - some less appropriate than others - he couldn't keep his mind from drifting to when he heard that voice of his. The other part of his grey matter though, the logical, predominant one, the one used to Morgan only calling him by his last name or "pretty boy" and "kid" at most; sent a tingling sensation from the canal of his ear where the words reached him, all the way down to his arms and hands.

Spencer kept his gaze on the convict sitting across from them, as he realized Derek had inched dangerously closer to his ear. Dawson shifted nervously in his seat, jerking his eyes away from the two of them.

"You think we should kiss at some point? " the man asked mockingly at last, whispering and with a hand half-covering the motions of his mouth: he was acting like he didn't want Dawson to be able to hear, or read his labial - which, on the contrary, was exactly his plan.

Spencer froze. He tried to keep his look on Dawson unchanged. What he could NOT control, though, was the sensation of heat spreading up his neck, 3 inches from Derek's mouth. Dawson, too, was very noticeably trying to contain his sickened reaction, which turned out to be a mere close-eyed sigh and an irritated clench of jaw.

Reid pulled off the most natural chuckle he could, before answering out loud.

"I don't think it'll be necessary." it was true: Derek had asked only as a joke, and Spencer understood that. But he kinda wished in that moment it were appropriate for him to reply "yes, please, tongue me down during an interrogation."

Derek leaned forward again, finally removing his eyes from that spot of Spencer's jawline below his ear that moved as he spoke.

"Anyway. That's not what we heard." he said, pointing at him and Reid with his finger. "Rumor has it that you're in charge. In fact, you're still known as 'The General'."

"Some folks would like to, uh, imbue me with a great deal of power. But it's a mantle I choose not to accept." The General answered, his voice less arrogant than before and maybe even ever-so-slightly hoarse.

"So you COULD call the shots, you just... choose not to...?" Reid asked, unconvinced and a bit concerned about what kind of annoyingly fake-innocent answer the guy would give this time.

"That's what I said. How can I lead when I no longer believe, 'pretty boy' ?" Dawson replied, back at it with his smug tone, air-quoting the nickname.

Spencer had the abrupt - albeit fictitious - feeling that someone was knotting his guts with their bare hands, when he heard the man pronouncing those two words. Sacred, two words, only reserved to Morgan.

"Doctor Spencer Reid, is my name. Thought you were smart enough to understand it the first time." he said ice cold, leaning forward, knuckles white from crossing his hands too tightly over the table top.

"You're not allowed to call him that." Morgan stated, his black eyes piercing through the man in front of them.

"With all due respect, that's what you called him earlier, agent Morgan."

"With all due respect, Spencer is MY boyfriend, not yours." Derek bit back.

The lack of hesitation in pronouncing the words 'Spencer is my boyfriend' and how good they sounded coming out of Morgan's lips, along with the way he untangled Reid's hands to take one of them in his, warmly and comfortingly intertwining their fingers to loosen the tension in his phalanges - all of it, made Spencer's heart speed up, and his lungs hitch as he breathed, and his mouth water, realizing now more than ever how much he actually wished all of that could be real.

"Although I bet you wish he was your boyfriend, don't you?" Morgan added, teasing Dawson even more. The man snorted, but his body language was telling them that he was struggling to keep an unbothered attitude.

"Is that why you killed Adrian Clay? Because he was black and probably had a boyfriend, just like agent Morgan here?" Spencer asked.

Derek looked at him with his brows raised, pleased at how well he was keeping up with his game. Though, that sensation managed to ease only partially the slight but sudden feeling of discomfort that hit in his chest, at the news that the councilman that was killed was black AND gay, just like...him? Was he bisexual? The things flashing in Morgan's mind in reaction to the proximity with Reid's body, and that feeling of having his hand melting in his - the feeling that holding Spencer's hand was right - were making Derek doubt even more his already unclear understanding of his own sexual orientation. Doctor Spencer Reid was making him doubt once again his sexual orientation.

Clenching his hands in tight fists, Dawson made an effort to visibly swallow the expectedly offensive comments he bore on the matter - Derek found himself mentally thanking him for that - and shifted his eyes toward the wall at his left, too disgusted by him and Spencer to keep looking at them any longer.

As soon as he did that, Morgan felt Reid's hand slipping out of his, much to his silent disapproval.

"Alright Derek we- we're wasting our time here." Spencer mumbled, turning his back on Derek with his eyes low and placing a palm on the table top, about to stand up from the chair.

Derek had the impression that Spencer's reaction was somewhat genuine, that he really was starting to get triggered by The General's attitude - righteously. But, as selfish as he knew it sounded, he didn't want Reid to leave his side. His hand. Him.

Before he could effectively get up, Morgan wrapped his hand around that spot on Reid's arm, the crook where his forearm met his bicep, a couple inches below his shirt rolled up sleeve; that spot where his exposed skin was sensitive enough that those curling fingers sprung tickling chills everywhere, intense to the point of Spencer freezing in place and turning his head to give Derek worried puppy eyes and sweet, slightly pouty lips that Goddammit can I just KISS them off his face?

"C'mon baby, I just have a few more questions" Derek settled to say, softly, trying to recover from that fucking look of his.

"No seriously, can- can we just g-"

"Hey, hey, hold tight. We haven't even got to the point yet. It'll only take a second and then we don't have to see this son of a bitch's face anymore alright? Promise." Morgan reassured him; pitch black irises staring straight into hazel brown ones.

Spencer sighed and nodded, as Derek loosened the grip. He leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms, annoyed but ready to listen to more of the man's crap.

Dawson snorted. "You must have quite the nerve to come in here and insult me, tell me I'm a racist and a homophobic-"

"Nobody said either of those things, Mr Dawson." Derek tilted his head. "We asked, and you didn't answer. Not verbally anyway. Seems to me that now you are the one saying those words, uh?"

"What do you know about today's events?" Reid cut it short, not even willing to wait for Dawson's reaction at Morgan's insinuation.

"Today's events?"

"You must have heard about the shootings." Derek specified, carelessly leaning on the backrest, and decided it was the moment to do what he had planned on doing since Spencer entered the room.

Reid had his eyes fixated on Dawson, to catch every single twitch of his facial muscles, or minute movement of his body.

Suddenly he felt a hot, broad hand wrapping around his inner thigh. He sincerely hoped the only physical reaction to that were his toes curling up inside his shoes, or at worst how his breath got stuck in his throat for a second, and nothing visible on the outside - because on the inside, he could feel his whole abdomen heat up at a concerning rate.

When the man's hand started stroking back and forth, each time his palm went upwards it seemed to Spencer that it was getting closer and closer to that part of his body he wished so bad Derek wasn't aiming for - at least not in that context. Spencer tightened the grip of his hands bracing his arms, thanking God that shirts were made of cotton and not paper that would start flaking off under the squeezing pressure of sweaty fingers.

He couldn't allow himself to take his eyes off Dawson, especially now that he'd seen Morgan's hand on Reid's thigh and had immediately stiffened up; his temples glimmering with sweat under the neon light.

Dawson gulped nervously and looked away from the whole rubbing of skin on fabric, bringing his gaze back to Morgan's smirking face. "Enlighten me."

"The assistant d.a. prosecuting you for the murder of Adrian Clay was killed." Reid condensed the explanation, realizing that if he wanted to look natural he had to say something. He admittedly did a pretty good job at keeping his voice steady, considering Morgan's hand seemed having no intention to find rest any time soon.

A confused scowl crinkled the convict's face.

"Did you order that hit?" Derek asked. To be fair, both him and Spencer were almost 100% sure by then that the guy had no idea what they were talking about.

"I had nothing to do with it." Dawson asserted without hesitation, his voice deep and unfazed.

By that point, Spencer had relaxed into the other's touch, and he didn't know whether it was supposed to be a good sign or not. He didn't know whether the fact that he melted like jelly under Morgan's hands, even being usually uncomfortable with touching in general, was a good sign because it meant that he felt safe within their friendship and trustful of him; or it was a bad sign because it meant that his body was designed to be touched like that by his colleague and him only. He didn't know whether it was good that if he thought of anyone else - his former crush JJ, for instance - touching him in a way that wasn't finalized to be emotionally comforting, he would picture it as uneasy regardless, be it 30 seconds or 30 minutes long; whereas he was almost certain that that very same kind of touch applied upon his body by Morgan's hands would be in equal parts electrifying and soothing each time, all the time.

He wasn't supposed to try and understand any of it, though. Nobody was asking that of him - Derek wasn't asking and would never ask that of him. There was no need for Spencer to spend hours analyzing how that kind of approach would affect him. Because it was an unrealistic scenario that didn't belong in his future, anyway.

A growing wave of self-consciousness and realism woke Reid up from that thought. All of a sudden he realized he couldn't bear staying there any longer than a couple minutes at best. Hence, he speeded things up.

"You had nothing to do with it?" Spencer's calm voice echoed in the room that had been silent for a while. Dawson didn't repeat himself.

Derek was ready to throw in the towel - he was frustrated that the case wouldn't come to a solution as easy and logical as a white supremacist targeting the assistant d.a. prosecuting him, but on the other hand he couldn't say he hadn't enjoyed spending time touching Spencer without the commitment of having to admit he would've wanted to do it regardless of the interview.

With the corner of his eye he saw Spencer finally untangling his arms and stretching one of them toward him. He didn't have the time to take a mental guess on what he was planning to do, that he felt his feather-like fingers slightly brushing against his nape.

Derek's palm stopped moving on the other's thigh, immobilized, the moment Spencer's cotton-hand spread to cup the back of his neck; a lukewarm and soft sensation growing on the very surface of his skin as well as deep inside his chest - nothing short of a cheesy metaphor, if you will, of how Spencer's touch had the power of rocking up both his emotions AND his body.

When Spencer's thumb started tracing slow circles on the side of his neck, Derek found himself imperceptibly tilting his head back to sink into his touch; trying not to put pressure or, way worse, squeeze the other man's thigh, who might've taken it as a cue that Morgan was enjoying what he was doing. He most certainly was, by the way.

"And that would be, because you're not racist or homophobic anymore?" Spencer ultimately asked.

God, he was smarter than he gave himself credit for when it came to pushing all the bad guys' buttons. And they couldn't even get mad, with that face that he had. At least, Derek knew he could never - best case scenario, he would limit to sprinkling said face with kisse- ahem, what?

"I'm done talking to you." Dawson claimed, having pulled himself together enough to bring back almost entirely that confident attitude he had when Morgan first got in.

"Oh, we are too." Morgan said arching his brows. He stood up on his feet, regretting detaching from Reid's contact immediately after.

"Mr Dawson, I can't tell you how impressed i am with you!" he added dry-wittingly.

Derek leaned forward over the table and grabbed the man's hands in his own, cuffed to the cold, metallic surface. He kept his eyes no more than 7 inches from his, making sure he couldn't escape them.

"So I'd like to shake your hand, and congratulate you for making such a positive change in your life." he said, his voice low and thorough, resonating in The General's ears.

Dawson lost his cool and instinctively tried to snatch his hands away from Morgan's grip, soon realizing it wasn't his grip he couldn't escape, rather the one obliged by the chained handcuffs.

"I'd be really careful." Morgan advised, a stabbing glare in his eyes.

"Because somebody might think you still believe."

Clearly, Derek had long lost any interest in keeping the boyfriend-play going: he looked furious and quite nauseous - and it was his God-given right to feel as such. Nonetheless, that was nothing but the millionth proof that Spencer had no reason to fantasize about their relationship becoming something more, someday.

Morgan stormed out of the room. Reid followed a few seconds after, which he'd spent shooting Dawson one last glance - not nearly as threatening and blood-freezing as his colleague's, but still.

When they got on the other side of the glass, Reid felt all eyes on them - especially on him, for some reason. It was like someone slapped him back into reality.

"Sorry guys, I- I kinda snapped." Morgan finally spoke up, a hand on his hip and the other rubbing his face.

"Don't. It was very much understandable." Blake reassured him, waving a hand and shaking her head.

"Well, what can I say?" Rossi changed the topic. "Great job in there." he added with a hint of smirk, arching a brow and shifting his gaze from Spencer to Derek and viceversa several times.

"Pretty boy here did all the work." Derek's tone was lighter now, as he pointed at pretty boy.

Spencer bit the inside of his cheek, unable to even say a due "thank you" - it would've come off as pathetic in that moment, to say the least.

"It- it was kinda useless, though...he had no idea what we were talking about." he said instead, sighing disappointedly and crossing his arms on his chest.

"He didn't even explicitly confess anything about his past crimes that we brought up. We literally only managed to confirm that he's a racist, homophobic piece of shit." Derek scoffed.

"We didn't need to put up a show for that though, did we?" he concluded, as his previous frustration arose again; seconds before splitting his way through his standing teammates to get out of the room.

They followed him with their eyes, and once the door was closed - slammed, almost - behind him, they got back to looking at Reid, who was frowning deeply.

After a long silence, Rossi nodded his head toward the door, like he was giving him permission to go and talk to Morgan.

Reid sighed and followed Morgan's previous steps, trying to hide how his words and tone from earlier had someway offended him. Judging by his demeanor and his glances in the interrogation room, Spencer could've sworn Derek seemed to have almost enjoyed it - he didn't care that it was probably more of a mocking kind of enjoyment, rather than a genuine 'I enjoyed touching you'. It was still something. And, at the end of the day, Derek Morgan had rubbed a hand on his thigh 2 inches from his groin, for Christ's sake, how dare he keep complaining?

He was startled awake from his paranoia by Hotch's hand, placed on his shoulder the second Spencer had grabbed the door handle.

"I hope I didn't push you too much. I'm sorry if I did."

Spencer shook his head. "Not me. I don't know about Morgan, though."

"Hey" a soft voice awakened Morgan from his thoughts.

He stopped pacing up and down the hallway and raised his eyes from the floor. He truly wasn't expecting Reid to follow him.

"H- hey, kid."

"Everything alright?"

No. Nothing was alright. From how wrong and dirty Dawson's behavior made him feel, to how right he found himself unwillingly thinking the contact with Spencer's body was: NOTHING was alright.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." he answered anyway.

Spencer nodded, unconvinced. And this time it wasn't because of his capability to read his colleague and best friend like an open book, rather simply because Derek didn't know how to hide his discomfort anymore.

Reid made a few steps forward, supposedly to make the conversation more intimate - though nobody was really around, so that left the other a bit confused. Plus, boy was definitely too close now, if it was Derek's to say.

"Look, I- I'm sorry it had to be me, I tried to convince Hotch to do it at my place but- but he said that I was more suited to be-" Spencer almost hiccuped. "...for the role, because I'm younger and-"

"Hey, hey, it's alright, it's not you." Derek interrupted him, placing a hand on his shoulder, seeing that he was starting to get flustered and even guilty on some measure. He also noticed how he avoided the word 'boyfriend'. He wasn't sure what to think of that, though.

"It's him. How he looked at us- at ME. I just- I don't know, I just can't believe some people out there really think it's not normal to be gay or black or both, that's all." Derek paused. "as if one could help it, right?" he snorted.

Spencer raised his eyes from the floor. "Yeah. I get that." he murmured.

Derek chuckled a little as a thought popped into his head, taking his hand off of Spencer's shoulder and shoving it back in his pocket.

"Honestly I don't know if I could've done it with Hotch. He's my superior, it would've been...weird, lemme tell you."

Reid giggled and...blushed a little? At least that's what it seemed. Morgan didn't take it well, though: he thought he'd made him uncomfortable.

"I mean," he swallowed sheepishly. "I mean, I hope I didn't...mess you up. I know you're not comfortable with touching."

Mess him up. That was cute. Derek Morgan had "messed him up" the second he had introduced himself to Spencer on his first day at the BAU. The guy had never known Spencer as not messed up.

"W- what?? No, no absolutely not, it was part of the thing. We- you had to...touch me. Wouldn't have worked otherwise." Spencer replied, furrowing his brows and shaking his head vigorously.

Silence.

"I have to ask you this..." Morgan said, regaining his usual teasing attitude. Reid wasn't sure if he was supposed to be relieved, because it meant the man had relaxed a little; or if he should start worrying about what that attitude would imply. Probably the second.

"Ask what?" Spencer hoped his heart couldn't be heard as loudly from outside as it was inside his ears.

"Was it all...acting?" Derek paused, and Spencer faked a confused expression, because before answering he had to be sure he meant what he thought he meant.

"...cause it looked very natural, if you ask me." Yeah, he did mean what Spencer thought he meant.

Morgan looked around quickly and came even closer. He non-chalantly took Reid's tie in his hands and straightened it - earning a gasp from him - biting his bottom lip like he was really concentrated on the task - which he wasn't. He didn't give a shit if his tie was ok, he was clearly doing it to make Reid's blood pulse out of his veins.

"Was it? Natural?" he repeated, almost murmuring at that point.

Spencer didn't know what to answer: he had stopped the train of thought that would've eventually led to a proper answer to that question when he was in the interrogation room, and he had suddenly realized that Derek would never ask such a thing of him. And there he was: asking it to him.

"I guess, kinda...? I- I'm not sure-" he finally replied, his chin tilted down to follow with his eyes what the man's hands were carefully doing with his tie, taking advantage in the fact that Derek couldn't look at his face in order to do that.

He couldn't stop his mind from drifting to that imaginary place where Morgan's hands would most definitely not stick to adjusting his tie; that place where he was allowed to wonder that if the man was so good at adjusting ties, then what else could those nimble fingers do.

As if that weren't enough already, Derek ran his tongue in between his lips, before speaking up.

"Me neither."

Suddenly, he raised his eyes to look at something that was happening behind Reid's shoulder. He coughed and nodded in that direction, forcing himself to take his hands off Spencer.

Reid turned around and saw it: Hotch, Blake and Rossi were walking their way toward them; luckily chatting instead of looking at Morgan "adjusting his tie" or whatever.

"And did you mind? My hands, I mean." Derek whispered in his ear from behind him, making him wince at how those words flowed smoothly in a hot, steamy wave over his neck.

Spencer didn't turn around, nor look at him with the corner of his eye - which he could've easily done. He concentrated on staring forward at their teammates approaching closer, rather than on the inviting heat radiating from the man only a few inches behind him.

"...n- not- not really..." he muttered, not sure what kind of nerve pushed him to give Morgan even the slightest hint that he could've enjoyed it, instead of denying adamantly.

Another breathy, humid whisper tickled his ear.

"Me neither."

17 notes · View notes

hopeworldfan · 5 years ago

Text

friends-with-benefits

summary: jungkook had a reputation and you were curious if he lived up to it.

pairing: jungkook/reader

word count: 10k+

genre: fluff, smut, angst, college!au

warning: smut, deepthroating, cunnilingus, dirty talk, jungkook is a dumbass, reader is a dumbass, i don’t understand body shots

Parties were never really your thing. They were loud, full of sweaty people, and almost everyone was drunk as fuck. The fact that you weren’t popular enough to get invited to any in high school had nothing to do with it. When college rolled around you didn’t have any plans to fall into the partying stereotype. You were going to keep your head down and focus on your studies, and you were never good at making friends so you doubted you would be getting invited to any wild parties anyway.

What you weren’t expecting to happen was for the girl who responded to your post on the university website about needing a roommate to end up being the exact opposite of what you were. Rose was amazing, everything every little girl dreamed of being; smart, funny, drop-dead gorgeous, and on the fast track to being the captain of the cheer squad her senior year. Typical stereotypes would peg her as being a stone-cold bitch, but she was honestly one of the nicest people you had ever fucking met. The two of you had very complementary personalities and it didn’t take long for the two of you to become best friends.

As Rose’s best friend, you were invited to parties by association, and she always made sure you went. At first, you were hesitant. You didn’t want to go and end up standing in a corner with a cup of warm beer you weren’t going to drink, but Rose always made sure you had a fantastic time. She introduced you to all of her friends and they all thought you were adorable and funny as fuck, so you fell in with the –quote, unquote- cool kids.

It was so new, a complete one-eighty to what high school had been like for you. People knew who you were, they went out of their way to talk to you. For the first time, you didn’t dread group projects because no matter what class you were in, you had people who wanted to be in a group with you. Your confidence had literally never been higher.

Yet, you were still single. Yeah, you were funny, and so many people loved you, but it was Rose that everyone wanted. Not that you blamed them because she was hands down the hottest person you had ever seen. You thought people like Rose only existed in magazines. Besides, you liked being single anyway. There was no drama, no heartbreak, you liked it that way.

“C’mon (y/n), let’s do body shots!” Rose suddenly shouted, and a cheer went up around the frat house you were currently in.

“Fuck yes!” You shouted back with a giant grin, letting your best friend drag you along. You’d never had much shame, to begin with, plus you had enough alcohol running through your veins to throw all caution to the wind.

The table was quickly cleared when you arrived, and Rose was the first to jump on. She had a long line of willing volunteers to no one’s surprise. One boy made his way to the front and you grinned when you saw who it was.

“Joonie!” She cheered. Namjoon was the frat leader and Rose’s not boyfriend slash boyfriend. She claimed they weren’t dating, that she wasn’t looking for a serious relationship, but you saw the way they looked at each other, and you heard their kinky ass sex through the paper-thin walls of your shared apartment.

“Heard you were doing body shots, so I had to be the first in line.” He grinned and flashed a smile your way before turning his attention back to Rose. You really liked Namjoon, he was probably the sweetest guy you had ever met. He wasn’t at all what you expected of a frat leader. Whenever he was at your apartment, he’d make conversation with you, he’d approach you if he saw you on campus, and often times he’d invite you out when him and Rose were doing something. Plus he was probably one of the smartest people you had ever met and you would not have passed statistics without his help.

Almost too soon Namjoon was done with Rose and it was your turn to hop up on the table. Though you weren’t as popular as your friend, college boys weren’t picky, so you weren’t worried about no one lining up for you. However, you couldn’t mask your surprise when you looked up and saw Jeon Jungkook standing in front of you, his signature confident smirk on his face.

You knew who Jungkook was, you’d have to be stupid not to. Everyone knew who Jungkook was; a member of Namjoon’s frat, arguably one of the hottest guys on campus, and a complete fuckboy. A few of Rose’s friends loved to talk about how great he was in bed; you’d heard all the details surrounding the hookups. You had to admit, you were curious, and it had been so long since you’d been fucked, and he was standing in front of you looking like sex on a stick.

You’re not sure where the sudden confidence came from, either from the alcohol running through your veins or from the smirk on Jungkook’s face but you grabbed one of the nearby shot glasses and poured the tequila, stuck your fingers in the glass and make a streak down the side of your neck, sprinkled the salt, and nestled the shot glass right between your cleavage.

Someone handed you the slice of lime and you didn’t hesitate before putting it in your mouth, meeting Jungkook’s heated gaze and raising one of your eyebrows while the crowd around cheered and whistled. He stalked towards you, gripping your thighs and forcing them apart so he could slide in between your legs. The noise from the onlooking crowd only increased and you couldn’t help the blush that crept along your cheeks.

Jungkook didn’t say a word, just keeping that confident smirk on his face as he leaned down towards your neck. Your heartbeat increased and it took everything in you to silence the moan that wanted to slip out when you felt his tongue slowly lick up the side of your neck, going far past where the salt started and ended. He pulled back and dropped his head to your cleavage, grabbing the shot glass was with his mouth and tossing his head back. You watched in awe, admiring just how fucking hot he was.

He slammed the shot glass down next to you and his intense gaze caused a bolt of excitement to run through you. His hands crept further up your thighs and his face inched closer and closer to yours and your breath hitched when he finally grabbed the lime from your mouth. Your lips brushed against his and disappointment coursed through you when he pulled back, sucking the juice from the lime before tossing it.

You were just about to jump down from the table when Jungkook slid back between your legs. “Where do you think you’re going?”

The words were out of your mouth before you even had time to consider if it was a good idea or not. They didn’t call alcohol ‘liquid courage’ for nothing. “To your bedroom ideally.”

For the first time since your encounter began, the confident smirk slipped from his face and embarrassment flooded through you. He was looking at you with wide eyes, obvious surprised by your suggestion. It was a horrible idea; he probably had a dozen girls much prettier than you lined up to sleep with him. Of course, he wouldn’t choose you.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to let you down.” He finally said with a cheeky smile, nothing like his confident smirk from earlier. Before you could formulate a response, he hooked his arms under your thighs, lifting you from the table. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and tightened your legs around his waist to keep yourself from hitting the floor.

The shouts and cheers from the crowd were deafening as he began carrying you to what you assumed was his room.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking.” You protested somewhat weakly because holy shit you could feel his muscles rippling underneath the thin cotton of his shirt and that was hot at fuck.

He chuckled in response. “You won’t be tomorrow; I’m just getting you used to it.”

A bolt of arousal shot through you at his promise. You never would have imagined this was where your night was going to go, but you were happily along for what was looking to be an exciting ride.

Jungkook shouldered open the door and effortlessly locked it before taking the last couple steps to his bed and putting you down with a gentleness you weren’t expecting. Your eyes had just started to wander around his room when his lips were suddenly against yours and all hope of rational thought was out of the window because his lips were so much softer than you expected and felt so good against yours.

His tongue swiped against your bottom lip, wordlessly asking permission and you all too happily gave it to him. You moaned into his mouth when he deepened the kiss and he pulled back with an airy chuckle.

“That’s a sound I can’t wait to hear more of.” You couldn’t fight the blush that spread across your cheeks and his lips were back on yours in the next instant. His hands tugged at the hem of your shirt and you broke away from each other, only for a moment so he could pull the fabric over your head and carelessly toss it. There wasn’t time to feel self-conscious before his lips were trailing down your jaw, moving down to your neck, leaving hot kisses in his wake. He stopped at the base of your neck to pay a little extra attention and you mewled when he found a sweet spot. “Fuck, you’re so fucking hot.”

You were practically preening at the complimented. It did wonders for your self-confidence to have a guy as hot as Jungkook think you were attractive.

“Are you going to spend all night kissing my neck or are you going to fuck me?” You asked because while the kisses were nice, you were so fucking horny and just wanted the godlike boy to fuck you so hard you couldn’t walk the next day like he promised. While you appreciated the foreplay, you were already soaked.

Jungkook growled which only fueled your arousal. “Someone’s eager.”

“Just wanna see if the great Jeon Jungkook lives up to the hype.” He paused for a second before throwing his head back and laughing.

“You really are something else (y/n),” He commented before reaching behind your back and deafly unhooking your bra with one hand. That shouldn’t have been as hot as you found it. “And don’t worry, I do.”

He stood up to finally dispose of his clothes and you shamelessly stared. You’d seen him shirtless before but had never wanted to ogle. Now, you had every excuse to ogle and you were taking the opportunity and running with it because holy fuck. It should have been illegal to look that fucking good. He caught you staring and confidently smirked. “See something you like?”

“I guess you could say that.” You replied immediately with a shrug of your shoulders, slipping your bra off and tossing it to the side before doing the same with your shorts and panties. You were thanking every god in existence you had taken the time to shave last night.

“Good, because so do I,” Jungkook said darkly, eyes drinking in your naked form. What you didn’t know was that he’d had his eyes on you for a while now. You were always at the same parties, hung around the same people, and he couldn’t help being drawn to your presence. There was just something about you, something about the way you always had a smile on your face, the way your nose scrunched up when you laughed, just, the way you were you. He’d wanted to get to know you, but you were Rose’s friend and he had a less than savory reputation, which meant Namjoon had explicitly warned him not to fuck with you when he had been caught staring one time.

Jungkook respected his leader, and he knew you were too good for someone like him anyway, but then you showed up at the party looking hot as fuck and when he heard you were doing body shots…well, he physically could not stop himself. He wasn’t expecting you to be so confident, you had always seemed a little on the shy side and maybe it was only because you had alcohol running through your veins, but fuck, it only made him want you more. However, he still wasn’t planning on doing anything else other than maybe ask for your number, but then you were the one to suggest heading to his room and all of his self-control was out of the window.

Besides, this wasn’t going to be like with all the other girls he brought to his room. That was all just fun and games, him living up the college experience. It was different with you. Yeah, he wanted to fuck you, but it went beyond that. He wanted to get to know you, to hang out with your clothes still on, and sure things were backward as fuck now, but he wasn’t going to pass up the chance to sleep with you. He wasn’t an idiot.

“Fuck.” You breathed when Jungkook stepped out of his boxers and you finally saw his cock. It was big, of course, it was. Unease settled in the pit of your stomach, coupled with excitement which just left you feeling confused.

“You think you could take my cock, baby?” He grinned, wrapping one hand around his length and giving it a few pumps. You shivered when he moaned. Could you take it? You had no idea. Were you going to give it your fucking all though? Hell yes.

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” You said, a bit nervously when he joined you on the bed, having already slipped a condom on. He spread your legs wide, positioning himself right at your entrance. Unease and excitement shot through you again.

Should you tell him?

Did it make a difference?

Would this really be that different from all your other times?

Uh-” You started nervously and Jungkook immediately paused, meeting your eyes with a confused look. “I feel like I need to disclose something first.”

“Are you a virgin?” He asked immediately, eyes wide and you chuckled.

“Not technically?” You supplied with a sheepish smile, suddenly feeling the most embarrassed you had the entire night. Jungkook just raised an eyebrow at you and you sighed. “Um, well, I’ve never actually had sex with a guy before.”

“So, you’re a virgin.” He said simply and you shook your head.

“I mean, honestly, the whole concept of a ‘virgin’ is a scam in the first place because what really constitutes what a ‘virgin’ is in the first place?” You were rambling, you knew you were rambling. His cock was literally inches away from your pussy and you were rambling. That sounded about right, you needed to get to your point. “I’ve had sex with girls before, I’ve been fucked with strap on’s before, but never uhh the real thing, and you’re bigger than any of the straps I’ve been fucked with.”

You watched as Jungkook fully comprehended what you just said. The blank look on his face morphing from shock to curiosity, to surprise, before finally settling on a darker look that fed your arousal.

“I really didn’t think you could get any fucking hotter, but you proved me wrong.” Because the image of you being fucked by another girl with a strap on was just about the hottest thing Jungkook could have ever imagined.

“So yeah, uh, no pressure or anything but you’re representing the entire male population here.” You commented and Jungkook laughed before sliding his hands up your thighs. Goosebumps spread across your skin and your breath hitched when you grabbed the base of his cock and rubbed the head against your slick entrance.

“I think I can handle that.” He smirked before his expression morphed into something softer. “Just let me know if you’re ever uncomfortable and I’ll stop.”

You nodded once and tried your best to relax when he started to slowly push into you.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” He hissed as your walls expanded to accommodate his size. You fisted the sheets and instinctively arched your back at the intrusion. It wasn’t painful, just mildly uncomfortable, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

You hadn’t even realized you closed your eyes until you felt a gentle kiss on your forehead and your eyes shot open. You hadn’t even realized Jungkook had shifted to where he was hovering only a few inches away from you. The concern on his face made your heart flutter. You were expecting a quick fuck, not for him to actually care.

“Are you okay?” He murmured and your heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t the fuckboy shit you signed up for.

“Yeah,” You replied immediately. “You’re just…really big.”

He dropped his head to where it was resting in the crook of your neck and you felt his whole-body shudder. “Fuck.”

You knew he was probably using every ounce of self-control to restrain himself. He continued slowly sheathing himself inside of you, careful not to make any sudden movements. His breath was hot against the base of your neck and you shivered when he moaned, finally bottoming out.

He was without a doubt, bigger than any of the straps you had been fucked with. You didn’t think you had ever had anyone reach of deep as he was. He rolled his hips the slightest bit and your right hand shot up to grip his bicep. The bitch felt rock solid and you didn’t think you could get any more turned on but holy fuck.

“Shit I’m sorry, did that hurt?” He asked immediately, raising his head to meet your eyes. A blush coated your cheeks.

“Quite the contrary, just fuck me already Jungkook.” You purred, stomach twisting in excitement when you saw how dark his eyes got.

“You got it baby girl.” You gasped when you completely pulled out of you and the sound became strangled when he roughly thrust back in. “Fuck (y/n), you feel so fucking good.”

You physically could not form words when he began harshly thrusting into you. The only thing you could do was throw your arms around his toned shoulders and hold on for dear fucking life. He hissed as your nails dug into his skin, scratching down the wide expanse of his back.

“Do you like that? Do you like the way I’m fucking you?” He breathed, his breath hot against your ear. You should have known he would be into dirty talk, good thing that so were you.

“Fuck yes, oh god, I love the way your big cock feels in my pussy, the first real cock I’ve ever had.” You panted, shivering at the way Jungkook was moaning in your ear. There had never been a more erotic sound.

“You’re so filthy (y/n), what a dirty girl.” You mewled as his thrusts became shorter and more intense.

“Oh fuck.” You wouldn’t last much longer, you were surprised you had lasted as long as you did considering how long it had been since you’d been fucked so good. Jungkook was certainly living up to his reputation.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby? You going to cum all over my thick cock?” He groaned, feeling your walls tightening around him. Getting you to your peak before he let himself cum was so much harder than he thought it would be. You just felt so fucking good, and that coupled with the sounds you were making made it exceedingly difficult.

“I’m going to cum oh my god, oh fuck Jungkook.” You babbled, on the verge of nonsensical. In the back of your mind, you were baffled that you were about to cum strictly from vaginal stimulation, that had never happened before. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip to keep from crying out when your orgasm hit you, trying to remember that you were in a frat house and there were rooms on either side of you.

“Oh fuck (y/n).” Jungkook groaned when your walls clamped down on his cock. He only managed a few more pumps before burying himself in you and letting his own orgasm wash over him. The two of you lay there for a few minutes, a thin layer of sweat coating your naked bodies as you tried to catch your breath.

“Well, you’ve definitely done your brethren justice.” You finally said with a playful grin, needing to say something lest you feel awkward as fuck. Jungkook lifted his head from where it was resting in the crook of your neck and laughed, a sound that caused butterflies to stir in your belly. He was so cute when he laughed.

“I’m glad.” He smiled before bringing his face down to yours and placing a gentle kiss against your lips. It took you by surprise. It was soft and tender and not something you expected from the infamous fuckboy. Maybe he had a soft side post orgasm. Whatever, you weren’t complaining.

With a content sigh, Jungkook pulled back from you and rolled to his side, getting up and disposing of the condom. You admired the way the muscles on his back flexed with every movement he made. Damn, you really fucked that greek god of a man. Go you.

Despite your fatigue, you knew that typical one-night stand rules meant you didn’t spend the night, so you swung your legs over the side of the bed and tried to get to your feet. Tried being the keyword because your legs felt like fucking noodles and you immediately fell back onto the bed. Jungkook’s laugh rang through the room and a blush colored your cheeks.

“I did warn you.” He teased and you shot him a playful glare. “Where are you going off to anyway?”

You merely blinked at how owlishly. “Uhh, home?”

He tilted his head in confusion. “You can spend the night here, it’s super late and not safe in the slightest for you to head home now.”

Wow, he really was crushing all the fuckboy stereotypes you had about him. “Oh, okay. Well, I still have to get up so I can go to the bathroom.”

Jungkook nodded once before slipping on a pair of basketball shorts and grabbing a shirt and a pair of shorts from his dresser and tossing them at you. “Put that on and I’ll walk you the bathroom.”

You could have argued, but you really didn’t feel like squeezing back into your party clothes, so you just complied. The shirt fit loose around your body and you had to tie the shorts tight to keep them from falling. “You don’t have to walk me to the bathroom, I can make it myself.”

“One, you can barely stand up right now, and two, I’m not letting you wander out when there’s a bunch of drunk guys around.” Your heart did a little flip flop at his words and you just sighed because those were both excellent points. The second attempt at getting to your feet went better, though your legs trembled a bit with every step you took. Jungkook just had a very arrogant smirk on his face as he watched you walk like a newborn dear. That stroked his ego.

He wrapped one of his around your shoulders and led you to the bathroom. The music from downstairs was still going strong and you passed more than a few couples making out in the hallway. You were glad you didn’t see anyone you knew because it was pretty obvious what just happened by the marks littering your neck and the fact that a shirtless Jungkook had his arm around your shoulders.

He stood guard when you went into the bathroom to pee –because fuck UTI’s- and you grimaced when you got a good look at yourself in the mirror. That boy really showed no mercy to your neck. There was no way you could hide the plethora of hickeys. Everyone was going to know you got fucked. Oh well.

Jungkook grinned when you walked out and happily escorted you back to his room. You shimmied off his shorts and the two of you slid into his bed. It wasn’t how you had expected your night to end. You were going to have so much to tell Rose tomorrow.

“Why are you on the opposite side of the bed?” Jungkook laughed and you blushed again. Because you didn’t know what the fuck was going on anymore.

“Well, where am I supposed to be?” You asked a bit haughtily, turning to face him.

“In my arms?” He suggested, loving the way red colored your cheeks. His arms were opened wide and you shyly scooted closer to his side. He wrapped his arms around you, and you settled against his form. The arrangement was surprisingly comfortable. The fatigue from the day finally hit you and you felt yourself drifting off.

As if sensing you were about to fall asleep, Jungkook placed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Goodnight beautiful.”

“G’night.” You mumbled before drifting off.

You slipped into consciousness slowly, confused about your unfamiliar surroundings before you felt a pair of arms wrapped around your form and you remembered the events from the night before. Sunlight was beginning to peak through the curtains, and you craned your neck to see Jungkook’s sleeping face.

He looked so fucking cute. That had to be illegal. There was no trace of the guy who gave you perhaps the best orgasm of your life. Your heart skipped a beat and you mentally berated yourself. Down girl, you couldn’t go catch feelings for THE Jeon Jungkook. The two of you had a fantastic night, you had to take it and go.

As carefully as you could, you extracted yourself from Jungkook’s hold, not an easy task since he was holding onto you for dear life. You tiptoed around the room, grabbing your things and checking your phone, seeing a few texts from Rose. Hopefully, she didn’t think you were murdered last night.

Luckily, it was about six in the morning so you hoped you wouldn’t run into any of the guys as you snuck out, even though you were sure they were used to girls sneaking out. You spared one last look at Jungkook, noticing the way how his face had scrunched up as he patted the now empty side of his bed. With a sigh, you opened the door and made sure to quietly close it before making your escape.

“(y/n)?”

You squeaked before whipping around, clutching your belongings to your chest. “Fuck Namjoon, you scared me!”

“What are you doing here?” He asked and you watched as his eyes traced your form, taking in your too big attire, the marks on your neck, and then taking in the door of the room you had just came out of.

“Uhh.” Was all you could manage.

“He’s kicking you out this early? I’ll talk to him, don’t worry.” Namjoon said and you could see the way his jaw clenched.

“Wait, no no no,” You started with a nervous laugh. “He didn’t kick me out, I just figured I should leave before things get awkward. I would have left last night but he didn’t want me leaving so late so here we are.”

Namjoon was silent for a beat as he comprehended what you said before sighing. “If you say so. Look, Jungkook is a little brother to me, but I know how he is. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You were touched that Namjoon actually cared so much about you. Rose really needed to cuff that man. “I appreciate the concern Namjoon, but I know what I’m doing. I can take care of myself.”

He placed a hand on your shoulder and smiled down at you. “If you say so. Well, Rose is in my room and I was about to drive her home so you could tag along.”

“Perfect.” You grinned.

Rose managed to keep her questions to herself until the two of you were back inside your shared apartment. She had practically been vibrating the whole drive home.

“(y/n)!” She squealed the minute the door shut. “You fucked Jungkook?!”

You laughed sheepishly, bring a hand up to rub the back of your neck. “Is it that obvious?”

“Bitch! Anybody with two eyes could see you got fucked last night when you add that a whole house party saw him literally carry you to his room…yes it’s that obvious!”

Oh yeah, you forgot about the very public sweeping you off your feet. “Well, uhh, yeah.”

Rose squealed again, grabbing your hands and pulling you onto the couch. “Tell me everything! Was he really as good as all the girls say he is?”

“Oh my god,” You groaned, throwing your head back to rest on the couch. “Rose, he’s even better. Hands down the best sex I have ever had, and I’ve had some pretty good sex.”

“Ugh, I’m so happy for you! Just be careful, I don’t want you getting attached and getting hurt.” She said, concern clear on her face.

“Don’t worry Rose, I know it was just sex, I know how it works. You know, Namjoon was worried about it too, he’s really sweet.” You watched the blush coat Rose’s cheeks and the dreamy look in her eye at the mention of Namjoon.

“I know. He’s great in bed too.”

You just shook your head. “He really wasn’t what I was expecting though.”

Rose cocked her head in interest. “What do you mean?”

“Like, he was sweet. Not that I was expecting him to be an asshole or anything, but the way he kissed me when all was said and done took me by surprise and he was super cuddly. It was wild.”

Your friend’s forehead scrunched in confusion. “Wait wait wait, back up. He kissed you after sex? And hold up, you were there this morning, so you spent the night?”

Your expression mirrored hers at how baffled she sounded. “Uhh yeah. He kinds insisted I stay the night.”

“And you just slept? No round two? Or three?”

“No, we just slept.”

“Huh,” Rose said after a minute, “From what I’ve heard from other girls, for one he doesn’t kiss after sex, and I’ve definitely never heard of girls spending the night just to sleep.”

“Huh, I dunno. Maybe he just didn’t want Namjoon to be mad at him since I’m your friend. It’s whatever, we had a great time, I’m satisfied.” You replied with a shrug. Rose still looked like she was thinking, but you couldn’t let yourself dwell on it. It was just sex; you couldn’t get your hopes up.

Jungkook was confused when he woke up alone, but just figured you had plans or something, even if he would have preferred to wake up with you in his arms. He’d just slid out of bed when his door swung open and Namjoon stormed in. Uh oh.

“I asked one thing of you Jungkook, asked you to stay away from one girl on campus.” He started, arms crossed and staring down the younger boy.

“It’s not like that hyung!” He defended.

“Then tell me what it’s like.”

“I like her.” He admitted, red tinting his face as he stared at the ground. “Yeah things are a little backwards right now, but the sex was her idea and I wasn’t going to say no!”

“You like her?” Namjoon repeated, finding it hard to believe. For as long as he’d known the younger boy, his serious relationships had been far and in-between, not to mention short.

“Yeah,” He replied. “This isn’t what I do with the other girls. I want to get to know her better.”

Namjoon sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Fine, I’ll believe you, but I swear to god Jungkook if I find out you’re pulling some fuck shit on (y/n) I’m going to beat your ass, and not just because of Rose. I like her, she’s a sweet girl.”

“I promise hyung.” Jungkook stressed and Namjoon sighed again before leaving.

By the time Monday rolled around, you felt ready to conquer the world. It was funny how getting dicked down so good could do that to you. Your skin was clear, your crops thriving, you were ready to face anything the world was going to throw at you.

“(y/n)!” An all too familiar voice shouted, halting your walk across campus. You whipped around immediately, and your eyes widened when you saw Jungkook striding towards you, a giant grin on his face.

Okay, maybe you weren’t ready for anything? Because this you weren’t ready for.

“Oh, hey Jungkook.” You smiled, still confused. Was this normal? You were fully prepared to never talk to Jungkook again, not wanting to seem stupid for thinking that the sex meant something.

“You left so early the other morning. I had wanted to get your number.” He admitted, looking slightly sheepish. It was entirely different fromthe confident guy from the other night. It was endearing.

“My number?” You parroted, still feeling like you were in an alternate reality. Why would Jeon Jungkook want your number?

He chuckled and your heart fluttered. “Uhm yeah. How else am I supposed to contact you?”

Duh. How else was he supposed to contact you? That made perfect sense.

…

Nope, you were still baffled. However, you gave him your number because it would have been foolish to say no. “Great! Uhm, I’ll text you later?”

He was staring down at you with those dark brown eyes and you felt your mouth go dry. What was happening? What universe did you stumble into? This wasn’t what you signed up for.

“Uhh yeah.”

Things only got weirder when he actually texted you like ten minutes later. He had wanted to wait longer than that but physically could not stop himself because he just wanted to talk to you immediately. You were surprised to find that you really liked talking to Jungkook. He was funny and seemed genuinely interested in your thoughts and ideas.

However, in the back of your mind you had to keep reminding yourself that he was a fuckboy! You didn’t know what his aim was but catching feelings would only end up with your being hurt, you were sure of it.

That didn’t stop you from talking to him though because you were a dumb bitch who loved getting her hopes up.

Friends what benefits. That’s the label that made the most sense for you because, after a few days of texting and a few hours at the coffee shop, you were in a very familiar position that involved your legs in the air and Jungkook between them. Then a few days turned into a few weeks and suddenly three months had gone by.

“Fuck, yes, just like that.” Jungkook groaned, one of his hands fisted in your hair and you took his cock down your throat. There were tears pooling in the corner of your eyes, but you fought to keep your throat relaxed as your nose was buried in his carefully trimmed pubic hair. You were thanking that one ex-girlfriend who had a thing for seeing you deepthroat her strap because you had a lot of experience in this area.

However, you were still struggling more than you would have liked to due to his size and you had to pull back a minute later before you started choking.

“You’re fucking amazing.” Jungkook sighed, helping you to your feet and crashing his lips against yours. “Lay down so I can return the favor.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice; you were already dripping from blowing him and were curious to see just how talented he was with his tongue.

“Fuck you’re so wet and I haven’t even touched you.” He observed and you blushed.

“It’s your fault, so get down there and deal with the consequences.”

“Yes , ma’am.” He grinned before doing a fake salute and lowering his head to place gentle kisses to your inner thighs. You sighed contently, it had been so long since you’d been eaten out and you had a suspicion that Jungkook would be exceptionally good at it. “My favorite meal of the day.”

A sarcastic reply was on your lips, but it dissipated when he flattened his tongue and licked up the entirety of your slit, doing circles around your clit when he reached it.

“Oh, fuck Jungkook.” You shuddered and you heard him chuckle before diving right back in. That man was talented with his tongue in a way that downright sinful. When he sucked on your clit you bucked up against him and he brought his hands to your hips, pinning you to the bed.

“Don’t worry baby, you’re going to ride my face one day, but not today.” He promised and you groaned, throwing your head back against your pillows. “Your pussy tastes so good, the sweetest treat I’ve ever had.”

You mewled at the compliment, bringing your hands to your chest and tweaking your nipples as his tongue worked wonders. His teeth gently grazed against your clit and your whole body trembled. One of his fingers slipped into you and you moaned loudly, not caring that you didn’t know if Rose was home or not. Jungkook’s pace only increased at your reaction and he slipped a second finger in.

“Oh my god.” You cried out, feeling the pressure building.

“Are you going to cum (y/n), cum all over my face?” He prompted, raising his head to look at your trembling form. It took everything in him not to cum right then and there, just from getting you off.

“Yes, oh fuck Jungkook, I’m going to cum.” You were so close, so fucking close. Jungkook knew it was almost there and he toyed with the idea of edging you. It was something he wanted to see, you begging for release, crying because of how bad you wanted to cum. One look at the fucked out look on your face and he decided to save that for another day.

Your release hit you hard and you couldn’t do more than gasp at the intensity of it. Jungkook didn’t stop either, making sure to squeeze out every last bit of pleasure before lifting his head and grinning at you. He licked his lips and you shivered when he brought his hand to his mouth and licked his fingers clean.

He moved between your legs to hover over your, bringing his lips down to yours and you moaned into the kiss, the mix of his saliva and your pussy tasting way too fucking good. You stayed like that for a few minutes, letting your sensitivity fade a bit. You appreciated the thought even if you did like toying with overstimulation sometimes, that was a conversation for a different time.

You both moaned when he finally pushed into you, easily sliding in since you were still soaked from your orgasm.

“You take my cock so well baby.” Jungkook praised and you clenched around his cock, he immediately noticed, and a shit-eating grin was plastered across his face. “Do you have a praise kink (y/n)?”

“Oh my god can you just fuck me?” You asked, trying to deflect the question because the answer was a giant ‘yes’.

Luckily Jungkook complied, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back in. This time was different from the first time, maybe because he had a better idea of what you could handle, maybe because you were more comfortable around each other, maybe because neither of you had been drinking, either way, it was somehow even better. Something you hadn’t thought was possible.

You didn’t stay in missionary for long this time and you weren’t complaining because the way Jungkook was hitting it from the back had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He was hitting even deeper than before and you hadn’t even thought that was possible. His grip was tight around your hips and you were certain there would be bruises tomorrow which only turned you on even more.

“Fuck yes baby, you take my cock so well, your pussy was made for my cock.” He growled, roughly slamming into you.

“You fuck me so good Jungkook, never been fucked this good before.” You panted, sweat dripping down your forehead.

“I’m the only one who can make you feel this good, no one else can fuck you like this.” His thrusts were starting to become uneven and you knew that meant he was getting close. So were you, but it wasn’t until one of his hands moved to your clit that you felt your second orgasm of the night really start to build. “Cum for me (y/n), be a good girl and cum all over my cock.”

That was all it took for you to reach your peak. You collapsed against your pillow, keeping your ass in the air as Jungkook pounded into you, thrusts short and intense.

“Fuck, can I cum on your back?”

“Please do.”

He pulled out of you and you heard the lewd sound of his hand moving up and down on his cock. You craned your neck to watch as his finished himself off, and the look on his face when he finally came was one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen. Streams of cum hit your back and you shivered.

Jungkook sighed contently, pausing for a minute to take in the sight of you, naked, ass in the air, pussy still glistening, and his cum painted on your back. He wanted to engrave it in his memory.

“Towels are in the second drawer in the bathroom.” You offered, the novelty of having cum on your back quickly fading. Yeah ,it was hot having him cum on you, but that didn’t change the fact that you thought cum was gross. You knew some girls thought it was hot, but that was not you.

“Oh shit, yeah, be right back.”

“Hey Jungkook.” You heard Rose greet when he walked out of your room and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, uhm, hey.” He replied awkwardly and you laughed again. You heard your door close and sighed thankfully when he wiped his cum off with a wet towel. “Do you think she heard us?”

Finally, able to fully collapse on your bed, you did so with a happy sigh. “Oh definitely, these walls are paper thin.”

You turned your head to see Jungkook looking the slightest bit sheepish. “Believe me Jungkook, she deserves it. I’ve had to listen to her and Namjoon’s kinky ass sex more times than I can count.”

He laughed at that and your stomach flipped. You liked his laugh.

“You should have said something; I could have had you really screaming.” You instinctively squeezed your thighs together.

“Is that a promise?” You asked innocently and saw the way his eyes darkened.

“Wanna find out?”

The breathy ‘yes’ was barely out of your mouth before his lips were on yours.

Jungkook didn’t leave until the next morning and you were sitting at the dining room table, a cup of coffee in your hand and a peaceful smile on your face.

“Okay, we’re having an intervention,” Rose said seriously, plopping down across from you with a serious look on your face.

“What are you talking about Rose?” You laughed, the smile slipping when you saw that she wasn’t joking.

“What is going on with you and Jungkook? And don’t give me that friends-with-benefits bullshit.”

“But that’s what we are.” You defended and your best friend threw her hands up in the air.

“No, you’re not (y/n). Friends-with-benefits don’t do the shit that you two do, they don’t go on dates, they don’t bring you flowers, they don’t cuddle and watch movies.”

“They’re not dates.” You weakly protested because, in the back of your mind, you knew that. You knew that wasn’t normal friends-with-benefits activities, but that was the only way you could think to label what you and Jungkook had.

“Babe,” Rose said softly, the frustration fading to concern. “You’re in love with him, I can see it clear as day.”

And there it was. The thing you had been vehemently denying every time your heart fluttered or you thought about just how nice his lips were. Tears began streaming down your face before you could stop them, and Rose jumped up.

“Wait! Don’t cry! He loves you too you dummy!” She said frantically and your eyes shot up to meet hers.

“What are you talking about?” You sniffed.

“God you’re an idiot, and I mean that in the nicest way possible. That boy brings you flowers, takes you on dates, and didn’t you tell me he ate you out for thirty minutes straight the other day? Only stopping because you insisted?”

A blush coated your cheeks as you remembered the incident she referred to. “Okay? That doesn’t mean he’s in love with me.”

Rose sighed. “So Namjoon told me not to say anything but Jungkook told him that he liked you, and that was way back when you first slept together, and we were talking about it the other day and Joon said he hasn’t brought a girl home that wasn’t you since that night. I see the way he looks at you babe, he’s so whipped it’s ridiculous, he would do anything you asked him.”

You were reeling from your best friends’ words. That was impossible. There had to be some kind of explanation because there was no way someone like Jungkook would ever like someone like you. It was like Rose could read your mind and her expression softened. “(Y/N), why is it so hard for you to believe that Jungkook actually has feelings for you too? To the point that you wrote off everything the two of you did as ‘friendly’. When have we ever cuddled like that while watching movies?”

You looked down at the table, fiddling with your thumbs. “I just, Jungkook is really hot and super popular, and I’m just…me.”

“And you’re fucking amazing babe, really hot and super popular and the funniest person I’ve ever met. I’m pretty sure my friends like you more than they like me at this point. Look just…talk to him. Even if by some one in a million chance he says he doesn’t feel the same way, I know you have feelings for him and you can’t keep seeing him like this if he doesn’t feel the same because that’s not healthy. There’s a party at the frat house this weekend, please, talk to him.”

“Okay Rose, I will.” You promised; head still muddled.

You were the walking dead a few days later as you trudged across campus to your lecture. It was midterm time and you had been up literally all night studying for it. It was going on hour twenty-three of being awake and you had a full day ahead of you. You felt like shit.

“(y/n)!” It took your tired brain a second to register that someone was even calling your name, and another second to recognize the voice, but when you did your heart skipped a beat. When you turned around and saw Jungkook striding towards you, a cup of coffee in his hands and a smile on his face, your heart was ready to stop. Rose’s words were still running through your head and you couldn’t look the boy in the eyes, even when he was finally standing right in front of you.

“Hey Jungkook,” You greeted softly. It was too much, too early, and you were too tired. You didn’t want to have to think about how you were in love with the hot guy in front of you, not when you were already past the point of anything feeling real due to sleep deprivation. “What’s up?”

“Here, I figured you’d need this after all the studying you did last night. You’re on your way to your test right? I know you’re gonna kill it!”

Your eyes shot up, seeing the boyish smile on his face and the coffee he was offering in his outreached hand. He really wasn’t helping the whole ‘in love with him’ situation. “Oh my god, you didn’t have to do this.”

His smile only grew wider as he watched the blush color your cheeks. “I know, I did it because I wanted to. Take it, I got it just the way you liked it.”

You shyly took the coffee from his hands and took a little sip. He really did get it just the way you liked it. How did he even remember that? You’d only gotten coffee together like twice. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“You can show your appreciation by giving me a kiss.” He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. This wasn’t friends-with-benefits behavior, but you complied anyway because what were you going to do? Tell him no? So you reached up on your tiptoes and gently pressed your lips against his.

It was so different from your normal, lust-filled, passion-driven kisses. There was no smashing of lips, no heavy breathing, not bites and moans. It was soft, and tender, and made your whole chest feel warm. How did you not realize you were in love with him before because it was glaringly obvious now.

“You’re coming to the party on Saturday, right?” He asked when you pulled apart.

“Yeah, about that,” You started awkwardly. “I uhh, need to talk to you about something, maybe after the party? I have midterms all week so that’s the next time I’m free.”

He brought one hand to the side of your face and you instinctively leaned into his touch. You were fucking whipped. “Of course babe. Is something wrong?”

The genuine concern on his face took you by surprise. “No! Nothing’s wrong.”

“Okay.” He said with a gentle smile before lowering his face to yours and placing a gentle kiss to your lips. “One more for good luck. Now go show that test who’s boss.”

“Sir yes sir.” You smiled.

The party was in full swing by the time you and Rose arrived. She tried to stick by your side, but you shooed her away. You didn’t exactly want her on your hip when you talked to Jungkook. The whole situation would be embarrassing enough without having your best friend witness it.

It was surprisingly hard to find said boy. He was usually at the center of the party, but you couldn’t find hide nor hair of him.

“Hey (y/n)!” You whipped around, smiling when you saw Namjoon standing behind you.

“Hey Joon!” You greeted over the almost deafening music. “Have you seen Jungkook?”

The older boy seemed to think for a minute before answering. “I think he went grab something from his room.”

“Thanks!”

“See you later!”

You knew the way to Jungkook’s room like the back of your hand having been there so often lately. Your heart was racing a million miles a minute with the thought of just why you were seeking out the boy. This conversation was no something you wanted to have, but Rose was right, you were in love with him. If he didn’t feel the same way, continuing to sleep with him wouldn’t be healthy.

His door was cracked open when you approached it and you paused to collect yourself. After taking a deep breath, you reached forward to push open the door, but your movements froze when you heard a very much female voice coming from the room.

“C’mon Kook,” The voice giggled. “We always have fun together; I miss that cock of yours.”

What the fuck? You shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be listening to this, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Besides, he could reject her advances, you couldn’t jump to conclusions just because of what she said.

“I said no Amber.” You exhaled softly, feeling some of the tension slip away. Okay, good thing you didn’t immediately jet out assuming the worst. “I have a girlfriend.”

Nope, you should have jetted out because this was so much worse. Right when you were about to back up and make your heartbroken escape, some drunk frat boy bumped into you, propelling you forward into the room.

“Shit.” You squeaked, landing on your knees.

“(Y/N)?” Your eyes shot up, meeting Jungkook equally surprised look. The girl, Amber or whatever, was standing incredibly close to him, one hand pressed firmly against his chest. That wasn’t what bothered you though, it was the fact that he had a girlfriend.

You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t even if you wanted to. He had a girlfriend. What did that make you then? The side piece? Did she even know about you? The thought made you want to throw up.

“(Y/N)! Wait!” Jungkook shouted frantically when you scrambled to your feet and darted out of the room. You had to get away from him because you were going to cry, and that last thing you wanted was for him to see you cry.

Unfortunately, your legs were short and his were long, so you’d only made it a few steps before his hand was wrapped around your arm, halting your fleeing.

“Let go of me.” You said quietly, pathetically. It made you cringe; you didn’t want to sound pathetic. You wanted to sound angry, you wanted to be angry. To yell at him, to hit him, but all you felt was such a crushing sadness it felt like you were drowning.

“It wasn’t what it looked like babe.” He said desperately, begging you to believe him.

“Don’t call me that.” You shot back. “And let me go.”

“(Y/N) please, you have to believe me, I-”

“I said let go!” You shouted, louder that time and managing to draw the attention of a few people. You lifted your head, meeting his gaze and his grip on your arm loosened when he saw the tears beginning to stream down your face.

“Babe…” You took the opportunity to tear yourself from his grip and throw yourself into the crowd of people. There wasn’t any particular direction in your mind, you just had to get away, and that’s how ended up literally running into Namjoon.

“Whoa there, tiger.” He said jokingly, using his arms to steady you. The smile dropped from his face when he saw the tears trailing down your face. “(y/n), what’s wrong?”

“Can you take me home? Please. I want to go home.” You sobbed and he paused for a few seconds before nodding and scanning the crowd.

“Just, stay here for a few seconds, sweetheart, I’ll be right back.” He said and you nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself. He was back in a few seconds like promised, and your tears only started coming faster when Rose wrapped herself around you.

“Baby oh my god, what happened?”

“I just want to go home, please Rose.” You cried and she nodded, guiding you out of the frat house and into Namjoon’s car.

They were both quiet the whole way home, just letting you cry. Rose sat with you in the backseat, keeping you in her arms. They didn’t poke and prod about what happened even though you knew they both had to have some kind of an idea.

“(Y/N), what happened?” Rose asked softly as you curled up on the couch. She took a seat next to you and Namjoon stood nearby.

“I’m so fucking stupid.” You muttered, feeling tears begin to prick at your eyes again. “He has a girlfriend.”

“What are you talking about?” Your best friend prompted.

“Jungkook, he has a girlfriend. Some girl was coming onto him and he rejected her, saying he has a girlfriend.” You buried your face in your arms, curling into an even tighter ball. The hand on your back stilled and you could feel the anger radiating from Rose.

“Joon. Outside. Now.” She barked and you watched the two of them leave the apartment. You’d never heard your best friend yell, you weren’t sure she was even capable of it, but she was so loud you could hear it from inside. Great, now you were fucking up her relationship.

Wiping the tears from your face, you got to your feet and migrated to your room, collapsing onto your bed and willing yourself to sleep, not wanting to have to face the real world anymore.

Jungkook was more stressed than he could remember. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, and seeing the way you looked at him, he knew that’s exactly what happened. But it was all just a misunderstanding! Amber was coming onto him, and he was rejecting her! You just came in at the wrong time and fuck, you just wouldn’t listen to him.

He’d been blowing up your phone with messages and calls, but you were ignoring him. How did things go so wrong so quickly? Things had been going so well between the two of you. He had just picked up his phone to call you for the umpteenth time when his bedroom door was slammed open and Namjoon stormed in.

“Jungkook, what the fuck?!” The older boy roared and Jungkook immediately took a step back. Namjoon didn’t anger easily, and he couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen him this angry.

“It’s a misunderstanding, hyung! Amber was coming on to me, but I rejected her!” Jungkook defended immediately, already knowing why his frat leader was so angry.

“That’s not the issue! You have a fucking girlfriend?! I told you not to pull any fuck shit with (y/n), stringing her along while you have a girlfriend qualifies as fuck shit! And who is this girl anyway? You haven’t brought anyone over but (y/n)?”

Jungkook’s mind was reeling. “Hyung, what are you talking about?”

“She heard you tell Amber you have a girlfriend!”

“(Y/N) is my girlfriend!” Jungkook stressed and saw the way Namjoon’s face morphed from anger to confusion.

“What?”

“We’ve been dating for almost three months.” The two boys just stared at each other for a minute before a Namjoon started laughing. “Hyung, what’s so funny? Who else would my girlfriend be?”

It took a few minutes for Namjoon to compose himself enough to actually reply to the younger boy. “Jungkook, let me ask you something. Did you ever ask (y/n) to be your girlfriend?”

“Uhh, I mean, no…but we go on dates and I bring her flowers and we talk all the time…and have a lot of sex.” He replied sheepishly and Namjoon started laughing again. “Stop laughing!”

“You’re such an idiot.” He said in-between laughs. “You can’t just assume things like that Jungkook. (Y/N) thought the two of you were friends-with-benefits, then she heard you telling Amber that you had a girlfriend tonight and thought you were talking about some other girl.”

Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat. That was it? That’s why you were upset?

“Go fix this Jungkook, and please just tell that girl you’re in love with her.” Namjoon didn’t have to tell him twice.

“(Y/N), get up!” A voice hissed, pulling you out of her deep sleep. “Get your dumb ass up right now I swear to god.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be nice to me? Heartbroken, remember?” You groaned, sitting up and glaring at your best friend.

“Jungkook is here and you’re going to talk to him.” Your heart immediately dropped to your stomach.

“What kind of best friend are you? Aren’t you supposed to hate him with me?”

“Get up and go talk to him before I drag you out of this bed.” She threatened and you huffed before sliding out of your bed. Jungkook was the last person you wanted to talk to, but you knew better than to test your normally mild-mannered friend. “He’s standing outside.”

“Fine.” You grumbled, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and trudging to your front door. It wasn’t like you could avoid Jungkook forever, you were hoping for at least a few days though. Your hand was heavy on the doorknob. He was right on the other side, the boy you loved, the boy who had a girlfriend.

Might as well get the shitshow over with. Then you could go back to your normal, boy-free life and happily swear off relationships for the rest of your life.

“What do you want Jungkook?” You asked immediately after swinging the door open. Seeing him took your breath away, why did he have to look so good all the time?

“You’re my girlfriend!” He shouted immediately and you just blinked up at him.

“What?” Was all you could manage, and his hands moved to grip your shoulders.

“I was talking about you, you’re my girlfriend. Or, I thought you were, I thought we were dating. I really like you (y/n) and we were spending all that time together and going on dates, I kind of just assumed we were in a relationship.” He confessed, a blush creeping across his cheeks. You were still speechless, unable to think of anything to say in response.

“Wait, how long did you think we’ve been dating?” You finally asked, forehead scrunched in confusion.

“Since the first time, we went out for coffee.” He mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

“Huh.”

“Huh?” Jungkook parroted.

“I really am an idiot.” You said with a sharp laugh. “God it all makes sense looking back at it, I was so convinced that you couldn’t possibly have feelings for me that I just wrote it off as being friends.”

“Friends don’t have the kind of sex that we do.” Jungkook pointed out and you giggled.

“Friends-with-benefits?” You suggested and he just shook his head. “I just…I’m sorry.”

Jungkook cocked his head. “Why are you apologizing? I should be the one to apologize for not being clearer.”

“I just don’t understand why you’d want to date me.” You confessed softly, dropping your gaze to the floor.

“Hey,” Jungkook breathed. “Look at me.”

You lifted your head, locking eyes with him and feeling your heart thud painfully against your chest. He was so gorgeous.

“You are so amazing and funny and beautiful. I literally love everything about you, spending time with you is my favorite thing to do. I just, I really like you.” You were both blushing at his confession. “And the way you take my cock down your throat is the hottest fucking thing on the planet.”

You slapped his shoulder as he laughed. “Way to ruin a touching moment.”

“We can have other touching moments.” He suggested with a smirk and you rolled your eyes.

“I,” You started. “I really like you too Jungkook.”

“Good.” He chuckled. “It would have been awkward if you said you didn’t after all that.”

His large hands cupped your face, tilting your head up so he could press his lips against yours. You melted into the kiss immediately.

“Just one question.” He said, breaking apart to smile at you. “Will you be my girlfriend.”

You laughed before leaning forward to touch your lips to his. “Yes.”

#bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook imagine #jeongguk x reader #jeongguk x you #sky writes #jeon jungkook

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mikauzoran · 5 years ago

Text

LuXY/Lukadrien/Lukadrienette: Welcome to La-La Land: Chapter Three

@luxyweek

Welcome to La-La Land: Chapter Three: Collaboration

Luka couldn’t believe it.

While he still didn’t necessarily like XY’s music, he had to admit that it was definitely more listenable nowadays. No longer was it trite, banal, and annoying. It was still repetitive, but the repetition was more like that in the works of Philip Glass or John Adams where it meant something and gradually evolved and moved, unfurling like a flower on a time-lapse film. It was catchy, modulating to explore different key areas before finding tonal resolution.

It still wasn’t anything Luka would choose to listen to over, say, Pink Floyd, but he did find himself humming snatches of XY’s tunes periodically after listening to them.

The thing that had him the most incredulous was that XY had actually looked into some of the composers that Luka mentioned in various interviews and took inspiration from their work. It wasn’t the plagiarism of old but the acceptable practice of quotations taken from other works just like well-known composers had been doing in the genre for hundreds of years now.

And XY had taken the themes, the snippets, and modified them himself. He sequenced motifs up and down, inverting them and truncating them. Clearly, XY had been paying attention that one time in an interview when Luka had gone on a fifteen-minute tangent about the theme of the first movement of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony and how Beethoven had taken the handful of notes in his theme and reconfigured them over and over to create astounding variety, lyricism, and emotional impact.

XY was nowhere near Beethoven’s level, but he had still managed to take quotations from classical music as well as original themes he had seemingly come up with himself and employ a similar process to what Beethoven had done so that the music changed and grew out of itself like Pegasus springing from the head of Medusa.

Luka thought that maybe a collab would be possible after all. Now, he just had to call XY and make the arrangements.

…But how did you call the guy who’d gotten you akumatized a decade ago whom you’d also made out with the previous week? The closest thing he’d ever had to a normal interaction with XY was the conversation at the party, but that hadn’t exactly been quote-unquote “normal”.

Did he just dial the number XY had given him and say, “hey, this is Luka Couffaine calling about the collaboration you wanted to do”? Pretend like the saliva swap and the snuggling and the talking about Luka’s messed up relationship with Adrien and Marinette and their son hadn’t happened?

Did he just play it cool? Keep it professional?

Did XY expect something from Luka? Was the kiss purely an experiment, or was XY thinking that some kind of relationship was going to happen between them? XY had said that he’d wanted Luka. What did that mean? Was it purely sexual?

Why had Luka let himself get into this complicated situation?

He’d been trying to be supportive of a guy attempting to figure out his sexuality in his late twenties…and XY was hot when he wasn’t saying stupid or insulting things. He had dumb hair, but he was attractive, and he’d been kind of nice with all the things he’d said about admiring Luka’s music. And Luka had been feeling down, and the alcohol hadn’t helped, and Luka had just wanted someone to kiss him senseless and help him forget that he wasn’t always happy with life.

Luka could feel himself on the verge of doing something stupid like inviting XY over to supposedly talk about their collaboration but really to see if they’d end up making out again. At the very least, maybe XY would say some more nice things like how he liked Luka’s chord progressions or how Luka had gorgeous eyes.

Luka sighed as he slumped onto the couch and stared at his phone as if he hoped it would give him answers.

Maybe he should ask Siri.

“Siri, what am I doing with my life?” Luka queried, fully expecting the robotic voice to come back with online articles for the boardgame Life or some kind of chicken recipe.

“I’m not sure I understand,” Siri replied in a tone that could pass as apologetic if you squinted.

“That makes two of us,” Luka chuckled wryly. “Thanks anyway, Siri.”

He took a deep breath and dialed Marinette’s number.

“Luka!” she greeted brightly. “Hey. How’s it going? Hold on. Let me put you on speaker…. Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you,” he assured, a smile coming to his lips merely at the sound of her voice. “Hey, Chanson.”

“I was just getting Hugo ready for his bath,” she explained and then lowered her voice as she addressed her child. “Gogo, it’s Uncle Luka on the phone. Can you say, ‘Hi, Uncle Luka’?”

“Papa!” Hugo cried with joy, and Luka could practically see his son lifting his arms up for the phone, thinking they were FaceTiming and wanting to see the picture.

Luka could also practically see the way that Marinette was wincing at the epithet.

“No,” Marinette gently corrected, urging, “It’s ‘Uncle Luka’.”

“Papa!” the two-year-old shouted again.

“Hi, Gogo,” Luka greeted warmly, wishing that he could see his baby’s face. “You know, Marinette, I don’t mind that he calls me that.”

“I do,” she sighed, voice high and tight. “I wish Adrien hadn’t taught him that. What if he calls you that in public? People are going to think I’m a slut! They’ll think I cheated on Adrien, that our marriage is in trouble. I need people focusing on my talent, Luka, not my love life. If my brand is ever really going to take off, if I’m ever going to prove myself…if I’m ever going to get out of the shadow of my husband’s father’s brand and prove I’m not just riding on Adrien’s coattails…”

“Chanson,” Luka cooed. “Hey. Take a deep breath and relax, all right? You are so amazing, and the whole world is going to realize that someday,” he comforted. “You’ve just got to keep hanging in there, okay?”

“Maman?” Hugo called in concern, tugging at her pant leg.

Marinette took a deep breath and picked him up.

“Right. It’s okay. Maman is okay,” she shushed, bouncing her son and moving him from side to side. “It’s just stress. I’ve got a deadline coming up.”

Hugo frowned, trusting the anxiety that was coming off her in waves over her reassuring words. Even though he was young, Hugo was very attuned to people’s feelings.

“Thank you, Luka,” Marinette added belatedly. “Sorry. I’m kind of a mess. Adrien’s doing Hamlet, and he won’t be home until late, so I’m trying to cook dinner, get Hugo cleaned up, and work on this project, and it’s not happening.”

“It’s okay, Marinette. You don’t have to be a superhero all the time, you know.”

She let out an ironic laugh. “Luka, I’ve had to be a full-time superhero since I was fourteen. It gets kind of hard to turn that mentality off after a decade.”

“Point,” he conceded. “But you know what you’ve got at your disposal?”

“What?” she hummed.

“A team,” he reminded. “Why don’t I come over and give Hugo his bath and make dinner while you get some work done?”

“Oh, Luka,” Marinette breathed, sounding genuinely touched. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. But thank you. You’re too good to me.”

“Chanson, I am sitting around my apartment feeling like a wreck. Please let me come over and be useful. I want to take care of you.”

Marinette was easily sold on the arrangement, and it was a nice evening.

Marinette got her work done while Luka got to spend quality time with his son and the woman he loved. They had a peaceful dinner together, and then Luka played with Hugo for a bit before putting him to bed.

Luka had intended to go home afterwards but ended up staying the night.

Adrien got home a little after midnight, traces of stage makeup still on his skin as he slipped into bed, snuggling up to Luka and wrapping himself around Luka from behind.

Luka returned to his flat after breakfast and immediately despaired at the silence and solitude of the place.

He thought about calling XY and asking him out to coffee.

He actually fished out the business card XY had given him and dialed the number, but the call went to voicemail.

Luka covered his disappointment with professionalism: “Hey, this is Luka Couffaine calling about a possible collaboration. If you could give me a call back, we’ll discuss details.”

He thought about going out to get a coffee at a café by himself just to get out of the house, but the idea no longer seemed appealing.

“Dude, you live on a boat? That’s, like, hella whack!” XY exclaimed, and Luka couldn’t discern whether that was a compliment or a slight.

“It’s technically my mother’s,” Luka explained. “I have an apartment over in the sixteenth arrondissement,”

—not far from Adrien and Marinette’s house—he omitted.

“but I grew up here and still come and go pretty much as I please. My sisters—my biological sister and her wife—my sisters still live here, though.”

XY nodded as he stepped down off of the gangplank and onto the deck, surveying his surroundings. “It’s kind of a dump.”

Luka cringed, reminding himself that even though XY was hot and had improved personality-wise over the years, he was still completely tactless and oblivious. It wasn’t his fault he’d been brought up poorly and didn’t know that he wasn’t supposed to say things like that.

“My mother’s name is Anarka. We believe in chaos, leaving junk lying around, and affogatos,” Luka informed, motioning for XY to follow him down below deck.

XY frowned. “Like those green fruit things?”

Luka was surprised that XY knew that an avocado was a fruit. Perhaps it was just a lucky guess. “Affogatos are an Italian dessert where you pour espresso over gelato…and sometimes add amaretto. My mom’s a big fan. She dated this Italian guy once and totally got hooked on them, so now they’re kind of a family tradition. Like hiding chocolates in each other’s socks for Valentine’s Day.”

XY continued to stare at Luka, completely nonplussed. “Your family is weird.”

Luka shrugged, leading XY into the main cabin and motioning for him to have a seat on the wraparound couch. “All families are weird. The truly weird ones are the ones that aren’t.”

XY looked like he was still trying to puzzle that one out when Luka asked, “May I get you something to drink?”

“Yeah, I want an avocado,” XY declared.

Luka didn’t bat an eye. “With or without alcohol?”

XY shifted on the couch, looking almost uncomfortable. “Without. I don’t want—I don’t think we should be drunk today,” he elaborated. “You know. Because we’re working and stuff.”

Luka nodded, mentally noting that he needed to be sober the next time he kissed XY.

He added an additional note concerning the fact that he was thinking about a next time.

“Two affogatos without alcohol coming right up.”

As he started the espresso maker and moved to get out the gelato and glasses, Luka inquired, “…Did you get the chance to listen to those pieces I texted you about?”

XY (his left arm hooked around the back of the couch so that he could twist and watch Luka making the drinks) nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I did. You picked some really good songs for us to take as inspiration. I think we could get a really good blend of our styles going if we kind of pattern our mix on elements of those songs. Like the Tarantula one.”

It was really Saint-Saëns’s Tarantella, Opus Six, but “tarantella” literally meant “tarantula”, so Luka was willing to let it slide.

“I really dug the theme from Tarantula. If we take the theme and kind of rework it and speed it up, I think it would be a sick bassline. Like, kind of like…” XY paused, a guarded expression coming to his face, as if he were afraid of Luka judging him or shooting down his suggestion. “Have you ever heard DJ Jack’s remix of Pink Elephants on Parade?”

“I can’t say that I have,” Luka admitted, carefully pouring the espresso over the gelato. “Could you pull it up?”

“Yeah, sure,” XY agreed happily, getting out his laptop and hopping on YouTube for the track. “This part,” he indicated about fifty seconds into the song. “I was thinking a really driving, pounding bass would be good.”

Luka nodded, considering the idea as he brought over the affogatos and set them down on the makeshift coffee table. It wasn’t exactly his style, but that wasn’t the point of the collaboration.

“Yeah, that could be good,” he encouraged, taking a seat on the couch beside XY.

XY looked relieved as he pulled up his sound editing software. “I was actually messing around with the idea last night so I’d have something to show you.” He pressed play on a track labeled “hairy spider beats” and looked expectantly at Luka.

He let Luka listen for about twenty seconds before nervously asking, “What do you think?”

XY’s mix was still audibly related to Saint-Saëns’s theme, but it was much more “inspired by” than “plagiarism”. He’d taken the notes (sometimes turning them around on themselves or dropping them down a third, sometimes rearranging, sometimes splitting apart) and sped them up, giving them a driving, electronic pulse.

“That actually sounds pretty neat,” Luka replied sincerely. “I can tell you’ve really come a long way as far as music theory and composition, Xavier-Yves. Nice work.”

XY beamed at Luka’s praise, his heart swelling with pleasure and pride. “It was nothing,” he assured, playing it cool. “I mean, I am hella dope after all. Music theory has nothing on me. I kicked its butt.”

“Yeah,” Luka agreed with a chuckle. “I can see why people like your music nowadays. It’s still not really my favourite genre, but I can tell you’re onto something.”

XY hesitated before curiously inquiring, “…Why did you call about collaborating if you’re not really a fan of what I do?”

Luka shrugged, training his eyes on the laptop screen. “I don’t know. Listening to your music, I just kind of felt like there might be something there, so I decided to give it a chance and see what happened.”

XY nodded slowly, studying Luka’s expression in profile. “All right. Good answer.” He turned his attention back to the project at hand. “So. I was thinking, we could use this or something like it as the base and layer other stuff over it. Like…you know in that Corn on the Cob song you sent me—”

Danse Macabre. Saint-Saëns again, Opus Forty. It was one of Adrien’s favourites.

“—how in the beginning it’s really quiet as the clock strikes midnight, but then all hell breaks loose as the dead rise from their graves and start partying?”

“Yes?” Luka was intrigued to find out where this was going.

In Danse Macabre, about thirty seconds in, after everything up to that point had been pianissimo, the dynamic suddenly shifted to forte, and the loud, powerful notes really blew the listener away. Luka remembered that that part had been very striking the first time he’d heard the piece.

“I was thinking we could do something like that. Not the same notes,” he explained, “but the same effect. We could have the song pulsing along, but then, all the sudden, the bass drops, and we wait a beat, and then you come in really loud with—I don’t know—whatever you end up using if you want to go with your guitar or maybe the violin or, I mean, what don’t you play?”

Luka blushed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Well, there’s a difference between being able to make an instrument produce sound and actually being proficient. I can play simple melodies on a wide variety of instruments, but I really only consider myself able to play the guitar, violin, and piano.”

XY snorted and rolled his eyes. “Dude, you’re definitely selling yourself short, but whatever. If you can make an instrument produce sound or play a simple melody or whatever, I can record it and splice it up into a killer mix. No one’s going to know that you’re not ‘proficient’ by your own standards.”

Luka hummed thoughtfully. “Point. I’m used to creating music that has to be reproduced live, so I didn’t think—” He cut himself off abruptly as an idea occurred to him. He turned to look at XY with wide, hopeful eyes. “Do you think we could use a glass armonica?”

XY tipped his head to the side. “What’s that?”

“Go back to YouTube, please,” Luka requested, practically buzzing with excitement. He never got to use this instrument for anything, but it had such a cool sound.

He instructed XY in what to search for and what to click on, and not a minute later, XY was staring at the screen, watching the demonstration in amazement.

“Dude,” he breathed. “It sounds like the souls of the dead being all spooky up in our business. We have got to fit that in somehow. At the very least, it would add some neat harmonies.”

Twenty minutes of watching videos featuring glass armonicas later, they got back to their collaboration piece.

“You know, another thing I’d like to fit in if we can is a quotation of the Dies Irae,” XY remarked, completely knocking Luka for a loop.

“What?” he asked, thinking he’d misheard.

“The Dies Irae,” XY snorted. “You know what I’m talking about. You’ve talked about it in several interviews, and it’s quoted all over that Tatter Tots song you sent me the other day to prep for our collab.”

Totentanz. Franz Liszt, S. 126 (because Liszt didn’t use opus numbers).

“Sorry. Right,” Luka confirmed. “Sorry. I was just…”

…surprised that you, one, knew what the Dies Irae was called; two, pronounced it correctly; three, butchered Totentanz’s title; and four, actually listen to me when I talk.

“…astounded by what a good idea that is,” Luka recovered, realizing that his true thoughts were either rude or showing his hand too much about how much it meant to Luka that XY had paid that close attention to Luka’s interviews.

“You have a lot of good ideas, Xavier-Yves,” Luka added, watching a cute pink tint rise in XY’s cheeks.

“You bet I do.” XY puffed out his chest slightly. “I didn’t used to, but now I do. I have a lot of good ideas because I’m not an imbecile anymore.”

Luka felt his stomach twist slightly, recalling the way Bob Roth had talked to his son at the party the week before.

It reminded Luka of the way Adrien had internalized the erroneous beliefs that he was needy and whiny and difficult after years of hearing Gabriel perpetuate those lies. Adrien only believed it because it was what Gabriel had taught Adrien about himself, either directly or by implication.

Luka could see how Bob Roth calling his son an imbecile for years on end might ingrain the belief into Xavier-Yves’s psyche too.

He took a deep breath, reached out, and rested a hand on XY’s forearm. “Hey.”

XY’s eyes went wide like sundials as his gaze locked with Luka’s.

“You were never an imbecile,” he informed gently yet firmly. “You were just in a situation where no one ever gave you the opportunity to show off what you could do, and that’s not your fault.”

XY gulped and then forced himself to look away before the urge to kiss Luka got any stronger. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right…. So…the Dies Irae…”

“Right,” Luka agreed, slowly retracting his hand. “The Dies Irae…”

Hours flew by as they worked on their project, and, before they knew it, their stomachs were growling.

“Would you want to go get dinner?” XY asked tentatively, trying to get a feel for where they stood with one another. “With me, I mean. My treat, since you supplied the snackage and refreshments today. I owe you for that avocado. That thing was good; I see why your family believes in them.”

“Right?” Luka chuckled, partially out of genuine amusement but also to buy a little time.

XY was definitely asking him out on a date. What was he supposed to say to that? He’d gone into this whole collab thing with the intention of keeping an open mind and seeing what became of it, but… What was he doing? He didn’t know. He legitimately didn’t know what he was doing with his life, so if XY just wanted random make-outs when convenient, maybe that was fine, but if XY were serious, if he had any kind of feelings for Luka… Luka didn’t want to lead XY on. After all, he wasn’t emotionally available for an actual relationship and all that involved, so…

He took a steadying breath, getting his apology together in his head before he opened his mouth and replied, “Sure. I would be down for hitting up a bistro or something, if you’re paying.”

XY’s face lit up just enough for Luka to realize that XY was expecting something to come of this—whatever it was. Friendship?—acquaintanceship between them.

Luka needed to be careful.

…But he’d really enjoyed kissing XY after the party. It had been nice to know that Luka had been the only person on XY’s mind. He hadn’t had to share XY with anyone like he did when he was with Marinette and Adrien.

But if this really was XY’s first experience with romance with someone he was legitimately interested in, Luka needed to keep his head on straight. He was an absolute mess, and he knew it, and if he didn’t keep his wits about him, he was going to ruin the concept of love for XY.

That was kind of a daunting responsibility.

Dinner was actually fairly normal, like any other dinner he’d had between friends…sort of. At least, it didn’t feel like a date. Well, besides the part where XY had insisted on driving and opening the car door for Luka. While the gesture had seemed romantic at first, Luka was starting to suspect that it was really because XY didn’t want anyone touching the car besides him.

It was a hideously purple 1982 DeLorean with gullwing doors, and it was XY’s baby.

Apparently, XY was a car person. Luka learned this when he happened to make a comment about the car over dinner and was then treated to a fifteen-minute-long gushing rant about automobiles.

It was a learning experience, and Luka, who didn’t really care so much about cars, didn’t have much to contribute.

Thankfully, after fifteen minutes, XY realized that Luka hadn’t said anything in a while and thought to ask about Luka’s hobbies. Luka talked about Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky, and he could tell he was going a little over XY’s head, but XY asked questions and seemed like he genuinely wanted Luka to keep talking, so Luka figured it was okay.

It wasn’t really a “normal” dinner between friends, but it didn’t feel like a date either.

They returned to the Liberty afterwards so that XY could pick up his belongings, and as he was packing up his laptop, he hesitantly remarked, “So…the other night…”

Luka tensed. “…Yeah?”

XY licked his lips, tentatively looking up to study Luka’s expression. “The kiss.”

Luka squirmed slightly, fingers itching for a guitar to strum to calm himself. “Yeah?”

“You remember that?” XY inquired nervously.

Luka winced. “I wasn’t that drunk.”

XY shrugged. “I mean…but you were drunk, so—”

“—I remember,” Luka cut him off before the misunderstanding could go on any longer. “I remember, and I wasn’t so drunk that I didn’t know what I was doing. I voluntarily kissed you.”

Whether or not that had been a good idea, that still remained to be seen, but Luka felt he’d been sober enough to consent to a kiss, and he didn’t want XY worrying about that issue.

“Oh,” XY replied thoughtfully, looking back down to his laptop, strapping it into his satchel. “Okay. So…you knew what you were doing, and you…you wanted to kiss me?”

“Yes,” Luka answered with conviction, leaving no room for doubt.

XY breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. Because I didn’t think of it at the time, but I was thinking about it later, and my dad always tells me not to do anything with girls when they’re drunk because that leads to lawsuits, but I started thinking that I shouldn’t have kissed you when you were drunk either, even though you’re not a girl.”

“Normally, that’s a good practice to follow,’ Luka confirmed. “But I wasn’t drunk. Not that drunk…. But, yeah. Don’t kiss drunk people in the future,” he sighed, beginning to rub at the bridge of his nose.

“So…” XY slung his satchel over his shoulder and studied Luka careful. “If you hadn’t been drunk, would you still have kissed me?”

Luka blinked. He didn’t know.

If he hadn’t been drunk and tired and feeling kind of down…maybe he would have gone down to the lobby and asked at the front desk for his own room. Maybe he would have stayed but turned down XY’s proposed make-out and snuggle session.

Luka couldn’t honestly say.

He grimaced and answered helplessly, “Maybe?”

XY nodded, taking a deep breath and letting that response settle in. “All right.”

“Sorry,” Luka mumbled, shame burning in his cheeks. He could tell that he was royally screwing this up, and he felt awful.

He was a bad person for dragging XY into his complicated relationship with Adrien and Marinette.

“It’s all right,” XY sighed, sounding bummed.

Luka scrubbed at his face with a hand. “No. It’s not. I’m sorry. I was kind of a wreck the other night. I’m kind of a wreck in general. I’m sorry.”

“Nah,” XY assured, waving away Luka’s apologies. “I mean, I was kind of kidding myself. You’re…You’re you after all.”

Luka dropped his hand from his face and frowned, unsure if he should be getting defensive. “What does that mean?”

XY shrugged. “Like, you’re all smart and stuff. We don’t have a lot in common, not even our music, so… It was kind of dumb to think you’d be interested in me. But it’s cool, so whatever.”

XY turned to go, but Luka caught him by the arm.

“Xavier-Yves, it’s not like that,” Luka rushed to explain, not knowing quite what to say, only that he needed to say something. “It’s not… I’m not… I mean, I’m not that smart.”

XY snorted, rolling his eyes. “Dude. At dinner you told me how you’d learned Russian so that you could read thousand-paged books. For fun.”

“Well, you taught yourself how to build cars,” Luka volleyed, grasping at fog.

“Yeah, but I’m not smart,” XY scoffed, pulling his arm away from Luka. “I can’t talk about literature and art and stuff like you.”

“Xavier-Yves, there are many different types of intelligence,” Luka huffed in frustration. “Just because you’re not book-smart, that doesn’t mean you’re dumb, and who’s to say that my type of intelligence is any better or worse than yours? You have your own strengths, so don’t discount them just because they’re not the same as mine. If we were on a drive and broke down in the middle of nowhere, your type of intelligence would be a hell of a lot more useful than mine.”

XY stared at Luka for a beat, taking all of this in. Slowly, he began to nod. “All right. Okay. Soooo…?”

He looked at Luka expectantly.

Luka looked down at his feet but then forced himself to look back up and maintain eye contact. “So…I think you’re attractive and kind of interesting, and I’d like to get to know you better.”

XY’s cheeks started to glow a soft, rosy tint. “O-Oh yeah?”

Luka nodded. “Yeah. I’d like to hang out again.”

XY gulped. “So…could that maybe translate to you eventually kissing me sober?”

A wave of guilt washed over Luka.

He had ruined this guy’s first kiss.

Luka took a breath and stepped in, pressing his lips lightly to XY’s. He lingered for a moment but pulled back before XY could get over his surprise and take things any further.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t sober the first time,” he whispered. “Maybe this could eventually become something, but I’m an emotional mess right now, so I don’t want to lead you on or turn this into some kind of friends with benefits thing if you’re looking for a serious relationship. I’m sorry, but I just want to be honest with you.”

XY nodded neutrally as he stepped back. “Yeah…. Okay. I get you. I…all right.” He sighed, running a hand through his spiky locks. “Honestly, I’m just kind of glad to know where I stand with you. I can work with being attractive and interesting.”

His ego was quickly bouncing back as he readjusted his satchel on his shoulder and moved toward the door, turning back to shoot finger guns at Luka. “I’m still planning on making you fall in love with me. See you later!”

Luka stared at XY’s retreating back until he disappeared abovedeck.

Juleka found her brother ten minutes later, still standing there and contemplating his life choices.

#LuXY #luxyweek2k20 #Lukadrien #Lukadrienette #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #ML #Luka Couffaine/XY Roth #Luka Couffaine #Xavier-Yves Roth #XY #Lukanette #Mikau's Writings #Welcome to La-La Land

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cyoza · 5 years ago

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joy

I’m slightly late with this one but I wasn’t feeling very Christmassy but I spent yday with my whole family and it got me in the mood and its still technically december

I kinda just mimicked the relationship I have with my siblings and applied it to the gang. In this everyone’s alive and not so traumatised bc let’s face it we deserve a little positivity during the holidays

from the december @dickkorysource prompt of joy

happy belated crimbo lads! I hope you all had/are having great holidays!

Update: I edited it because I completely forgot Rose omg I'm so sorry there are so many people and I am very tired and still slightly hungover from christmas please forgive me

‘Wake up, lovebirds! It’s Christmas baby!’

The last thing Dick wanted to hear first thing at 7am on Christmas morning was Jason’s obnoxious voice followed by loud thumps at the door. Thankfully however, soon enough his quiet pitter patter of footsteps were disappearing down the hallway. Those early training sessions that accustomed them to early mornings felt like a mistake right then. Especially considering the dull ache that pulsated at his temples; the several ghosts of the beers he’d had the previous night haunting him severely.

He let out disdainful groan, rolling over to his side and was immediately met with Kory’s sleepy smile. The calmness that settled over him was jarring and unsettling as he gazed at her. Even so early in the morning and jostled from unconsciousness, she still affected him like no one else ever had.

‘Good morning.’ Her voice was husky and low with sleep and so, so spellbinding.

But there were a minimum of three teens waiting for them in the living room. So, instead he greeted her with a soft ‘ ‘Mornin’ ’

‘Merry Christmas.’ Her smile widened, lackadaisical and laced with drowsiness.

She looked so content and adorable that he couldn’t help himself and the next thing he knew he had his lips pressed against hers, swallowing the surprised gasp she let out. But then she melted into him, threading her fingers through his hair and sending sparks of warmth all over his skin. But Dick reminded himself that there were people waiting for them and he pulled away from her, lifting his hand to cup her cheek, wanting to keep the contact he craved.

‘Merry Christmas. Are you ready for today?’ He asked, to which Kory let out a humorous snort.

‘It’s only Christmas Day, Dick, it’s not like we’re going to war or anything.’

‘Trust me, after spending the entire day with Jason and Gar together, you’ll feel like you did.’

Kory’s laughter burst out of her in a short, loud chortle prompting a wide smile from Dick. He didn’t think there was a time that he loved her more than when she was carefree and untroubled - just allowed to be herself. He leaned forward to capture her lips yet again but this time kept it short and sweet before he shuffled to the side of the bed and got up to make his way to the shower.

He threw a glance back at Kory to find her scrutinising him with an impish glint in her eye. Again the corners of his mouth lifted as he turned to face her, leaning on the doorframe of the bathroom.

‘Why’re you looking at me like that?’ He questioned, knowing exactly why she was looking at him like that.

‘Oh, just thinking about how much water we would save if we showered together. Save the planet and all that.’ She elaborated, sitting up onto her elbows.

‘Oh right,’ He feigned shock and folded his arms. ‘Well then, I guess for the good of the planet we have to don’t we?’

Kory chuckled loudly as she flew out of bed and past him into the bathroom, getting rid of her button up pyjama top along the way.

Dick emerged from his room to find Christmas music blaring from the stereo in the kitchen, Dawn, Rachel and Donna singing along as they prepared what appeared to be a feast of breakfast foods - eggs, bacon, hash browns, sausages, a selection of fruits; anything that was considered acceptable for breakfast was littered across the kitchen island and dining table.

‘Wow, you guys went all out didn’t you.’ He remarked.

‘Hell yeah, it’s Christmas man. When else would we get the chance to go all out.’ The reply didn’t come from either of the women but from Jason who sat next Conner and Gar who were playing some car game on the tv. Hank, who was also sat next to them rolled his eyes at him before continuing faffing about with something on his mobile.

‘Um excuse me, there’s no we here except for us three. You guys just played video games all morning so I don’t wanna hear about this collective ‘we’ ok?’ Rachel said drably.

‘Hey, I helped!’ Gar protested, dropping his controller to the side.

‘I don’t know if I would call chopping fruit for 10 minutes entirely the same but it’s definitely more than Jason so I’ll thank you for that.’ She retorted, flipping a pancake.

‘Listen, no one here wants me to help with any kind of cooking for all our sakes, alright?’ Jason defended himself sliding down the sofa and throwing his arms behind his head.

‘Where’s Rose?’ Dick asked, glancing around the room for the silver haired girl.

‘She’s still asleep.’ Hank replied, rolling his eyes again.

‘Yeah, well I still need the sleep, I’m a growing girl. Unlike you, old man.’ Rose retorted as she shuffled into the living room to flop herself onto the sofa next to Conner. As much as she protested it when Kory picked it out, she still managed to wear the Home Alone themed Christmas jumper that Kory had picked out and matching fuzzy socks; obviously not wanting to ruin things for everyone else.

‘I’m not old! At most I’m a cool uncle you little brat.’

Dick watched as they continued bickering, a small smile danced on his lips as he felt his heart grow warm with fondness. It was rare to see them just acting like teenagers, arguing over something so trivial and stupid without being plagued with life threatening problems. His smile only broadened when a pair of arms slide across his sides and wrap around his waist, his body coming alive with the action. He spun around and was taken aback immediately, laughter threatening to bubble its way out.

Everyone was wearing some variation of Christmas jumper, by request of Kory herself, who quote unquote wanted to make the day ‘as Christmassy as possible’ but nothing could have prepared Dick for her own Christmas outfit. She wore an oversized green jumper, a shade that complimented her eyes but in the middle of the jumper was a Christmas tree flashing bright with lights and dotted with giant baubles that seemed to have every one of their faces stuck to each of the baubles, paired with a metallic gold mini skirt and stripy red and white tights.

‘Kory, what the hell are you wearing?’ He asked incredulously.

‘D’ya like it?’ She pulled it down and the baubles jingled as she did. ‘I bought it and then Gar helped me modify it.’ She looked up at him with a giant grin that was impossible not to return.

‘Babe, it looks ridiculous.’ He stated, finally letting out a small giggle.

‘I happen to think you look great, Kory.’ Donna called from her place in the kitchen.

‘Thank you, Donna. At least someone appreciates my hard work.’ She huffed, crossing her arms as best she could over the baubles.

‘Yeah, Dick why’re you hating on Kory’s awesome jumper.’ Rachel added, stirring the pot even further.

‘Hey, no ganging up on me on Christmas! I never said it looked bad, just ridiculous.’ He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. ‘Ridiculously adorable.’ He professed before pecking her on the lips.

‘Ughhhh, gross you two. Get a room.’ Jason groaned but was immediately quieted by the orange Dick grabbed from the bowl on the side table and threw at him, inducing a laugh from everyone in the room.

‘What do you guys need help with?’ Kory questioned before detangling herself from Dick’s arm.

Donna began to give her instructions on what to do as she replaced Dawn in the kitchen who came to stand next to Dick, leaning her hip to bump into his.

‘You okay?’ She enquired. ‘I remember how tough Christmas is for you.’

‘Sure, I’m okay. How could I not be?’ He answered.

‘Good, I’m glad. I just wanted to make sure, you know?’

‘No need, I’m good. I’ve got everyone I need in this room; safe and happy. It’s impossible to be miserable.’ He declared honestly. ‘Plus Bruce is coming later after he ties up some business in Gotham, so the whole family will be here.’

He meant it slightly sarcastically but on some fundamental level he knew these people really were his family. Lost souls who floated aimlessly until they gravitated towards each other, who would then on be forever stuck in each other’s orbit. He thought it the thought would terrify him, another family he could potentially lose but no. Instead he was filled with such joy and love that he thought he would combust with it.

They were his family now, no matter what happened.

#im reposting bc this yet again is not showing up in the tags #dickkory #dickkorysource #dick grayson #koriand'r #kory anders #Gar Logan #Rachel Roth #donna troy #jason todd #conner kent #dawn granger #hank hall #titans #dc titans #titans 2018 #i have edited this 3 times now #this perfectionanism thing is driving me up the wall

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zukofenty · 5 years ago

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just my luck

➜ Summary: The one where Katara whisks away her picture-perfect life the night she kisses a stranger with the worst luck in the world.

“I lost all my good luck!” Katara screams. “Everything I touch turns to shit!”

“I mean, have you considered fucking a leprechaun?”

➜ Genre: Modern!AU, Journalist!Katara, Girl group manager!Zuko, Music Producer!Zuko

AO3, @zutaraweek

“I am too pretty to be punched!” Katara yelps, ducking and clenching the holding cell’s bars until her knuckles turn white.

“And I thought I was too pretty to commit tax fraud, but here we are.” Ty Lee rolls her eyes. “That’s just how the pussy crumbles.”

“First, you need a gynecologist. Second, I think the saying goes ‘that’s how the cookie—’” Nothing in life could have prepared Katara for the tiny girl to deliver a resounding punch that has her head rattling against the jail cell.

“I lost all my good luck!” Katara screams. “Everything I touch turns to shit!”

“I mean, have you considered fucking a leprechaun?”

Katara sighs, still recovering from the intense nosebleed Ty Lee bestowed on her. “Where the fuck would I even find a leprechaun?” She promptly shoves wads of tissues up her nostrils. Of course, the next one she reaches for actually had a spider in it, and she thinks killing herself just might be easier on her soul at this point.

“Just say you like Megan Thee Stallion and all of a sudden all the men under 5’7” start giving you a 5’11” attitude. Easy peasy.”

She’d managed to limp her way back to Suki and Toph’s apartment from prison, after getting a call that her apartment had flooded, destroying everything in it. Only her apartment. She was barely holding on to her broken YSL pump in one hand and her pride in the other. Emphasis on limp , because while calling taxis to instantly stop for her was always her thing , now she was nothing but an ant (in head-to-toe Prada) on their radar. If they do stop, the taxi either gets snatched up by someone else, or the drivers tell her, not so kindly, to eat a dick.

Nevertheless, she’s still determined to have a positive day, walking and humming a Rihanna song to try and calm her nerves. But, because this day was sent by Satan himself (Jeff Bezos), she was drenched, face to booty to toes, in drain water by the seemingly hundreds of Uber Eats whizzing by, trying to get someone’s Buffalo Wild Wings order to them quickly.

“I can’t believe you guys actually think all that stuff’s real!” Suki scoffs, diligently painting her toenails a pretty pastel purple and not giving any mind to the conversation.

“Tell me, how would you explain this bitch’s life?” Toph points an accusatory finger in Katara’s way. “Katara has been living life as the main character. For fuck’s sake, you won prom queen five years in a row at Ba Sing Se High!”

“A lot of people win prom queen—”

“We went to Omashu High!” Toph adds with frustration. “You even won the year after you graduated!”

Toph and Suki could never quite wrap their heads around Katara’s life.

For as long as they knew her, she was always the luckiest girl in the world.

At seemingly every turn, the girl had all the luck in the world on her side. I mean, just the other day she was accidentally delivered Rihanna’s dry cleaning, because of course she lives in the same fucking building as Rihanna, the goddess herself. See, Katara was the type of person with the luck to manage to find an upscale apartment on their shitty salary in the city for nearly half of what Suki and Toph were paying to sleep next to inbred cockroaches.

“Bitch, you do not have the range for that.” Toph snatches the dress away before Suki or Katara could make a face and whimper a soft ‘gimmie gimmie’ that surprisingly always worked.

“I might not, but at least we could clone Rihanna now.”

Toph pauses. “Say what?”

“I’m getting the girls and gays that album, no matter what.”

Katara went to return the dress after getting in a helicopter with her date of the night, People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive, Haru (before the mustache). On top of all that madness, she said Rihanna, in the shimmery, Fenty Beauty Body Lava coated flesh, even complimented her makeup. Suki almost shit herself when Katara was added to the Fenty Savage PR list.

Katara would walk outside and the clouds seemed to part as if on her command. She could wear all-white in the city without a bird unloading one on her shoulder, or one of those guys on the street flicking feces in a pudding cup her way. Jammed streets or congested traffic never ceased her from being ten minutes early to every meeting, event, or even accidental movie set she walked on and got cast as an extra instantly. The lead actor, Academy Award winning Bolin, is still sending her detailed DMs about the various ways he would harvest her toenails because it reminded him of her.

And you know those Airpods or laptop scams that go around on social media you have to train your grandparents not to click on? Or those princes that email you promising to marry you after you send them your banking information? Guess which bitch manages to actually win over a prince’s heart and his inheritance?

Katara had the universe wrapped around her finger, and it didn’t seem to mind bending to her will.

Fresh out of college, after much clawing and fighting and miraculously switching coats with an editor at a restaurant, Katara managed to snag a job at Nyla magazine and secured spots for her best friends, too. They’d been reading the entertainment magazine before they could even process solid food. While they were all saddled with a mailroom job, Katara’s quote unquote irresistible charm had landed her as a scribe to record meetings when their original conveniently broke a nail.

Of fucking course, the day their entire team is stuck in a broken elevator is the day the CEO of White Lotus Records was coming into the office to discuss Nyla ’s next cover star.

Their next big thing, teen singer, Song was still hesitant to work with a magazine aimed at young adults with unhealthy coping mechanisms, compared to the J14s and Tiger Beats with the foldable poster at the back you could steal if you were quick enough at Walgreens.

“ Young lady.” Ugh, why do old men always sound so fucking condescending? You know how easy it is to push an old person? “You know how much dough I make so I can regularly spend it on drugs? Every minute of my time is worth $964.” While Piandao gets up for his assistants to put on his fur coat, Katara slams her hand on the table.

“I promise you this cover story will be worth every minute of your time. I’ll even pay you $965 at the end of my presentation if you hate it.”

And who could say no to that sweet (and scary) face?

When editor-in-chief June waddles back, glazed with sweat after someone farted their entire Del Taco Thursday three chicken soft tacos for $2.49 deal in her face , their cover story was booked. The carnival themed, masquerade party to celebrate Song’s new cover was already scheduled in Google Calendar. Soon enough, Katara was handed her own office, Tesla, and platinum corporate card to start planning the entire event.

Everything was going fine . There were acrobats doing flying yoga in the sky, a fortune teller she hired at the last minute that everyone loved. Music was playing, people were dancing without a care in the world, and everyone was having a good fucking time. She even snagged her bitchy boss a date with her hot neighbor, and her Painted Lady costume was designed by Vera Wang herself. By the end of the night, her brain was scrambled from the paperwork and yelling and pen marks all on her hand. Yet, with her luck, she still managed to kiss the cute guy who asked her to dance.

Well, at least she knew he felt and smelled like a cute guy, considering half his face was covered by a mask.

He was a bumbling thing, managing to stomp on her feet a few times even when she reassures him at the end of the day. Despite being all broad shoulders and muscles, he seemed to shrink in on himself at that moment. “I’m really, really bad at dancing.” She gave him a weird look and Zuko had to remember that he had stolen a backup dancer named Lee’s gig for the night to sneak into the event.

Katara rolls her eyes. Dancing, much like nearly everything else, always came easy to her. “So what if you gave a girl a black eye and another guy a concussion?” Her laugh is so pretty and her waist between his warm fingers just felt right.

He lets himself laugh, too. Wrapped up in the girl’s spell. Forgetting any thought of trying to win over the White Lotus CEO.

She leaned in first, and he was more than happy to reciprocate. Zuko didn’t have time for impulsive decisions, not when the universe was actively always trying to kill him. For some reason, he couldn’t help but be drawn in. Her soft lips against his felt like a plush dream, and all he didn’t want to wake up to reality. Not when in that moment, there were sparks and blood rushing to his head and soft skin peeking out of her expensive dress he wanted to discover more of.

One minute, Katara was throwing back a margarita in case she had dumb bitch breath that caused her mystery man ran off. The next, she was choking to death, only spitting out the olive on Suki’s face after Toph delivers a quick punch to her sternum, right between the titties.

“Eenie meenie miney mo, catch a stupid whore by her throat!”

“Stop choking me, June!”

“No!” June screeches. How was Katara supposed to know she accidentally set her boss up with the ‘ King Kuei ’? The FBI’s most wanted illegal animal trader by day, male prostitute by night? And who knew that would land her a night in jail?

“The universe is a stupid fucking whore!” Katara sniffs, still trying to detangle the chunk of hair embedded deep into Suki’s blow dryer. Katara managed to not only break a mirror with the blow dryer in her mere ten minutes in Suki and Toph’s place, but also rip out a section of her hair after throwing said blow dryer in their bathtub which promptly caught on fire. The icing on the dog shit cake of the day was when she managed to cause the building’s power to short circuit, shutting off everyone’s lights.

The universe, for the first time in his life, was finally on Zuko’s side.

For as long as Zuko could remember, rain clouds suddenly appeared when he walked outside, even despite what Alexa told him earlier that morning.

“Alexa, what’s the weather like today?”

“Completely sunny with a chance of naive bitch,” the smart speaker might as well have said.

Zuko was sure of four things in life.

Adderall and 7 up were never a good combination

Alexa was always watching for an opportunity to strike fear in his heart

He could never catch a fucking break

Having a waterpark poncho always on hand never hurt

He heard from his Uncle Iroh his family was perpetually cursed. Something about a fame-hungry witch with the last name Kardashian in the past life, and one of his relatives eating said witch’s ass that inflicted the present day curse on his family.

Everyone he knew was impossibly clumsy. Random flooding accidents, cars always running into you, bugs trying to get their fuck on in your ear. It was like the universe said yeet! On their good fortune.

What does he wish for every year on his birthday? For it to be easy just to be him . To be easily liked, like Adele, or Dippin Dots. He wished life could be easy enough for him to take a shit without the toilet bowl accidentally caving in, or a lightbulb somehow always falling on his good eye.

Zuko had always been relatively clumsy, worse than what Iroh’s seen before. After so many years of being shit-out-of-luck, and having literal shit on you at all times, he was used to being alone.

It stopped stinging a few years ago. Besides, he had his half-sister Kiyi to keep him company these days.

Nobody wanted to be around the guy who constantly smells like dog shit because he always manages to find a shit covered dollar bill flowing down the street. No one wanted to be associated with the guy who, without fail, splits his pants open every time he bends down. Saddling him with yet another public indecency charge.

Like clockwork, at least two times a week, he was getting his face shoved into the concrete and handcuffs slapped on him. He started investing in a mouth guard about five years ago.

It was like a safety hazard, just being him. There were so many times you could get struck by lightning before you were banned by the nation from buying umbrellas.

Predictably, he has been rejected from every job he applied to. His laptop has been hacked by so many Hentai porn bots he doesn’t even bother upgrading his Dell from 2013. He even started a conversation with the guy monitoring his keystrokes. Landlords chucked his application out the window before he could even give them his soul and a deposit, and while the doctors didn’t think he’d do it, he found out that yes you can survive being hit after someone throws a piano out their window while you leave the leasing office.

Sure, he came to the city with dreams of making it big, loving music since his mom taught him the difference between a treble and bass clef. But when he’s always accidentally setting his tsungi horn on fire? Breaking his nose open trying to put resin on his violin’s bow? Somehow getting a reed stuck in his throat and his sphincter (on the same day)? No chance in hell was anyone willing to risk their lives to let him play anything on stage.

So he stuck to writing and producing, watching YouTube tutorial after tutorial to learn mixing, because he thinks it’s safer for everyone involved.

“Zuko, someone tried shoving Nutella up their ass and shat it back over the bathroom.” He looks up from his laptop to see a plunger too close for comfort near his face.

“Why?”

“Some weird sex thing! I don’t fucking know.” Jet points to the elderly couple nearby. “You ask them why!”

Zuko takes a deep breath in. “No, I’m asking ‘why?’ because my shift doesn’t start for another two hours.”

He was a janitor at the bowling alley across the street (it was the only place that would hire him, but he thinks they felt bad for him after he ugly cried and ate out their supply of shitty, frozen curly fries).

“You know I love you, Zuko! But these!” Jet cups Zuko’s chest with two, oddly gentle, hands. “Make our alley’s world go round.” He even gives them a squeeze for emphasis.

“Let go of my man titties,” Zuko glares at Jet. “ Now .”

“You’re the breast.”

Zuko’s eye twitches.

It wasn’t all bad. After all, the alley does let him make music in his free time, and the girl group he was “managing” can perform their sets on Fridays.

“We’re firing you!” Mai pokes at his chest and has him readjusting his glasses from the force.

It was a Monday and his week was starting off better than most. He was scraping green colored poop from the walls and was already being threatened at 9 a.m. without any weapons in sight.

“You don’t pay me!” He points out, which only seems to get everyone in the room angrier. His sister and her friends formed Shooters 4 Rihanna when they were pre-teens. They wanted to be a group trying to make it big in the pop scene, and quickly signed to a record label together. The girls were promised all their years of childhood training would pay off when they would debut as young adults. That was, until their CEO was broadcast on TLC’s My Strange Addiction for his habit of collecting Mark Ruffalo’s nose hairs, and confessed to killing someone for it.

Investors weren’t too happy.

While all the girls could see was repressed childhood trauma, Zuko saw that and potential star power.

Every single member already had years of dancing and singing lessons under their belt. They could play their own instruments, write their own songs, and had the stage presence. A few Twitter DMs later (from his multiple accounts, because they thought his profile picture made him look like a fucking creep and blocked him years ago) they were dumb enough to trust him with their future. He’d been trying to get them signed for months to no avail. Somehow fucking up, or electrocuting himself in the process of showing an executive their new single.

“This was a mistake!” Jin shoveled the curly fries in her face.

While Yue was always one to stay positive, her sad ‘ I miss pickled fish ,’ had the rest of the girls wanting to leave, too. Going back home, just give up seemed sensible. Why waste your prime years on a pipe dream?

He stopped them, plunger in hand. Against all logic, and partially because they could smell the desperation, the girls gave him one week .

One masquerade party later, he managed to throw Piandao out of harm’s way, taking the brunt of the taxi running into him.

“ Are you fucking stupid !” The CEO screams. The boy had blood flowing from his scalp, but looked as alive as ever handing over Shooters 4 Rihanna’s demo CD.

“A little.” Zuko admits. He could feel his bones still intact, and judging by the blood it wasn’t anything serious. Piandao gives him a call the next day after listening to the tape.

By some miracle, or Kardashian curse lifting, the girl group and him were shuffled into the city’s upscale penthouses, and their debut single was slated to be released on the radio the next day.

While he headed for lunch at a nearby cafe (one he couldn’t afford to eat at just last week) he can’t help but notice her .

“Ma’am, I have already told you our restaurant’s motto! No eat, no shit!” The waiter glares down at her. “Either pay up or get out, broke bitch.”

Katara was caked head to toe in mud, tissues shoved yet again up her nose. Haru had invited her out to his dad’s art show the night before. After insulting the literal piece of shit art, she tripped over the clump of clay on display and landed face-first in his million dollar creation.

Of course, it would land her in prison, and of course Ty Lee would be there, too. “Move bitch, I’m gay! ” When Katara was too exhausted to budge, the girl, yet again, socked the shit out of her.

Katara just wanted a plate of steaming breakfast foods, but of course all her cards declined. And of course, she has a meltdown because she was fucking tired, hungry, and was about to throw hands.

She grabbed the salt shaker. “Look, I’m just going to try one thing before I go!”

“It’s the bath salts,” she hears one woman whisper. “Those fashion bitches are always on bath salts.”

“Just smile politely. We’re witnessing mental illness.”

She didn’t expect that throwing salt over her shoulder would land in the waiter’s eye, or cause him to collapse on the table of Mormons nearby. Or something to catch on fire, or someone to get stabbed with a fork with a pancake on it.

She certainly didn’t expect a (cute) stranger to be so gentle with her, helping her escape the madness and handing over his turkey on rye. Or him following her as she tried to save face and sit on a random bench away from any nearby birds’ tiny assholes.

“You look sad.” He’s not mocking in the slightest.

“What does that even mean?” She went from sad to affronted in just a second.

“What’s wrong?” Fuck this guy and those eyes that were so damn enchanting .

“I don’t look sad.” She says with the roll of her eyes. “I am fucking sad.” She was blackballed from every newspaper in the Four Nations, the prince she was talking to did indeed end up stealing her savings, and on top of all of that, her undereye concealer was creasing.

“You!” Katara points her finger in the fortuneteller’s face.

“Me?” Aunt Wu looks beyond irritated. “Look, I can’t predict when you’ll get a fat ass, just buy a resistance band and leave me—”

“You’re the one who told me whatever Wheel of Fortune would spin back on me! And Alex Tribek would take away my good luck or something!” Katara was crazed and running on two hours of sleep, but she had a bone to pick. “My perfect life is gone.”

“Wow, that was a lot to unpack.” Aunt Wu locks her shop’s door. “Look, can you think of anything strange that happened that night?”

“Besides someone telling me to make them toilet wine in prison, no I don’t think so!” Katara grunts out petulantly.

Aunt Wu smacks her with a stack of tarot cards. “No! Jesus! What else happened?”

“Can’t you just tell me? Childhood trauma has really fucked with my memory.”

“You kissed someone, didn’t you?” The fortuneteller scurries to her Kia Soul before Katara could retaliate. “Maybe he needed that luck more than you do!”

She tried kissing every single dancer that was working that stupid party, and came up with nothing but mono and the feeling of defeat.

“Did you know, I even fucking sharted myself today!” She smacks her forehead repeatedly. “At twenty-fucking-three! How fucking embarrassing . All I could do is run to the H&M with my cheeks out to buy a pair of sweatpants.”

“I know a job looking for someone,” he says and even when he’s staring at her with nothing but understanding, she’s still apprehensive.

“Don’t care, didn’t ask, plus you’re a colonizer.” If she had any energy she would’ve put more force into the shove. “Why are you even helping me?”

She looked like shit on a dick and he was just smiling at her. “Let’s say, I just know what it’s like to be SOL.”

“What’s the catch?” She stares at him down and pouts. He’s wearing an Armani shirt with an Off-White belt, which was already offending her senses, but on top of that he dared pair the atrocity with a pair of knock-off Converse. He couldn’t have sprung for a real pair, he just had to get the off-brand from Costco that made everyone’s ankles look like cankles.

New money . “I am not letting anyone suck my toes for money, again. Try a different girl.”

Zuko grows positively red, but at least it brings the ghost of a smile to her face. “No toe sucking. Only on Wednesdays.”

She delivers a well-aimed kick to his crotch. While she’d expect him heaving and puffing, he’s unphased. He’d put on his MMA fighter grade, groin protector out of habit, even though he’s getting kicked a lot less in the ball bags lately.

“So, you’re trying to convert me to Scientology?” Katara scoffs. “I’ll pass, Asian Tom Cruise.”

“Not that either.” He sees the defeated look in her eyes, the same one he’s seen in himself. There’s a spark there, though. A willingness to just keep going. Something he lost years ago. “Trust me.”

“No.”

“All good.” He shrugs. “Can I at least help you up?” Before she could bite back, she turned to the spot on the bench where he was pointing.

Wet paint.

He’s taking her mustard covered hands (the sandwich exploded in the foil) in his soft ones without question, and peeling her off the bench.

“Of fucking course,” she huffs.

She thinks he knows. He knows the fact that she wants him sticking around. Even with her adamant protests against it, he’s persistent.

Stopping by after long days at the studio to her shit job, handful of first aid supplies at the ready.

He’s just always there .

He’s there when she’s scraping gum from under the alley’s tables and almost swallows one that had “Live, Laugh, Love” carved into it. He quickly stops her from choking, practically an expert at the heimlich with how many times he’s almost died from drinking boba.

There when she electrocutes herself changing the alley’s light bulbs to catch her as she falls straight off the ladder. He’s not even phased, pushing a fried piece of hair sticking up the heavens and staring at her as though she squirted cupcake frosting from her nipples.

He’s there with his first-aid messenger bag, all duct taped and falling apart and it makes her want to say sorry to Alexander Wang for daring to wear it with his Spring 2019 boots after Zuko forces her to carry it around. But then he’s pulling out a tube of toothpaste from the bag while she’s cooling her burnt fingertips on a 10 year old Yerba Mate can, and she’s reminded why he’s so firm about it.

“Earth Nation trick to heal burnt skin.” He’s too concentrated on rubbing the paste into her flaming skin to notice her staring. She remembers that he included her favorite Fenty gloss in the bag after handing it off to her, and blushes.

“I don’t need your help, you know.” Katara was always the one fighting for her own dreams. She didn’t want to stick back living the life other people imagined for her. Even all the luck in the world couldn’t help her escape a sleepy town or an unsupportive family.

When they came to the city, she knew her friends let her take care of them on purpose. It was second nature, what she grew up on. She’d always been the one looking out for everyone, even if they didn’t ask, and they let her do it because they all needed a coping mechanism. Toph’s is cake cutting videos, Suki’s is practicing her crying face because she always wanted to be a pretty crier, and Katara’s is being overbearing.

She was confused. As many times as she tried drilling through his thick head that her grandma was a nurse, that she could easily wrap up every cut, bruise, and swollen toe, he never budged. For the first time in a while, someone was there, stubbornly making sure she was okay.

“I know?” He says it as though it was obvious. “I’ll make you a deal, though. Just let me help you out, just this one time?” He gently taps her fingers wrapped in Minion bandaids he got her just because he knew she hated them in public, loved them in private. “I won’t do it again.”

He’s teasing and it’s obvious he knows she’s putty in his hands. Though, his newfound look (she helped with) balancing boy-next-door with heartthrob is not working on her heart. Her pussy, sure. Not her heart, though. She swears.

“That’s what you said last time,” Katara protests, without any energy behind it.

He sends her a lopsided smile. “I know.”

Zuko wasn’t about to let any hair on her pretty head get hurt.

While Kiyi already had enough of a bad case of bad luck, considering all the Power Ranger figurines she had super glued to her face by fourth grade boys, Katara’s was just something else.

It reminded him of him . Whatever stroke of good luck he had, he knew the universe takes in ten-fold what it might give. So he’s taking advantage of every bit of luck he has for a girl without any.

While he’s been stabbed many a time walking back home at night, somehow he’s in the clear when he escorts Katara back to her apartment. Or the times he buys her Water Tribe take out because she’s still figuring out how that prince managed to spend $10,000 on Swampbender diet pills. Or when he sneaks in before her shift to do some of her tasks for the day (he still has the keys), so he doesn’t have to worry about her bruising her pubic bone with the vacuum, or breaking the ceiling with a slippery bowling ball.

He wasn’t all used to his new life. The designer shoes, the fancy parties, the attention . Girls in the past would look at him as though he wasn’t more than shit at the bottom of their Jimmy Choo, but his good luck brought this newfound female attention that was exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. Especially when, all he wanted was to catch her eye.

She was his good luck charm and didn’t even know it.

Since he’s met her, everything just was going right . She brought Toph over with her guitar to string together a few verses the day they were in desperate need of new lyrics to go with the beat he’s spent the last few nights cranking out. The day after they released it on Apple Music, the song went #1 on Billboard. Piandao had even booked them to play the Hard Boulder Cafe for their first performance, and tickets were sold out.

Even when things just seemed to get better and better for him, the universe doubled down in its punishment for her.

He’s there when she’s walking back from work, drenched to the bone because she missed all trains for the day, a taxi said her face looked stupid, and she was just tired of it all and wanted to go home and eat processed frozen food and die.

Zuko’s there, though. Without fail.

He’s there with his fucking Tesla and personal driver and Chanel top and she couldn’t be any more embarassed.

“Get in!” He hesitates before approaching. “Also, maybe let’s put down the umbrella?” It was inverted anyways, and looked three seconds from whisking her away into the storm.

“No, I’m good!” Katara insists. She was afraid that falling for Zuko, going to bed and waking up thinking of him was messing with her brain and she didn’t know if she wanted it to stop.

“You could get hit by lightning.”

“That can’t—” She ponders it for a second. “You know what, fuck you.”

He throws his expensive jacket over her to quell the shivers, and when she protests, seeing as it was a Valentino Lacquered Nylon Jacket, he bundles her even deeper in the thing, buttoning it up until she’s complaining from the warmth.

“You’re laughing at me.” She pouts.

He’s covered completely in bubbles. Not her fault he decided to strip off his shirt to throw in the cycle with her wet clothes, and she got distracted by the abs and dumped the whole bottle of laundry detergent in the washing machine.

Zuko shoves her face into a pile of the suds. “I am, yeah.” She looks upset and he stops the mirth growing on his face. Reaching out to her, instead. “Katara, I’m sorry did I—”

She might’ve leaned out to accept his embrace, but then she’s flipping them over, pinning him down to the floor. Her warm, still soaking wet body, pressed against him and her arms coming out to pin his hands to the ground.

He gulps.

“This would be more fun if you let me peg you afterwards.”

Her laugh vibrates her whole body and he couldn’t help joining in, too.

He let her have her pick of his dress shirts, and she looked so much at home. Little strands of her bangs framing her face and growing curly with the addition of water. Her brow furrows when she mentions her leave-in conditioner washing away with the suds, and he takes advantage of the momentary distraction. Flipping her and placing two hands at the sides of her head.

She knows he’s covered in the bubbles, just so she wouldn’t feel anymore of a stupid bitch than she already does. He never seems to mind it, even when Katara was frustrated and just couldn’t figure out why all this was happening to her and dragging him into every single accident.

“What would you say to the universe, right now?” She’s curled up on his couch and he’s massaging the balls of her feet she presses in his lap.

“Welcome to your tape.”

“Katara, no.”

“That bridge off of Fourth Street? Looking really easy to jump off of right about now, universe.”

He lets her take his bed that night after he cooked up his famous komodo chicken and both Kiyi and her complain about having a food-baby.

“Hey, Katara.” He whispers while her eyes could barely open. He tucked her in those blankets all ethnic people have, the super fluffy ones with a tiger on them that are always wrapped in a plastic bag. “You’re cute.”

“Yeah?” She breathes out, crinkling her nose and blinking those long lashes and making his heart skip beats. “Hey, Zuko.”

“Yeah?”

“I think I like you.”

He pinches her cheek. “I think I like you, too.”

He was right. As soon as life blessed him with everything he’s wanted and more, it whisked it away just as fast.

He’d mustered up the courage to invite her to a studio session after everyone in Shooters 4 Rihanna insisted on meeting her. Their songs were getting a little too emotional and they wanted to meet his muse. It was going well, too well. He even catches all the lamps she knocks down. When she rights herself, she manages to knock down the table with their food. Double bagging existed for a reason, just like he warned her! But, of course, the bags holding the takeout she was supposed to surprise him with broke from the bottom. He’d go hungry, that day. But, anything for her, though.

She looked so into the session, asking him if she could play with the buttons, leaning into his chest when he hesitantly surrounds her space. His two lean arms coming out to steady her waist when she trips on herself and sends him a sheepish smile that has him hypnotized.

Katara normally felt lightheaded around him, but she felt absolutely faint as soon as Piandao walked in to finalize the details of the performance, and Zuko started talking about some lucky masquerade ball.

She couldn’t hear much else, body getting up before she even registered it.

Before he could fully get into his chair at the mixing console because just one little note in their new song “Rihanna Impregnate Me” just sounded off, she’s tugging him up.

“Can I kiss you?”

“W—what?” She’s holding him up by the collar of his shirt.

Katara smirks. “I really want to kiss you.”

“I mean, uh, yes! Definitely a ye—”

It’s everything he’s imagined, hoped, prayed for the last few months and more. She’s sweet and soft and tasted like lip gloss and the toothpaste he had stowed away in her bag. When he’s leaning in for more, ready to do things like give her his heart or do her taxes for her because he couldn’t think straight and his heart was guiding him through the motions, she’s gone.

Katara’s gone when Ty Lee somehow gets into, yet another, tax fraud case and can’t make their performance.

She’s gone when he needs her by his side because even though he’s not performing he still manages to feel fucking sick. He wants her holding his unnaturally sweaty palms and telling him it’s going to be okay, just like what she does during his late night writing sessions where she stays up and refuses to sleep until he does.

She’s gone when the band has to answer to an angry crowd, an angry CEO who already sees the articles lambasting the girl group’s unprofessionalism and was ten seconds away from pulling the plug on his dreams.

“Zuko!”

He hates his heart rushes, even when it was about to break because of her, too.

She's gotten her perfect life. She’d gotten the job back, her apartment back, Rihanna even sent her a secret song for fuck’s sake.

She must really love this fucker, because she was giving up a chance to stalk Rihanna so he could be happy.

“Maybe he needed that luck more than you do!” Was running through her head the entire week she avoided him.

“I don’t know what to do, Suki!”

“Why don’t you both fuck leprechauns?” She says between bites of string cheese.

Katara sighs. “Why are yours and Toph’s minds built like that?”

“I heard my mom tried punching her stomach every day, hoping that I wasn’t going to be a result of St. Patrick’s Day sex. That’s why my head’s lopsided.”

He felt nauseous. Not only did 3 of the girls just spew their lunch into whatever container they could get their hands on, of course Azula has gone missing. “Katara not now I—”

She comes to him flushed, extensions stuck to her hand after running too fast and accidentally grabbing someone’s hair. Her feet hurt, her heart hurt, but in this moment she knew. She knew he needed this more than her. He was soft and kind and took people in and cherished the moments with his half-sister because he missed all the ones with Azula. He worked so hard now because he was afraid she hated him, and even when he was on the verge of giving up, he still pushed through. He gave people chances, even when the universe was never as kind to him.

After she presses her lips to his, suddenly Azula presses a button from the underground room she was trapped in, appearing on stage in front of their very eyes. They have the best show the Hard Boulder Cafe’s seen in decades . Their contract is extended, and he opens a bottle of champagne to celebrate without taking his eye out.

He was the luckiest man in the world.

Though, when he turns, he realizes.

His girl’s missing.

“Katara!” She tried shuffling away, but accidentally slips on a few drug needles someone threw carelessly on the ground.

She’s still nursing the sore spot on her forehead, where the champagne cork hit. “Zuko, please just...go.” She waves him off with a bandaged hand.

“I know you’re going to be stuck here for the next three hours. Because trains never come on time for you no matter what.”

Even in the middle of the nearly dead station, he was right. Every stop flashed to delayed .

“Then you’ll be robbed by someone on the train, and then you might even get spit on by the guy with the imaginary dog who’s afraid of whoever gets too close to it, and then you’ll get an eye infection.”

Katara wipes the snot at her nose. “So?”

“So?” He laughs, tucking his hands in his pockets. “I’ve lived a whole lifetime of bad luck, and I can’t let you do that for me.”

She lets him turn her to face him, lets him gather her up in his arms and hold her like she’s delicate and irreplaceable, and not just a girl with mascara running down her face and her heart stolen by someone she couldn’t love.

“Even in a lifetime of being shit out of luck, I still got the chance to meet you.”

“Zuko, stop.” Katara wipes at her tears. “Our luck will just get switched, and I always figure things out, I always do. But, I just want you to keep this. You put it to better use than I would’ve.”

Zuko shakes his head. “I don’t want it anymore.”

“I said that to my bladder infection, and that didn’t work. What makes you think that will work now?”

“I can live without it.” He smiles. “A few bumps and bruises are the price I’m willing to pay for you in my life.”

She’s blushing, hands coming up to bring his head closer to hers, to see every little detail of him.

“You’re so fucking stupid.” She whispers, millimeters away from his lips.

The grin splits on his face without his permission. “I am, yeah.”

#Zutara #Zuko #Katara #Zutara Week 2020 #Celestial #Day 4 #atla #avatar the last airbender #Zutara Week #Zutara fanfiction

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