#the one where someone doesn’t know who kevin day is
Text
SWEET
PAIRING lee juyeon x f!reader
WORD COUNT 4.61k
GENRES fluff ﹒ smut ﹒ minuscule bit of angst
WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, boy next door/neighbor au, reader was in a toxic-ish relationship, juyo is so cute and so sweet, until he’s kinda 😵💫 yk?, um kevin and changmin appearances, reader being absolutely irrevocably impossibly down bad for juyeon’s hands, so hand kink lol, making out, vaginal fingering, cum eating…. lol, they get a little sappy at the end
SUMMARY maybe this was for the better. maybe it was okay to let your guard down every once in a while, so long as it was always for your flirty neighbor.
MORE i would like to apologize for putting this out a day late… um i was really busy preparing for my enhypen concert so 😭 not a lot of writing was happening since there wasn’t enough brain juice flowing. anyways. ENJOY <3 pls rb if u did! (ALSO THANK U REESE AND @sungbeam FOR BETAING AND EDITING <<<3 i love y’all sm)
PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri
If there was one thing you took pride in, it was your keen sense of hospitality.
You’d been raised as the type of girl to always be welcoming when a new face arrived, to be that guiding light for them as they adjusted to all the changes in their life. When you were little, your mother taught you to introduce yourself first, because you never knew if that person was shy or not. Of course, there was the usual ‘Stranger Danger’ pep talk, but it differed greatly from the new friend pep talk.
The first time you exhibited this wonderful trait of yours was in middle school when the foreign student in your class was forced to stand at the front of the room. He wasn’t necessarily shy, but you could tell he didn’t really enjoy being put on the spot, hands behind his back as he said his name and where he was from.
Kevin Moon. Age 13. Vancouver, Canada.
The only empty desk in the classroom was the one beside yours, and that was the golden opportunity to become best friends with the new kid. As soon as he settled into his seat and class had resumed as normal, you leaned over slightly and cupped a hand over your mouth to whisper loud enough that he could hear.
“Hi! I’m Y/N!”
He gave you a small smile in return and from then on, you and Kevin Moon were the best of friends.
The second time you proved your kindness was your freshman year of college. It was still syllabus week, but your professor had sent out an email over the weekend with papers that needed to be printed and brought to class. The guy next to you didn’t get the memo, freaking out over already messing things up on the first day.
You didn’t know him at all, but you felt bad that he was so stressed. In turn, you decided to rip up your own papers. He looked at you like you were crazy, maybe because you were. What idiot does something like that?
You give him a warm smile. “There. Now we’re both missing it.”
All he can do is laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m Changmin.”
“Y/N.”
After that, Ji Changmin came to be another one of your closest friends. It was kind of silly that something your mother instilled in you at a young age had become such a big part of your life. It brought you people who you’d cherish forever. But it also brought people you wish you’d never met.
“Get the fuck out.”
“Y/N, babe, we can work through this—”
“Are you deaf?” Your tone raises and your feet carry you to the front door, swinging it open. “I said to get out of my apartment.”
“We’ve been together for three years. You’re not gonna fight for us?” He pleads, clasping his hands as he stands in front of you.
“Why would I? Why should I stay with someone who doesn’t value me enough to stay loyal?” You seethe, your anger growing in size the longer you glare at his pathetic face. The face of a man you thought would love you until death did you part.
“She meant nothing to me!” He tries to rationalize with you, but you won’t have any of it. You weren’t stupid and you sure as hell weren’t blind.
“Do you take me as a fucking fool, Daehyun? I’ve known for months that you weren’t ‘working late at the office’. She even DMed me and showed me screenshots of your messages. Now get out before I call the cops.” You’re so pissed off that you don’t even realize you’re crying, fat tears trickling down your hot cheeks.
“After all I’ve done for you and all I’ve given you? You’re gonna act like a bitch?” He drops the innocent boyfriend act, backing you into the doorframe.
“Leave, Daehyun.” You say flatly. You’re not gonna give him the satisfaction of crumbling beneath the weight of his words. You knew the truth, you knew what kind of person he truly was after all this time.
He scoffs, grabbing his jacket off the hook beside him and finally storming out of your apartment. You cover your mouth with your hand to muffle the sobs that so badly want to escape. You watch as he bumps shoulders with a stranger holding a box, thankfully not looking back at you.
You make eye contact with said stranger, eyes wide like a child who’d just gotten caught with their hands in a cookie jar. His eyes resemble those of your friends’ when you told them you’d found out about your boyfriend’s infidelity. You both stand there for a moment, an impromptu staring contest ensuing.
Quickly, you snap out of your trance, cowering into your apartment. You vaguely remember the elderly woman across the hall mentioning that someone was moving into the unit beside yours. She had never told you a specific date, though. Had you known it was today, you might’ve expedited the dramatic break-up with Daehyun.
How could you possibly introduce yourself to him after he witnessed that? And in your current state; snot-nosed and teary-eyed? There was no way. You’d just have to postpone that for another day. Hopefully he didn’t mind too much.
“Was he cute?”
“Kevin, why is that what you’re worried about?” Changmin’s mouth pulls into a thin line, smacking the slightly older male over the back of the head. He winces, caressing the spot to ease the pain.
“I wasn’t really paying attention to that when I had just shoved my cheating ex boyfriend out of my apartment,” you push around the ramyeon on your plate with your chopsticks. “I do feel terrible that he had to see that though. But how can I face him after that?”
Kevin taps his chin with his index finger, lips pursed in thought. “Why don’t you bake for him? Welcome him to the complex like the hospitable neighbor you are.”
“That’s not a half bad idea, actually.” Changmin nods, shoveling some rice onto his spoon. The Pisces deadpans and reclines in his chair.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Okay, enough bickering you two. I need you to finish eating so I can start planning what to bake.”
The third time you practice your mother’s life lesson, is the next evening when you’re face-to-face with your neighbor’s door.
Your hands have begun to clam up beneath the warm tupperware of cookies you were holding. Were you supposed to just knock on his door like everything was fine and dandy? What if he wasn’t even home? Maybe you should just leave the baked goods with a note and—
The door swings open to reveal the stranger from a few days ago. However, this time he also wears that expression of shock, cat-like eyes widened. Your mouth moves like fish out of water, not sure what you should say or how you should say it. So you don’t think and you just act, extending the tupperware towards him.
“H-Hi, I’m Y/N, I’m your neighbor,” your speech is a little shaky, but you’re too nervous to focus on that. “I— um— I baked these for you as a housewarming gift to welcome you to the complex. As well as an apology for making you a bystander in my messy breakup.”
His features relax as a smile inches its way onto his face, graciously accepting the treats you made for him. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that. And don’t even worry about it, I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“N-No, you’re fine, I swear! We shouldn’t have aired our dirty laundry so publicly like that. You did nothing wrong.” You wave your hands as if physically dismissing his words. He lets out a little chuckle that warms your chest.
“If it’s any consolation, I’m glad that you left the dude. He sounded like a total asshole,” your neighbor tucks the tupperware under his arm, leaning against the threshold of his apartment. “You seem too nice to settle for somebody like that. From what I’ve seen, of course.”
You don’t know why that has your heart skipping a beat like a high school girl. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he really was cute. He had a boyish charm to him, but not so much so that it overpowered how handsome he was. Kevin was going to have a field day with this information.
“Uh, thank you. I should be getting back to my place now. I have an early day at work tomorrow. Have a good night!” You clear your throat to kick yourself out of whatever stupor you were about to fall into, bowing. As you’re turning on your heel to make the ten foot trip to your own apartment, he calls out your name.
“I’m Juyeon, by the way.” He grins, waving as you push open your door.
“Now that is quite the interesting development.” Kevin snorts, helping himself to one of the raspberry filled donuts you’d just finished baking.
“If you keep eating my product, I’m gonna have to kick you out of the kitchen and out of my bakery,” you chide, swatting his hands away from the baker’s rack. “And how is that interesting in the slightest? I literally gave him the cookies, apologized, and that was that.”
“He was literally flirting with you, Y/N. Changmin, tell her I’m right. Apparently I’m no longer a voice of reason here.” He says through a full mouth.
“I mean, yeah? Kinda? Calling a girl nice is usually guy code for ‘I think you’re attractive and I could see myself sleeping with you’,” Changmin shrugs, tearing off a piece of Kevin’s donut. “But I also see where you’re coming from. You did just meet each other. He could’ve just been trying to console you in a way.”
“Why am I even friends with men when they’re useless?” You throw your head back, speaking to no one in particular.
Perhaps Kevin truly was overthinking the situation. Juyeon seemed to be a kind person who probably didn’t want any problems with his neighbors. It made sense why he’d side with you after witnessing your break up. Besides, the wounds were still too fresh to even consider thinking of anyone else in such a way. No matter how hot they may be…
You’d just have to wait and see for yourself. Only time could tell what would become of the nature of your relationship with your cute new neighbor.
You look insane with everything in your cart, filled to the brim with baking ingredients. It was around 10 PM and here you were, at the grocery store buying the things needed to make cinnamon rolls. Being a baker with a bit of a sweet tooth meant your cravings got a little out of hand at times, forcing you to make drastic decisions. (I.E. grocery shopping so late at night.)
Even your clothing choice was silly: flimsy pajama shorts with Care Bears patterned on them, a baggy t-shirt, and matching slippers. It’s not like anyone cared anyway. And it wasn’t like you were trying to impress anybody either.
But as you’re walking towards the registers, you start to regret your outfit. You very quickly spot your neighbor with a basket on his arm, waiting in line for self-checkout. You feel all the color drain from your face as you stand there, staring like an absolute idiot.
He’s dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants, a hoodie swallowing his figure. He looks so effortlessly good, it kind of makes you upset. Because how are you just now meeting a guy who’s both kind and attractive? As far as you were concerned, they didn’t exist in real life— they only existed in fairytales.
Juyeon looks up from his phone and catches your eye, his hand coming up to give you a little wave and one of those crinkly eye smiles that he does when you pass each other in the hall.
As the weeks have passed, you’ve seen him more and more than you deemed normal. You’d bump into each other on the way to or from picking up your mail, you’d hold the elevator for the other in record time, and you’d even leave your apartments at the same time. Now it appears you’re running into the guy at the supermarket, too. You tried to chalk it all up to coincidence, that you just both happened to be thinking on the same wavelength.
But shyly waving back to him right now reminds you that divine intervention had crazy ways of working its magic. Perhaps those had all just been openings for you to engage in something more with your cute neighbor. And there was only one way to find out.
You psych yourself up as you walk towards him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Juyeon’s smile grows wider as he notices you approaching. “Hey, stranger. What are you up to tonight?”
“Some late baking,” you giggle, wanting to punch yourself in the face for sounding like a goddamn school girl. “I was actually wondering if you’d like to come over and keep me company? Totally up to you of course! I just thought it might be nice to get to know each other properly.”
Your suggestion is what leads the two of you to meet back up at your apartment after purchasing your respective groceries. You attempt to tidy up as best you can while you wait for the knock at your door, setting out all the ingredients on the counter and preheating your oven.
The soft knock comes moments later and you find yourself practically running to open the door, grinning at the sheepish expression on Juyeon’s face. You allow him inside of your apartment, trailing after him into the kitchen. Part of you felt like you were moving on too fast after Daehyun. As a baker, your kitchen was your safe space. It was where you went when you needed to be alone and in the comfort of what you knew best. Kevin and Changmin were the only ones you trusted to be within that element. For you to let Juyeon in— to let him permeate the walls you’ve never let down before, not even with your ex— was brand new territory.
“I almost forgot you own a bakery,” Juyeon speaks up, fingers tracing along the stand mixer. “But seeing all this expensive equipment reminded me of that. It only makes sense that someone as sweet as you would constantly be around sweet treats.”
You fail to bite back your smile. Maybe this was for the better. Maybe it was okay to let your guard down every once in a while, so long as it was always for your flirty neighbor. He laughs when you nudge his shoulder, grabbing all the dry ingredients for the dough.
“On a scale of one to ten, how patient are you?” You ask, avoiding his eyes as you open the flour. The question was in regards to several things.
“I’d say about an eight or nine. Patience is a virtue, you know. It comes easily if you practice hard enough.” He answers, leaning against the counter and watching you.
You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in, searching for your measuring cups. Both you and Juyeon begin to measure out the dry ingredients, dumping them into the mixing bowl. You decide to let him take some of the reins, folding in the mixture of milk, egg, butter, and yeast. While he does that, you prepare the cinnamon sugar.
“I think I’m done. What do I do next?” He turns to you, head cocked to the side slightly. You might actually die of cuteness aggression. The duality of man would one day drive you to the brink of insanity.
“Now you just knead it until it’s smooth.” Your back is to him as you say this, putting away any refrigerated items so they don’t go bad. But as you face him again, you wish you hadn’t.
Your eyes zero in on his hands, kneading the dough with careful, nimble fingers. You feel light-headed as you slip into a spell, gawking at how long and slender they are, massaging the dough like an expert. How had you never noticed how big and pretty his hands were?
Maybe baking with Juyeon was a bad idea. You could barely focus on anything but his fingers pressing the under-construction-cinnamon rolls into the counter. Oh how badly you wanted to be that dough— his hands all over you, groping and massaging and kneading and caressing everywhere they could reach.
The veins running up his arms weren’t helping either, instead fueling the fire burning in the pit of your stomach. You feel your lips part, eyes glossed over with that all too familiar lustful intensity. You wouldn’t be surprised if you had to wipe away drool after this.
“Y/N?” Juyeon glances up from the dough, a little taken aback by your reverie. He follows your line of sight, grinning to himself smugly when he realizes what has you so transfixed. He’s finally found your weakness, and he couldn’t wait to dangle it over your head. Patience was a virtue, but perhaps it would be okay for him to dabble with a vice for once.
He pushes out the dough, using his thumbs to spread it into a rectangular shape. He feels his blood pressure rising the darker your eyes get. However, he’s aware that you just recently got out of a relationship. He wants to move at a pace you’re comfortable with. So he won’t take the first step. He has to leave that up to you.
It’s at a certain point that you come to, blinking to force away the dirty thoughts plaguing your mind. You travel your field of vision to his face, where you find him already looking at you. Your cheeks heat up in mortification from being caught red-handed. You were just gawking at the poor guy’s like they were a piece of fresh meat. This was terrible.
You swallow thickly, averting eye contact to grab the bowl of cinnamon sugar. “Uh, we can start forming the rolls now so they can rise. And then— um— and then we can make the glaze.”
The burn of his gaze on your profile has you tripping over your words, cinnamon sugar sprinkling onto the counter space surrounding and the knife almost slipping from your grip when you go to cut the dough. Juyeon catches it for you, wrapping his fingers around yours to guide your movements and keep them steady.
You feel his breath behind your ear, his chest pressed to your back. His hand is so much larger than your own, nearly covering it entirely. He doesn’t make an effort to move either, rolling the dough into swirl shapes along with you. The whole time this is happening, neither of you are saying a word, letting the silence consume you and the air around you.
As the rolls are rising/baking, you set up everything necessary for making the icing. Juyeon watches with hearts in his eyes as you whisk the sugar, cream cheese, vanilla, and butter in a separate bowl. He wonders how many other people you let see you in this setting. How many people get to see you do the thing you love so dearly?
“I’d like to visit your bakery sometime, if you wouldn’t mind,” Juyeon suddenly says, resting his elbows on the counter as you taste test the icing. “I wanna try all of the desserts you bake.”
“I’m opening later tomorrow morning actually,” you smile, humming in appreciation when the sweetness of the glaze hits your taste buds. “You can come with me to try the fresh batches before I put them out? I’ll warn you though, I get there at like six.”
“AM?” His eyes practically pop out of their sockets.
“Yes, AM.” You laugh, lightly shoving him backwards.
“I’ll put like ten alarms so I can make sure I’m up in time, then.” He pokes his cheek with his tongue, tipping his head to the side. The goofy smile on your face remains even after minutes have passed and the two of you are just waiting for the cinnamon rolls to finish baking.
It feels like hours have gone by with the two of you standing there when they’re finally ready. The ding of the oven has you springing into action, putting on some oven mitts and taking out the baking sheet. Juyeon's eyes light up and even though you’d just been losing your mind over how insane he was making you, you find yourself cooing at him.
He laughs as you grab a couple spare icing bags for the cinnamon roll glaze, filling them generously. You hand one over to him and decide to split the rolls evenly, icing one half yourself while he does the other. And for once, you think that tonight might end normally. You think that nothing eventful will happen and you’ll just ice the cinnamon rolls without problems.
But you were wrong, like always.
“Ah, shit—”
You glance up from the roll you were glazing to see what the fuss was about. Juyeon’s icing bag tore somehow, the sticky topping getting all over his hand. Truly, you were no better than a man, with the filthy thoughts inhabiting your brain almost instantaneously.
He brings his hand up to his mouth, licking the glaze off the back of his hand and wrapping his lips around his thumb. You felt dizzy, drunk on the sight of your extremely attractive neighbor doing something so sensual without even trying to. You bite your lip, accidentally dropping your own icing bag due to lack of attention.
Juyeon smirks slightly, relishing in the way it takes absolutely nothing to hypnotize you with his hands alone. He really tried to keep himself contained. He really wanted you to extend the first olive branch, but he knows you’re apprehensive. So just this once, he tells himself that it’s okay to initiate, to give you a little push in the right direction.
He takes a step closer to you, caging you against the counter. You stare up at him with wide, doe eyes, as if you were completely innocent despite the naughty images flashing behind them. Juyeon brings his thumb up to your lips, the pad of it still covered in icing.
“Think you could clean this up for me?” He asks, voice low and husky. You could actually combust with that all on its own.
Just like your formal introduction, you don’t give yourself the time to think, and act, instead, running your tongue along the length of his thumb. Juyeon doesn’t restrain the groan in the back of his throat, holding your face in his hands and pulling you in for a kiss.
You reciprocate immediately, fisting his hoodie like it was the only thing capable of stabilizing you. Maybe it was, with the way Juyeon’s lips synchronized with yours and his fingers tangled in your hair. You thought the ground would swallow you whole and wake you up from this dream. On what planet did someone like Lee Juyeon like a girl like you?
His hands slide down your body, groping everything in their path desperately before cupping under your thighs and lifting you onto the counter. He knocks the baking sheet of cinnamon rolls out of the way, palms rubbing up and down the sides of your legs. You want more, so much more, but you’re afraid to ask. You’re afraid to start something you’re not even sure you can emotionally handle.
Juyeon senses your hesitation, detaching from you momentarily. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want. I understand if you still need time.”
“N-No, I want this— I want you— I'm just… scared.” You breathe, your forehead using his shoulder for support.
“I'm not him, Y/N. I can give you the world if you’d let me. I’d never do what he did to you, that’s a promise.” He holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, kissing the crown of your head.
“Okay,” you nod, smiling up at him. “I trust you, Juyeon.”
You reconnect your lips as his fingers slip beneath your pajama shorts, toying with the waistband of your panties. His lips curl up when he feels you squirm, legs parting to make more room for him in the middle of them. You sigh, body shuddering when he drags his knuckle down your clothed slit.
Juyeon hooks his fingers into your shorts and underwear, hauling them down your legs. You place your hands behind you to brace yourself, a shiver trailing your spine when the cool air of your apartment hits your warm core. He groans again at the sight of you bare for him, using two fingers to spread your lower lips.
“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he swears, his thumb slowly circling your clit.
You whine, tossing your head back as he applies more pressure. Bit by bit, you begin to lose yourself to the pleasure of Juyeon’s gorgeous hands. Soon the stimulation on your clit amplifies when he adds another finger, thrusting it in and out of your entrance. He curls deep inside of you, like he was reaching for something he’d left.
One finger turns to two, and before you know it, Juyeon’s openly finger fucking you on the counter. He leans over your body to keep your lips together, kissing you sloppily while all his focus is on drawing you to the edge. You can almost taste it, your saccharine release in your field of vision now.
It’s a little embarrassing how quickly he was able to wind you up and trip you over the edge, but you feel too euphoric to care. You pause in your kiss to look down at his handy work. (No pun intended.) It makes your head feel foggy and your vision blurry to see his deft fingers fucking you open, veins bulging, like he’d done this many times before. Your hooded eyes follow them up his forearms, a whine escaping your lips.
A particular curl of his fingers and circle of his thumb have you clenching around him, creaming like you’d never had an orgasm in your life. He doesn’t slow his assault, bringing you down just to put you back up on that summit once again. The overstimulation has you cumming a second time in a matter of what felt like seconds, whimpers becoming voluminous moans.
Juyeon kisses you softly, gently pulling out his fingers to lick them clean like he did with the cinnamon roll glaze. A choked groan bubbles past your mouth, tossing an arm over your eyes. He laughs, towing you to the edge of the counter.
He brushes some stray hairs out of your face, moving your arm to smile dopily at you. “I hope you know I was being serious about the whole treating you better thing. If you’ll give me the chance.”
“I know. I told you I trust you, remember?” You nip at the inside of your cheek. His eyes crinkle up like they tend to do when he’s smiling so genuinely. It forces the wind out of you, because how could you ever get used to a sight so stunning?
“You’re so cute.” He laughs, kissing all around your face and smushing your cheeks together.
“Juyeon,” you mumble. “I’m half naked…”
“Even better,” he grins, pecking the tip of your nose. “Makes it that much easier to do all of the other things I wanna do to you.”
© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.
#the boyz#the boyz x reader#the boyz smut#tbz#tbz x reader#tbz smut#the boyz juyeon#tbz juyeon#lee juyeon x reader#lee juyeon smut#juyeon x reader#juyeon smut#juyeonszn#fawntober.2023🎃
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Fluent Freshman - Part 19
PREVIOUS
There’s a couple things about FF that might be good to know at this point.
1. There are few things in the world he hates doing more than asking for clarification or admitting he doesn’t understand / know something. The thought of going up to someone and admitting that he hasn’t perfectly comprehended the situation upon the first explanation is something makes his stomach twist like he’d just eaten Mango-Habanero ice cream.
He has figured out his own math theorems in the pursuit of not having to ask the math teacher to explain he doesn’t understand. He got lost in an Ikea once for over 6 grueling hours where he considered making a home there and living among the display rooms until his grandma grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to safety (the food court) and let him regain his strength (eat Swedish meatballs). He, to this day, is not sure about one of his foreign language friend’s names (how embarrassing he just keeps waiting for someone else to say it but they go by some insane nickname).
So he has become a master of piecing shit together on his own. He sometimes gets it wrong (Andrew, god how embarrassing) but for the most part 8 times out of 10 he can get to the right answer if he just has a couple pieces to work with. No one had ever actually explained to him how Exy works and he was too embarrassed to ask after the third week of practice in middle school so he just pieced together what he was and was not allowed to do through the art of trial and error. He’s even mostly pieced out the rules for the other positions.
So with the information he has gotten through people being bound and determined to talk in foreign languages in front of him he has an idea about the tenuous situation some of the older Foxes find themselves in.
He’s heard Kevin Day and Jean Moreau talk in French.
He’s heard that the anxiety in both of their voices as they talked about their futures and owing 80% of their salaries to the ‘Moriyamas’ and how nervous they were about getting on professional teams or else they’d be killed.
Captain Neil and Andrew are not always using Russian to talk dirty.
He’s heard Andrew soothe Captain Neil’s worries about playing for a professional team. He’s heard Captain Neil mention that at least ‘Ichirou’ would likely just kill him and not make a game out of it like his father did.
Organized Crime might have more to do with Exy than FF had originally thought.
(He had thought it. Plenty of times he had thought it but his Gran had warned him that he was overthinking things. That he wasn’t playing a sport invented by the Mafia. That he had caffeinated coffee instead of decaf. “It’s going to be okay sweetie. Just take a deep breath.”)
This leads into the second thing you should know at this point.
2. Before he had signed with Wymack he had known the broad strokes of Captain Neil’s life. There had been a lot of news articles about it and Gran (bless her) loved trashy gossip magazines.
After he had signed with the Foxes he had done a bit of a deep dive on as many of their controversies as he could find. There’d been things from brawls on the court (worrying), player overdoses (concerning), a straight up MURDER (Oh god), and the very public breaking of the King of Exy’s arm resulting in his suicide (Warranted, that wacko was going to take off Captain Neil’s HEAD.)
But the thing that had made him actually a little bit, dare he admit, excited to go to Palmetto was the fact that Captain Neil was there.
For someone who froze for almost a decade, who just took it and didn’t have the balls to even react? Neil Josten is an inspiration.
This is someone who got away, who lived a life completely unlike FF’s, someone who knew how to run and more impressively someone who learned how to FIGHT. Captain Neil was being hunted but he still ripped people to shreds in interviews. Captain Neil was probably more scared of the Butcher than FF had been of anything in his entire life but Captain Neil was way braver than FF could ever hope to be.
Captain Neil was taken and tortured but he still fought. FF had seen the scars and Captain Neil is right to wear them proudly (though based on some conversations he has unfortunately overheard he is sure Andrew may have a role in Neil’s positive feelings about them).
FF had thought that he was being lead to his death down in a basement of a club (Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t-) and he just trailed right behind the two of them without even an illusion of a fight.
Neil Abram Josten was a bit of a personal hero.
He’s proud to call him Captain Neil. He wishes Andrew hadn’t been there when Greg had mentioned wanting autographs because FF wants an autograph from Captain Neil but now Andrew has probably mentioned it to Neil.
Long story short, FF had looked into a lot of details on Captain Neil’s case.
Including two of the Butcher’s top men who were still on the loose.
Romero Malcolm and Jackson Plank.
He keeps his presence low but no matter how many times he blinks the man grumbling in Italian next to him continues to be Romero Malcolm.
Moreover Romero Malcolm continues to grumble about the fact that he is having a hard time finding ‘Nathaniel’ and that he’ll have to grab one of ‘The Wesninski brat’s friends’ to draw him out.
FF is a recently confirmed friend of Captain Neil.
FF who is standing next to this man, with his dick out, and trying to remain as invisible as possible.
After two shakes (Yes he was watching but only because he had to! He wonders briefly if he goes to the FBI if they would accept a description of Romero Malcolm’s penis for the wanted poster? Probably not but it is BURNED into his retinas.)
He watches as Romero tucks, zips, and then bypasses the sink entirely.
FF shivers at how unhygienic that is. Who RAISED him?
The door shuts and FF needs to get out of here ASAP but his hands are shaking with the sudden adrenaline of ’One of the FBI’s Most Wanted just took a piss next to me and is looking for me friend’. He pulls his phone from his pocket and ducks into one of the stalls. Even if there’s no door it’ll at least FEEL a little safer, a little more private. He needs to warn Neil, Warn Andrew, and warn-
The door to the bathroom SLAMS open and music blares in (palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy-) and his phone slips out of his hands and into the toilet. There are footsteps coming towards him and FF digs deep.
He’s in ultra stealth mode. He is the wall behind the wallpaper. Mantis shrimp can only dream of the color he becomes, the United States military have the CIA on the look out for him because he’s fallen off all conventional forms of radar and tracking.
He is a bargain fruit platter on a dessert table at a kid’s birthday party.
He is ULTRA stealth.
Romero’s gaze glides over him.
Then the man leaves (STILL DID NOT WASH HIS HANDS).
His heart is hammering in his chest but he manages to reach down and grab his phone. Well, Coach Wymack had gotten the extended warranty at least. (“Do you know what these fuckers do to phones? Josten crushed his last year in a fight with the Baseball team captain.”)
His phone’s extended dip into the toilet water had not done it any favors in working properly.
Well fuck.
He wipes his phone down the best he can. He wipes his phone down with some toilet paper before cramming it into his pocket (Sorry Nicky, he’ll wash the toilet water pants if they survive).
He sees a flyer on the wall of the bathroom and starts to think of a plan.
He rushes out of the bathroom (he still washes his hands because he will not have something in common with a man on the FBI’s most wanted list and he just dipped his hand into a CLUB TOILET) and clocks Nicky’s wild arm movements and WORSE clocks Romero just 10 clubbers away.
He sees Romero’s eyes lock onto Nicky and a smile that terrifies him.
He’s out of Ultra Stealth Mode even if every atom in his body wants to run.
He is so stressed and panicked that he has gone beyond his body’s ability to process that so all that is left is determination. He’s got a head full of a half-baked plan, a hand going to his pocket, a second hand on the only ‘weapon’ he has on him, and a stomach full of acid.
He’s pulling his phone out of his pocket before he can really let himself think about it and walking up next to where Romero is standing. He holds his toilet water phone up to his ear and does the one weird social anxiety thing that he had never done before.
He pretends to be on a phone call.
“Hey Captain Neil,” he says and in the corner of his eye he can see Romero’s gaze shift from Nicky (surrounded by an adoring public, covered in sweat and therefore difficult to grab - a difficult target) to himself (alone, shorter, and probably looking like he’s about to pass out). “Yeah I think I’m going to take a break outside after I grab quick drink and then a water at the bar.” He says because he has to be the easier target and he has to go to the bar. “Yeah, yeah, okay I’ll mention it to that bartender guy.” He says and pretends to hang up.
He turns and he walks towards the bar and feels his pulse in his throat go to the beat of the music (success is my only motherfucking option, failure’s not).
He only knows about the alley because in the car ride to Sweetie’s Nicky had mentioned that he wouldn’t let FF’s first time be out there. He had been embarrassed but it was the only way he knew to get Romero out of the club and away from where he could hurt Captain Neil or anyone else in the pursuit of that.
He spots the bartender who had gotten the drinks for their table and his mind completely blanks on the name but the bartender sees him and smiles. “Oh you’re Neil and Andrew’s new friend! What can I help you with? I thought you were-“
“Hi, yes I am Captain Neil and Andrew’s friend.” He says a little loudly because he can feel Romero behind him and he does NOT want the man to know anything about where Captain Neil was.
“Captain Neil? Oh wow that’s adorable.” The man gushes. “What can I help you with? I won’t ask for ID for one of their friends.” He winks.
“I’d like to order the uh…” he tries to remember the exact drink name from the flyer, “…the deluxe chocolate martini?” He asks and knows he got it right when the bartender’s expression shifts ever so slightly.
“Oh yeah, how do Andrew and Neil feel about that?” He asks and oh great a coded conversation. It’s nice to actually be having a real one of these for once instead of just perceiving normal conversations to have hidden meanings.
“They don’t know. They probably prefer that I order it instead of Nicky or Aaron.” He lets his eyes dart to the wide where he believes Romero is watching him.
“I don’t know if that’s true.” The bartender says, “Nicky knows how to handle a drink and Aaron’s not a lightweight either.” He adds.
FF struggles to find a coded way to say ‘It’s not that someone’s hitting on me too hard like the flyer mentioned. It’s that there’s a mafia hitman in your club.’
Finally after a moment, “It’s not the usual kind of drink they get.” He tries and the bartender looks confused by the statement, dammit. He struggles to find a different way to say it before the bartender smiles.
“Y’know you’re really cute.” He reaches under the bar top and grabs a piece of paper and a pen. “How about you write down your number for me cutie? We can meet up sometime.” He says. “I’ll get started on that chocolate martini for you.” He says.
HE COULD KISS THIS MAN.
“I’d like that.” He says.
He writes out a quick message on the small note paper.
‘Armed. After Neil. Looked at Nicky. I’m going to the back alley. Phone is dead.’
The bartender comes back and looks at his note. “We’re out of chocolate martini mix, can I get you something-“ He hopes the club lighting obscures how pale the man got, “something else?” He asks and FF can SEE his pulse.
“Can I just get some water then?” He asks.
The bartender nods and pulls up his phone and hopefully is dialing the police and hands FF a water. His hand grabs hold of FF’s “You don’t need to go out into the alley. You could hang in the backroom with me?” He offers.
There really are some kind people in the world.
“I think it’s better if I’m not in here for a bit.” He says back and honestly he needs this kindness and he has a spare bit of courage, “What’s your name by the way? Sorry I missed it.” He says.
The bartender swallows, “It’s Roland.” He says.
“Thanks Roland.” He twists the cap off of the water bottle and takes a sip.
He turns and pretends not to notice how Romero is trying to be inconspicuous pretending to be on his phone.
He makes his way over to the alley door and notices that Romero is tracking his movements but is not following him like he did to the bar.
His heart is pounding and he can’t BELIEVE he’s doing this. He wants to run, wants to hide somewhere, wants to become imperceptible but…but…
He opens the door to the alley as the bass of the remixed song finishes.
(You can do anything you set your mind to, man)
He lets the door slam behind him and he is alone in the alley.
He was not expecting a van to come to a screeching halt in front of the entrance and for a different face to appear climbing out of the car.
Jackson Plank.
FF looks at the ugly smile on the man as he walks towards him with a knife in hand.
Okay now what genius?
MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU
NEXT
5/26/23: EDITED. Can’t believe I forgot to put the Captain in front of Neil’s name on the meme. I’m blaming the accidental early awakening.
Per your requests:
@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie
@theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lillyndra @themugglemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream @azure-wing @bushbees @roonilwazlib-main @crumplelush @foldedaces-paperbirds @thesenseinnonsense @let-tyrants-fear @ketchupfriesandallthingsnice @legowerewolf @deadlydodos @but-we-respect-his-craft @cariniqe @zanypersonapricotbiscuit
The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.
As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?
Lillyndra it worked this time!!!
#Fluent Freshman AU#Is it a songfic chapter if it's only 3 lines? Experts aren't sure#Did I listen to lose yourself a lot while writing this chapter? Perhaps#If Nora mentioned something about Jackson or Romero in her extras I did not read it#Also gonna be honest here and state that I forgot the likely year that AFTG happened in and this is happening in 2010#So I guess this AU also involves a slight time shift#Andrew and Neil may have gotten lost in one another's eyes a bit down in the speakeasy#Really they're just being polite to get all of their PDA out of the way while FF is taking what might be the piss of a lifetime.#(They have no idea how accurate that might be)#Andrew is all set to kiss one of his favorite of Neil's freckles (yes he has ordered them from favorite to lesser favorite)#Then his phone goes off#He looks and it's Roland#Andrew: WTF is Roland trying to call me?#Nicky is busy being the Dancing Queen. If someone plays ABBA he will absolutely scream rn#I had considered a whole sequence of FF trying to get Nicky and Aaron to the safety of the backroom in Eden's#And Nicky just keeps reappearing on the dancefloor while FF is looking for Aaron#I was gonna use that simpsons meme where Moe throws out Barney and then Barney is just right back in the bar#But it got a little too crazy#But just know in this AU Nicky is canonically an excellent escape artist#Maybe Erik went through a bit of a magician phase and Nicky was DELIGHTED to be asked to be his assistant#Maybe that's how they got together#The inherent ROMANCE of magician and assistant#I don't remember if they ever really said in the books or nora's content#If I'm rambling because I forgot to shut off my alarm (Memorial Day 4-day weekend baby)#The fate of FF's phone may have been caused by some slight anger towards my own#RIP FF's Wymack phone (July 2010 - November 2010)#AFTG#AFTG AU#Andreil#FF - Pt.19
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Right Person, Wrong Time
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader, Sam Winchester x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~1.1k
Warnings: angst, marrying someone you're not in love with, feeling sad at your wedding
Summary: Spencer had half a decade to confess his feelings for you but never did. You moved on to someone who loves you for you, who treats you like a queen, and who takes care of you. Spencer has one more chance to tell you how he feels before you're married, but does he take it?
Square Filled: sam winchester (spnxcm crossover) for @fandombingo
Author’s Note: this is a supernatural x criminal minds crossover
x
This should be the happiest day of your life. You should be celebrating with your bridesmaids, drinking champagne, and having a good time together. They are, you aren’t. You’re standing on the small platform in front of the three-piece mirror staring at yourself in your wedding dress while your bridesmaids are sitting in the middle of the room having a good time.
JJ, Penelope, Emily, Charlie, Jo, and Eileen have no clue what you’re feeling right now. They expect happiness, happy tears, and being jittery for your upcoming wedding. Instead, you’re thinking about how you got here and if there was anything you could have done differently.
The man you’re marrying today isn’t the one you truly want to marry.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” JJ asks when she notices you staring into the void.
“Nothing,” you snap out of it. “Is everyone here?”
Since JJ is your maid of honor, she is in charge of making sure everything goes smoothly for you. She grabs the clipboard and looks over the roster.
“Spencer hasn’t checked in.”
That makes your heart twist painfully.
“Well, we can’t wait for him to show up. The show must go on!” Charlie declares, earning agreement from the other women.
Someone knocks on the door and Derek pops his head in.
“The music is starting. Time to go.”
All of your bridesmaids have one of your fiance’s groomsmen to walk down the aisle with. JJ is with Will, Penelope is with Kevin, Charlie is with Dean, Eileen is with Castiel, Jo is with Spencer, and Emily is with Derek. Spencer isn’t here to walk Jo down the aisle but she doesn’t seem all that worried.
“Don’t worry, I’ll go find Rossi,” she says and leaves the room.
Everyone shuffles out of the room to get ready but you stay where you are by the mirror. You’re marrying such an amazing man who loves you for you. You should be happy right now. Derek closes the door behind him and walks up behind you so he can look at you through the reflection.
“Are you doing okay?”
You bite your lower lip to keep yourself from crying. If there is anyone who knows how you’re feeling, it’s Derek. He’s your best friend. You tell him everything.
“Spencer isn’t here,” you whisper.
“No, no tears. You’re marrying Sam.”
“I know,” you nod.
You’d rather be marrying Spencer instead. For years, you’ve pined after Spencer. It started when you first got hired into the BAU and he showed you around for a whole week. He knew you had a thing for him even though you never outright told him you did. It was all in the little things you did for him like you’d make his coffee every morning, you’d compliment him more than the other ladies, you’d do anything to keep a smile on his face, and you’d bring him presents whenever you were thinking about him.
He never did anything with that information. He knew you had a thing for him but never made a move.
One day, you were working a case and ran into Sam and Dean Winchester who were on the same case but as hunters. Sam was the perfect gentleman and treated you with nothing but respect. He never did this before, but he asked for your number because he had to keep in touch with you even when he and Dean left for another case. At first, you were skeptical because you were so hung up on Spencer.
After the first date with Sam, you saw him as someone you could have feelings for. The more you went on dates with him, the more you started to like who he was as a person. Spencer still hadn’t made a move on you so what is the harm in moving forward with your relationship with such an amazing man?
After the first year, you allowed yourself to really love Sam. When Sam asked you to marry him, you had to say yes. Spencer was nowhere near confessing his feelings for you and you’re sick and tired of waiting for something that might happen. He loves you, he treats you like a queen, and you really do love him.
You’re just not in love with him. You’re in love with Spencer but the last thing you’re gonna do is tell him and Sam about this. If Spencer loved you in the way you did, he would have confessed to you a long time ago.
So, here you are on your wedding day and Spencer isn’t even here.
You prepare yourself and head to the double doors where your dad is patiently waiting for you. The bridesmaids and groomsmen have already walked down the aisle so now they’re all eagerly waiting for you.
“Are you ready?” your dad asks.
“More than ever.”
Your smile doesn’t quite reach your ears. The music starts and your dad walks you down the aisle. Sam smiles widely when he sees you, and his eyes hold so much love for you. It’s really unfair how you’re feeling. Sam is such an amazing man who loves you and you should be happy to marry him. You are but knowing Spencer isn’t here makes this less than what it is.
You meet Sam at the front of the altar and smile up at him. The minister begins the ceremony. It goes as smoothly as possible until he gets to the part where people can object.
“Speak now if you object, or forever hold your peace.”
You scan the room at all of your guests. All of them are happy you’re marrying someone you absolutely love. There in the back is Spencer who must have come in after the ceremony started. He’s watching you with red eyes like he’d been crying. You lock eyes with him and question if he’s going to say anything.
He doesn’t.
The minister moves on and finishes the ceremony quickly.
“Sam Winchester, you may now kiss the bride.”
Sam pulls you in and kisses you just as the entire room erupts in cheers. Everyone but Spencer claps happily for the newlywed couple. Everyone moves to the reception area to enjoy good food, good music, and each other’s company.
“Everyone, may I present to you, Sam and Y/N Winchester. Make way for the first dance.”
Everyone clears the dancefloor so you and Sam can have this special moment to yourselves. Sam pulls you in close and slow dances to the song you picked as “Your Song”. Sam twirls you in his arms and pulls you in close to his chest. You look up at him and smile widely to show him how happy you are with him.
You put your head on his chest and look by the snack table to see Spencer standing there watching you and Sam dance with such sad eyes. You quickly look away from him and enjoy the moment you’re in.
There’s a soulmate for everyone but sometimes not everyone gets to be with them.
x
Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#sam winchester#sam winchester x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#sam winchester fanfiction#spencer reid f#sam winchester fanfic#spencer reid angst#sam winchester fluff#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#criminal minds angst#supernatural fluff#cm#cm fanfiction#spn#spn fanfiction#cm angst#spn fluff
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til’ the day i die
yoo jeongyeon x gn!reader // fluff
being with yoo jeongyeon is as settled as you’re ever going to get.
you have everything someone settled for the rest of their life should have: a home to crawl back to when you’re done taking han’s money down at the riverfront, a business that makes more money than any other place in town, a kid who looks up at you to learn how to throw a baseball, and a woman who waits up for you until the morning.
settled never sounded so good; never sounded this way when your sister would write home about her married life.
jeongyeon looks up from behind the counter, her brow furrowed and her mouth forming what you’re sure to be another “y/n y/l/n, if i catch you…” lecture. you smile and dip under the countertop, sliding up next to jeongyeon, taking the pie plate out of her hands.
“what are you doing?”
you just give jeongyeon your best devil-may-care grin and trap the taller woman against the counter, seeing jeongyeon’s eyes flash in the solitary light near the door.
night has settled and you have settled in yoo jeongyeon’s home, content to put away your tendenices and instincts telling you to run until jeongyeon gives you a reason to pull them out again, which doesn’t seem likely until eternity is over.
“i might love you ‘til the day i die,” you whisper, the darkness swallowing your words as soon as they leave your lips.
jeongyeon’s mouth quirks up and she smiles at you like she knew that already. fingers slide around your waist, grabbing at your shirt.
it doesn’t feel like you’re being held back down because you know you could break the hold any time you want; know that jeongyeon holds all the cards, but she lets you play them; know that you can leave but you can always come back.
yoo jeongyeon won’t ever hold you back, and you’re not planning on letting go any time soon.
///
being with you is as free as yoo jeongyeon is ever going to get.
her whole life has been constructed in concrete, with set plans and instructions to be followed and men to obey, but you, her lover, have picked the lock around her heart and set her at the edge of wild and told her to find her way back.
she stumbled and fell behind and skinned her knee a time or two, trying to follow your pace, but you always circled back and picked her up; always made sure jeongyeon knew the way back to the beaten path, if she wanted to turn around.
jeongyeon wanted to tell you, “you’re beating down a path in front of me. i’ll follow that one,” but the words get lost in between glances over plates drowning in barbeque sauce, poorly shed tears for jinhyun and his lost limb, and han’s yells for you to stop cheating him out of his money, so she stops trying to say it and starts showing it instead, in lingering kisses and running when she knows she would have walked, just so you know.
“what are you doing?” she asks, not expecting a forward answer anyway. you just grin at her; the grin that makes her forget about why you’re lying about kevin, or swearing during church services, or letting the alcoholics desperate for a drink have a swig of the flask beneath the counter, or even how ridiculous it is to bury a little boy’s arm.
freedom was a mythical idea she used to dream about at night, something that had no place in her world of structure and safety, but you insisted on it: jumping out of trains, walking through bees, running from her husband, lying under oath, taking risks where she would usually not. freedom was just a dream until a vagabond with wild hair crept out of the forest and showed her how to live.
you step closer and jeongyeon is pinned against the counter, the cool glass of pie containers against her arms.
“i might love you ‘til the day i die,” she feels against her cheek.
she slides her hands around your waist, fingers slipping under your shirt and smiles, because she knows; she feels the same.
you may go running off sometimes — “i’m a free spirit,” you tell everyone whoever asks — but you always reach back, take jeongyeon’s hand, and bring her along for the ride.
🥺 fluff.
#kpop x reader#kpop imagines#twice x reader#twice imagines#twice jeongyeon x reader#twice jeongyeon imagines#yoo jeongyeon x reader#yoo jeongyeon imagines#girl group imagines#gxg imagines#kpop#twice#twice jeongyeon#yoo jeongyeon#jeongyeon#girl group#gxg
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Requested by: @the-tales-of-ren
“Could you also maybe do another one later on where he catches Angela being mean to the reader and he sticks up for her something?”
————————————————————————
David Sticks Up For You (David Wallace x Reader)
It has been a stressful week so far. Your mind was occupied by the memories of the tragedy you experienced at your university campus many years back and dealing with such incredible losses of your friends. Although you took a few days off and went back to work, your mind is still somewhere else. You were on autopilot as you do your usual routine, writing in numbers on your general ledger.
You weren’t dumb, in fact, you’re a really good accountant, unlike Kevin. You always tried your best to put in your efforts to carefully calculate because numbers don’t lie and one small mistake, everything is messed up. Which is why you were confused when Angela suddenly stormed to you with a disappointed look on your face.
“Y/N, you were supposed to write in 500, and you wrote in 5,000 on the general ledger. Now I have to make a second entry to correct it. What is wrong with you?”
“Oh, I-I’m sorry, Angela, I didn’t mean to… I’ll try to focus more,” You stammered, even though you knew Angela isn’t very forgiving when it comes to accounting errors.
“Maybe I misjudged you. You’re not as diligent as I thought you were.” You felt a little hurt because you tried so hard, yet you knew better that even the best can sometimes screw up. And you wish you have the courage to stand up to the rightly wounded accountant.
As she continues berating you, you noticed a figure from your peripheral vision approaching you, and you recognized that to be David Wallace.
Although you knew David for about a few months since he was hired as a CFO of Dunder Mifflin, you can tell he’s a down to earth guy, even if you don’t see him that often since he works in New York, which is three hours away from Scranton, Pennsylvania. And you’re trying your best to deny it, but you can’t help but feel a little attraction towards the man. You excused it to be someone you’d look for in your significant others, someone who’s there for you during your hardships, especially intense one at that.
“Excuse me, but did I hear you say that Y/N isn’t good at her job?” David asked, his hands placed on his hips.
“She miscalculated the general ledger and now I had to redo the whole thing!” Angela exclaimed.
“That doesn’t excuse you from talking down on her. From what I’ve seen, she does an excellent job at keeping track of the financial position of this company. And yes, she will make mistakes without intention. We all do, because you never know what goes through the person’s mind at that moment.” The last sentence pulled your heartstrings because little does David know, that was your case.
Angela scoffed and walked back to her desk. David turned to you.
“I’m sorry about that. Are you okay?” He asked softly.
You gulped and nodded, not being able to produce words. An almost inaudible “thank you” is all you can do to get your message across.
David smiled warmly before digging into his jacket inner pocket and pulled out his business card with his personal number written on the back.
“Keep in touch and keep up the good work,” he said as he handed you the card. You gingerly accepted it and nodded, partly in disbelief and happiness that the handsome CFO cares enough about you to make sure you were straight… maybe leading into something more.
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Just saw your chapter titles on instagram. LOVE. Which was the easiest to name? Which was the most difficult? Do you have a favorite? Does it coincide with your favorite chapter?
thank god someone finally asked me about the chapter titles, i’m erecting the Church of Our Lady She Gets It in your honor as soon as i’m done talking A Lot about this
easiest:
(8) “anatomy of a porn title” came to me before i even had the concept of this book. milo’s experiences working at the store are almost 100% my own, and one of my most memorable days was when i had to process 200+ dvds (this involved a lot of scanning, stickers, and organization). so i’d had this one in my back pocket for a while.
when i finally had a grasp on the story i wanted to tell around my personal sex shop chronicles, (1) “a crisis of sexual identity” was the easy-breeziest chapter title, because it captured the Point i wanted to make.
writing a demisexual romance, even being demi myself, is… not super easy? especially because i wanted to play with the idea of love at first sight, which is so often conflated with lust, and that just doesn’t work the same when you’re on the asexual spectrum.
so much of this book is about being queer and how our labels, however liberating, can also be suffocating, because—particularly in the age of social media expectations—we become so preoccupied with being queer The Right Way. and there is no goddamn Right Way, but we’re pressured into these kinds of performances, and then before you know it your priority is appeasing some dickweed on the internet who says m/f relationships can’t be queer, instead of your own happiness.
so, we start with milo’s crisis and we follow him through the journey of realizing that, hey, actually, this ain’t so bad.
hardest:
(4) “sick of dating apps, just gonna pygmalion myself a boyfriend” and (9) “the epic highs and lows of grocery store music” both went through several iterations, none of which i can remember now because mostly they were Fine, but they just didn’t pop.
when i landed on (4)’s, honestly i was a little miffed at myself for taking so long because that’s a phrase i made up and use a lot, so i should’ve had the chapter title from the get-go.
stevie’s story starts off with agitation with her dating app experience, which she worries is coloring her first impression of milo because he was nice to her and easy to talk to in ways that app matches aren’t—and then, BAM, he shows up to the bar where she’s sitting there thinking about him and proves her first impression right, as if she manifested him into existence.
now if only i could do the same thing for myself… that’s the dream, babyyyy.
favorite title vs favorite chapter:
i think both have to be (5) “how many degrees of separation are there between kevin bacon and your love life?”
there are several sociological concepts that have stuck with me since college (probably because the head of the department, who was the best dude but also the most notoriously ruthless grader, wanted me to major in soc, and i’m a sucker for a compliment). “six degrees of separation”—the idea that every person is connected to every person through no more than six other people—has a celebrity counterpart, “six degrees of kevin bacon,” which posits that you can trace every actor to kevin bacon.
i am a little bit obsessed with this, because the separation/kevin bacon rhyme alone is so deliciously SERENDIPITOUS, it blows my mind.
for milo and stevie, (5) is the moment where they realize the friends they’ve had in common for ~2 years, and it’s really only been timing that’s kept them from meeting until now (and the timing was a little tricky for me to sort out, too, but i’m happy with how i got there).
sometimes you just keep missing people until it’s Meant for you to run into each other, and i think there’s something deeply romantic about those prior missed connections. there’s a sense of “i could have been loving you longer, but maybe, this way, i get to love you better.”
and, even though milo doesn’t Love stevie yet at this point in the story, his pov in this chapter is circling this conclusion.
thank you SO MUCH for this ask, may love and light bless you for all time, forever and ever and etc. amen 💞✨
(if you’ve happened across this little ditty and want to know more about what’s your vibe?, here’s a link!)
#book tag: wyv#ask#authors on tumblr#indie author#chapter titles#writeblr#romance books#comedy books#queer author#queer romcom#queer romance#demisexual#asexual spectrum
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Hi phone friends 🖖🏻 I am still here. @eightwaters sent me a nice message and I figured I will post what I’ve been up to for the last month. I’m back at the hospital I worked at last fall and it’s pretty great. It’s probably the best place I’ve worked and I just want to be a seasonal employee until kevin retires and we can move here full time. There was one “mean girl” last year who’s gone now and for the most part everyone is super nice. I have a lot of friends here and it’s just beautiful and I love that I can climb and or be outside on my days off. Kevin is struggling with things right now, and he is someone that doesn’t ever want to talk about his ~feelings~ so that’s the one thing that has been hard to watch. I’m trying to support him and I admit at times I haven’t been the best at it. It’s just hard to watch the person you love work so hard for things only for them to ruin it for themselves. Otherwise I’m just going through the motions of vanlife. Instagram makes it look so glamorous but it’s also a lot of sleeping in parking lots, peeing in a bottle, doing laundry at campgrounds, showering at planet fitness, dumping grey water stealthily in the night, etc. I’ve been climbing a mixture of leading and toprope. I did have a meltdown on lead the other day where I had to climb up over a ledge to clip the next draw and if I fell I would’ve landed on the ledge which, understandably was scary, and I cowered and came down. But I overcame other fears before that on the route so I’m trying to focus on that. Yesterday I toproped a route that I love, and I did all of it clean except the lower crux which hurts my shoulder. I was still really close to doing it though! I’m seeing my friend who’s a PT a on Wednesday and I really hope she can help me with my shoulder. It’s the first time I’ll be seeing a PT (this is now my 3rd PT!) who also climbs. I’m hoping it will help to have someone who understands the demands of climbing movements and the weird positions our shoulders get into. I love climbing but I just don’t know if I’ll ever not have pain in my shoulder. My shoulder muscles just aren’t firing correctly and they haven’t been for a long time, so it’s hard to teach them a new way of working. Part of it is literal neurological muscle memory. Because when you’re trying so hard on a climb you can’t be focusing on how your muscles are working - they have to do it on their own if that makes sense. If this PT doesn’t work I feel like I’m going to give up. It’s a lot of time and money going to these appointments. I’m starting to think about winter and skiing as well and I’m going to apply for a Colorado and Utah license to see if I can get a ski contract for the winter. Anyway here are some pictures of rocks and the gorge and a lions mane mushroom we found in the wild. Today is rainy so I’m just gonna hike with Stan and look at this climb I think I want to try to do later on!
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For Riley!!
🎮📚🩹🎶🔺🌈🍎💔💘😊!!!
THANK YOU SO MUCH 😁💖 I’M SO HAPPY TO TALK ABOUT THIS KID
Here’s some references for Riley. Credit to Wervty and Naylissah on Picrew for the images
🎮 What are three of your oc's favorite hobbies?
Riley loves guitar and wants to learn how to play it. He also likes exercise, even if Rio’s training gets ridiculous or excessive. To everyone’s surprise, he shows a lot of interest in studying health and medicine. Avery makes him his unofficial apprentice.
📚 What level of education has your oc most recently completed/is currently in (GED, undergraduate, grad school, phd, etc)?
Vesely has a school program for patients, so technically Riley is still getting a high-school education. The last official schooling he had was in junior-high.
🩹 Does your oc have any physical and/or mental disabilities?
I’m not sure if it counts, but since his powers generate large amounts of electricity, it scars his arms and damages the nerves. Too much use of it also starts to affect his heart.
That’s why Riley and Thomas work so well together. Thomas’ phasing means that when they touch him, the electricity can move through his body without hurting him, but he also had less control over it.
🎶 What type of music does your oc like? Do they listen to music very often?
Lots of alternative rock, stuff he can turn on during training and headbang to. He also loves the older rock that Jason listens to like Venus Wonder (the Freaks-universe equivalent of the band Queen).
🔺 Does your oc know how to use any weapons?
Aside from his powers, which generate strands of electricity, Rio teaches him how to use a staff as a conduit while he fights.
🌈 What is your oc's sexual orientation/gender identity? What pronouns do they use?
Riley is bisexual and transgender, the latter of which he is very defensive about. He won’t tolerate being called anything other than “he/him.”
🍎 Where was your oc born? Do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? How do they feel about their birthplace?
Riley was born in a small town somewhere around Preston (I haven’t come up with a name lol). He hates everything about that town, from the school that bullied him, to the church that called him a demon, to the childhood home where his mother called him horrible names and forced him to wear dresses and regularly called the cops to have someone take this kid away. Thankfully, Jason and Rio were the ones to rescue him, and he’ll never have to see that town again.
💔 What are three of your oc's negative traits?
Riley is incredibly defensive to the point where he starts fights that aren’t necessary. He’s so used to pain and having his heart broken that he lashes out the minute he thinks someone is going to hurt him.
He can be grumpy, even with friends. Kevin lives and breathes to pester him, and though their banter is mostly playful, there are times where Riley says something hurtful. He always apologizes later.
He has little respect for grown-ups or authority figures. There have been days where this highly-powerful and rightfully-angry teenage boy has hospitalized trained officers by electrocuting them. The only adults he trusts are Jason and Henry, and eventually his adoptive parents (Avery gets a pass because he’s still technically a college graduate).
💘 What and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them?
His friends are the most important things in his life. They welcomed him, supported him, and loved him when his family refused to. He says he would kill a man for them, even though he doesn’t really want to.
This also becomes true for his adoptive family. He doesn’t trust them to stay, at first, but he grows to love them dearly.
😊 What are your oc's career/general life desires? What do they want to get the most out of life?
Riley wants to be a doctor. Ever since Jason mentioned it as an option, ever since he showed faith that Riley could help people, Riley’s wanted to follow that path. He never thought he was capable of anything other than destruction, and now he wants to live up to the hope that Jason gave him.
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what if henry just ends up having killed people instead of it being edward creel or whoever that is because that is a whole new character youve invented babe.......................
also are you gonna keep stanning henrys ass if he truly does turn out to be a murderer who killed his own family because he decided to play god and punish them (including his sister. who is a child) for past mistakes
im pretty sure you said you think virginias abusive or something but im curious. what if youre wrong
“a whole new character you invented” babe he’s in the show. you can read his name and backstory on the screen in front off your eyes right now. open netflix. pause during the indianapolis gazette scene. and read alllllll the details of edward that are completely different from henry. i didn’t just make them up. they are In The Show. It’s not even like, speculation. It’s literally written there word for word in front of our very eyes. It’s Right There.
As usual though, people like you can never be bothered to read even one of the 1526384848484 posts I’ve made regarding Edward and/or the multiple 001s we see during NINA (all of which can be easily accessed from my pinned post). It’s clear that you’re not actually interested in having a nuanced discussion about the topic because if you were interested in nuanced discussion about it, you would have read the posts, and it’d be pretty clear to you that Edward isn’t just someone that I made up. Like it or not, his name and backstory and family and details of how long he lived in Hawkins is written on screen in S4. He’s there.
And two things about this question a.) so what if i was going to continue stanning? what are you going to do, explode me with your mind??? and b.) this is a redundant question because he didn’t kill his own family to try to play god and punish them, the evidence (and if you’d actually read any of my creel murders posts before whining in my inbox you would know this) overwhelmingly supports the idea that Henry didn’t kill his family/the only member he MIGHT have killed is his mother, and based on what we learn about him and his mother, her death was very much deserved because his choice was “kill your mom who is trying to send you to live with a pedophile scientist for the rest of your life” or “live with a pedophile scientist for the rest of your life”.
How did he supposedly trance Victor and kill alice at the same time? Why don’t we see Alice’s death? If he was so dead-set on punishing them, why doesn’t he ever actually give any indication of what he was supposedly punishing Alice for?
And just an interesting sidenote re: the Creel murders, I was listening to an interview with Kevin L Johnson last night (who plays Young Victor), and he said that when filming the multiple versions of the murders, he overhead Sean Levy talking about how there was “one version where Henry wasnt the one killing Virginia and one where it seems like he might be the one doing it,” so neither of the scenes in the show were intended to definitively portray Henry as the murderer. And this wasn’t just something Kevin was told as a coverup or something, it was something that he overheard that he wasn’t supposed to overhear, and what they did tell him on the matter/why they were recording two different versions of the scene was “incase we try to go a different direction,” but then as we all found out, they DID use both scenes.
And I know I’ve talked before about how the main focus should be what’s in the show rather than interviews etc, but again, this interview/the talk of Henry not definitively being the murderer completely lines up with what I’ve already analyzed from the show & how it doesn’t make sense for Henry to be the one doing things & how Hawkins Lab was very likely watching the Creels/messing with them from day 1 at the house. Both of the scenes of Virginia’s death/the murders leave a LOT of room for doubt about Henry being the perpetrator- and it’s intentional!!!! Because he’s not!!!!
And who gives a fuck if I’m wrong???? Are the Stranger Things Police going to arrest me????? Should i throw myself off of a cliff dramatically??? What sort of answer are you fishing for here, anon?? I don’t know about you, but I’m more than capable of handling being wrong- I just don’t think that I’m wrong as of right now.
Like if I’m wrong so what!!! The world goes on!!!! I won’t explode into a billion little teeny tiny pieces!! I had fun analyzing!! Who cares!!! Are you betting on me or something, anon?? Is that why you’re so worried about me being wrong?? Or- do you have 💕💕feelings 💕💕 for me, anon?? Are you worried that if i explode into a million little pieces if I’m wrong that we won’t be able to sail off into the sunset together?? 🥺🥺🥺🥺 rest assured, anon, our honeymoon in france is safe, as even if I’m wrong, nothing bad is going to happen and I’ll still be there on the beach waiting for you…
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SM HCS (🍬CANDYBATS🦇)
randomly just posted this
Kevin:
100% Lee
70% Ler
LEE:
AHEM. HES LITERALLY THE MOST TICKLISH CANDY MAN OUT THERE.
I mean just look at em
He’s a bad hider and lier when someone tries to tickle him or ask him if he is ticklish and he’ll reply with “n-no! W-what!? I-I uh-“
Let’s his bf Streber tickle him since he is usually the most gentle tickler
Skid and Pump obviously tickle him (occasionally on his bad days)
Not very fond of being tickled
Hearing the word makes him flinch or sit up
He’s very cautious of when or where the tickling will begin
Sometimes will ask Streber to tickle him
Radford tickles the shit outta him ALL. THE. TIME
Has a very squeaky and bubbly laugh.
LER:
1 word. Skilled
don’t believe me ask Streber (he’s the one who taught him this) lmao
a teaser
“Aw!! Did I find your tickle spot~? Hehe~“ or “Maybe THIS ONE? Or this one!?”
he’ll go slow and be VERY careful so he doesn’t hurt you.
tickles Streber sometimes when he’s home or when he feels like wreaking his boyfriend
don’t really have anything else to say soooo TIME FOR STREBER
Streber:
90% LEE
100% LER
LEE:
Gets wreaked VERY EASILY
Has very ticklish sides but doesn’t want anyone except Kevin to know
squirmy
covers himself with his cape
his laugh is also bubbly but more adorable and high pitched
flails or kicks his legs whenever someone touches his weak spot
runs away from Kevin whenever he has a tickling motion on his hands
likes to be teased
HIS WORST SPOT ARE HIS SIDES, KNEES, NECK
Pleads for the ler to stop but secretly wants more
Ethan is usually the one who tickles the life outta him
LER:
TEASER TEASER TEASER!!!!
does that stupid little childish coo sound just to make his lee smile more and beg
gives mercy (sometimes)…
likes to tickle certain spots that he KNOWS can be very sensitive
Uses his teeth to nibble on Kevins
LOVES the sound of his lees squeals
Wiggles his fingers a lot as a warning whats about to happen
Rolls you up in his cape or bear hugs you
Laughs along with you.
can sense how ticklish you are
attacks Kevin mercilessly
AAA SRRY IF THESE WERE TOO SHORT BUT MY LAZINESS IS KILLING ME
I POSSIBLY WILL WRITE A COUPLE MORE FOR NOW ILL LEAVE IT HERE
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PARTY O’CLOCK
PAIRING choi chanhee x f!reader
WORD COUNT 5.39k
GENRES fluff ﹒smut
WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, tau beta zeta frat treasurer!chanhee, reader is a stereotypical party girl, she’s also an astronomy major, mentions of alcohol, i’m pretty sure everyone makes a cameo at some point, kevin moon playing matchmaker, we escalate a little fast so, intense making out, marking, vaginal fingering, brat tamer!chanhee, dom!chanhee, lowkey pussy job for like 1 second, nipple play? kinda?, unprotected sex, wall sex, missionary, multiple orgasms, creampie (yk… the usual), overstimulation
SUMMARY in spite of being a frat boy himself, chanhee could never actually see himself enjoying the luxuries of the title. besides, how could he with all the responsibilities of being treasurer? enter you and your carefree spirit and chanhee’s got a real big problem on his hands.
MORE … don’t yell at me PLEASE. i know this is 2 days overdue. I KNOW I KNOW. i’ve been so busy these past couple days and my time management is ass we already know this. BUT IM HERE AND SHES FINISHED AND ITS CHRISTMAS EVE SO??? 🙏🙏😍 anyways. i hope u guys enjoy i had a fun time writing this. i’m a firm believer in dom chanhee 😋 if u liked this pls don’t forget to reblog!
SERIES MASTERLIST
PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel @ericlvr
TAGLIST @millksea
“Who’s that?”
The question comes out before you can even stop it, eyes focused on a guy sitting on one of the couches in the living room, complete disinterest all over his face. He’s pretty. Prettier than any guy you’ve ever seen. But he also looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than at this party.
“Who?” Your friend Heejin asks, following your gaze.
She finds out pretty quickly, especially because of how intense your stare is. She racks her brain for his name, sure it’s somewhere in her catalog of the student body. Heejin was the kind of person who knew everyone even if she didn’t exactly know them personally. She was both sociable and obsessed with gossip, sticking her nose in the business of those around her.
“Ah! That’s Choi Chanhee,” she nods, index finger tapping her chin. “He’s the Tau Beta Zeta treasurer actually. That’s probably why he looks like he wants to kill himself. Dude doesn’t really want to be here, but fraternity brothers are required to attend every party.”
She’s right, it appears, when you see some of the members you do recognize make their way over to bother him. He definitely does not look like the fraternity type, but you guess it also makes sense in a way. Maybe he needed an extracurricular or something that would be nice on his resume.
It’s hard for you to enjoy yourself for the rest of the night, too concentrated on the treasurer who’s lips stay pressed into a frown the entire time. You try to take shots with Heejin, but your eyes gravitate back to the sofa. Ji Changmin and his girlfriend even convinced the two of you to play them in beer pong. (Worst mistake you’ve ever made. You sucked at beer pong.) You finally draw the line at a game of Rage Cage, when you strategically get placed between Lee Juyeon and Heejin, arguably the best drinkers at the function.
Everyone laughs at you when you take a step back and recall your decision to join. And just as you suspected, you end up back in the living room, right where you wanted. Chanhee hasn’t moved from his spot, occasionally taking sips of whatever he’s drinking and scrolling through his phone.
You remember when that was Jacob Bae’s thing to do, and then he went and got himself a girlfriend. Perhaps that’s what Chanhee needed to do. A girlfriend was a little bit of a stretch, but someone to help him loosen up at these things was plausible. Girls weren’t even trying to hit on him left and right like they usually did with the Tau Beta Zeta boys, which was even more surprising considering most of them had their own partners now. Desperation was an ugly look on the university female, you know.
Which is exactly why you don’t make any moves that night.
Initially, you think you’ll wait a week. You happen to see him on campus a few times. The first time is in the library studying with some headphones on, in his element. The second time is in the cafe on campus, again, doing coursework with the intention of being left alone. Then it’s when you’re leaving your Fundamentals of Astronomy lecture, walking to one of his own classes. In your head, you’re being tested, like a dog with a bone being dangled in front of its face. It’s tortuous, wanting to go up to him and introduce yourself, but you don’t do it.
Heejin “drags” you to another TBZ party the following Friday and you put extra effort into your outfit. You walk in with the hopes to sweep him off of his feet, strutting into the fraternity house with a confidence that throws you off. Just when you’re getting ready to walk up to him, Kim Sunwoo intercepts and you backtrack. That ruins any of the lingering self-assurance in your system. So you push things back another week.
The next time you plan on striking, you and Heejin had said you’d meet at the party since she had something to do prior. You arrive at around 11 PM, prepared to shoot your shot and score. The kitchen is the first place you go, concocting yourself a drink that doesn’t get you trashed, but provides enough liquid courage. Then Heejin texts that her project partners wanted to grab food and she wasn’t going to make it. The thought of being alone without moral support effectively kills your mood, so you only stay for another hour or so before leaving.
It’s annoying, really. Every single time you attempt to set your plan into motion, something has to interrupt and mess things up for you.
This is your dilemma for roughly every weekend for a whole month. By the time you know it, it’s midterm season and you’re too stressed out over exams to think about Choi Chanhee. Divine intervention was a crazy concept, so maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Maybe this was your sign to just call it quits and give up on your weird fantasy of being the girl who charmed him.
“Do you wanna go to the TBZ party Saturday? We can celebrate finishing these stupid fucking exams and just relax for another couple months before we have to worry about finals.” Heejin asks through a mouthful of instant ramyeon. You sigh.
“Sure, whatever.” Your lips purse, pushing around your own food. She raises an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side in confusion.
“What the hell happened to you? You were jumping for joy when it came to going to them all semester, but now that I want to get shitfaced, you don’t seem all that excited.” She puts her chopsticks down, narrowing her eyes at you from across the table. You shrug.
“I don’t know,” you rest your cheek on your palm, huffing. “I guess I’m not really in the party mood anymore.”
“Bullshit,” she scoffs. “You’re the girl everyone thinks of when they talk about the typical university party girl. There must be a reason you’re suddenly Miss Debbie Downer.”
You could just tell her the truth, tell her about your delusions and the need to be different. As your roommate and best friend, she wasn’t at liberty to judge you. But this was so unlike you, so you knew she would anyway. It was out of character for you to be this enthralled by a man, let alone a stranger you’ve never spoken a word to. In fact it’s even thrown you for a loop, this mental break giving you clarity about your recent actions.
“That time I asked you who Choi Chanhee was,” you start after some silence. “I thought about going up to him and finding out why he’s so uptight. I sorta wanted to be in a ‘not like other girls’ situation. But whenever I wanted to swoop in, something always interfered. And now I’m just over it.”
“Y/N. You cannot be serious,” Heejin gawks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Chanhee’s very picky about the girls he talks to. I could probably name on a hand the ones who’ve successfully snuck their way into his pants. He has specific taste, too; pretty ones who know when to shut their mouths.”
Your jaw drops, because what the fuck? He’s not a raging virgin with that personality? No wonder there wasn’t a line of single ladies attempting to land in his bed. They all knew they didn’t stand a chance. It kind of encourages you to resume your mission. You were never one to back down from a challenge.
“In that case…” A mischievous glint sparkles in your eye.
“Good god,” she rolls her own. “I’m warning you now, I highly doubt this will end in your favor.”
“You know me, Heejin. I never take no for an answer.”
It’s the day before the party and you’re walking out of your last midterm exam, a new light in your eyes now that you’re somewhat free. You step into the quad with your arms stretched above your head, a yawn pushing through your lips. You were long overdue for a good nap.
“Y/N!”
You whip around to find Kevin Moon from your Music Appreciation class stalking towards you. Part of you wants to pretend you’d never heard him and keep walking, drained of energy after that Intro to Astrophysics exam you’d just taken. Your brain felt like mush at this point. But you were kind, and you would’ve just felt bad about ignoring him anyways.
Kevin catches up to you rather quickly, hands hidden inside of his hoodie pockets. He lets out a sigh, both of you watching the puff of air that forms in front of him. “You’re going to the party tomorrow right?”
“I am…” You furrow your eyebrows, narrowing your eyes skeptically just a bit. “Why?”
“I have a huge favor to ask you.” He clasps his hands together, as if he wasn’t above begging on his hands and knees. You’re confused even further, because what could Kevin Moon possibly want from you?
“Okay… What is it?” The suspicion in your tone is so strong, that there’s no doubt he hasn’t noticed it by now. He holds the heel of his palm to his forehead.
“So, I was supposed to go with my friend Chanhee to try out that new outer space themed coffee place just outside of campus later today, but I got put on alcohol duty and I won’t be able to. I know you’re an Astronomy major so I figured that was something you’d like. Do you think you could go in my place?” He bats his eyelashes at you, like doing puppy dog eyes will convince you. You stare at him blankly. He wants you to do what?!
Meeting Choi Chanhee before the party tomorrow was not in your itinerary. Usually you were decent at adapting to changes in your plans, but this? This was more than just something minor that you could acclimate to. You had to psych yourself for hours in order to execute something of this caliber. Was Kevin Moon trying to send you into cardiac arrest?
“W-Wh— I mean— well—” You fumble over your words— something you never do— and Kevin breaks into a wide grin. You’re not sure if the blush across your face is from the cold weather nipping at it, or the thought of being put between a rock and a hard place.
“Perfect! I owe you one! Meet him in like an hour.” He pats your back like you’re one of the homies, not giving you any room for refutation. You actually feel like throwing up. How were you supposed to just show up without qualms?
Did he really expect you to just do this out of the goodness of your heart? No complaints stacked up to be hurled in his direction? You’d known Kevin Moon since freshman year orientation, but you didn’t think you were close enough for him to throw his dirty work at you. You can’t help but stand there dumbly as he walks away, a pep in his step that nearly has tick marks forming on your temple.
Okay, you know what? This is fine. This was totally fine. All you had to do was sip on some coffee, make some small talk, and then you could be on your way. It wasn’t that hard… was it?
You could throw on an act, pretend like you were one of those pretty girls who knew when to shut their mouths just like Heejin said he was into. You could give him a false glimpse into who you were and he wouldn’t know what you were really thinking of doing. The you of tomorrow would be a complete 180° turn around from the you of today, and Choi Chanhee would be the one groveling at your feet.
As soon as you walk into the cafe, your throat feels narrow, like it was closing in on you. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous. It’s not like Chanhee knew you. He couldn’t possibly be aware of your existence, much less of your little fascination with him.
You see him sitting at a table for two, the straw of his drink trapped between his lips. He sips leisurely as he scrolls through his phone, likely waiting on Kevin since you’re sure he left his friend in the dark. You pick at a thread on your sweater as you stop in front of him, raising your hand in an awkward wave. Chanhee glances up, confusion in his features at first and then it morphs into something else.
A laugh has to be held back when he chokes on his drink, slapping a hand over his mouth. He stands up quickly, wiping his palms on his pants.
“Hi,” your voice is small, so far off from your usual boldness. “I’m Y/N. Kevin sent me.”
“Fucking Kevin,” he curses underneath his breath, forcing a smile. “Um, please sit.”
You take the seat across from him, eyes flickering around the coffee shop to absorb your surroundings. It’s pretty, the stars and planets painted all over the walls and ceilings. Even the drinks had celestial themed names. Your friend was right, you would love it here. It was right up your alley.
“I— uh— Kevin had texted me and told me what to order for him, but I’m assuming he meant for you, because he never told me you were uh— that you were coming.” He scratches the back of his neck as a server leaves a drink in front of you.
“He stopped me in the quad after my midterm and asked if I could fill in for him. Something came up apparently.” You explain, humming in appreciation when you taste your coffee. “He remembered that I was an Astronomy major and figured I was his best bet I guess.”
Chanhee purses his lips, it’s almost like he knows something you don’t. He nods slowly. “Yeah… I’m sure that’s why…”
The impromptu formal introduction between you goes on without a hitch. It goes so well, that the time flies faster than you’d hoped it would. You get a tiny peek into Choi Chanhee and his life as the TBZ fraternity treasurer, but it’s not enough to satiate that unbearable curiosity that pricks at you.
Thankfully, you have tomorrow to do exactly that.
Heejin and yourself arrive at the Tau Beta Zeta party that Saturday with a goal in mind; Getting Choi Chanhee into bed with you.
Okay. Maybe that wasn’t actually the main objective, but it was definitely a side quest. What you really wanted to do was get him to let his guard down. Like your friend said previously, you were the stereotypical party girl. Had there been a picture beside the term in a dictionary, your pretty little face would be there, a red solo cup in your hand and all. If he wound up being entranced by your womanly witchery, that was on him.
Just like your first go at wooing him, you decided to pull out all the stops. You’d worn your shortest, tightest fitting dress despite the weather not necessarily permitting it. It was a cute black strapless number that you paired with some long heeled boots and a warm fuzzy jacket. You looked hotter than the sun itself, and deep down you’d feel extremely disappointed if he wasn’t falling to his knees for you by the end of the night.
A sense of déjà vu washes over you the moment you step through the front door into the jam packed fraternity house. The bumping early 2000s music and the thrumming of the bass gave you an adrenaline rush like no other. Nothing could waver your confidence this roundabout. He wouldn’t even know what hit him.
Before you sink your claws into the treasurer, you need to grab yourself a drink. You and Heejin take a shot from one of the various liquor bottles on the counter, serving yourselves each a cup of whatever Jacob Bae threw together for the party. It was kind of funny that the resident bartender for these things wasn’t even a member of the frat. You and your friend cheers to the night ahead of you, manifesting that things go your way.
It’s rather easy to catch his eye even in the bustling crowd of drunk college students, glued in his usual spot on one of the living room sofas. His dark hair falls into his eyes when he glances down at his phone to check the time, almost as if he was counting down the hours, the minutes until this party was over. He brushes it out of his face with his index finger at the same time he raises his cup to his mouth, knocking back the contents with a slight wince.
He espies your presence immediately after that, raking your figure with an unrecognizable look in his gaze. Though you were shivering upon entering the house, your skin felt hot to the touch now, the burning intensity of his stare melting away any nerves that might’ve been lingering. You pull your jacket off of your shoulders, tossing it over your forearm as you snake through the bodies sardined between the two of you.
“Hi,” you greet once you’re in front of him. “I’m Y/N.”
His lips quirk upwards and he stands so you’re no longer peering down at him. In spite of meeting each other yesterday, he decides to play along. “I’m Chanhee.”
“Well, Chanhee,” you bite your acrylic nail, not bothering to hide the unabashed desire in your expression and drinking in his appearance like a glass of water. “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the room. You looked bored and I was wondering if I could change that. I know how to have a good time.”
Chanhee thinks it’s cute, the amount of effort you’re putting into this little charade. He doesn’t doubt that you knew of his reputation when it came to sleeping with girls. He knows he’s a bit conscientious when it comes to this sort of thing, but that’s only because he doesn’t want to deal with being seen as someone who’s ran-through. (For an example, please see (No) Strings Attached™.)
However, you were different. Chanhee thought you were cute from the very first time he saw you, which happened to be at a Tau Beta Zeta party last semester. He knew you were friends with Kevin, so maybe it was on him for the delay of your union, but he’d grown a little tired of always making the first move. He’s somewhat grateful that you were the type of girl who set her sights on something and never backed down from it. You were headstrong and that was exactly what had him hooked.
Nevertheless, it would be a bit of an issue. The only part of the rumors surrounding the treasurer that was true, was the part about him preferring his partners to be on the quieter side. There was something about them following his every demand, kneeling at his beck and call, that lit a fire underneath him. The mouthier they were, the less he enjoyed himself. But for some reason, he doesn’t think it’ll bother him as much with you. In fact, he thinks he’ll have fun putting you in your place.
“You know, Y/N,” he pushes your hair over your bare shoulder, letting his thumb graze your warm skin with a small but conniving grin. “I’m not too sure you’ll be able to cure this boredom that’s been plaguing me. It depends on what you have in mind.”
You might cry. A strained groan stays stuck in your throat, fighting to inch its way out of you. Fuck this stupid party. Fuck your stupid idea. You had a new mission. You needed him now and you needed him bad.
Your lips are on his in a matter of seconds, rushed and desperate. You don’t have the strength in you to act like you weren’t just about ready to combust. The curve of a smile can be felt through the kiss, his hands coming to rest on your waist and dig into the fabric of your dress. Had this been any other guy, any other day even, you would’ve freaked out over the PDA. Right now, though, you’re too lost in the moment, too absorbed in the high that kissing Choi Chanhee is providing.
His mouth travels along your jaw and neck, finally snapping you back to reality. With shaky breathing and a wavering voice, you step back from him. “Don’t you want— don’t we need some privacy?”
He laughs like he’s on the inside of a joke you’re unaware of. “Oh, so now you care about privacy? You didn’t when you were trying to seduce me ten minutes ago.”
Your cheeks flush impossibly more, cowering into the space where his shoulder meets his collarbone. All that confidence and for what? He really could not wait another second to see you crumble beneath him.
“Too shy for me to fuck you in front of all these people, sweetheart?” He asks in your ear, leaving a gentle kiss on the lobe as he does so.
You’re dizzy, so dizzy you might faint in the middle of this living room. Who would’ve known that such a pretty boy had such a filthy mouth on him? He knows he’s got you right where he wants you when you fist the material of his shirt, the vibrations of a whine on his neck. It’s kind of comical how little it took for you to crack.
He hauls you away to what you assume is his bedroom, fingers caressing the inside of your wrist. You think maybe he’s all talk, that he’s actually a big softie who couldn’t hurt a fly. The way he’s careful with his touch and making sure he doesn’t lose you as you weave through the other party attendees. At least, that’s what you thought.
But then he’s slamming his door shut and pinning you against it face first. His lips return to their prior position, sucking in the plush skin on your throat and your shoulders. You can feel him pressed into your lower back, hard and ready for you. He doesn’t seem to pay much attention to it, instead trailing his fingers down your front and sneaking under your dress.
He bunches it up around your hips, middle and ring digits circling your clit through the lace of your panties. Everything is escalating too quickly for you to comprehend. You whimper into the wood of the door, drool beginning to pool in your mouth. You’re so needy that you’re salivating over the prospects of what’s to come.
“Want more, Chanhee,” your words are muffled, but he understands you nonetheless.
“You want more?” He pouts, a false tone of sympathy in his voice. “Poor you, asking for something you can’t even handle.”
You squirm, raising your leg in an attempt to reach a different angle. The pads of his fingers apply an increased pressure on your clit, the friction caused by your underwear skyrocketing your heart rate. You know he can feel the pulse when his lips reconnect to that sensitive area just under your jaw. Your back arches, still craving and yearning for additional touch.
His fingers slip into the waistband of your thong, collecting your arousal and using it as a lubricant to glide through your folds. He thrusts two of them in and out of your entrance, the heel of his palm rubbing up against your clit. You moan, louder this time. His free hand shoves the top of your dress down, groping and kneading your bare breast. You wanted more, he’ll give you more.
You’re a whining, squirrely mess, humping his hand like a bitch in heat. It’s hilarious, really. The way you wanted him begging, but the tables seemed to have turned, flipping it the other way around. He ensures that he leaves his mark on you, biting your skin with the intent to bruise. He doesn’t care if you looked like you were attacked by a vicious animal. If Chanhee was anything, he was possessive, wanting everyone to know what was his and not to get near it lest they wanted to keep their lives. What better way to stake his claim than on your body, where anyone could see?
He senses that you’re close to your release, your walls clenching around his fingers and sucking them in further. Most people would’ve been generous, making your orgasm smooth sailing. But Choi Chanhee was not like most people. That much is obvious when he adds a third finger, restraining himself from groaning at the feeling of your cunt constricting and contracting. The stretch has your stomach tying in knots, each one growing tighter and tighter until they just about untangle altogether.
You cum with a guttural groan, nearly convulsing in his hold, but he keeps you pressed to the surface of the door. He doesn’t stop his motions, fingers curling and uncurling like he was reaching for something inside of you. You push your ass into his crotch, another whine escaping your lips when you feel his cock impressing into it. He bites his tongue to refrain from evoking a sound.
The poised nature of your regular personality makes a comeback, one of your hands cupping the side of his face. You pant as you speak, rasping slightly after all the moaning you just did. “Can you fuck me for real now?”
Chanhee forces your underwear down your legs roughly, kicking them out of the way once they hit the floor. “You’re such a goddamn brat. Nothing is ever enough for you is it?” You can hear rustling behind you, the unbuttoning of pants and the discarding of his shirt. And then you feel him. God, you might die. He’s flush between your lower lips, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “Gonna have to fuck you until you learn your place, don’t I?”
He squeezes your cheeks together with his thumb and forefinger, relishing in the adorable pout it forms. All you can do is nod, eyes fluttering shut when he finally slides inside of you. The weight of him sits heavy in your cunt, the singular drive of his hips causing your clit to bump into the door. It sends a rippled shockwave throughout your body, a voluminous moan breaching past your lips. Chanhee rests his forehead on your shoulder, staying still for a moment to gather himself.
It’s not long before he’s pistoning his cock into your pussy like a sword being sheathed and unsheathed. You claw at the wall as a means of grounding yourself, inconsistently paced cries and mewls of pleasure bouncing around the room. He hikes up your leg higher, palming at your tits so he can override your senses any way he can. You’re so lightheaded and tears have begun to spring at the corners of your eyes. It feels too good.
“O-Oh my god, you’re s-so— f-fuck Chanhee,” you babble, gasping for air as he continuously punches it out of you with every inch his cock buries into you.
He’s enjoying himself too much, loving how fucked out you look. He’s reduced you to an incoherent state of being. You curve your back a bit more for him, allowing the depth at which he slips in you to go further.
Unfortunately for you, it doesn’t take much to wind you back up to that summit from previously. You’re on the brink of your second orgasm, your chest heating up and your abdomen contracting. He doesn’t let up, pinching and thumbing at a peaked nipple to egg on your release. This one feels a lot stronger than the first, your knees nearly giving out on you.
“C’mon sweetheart, that’s it,” he coaxes, stroking your hair from your face.
Chanhee fucks you through it, allotting space for you to recover before he’s knocking you onto his bed. He removes your dress entirely and rubs up and down your thighs. The exhaustion is already beginning to settle in, but you realize that he hasn’t finished not once and you’d be hitting your third at this point. You’re overstimulated and your body aches all over, but you push through.
He finds your entrance again, pressing into your cunt with more ease. You whine, smushing your cheek into the mattress. Your toes curl and you fist at the sheets, eyes all but rolling to the back of your head where you see white spots and stars coating your vision. He grips your hips to hold you still, starting to rock back into your pussy with practiced aggression. He’s carnal with his movements, but it’s careful, almost like he doesn’t really want to hurt you.
“It’s too much—“ you interrupt yourself with a wail, the tears from earlier tracking along the sides of your face.
“I’ve fucked you stupid, haven’t I? Thought I was done with you?” He strains, folding over so he can kiss the skin of your collarbone and trail up to your mouth. His lips brush yours when he talks, teasing you as if he hadn’t already fucked you within an inch of your life. “Do you think I’m having fun yet?”
Your cunt sucks him in like a vacuum, your volume rising the closer you get to what you hope is your last orgasm of the night. What you needed was the best sleep ever after this. Your brain can barely form sentences, and you struggle to give him a proper response. “Y-Yes, Cha-Chanhee— oh god— s-so much fun,”
Your breath catches in your throat when that familiar sensation reappears. Chanhee is in his own world, focused on chasing his own release. His nails dig into the fat of your thighs, thrusts becoming deeper and slower. You reach between the two of you to swipe at your clit with your middle and ring fingers, the extra stimulation tipping you over that sweet edge.
Your orgasm crests upon you with so much intensity that you can’t even make a sound. If you do, it’s so far away from you that you don’t hear it. The uncontrollable fluttering of your walls sets Chanhee’s into action, his hips stuttering with a groan that doesn’t meet your ears. He fills you up with enough cum that it begins to spill out of you in spite of his cock still plugged inside your cunt. You both take a moment to recollect your bearings, chests clashing with each rise and fall from your breathing.
After what feels like forever, he pulls out and collapses on the bed beside you, the back of his hand thrown over his forehead.
“Holy shit— I mean— wow I really— I really didn’t think you were so…” You don’t finish your thought, head still stuck on the actions you’d committed prior.
“It’s always the quiet ones.” Chanhee shrugs, sighing dramatically.
“You are not quiet,” you turn your head to give him a pointed look. “But, I’m not complaining. I got my insides rearranged six ways to Sunday. Who’s the real winner here?”
“Me, actually,” he says, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. “I’ve had the longer crush.”
“Y-You— huh?!” Your eyes practically bulge out of your head, comically wide like a deer’s caught in headlights. He laughs at your expression.
“I’ve been wanting to make a move on you since last semester,” he admits. “But I was kinda… discouraged? I guess? I feel like I’m the one who puts in too much effort all the time, with everything that I do. I wanted to see if maybe someone would do the same for me. I’m just lucky that it worked out in my favor.”
Your bottom lip juts out and you flip over to peck the tip of his nose tenderly. “Choi Chanhee, you’re extremely lucky. I almost gave up on you, like, a couple days ago.”
Chanhee’s laughter grows and he kisses you softly. “Well, I’m glad that you didn’t. Now I can take you on a real date to that space cafe. Not one that Kevin forced on us.”
“I like the sound of that.” You smile, cuddling into his side.
© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.
#deoboyznet#the boyz#the boyz x reader#the boyz smut#tbz#tbz x reader#tbz smut#the boyz chanhee#the boyz new#tbz chanhee#tbz new#new x reader#choi chanhee x reader#choi chanhee smut#juyeonszn#blackoutorbackout🍻
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Fluent Freshman - Part 40
PREV
The Winter Banquet.
Where the Spring Championship announcements happen for Collegiate Exy. A formal event meant to allow the ERC to showcase how their stars weren’t just brutes on the court. Look at how beautiful and handsome they all were. Look at how they danced together. Look at the smiles and laughter and-
Wait.
No.
Put that down.
Who had the great idea to put the Jackals next to the Terrapins? Things have been tense between the teams since the Captain of the Terrapins stole the Captain of the Jackal’s date during the Fall Banquet!
I thought we all agreed that there would never be any more steak knives! What was the point of paying for all the pre-cut tenderloins if we’re just going to give them steak knives?!
Really gotta find an intern to pin this fiasco on.
Oh great the Foxes are leaving! Did we even get a picture of Kevin Day in his suit? Fuck it’s going to be a two intern firing kind of day isn’t it.
Someone get an eye on the Ravens before they try and grab some hapless idiot and sacrifice him to revive Riko Moriyama. If there’s even one more damn tabloid with a blurry photo of ‘Riko Moriyama’ to prove that his death was faked then heads will roll.
Honestly, the biopic that some Edgar Allan Film student is making about him seems pretty interesting. The ERC just wishes people would stop taking pics of the ‘lead actor’ and sending it to tabloids as proof that the King hadn’t died.
Fuck, the Foxes left before we got any decent pictures.
Well just great.
You’d think that after all these years of the Foxes leaving early they’d have learned that getting pictures as they arrive is the most important thing.
Oh thank god it looks like the Trojans are starting to mediate the fight. You can always count on good ol’ Jeremy.
Fuck.
A Raven got too close to Jean Moreau and now Jeremy Knox has punched a Backliner. Great. The Trojans have formed ranks around Moreau but the kid’s just too damn tall. Someone has hit him in the head with an especially saucy meatball, he’s not injured, just confused. The Trojans are acting like it’s a gunshot he just took to the head.
The refreshment table just seemed to collapse in on itself and god wasn’t that just an allegory for this entire damn evening.
Anita Flores sighs as she watches yet another banquet go down in a riot. Honestly, she doesn’t know why they think these will end up differently. She finds herself often missing when she used to coordinate banquets for football teams.
She sighs and thinks about her least favorite interns.
Alex had been getting a bit too cocky lately. He’d make a good sacrifice.
***
(Three hours earlier)
The Palmetto State Foxes were on their way to the Winter Banquet. From what FF understood it was categorically always a 90% chance of a shitshow. Honestly FF was surprised that the percentage was that low.
There was a general tenseness in the air surrounding it that went beyond the Banquet’s propensity to become a fight.
This year the Winter Banquet was going to be held up at the Binghamton Bearcat’s stadium. The nation knew the story from the news and FF knew the story from both that and from the Foxes themselves who were there at the time in bits and pieces.
Captain Neil had been kidnapped from this stadium and then he’d been tortured. FF hadn’t even been on the team when it had happened and he was anxious about Captain Neil going anywhere near the stadium.
“He was just…he was just gone.” Matt had said, “Neil was gone and Kevin said that he was probably dead when Andrew got back with his phone.” He continued as the two of them sat up late in the living room of the dorm one night back in early October.
“I thought Andrew was going to kill me y’know.” Kevin had said bottle in hand as FF tried to help him up the stairs because apparently he would 100% guarantee vomit if he was in the nausea box. “I thought that maybe I deserved it, since I didn’t help Neil. I just let him walk to his death.” He said and despite assurances that he wouldn’t puke FF’s shoes did not make it through that journey unscathed.
“We called…we called everywhere.” Nicky had stared up at the ceiling of his hospital room, “Andrew was adamant that he was still alive even though Kevin kept saying he was dead and that dead was the nicest thing he could hope for. I thought that was a terrible thing to say.” Nicky curled up closer to him.
“I told you, Andrew dragged me like I was nothing to get to Neil. I don’t think he even noticed the guns.” Wymack said to Abby as the two sat on the back porch during Aras’ going away party. “His eyes were on Neil.” he gestures towards where Andrew was watching Captain Neil wrestle with Matt.
“He looked like shit.” Aaron had said unable to stomach a diagram of different degrees of burn in his medical book. “At least he was alive.” He adds.
“A hero.” Andrew’s voice had been what could be considered teasing from Andrew, “Someone who looks like her.” he had said touching Captain Neil’s burn scars as they drove away from the stadium after coming back to pick FF up.
Captain Neil had come to him the day before they were set to drive out, “Take me somewhere no one will find me for an hour.” FF hadn’t quite understood what Captain Neil meant, he never hid anywhere. People just failed to realize where he was.
“Ok.” he says instead of trying to explain because being unnoticed means no one hid codes from him.
The roof of the Library wasn’t that much different from the roof of the Tower, only that it was taller and bigger. Captain Neil had shut his phone off after texting something, likely to Andrew, and then put it into his pocket.
FF settled on the roof, sat with his back against a heating vent to stay warm. Captain Neil settled next to him and they sat in silence. It felt like back at the start of this where Captain Neil and Andrew would come find him and just sit in silence.
It was nice. He had missed-
“They act like the stadium is the thing that kidnapped me.” Captain Neil says.
Oh okay, quiet time is over apparently.
FF doesn’t say anything, figuring that nothing he could say right now would be the right thing and maybe Captain Neil just needs to talk through some stuff.
“That stadium is where I thought I’d have my last good memory.” Captain Neil explains, “I’m not scared of it and yet Andrew’s acting like I’ll die if I’m left alone for more than 2 seconds while we’re there. Every time we go there they all act like the most important thing in the world is that I get on that bus at the end of the night.” Captain Neil explains.
FF does remember how Andrew had grabbed Captain Neil after their October game up in Binghamton. How Captain Neil had complained bitterly but had gone after looking at Andrew.
“He’s dead!” Captain Neil exclaimed and FF couldn’t help but look over at the entrance and hoped no one heard them. “He’s dead! I watched him get shot! He can’t kidnap me again!” Captain Neil continued to yell and FF couldn’t help but worry that they’d be heard below, or worse bother a student trying to study below.
FF reached out and touched Captain Neil’s arm and bright blue eyes turned to him, “We’re on a library. Don’t yell.” FF said and Captain Neil looked at him incredulously.
Then he laughed. He laughed and laughed and FF was worried that he’d gone and broken his Captain.
He suddenly felt bad about his own bout of hysterical laughter a while back.
“Thanks Smith.” Captain Neil had said with a smile.
They had sat up there until it was dark and Andrew had started calling FF’s phone and Captain Neil took the call to say he was coming back.
Now they’re on the bus, dressed nicely, and on their way up to Binghamton’s stadium. Captain Neil and Andrew are hidden in the far back of the bus with Andrew looking far more like a watchdog than anything else the closer they got to their destination.
Captain Neil had seemed largely resigned to this treatment at this point. Eventually they were at the stadium and shown to their seats. They were sat across from the Trojans and it seemed like the rest of the team was quite pleased with that.
“Smith!” Captain Jeremy Knox is smiling at him, “Nice to see you again bud, nice name change too.” he says.
“It’s nice to see you too, Captain Jeremy.” FF says and doesn’t notice how Captain Neil’s head whips around to look at him.
“You two know each other?” Nicky asks looking between the two of them with excitement.
“Of course! We offered Smith a spot at the USC Trojans.” Captain Jeremy says and FF feels his stomach cramp at the memory.
That had been terrifying.
Coach Rheman and Captain Jeremy wanted to sit down to make their offer with his parents. He was still 17 and unable to sign anything legal without their permission. He’d tried to decline and move past them and Captain Jeremy had put the final nail in the coffin at the time for any thought that he could go to college on the power of his apparent Exy capabilities.
“I saw in your file that you have brothers! USC always gives a second look at student applicants who already have siblings in the university. You could go to school with your brothers!” he had smiled brightly like he wasn’t issuing FF one of the most terrifying threats he’d ever heard in his entire life.
He had given the firmest ‘No thank you, I’m not interested in playing Exy in college.’ he could and was running to his Grandma’s to breath into a bag for twenty minutes.
“I see you changed your mind about playing Exy in college.” Captain Jeremy said with the same smile that still feels like a threat.
“Coach Wymack and Captain Dan were convincing.” he says and looks to see if there’s any way he can move further away from Captain Jeremy’s attention.
“Can I ask what convinced you to be a Fox?” Captain Jeremy asks, “I’m always trying to see what support we should be offering. I found out last year that we missed out on Andrew because we didn’t offer spots to Aaron or Nicky. I thought since you had brothers that’d be the thing that got you.” Captain Jeremy leans across the table but stops when he notices the Foxes all tense. “Whoa, what’s up?” he asks.
Jean Moreau sighs from next to Captain Jeremy, “Not everyone wants to go to college with their family, Jeremy.” Jean says, “Did it not cross your mind that he changed his entire name?” he asks with a raised brow.
Jeremy blinks, “Oh,” he looks at FF, “I guess that wasn’t the right thing to offer.” he says leaning back in his chair.
“I guess I should thank you for offering that?” Nicky says wryly before turning to look at FF, “You look better in orange anyways.” he says.
“Thank you Nicky.” FF returns loyally.
The banquet gets started shortly afterwards. Food is served. The bar is opened. People are talking. FF finds himself relaxing the longer the conversations around him go on. Matt is talking with a backliner on the Trojan line named Todd in good cheer. Captain Neil, Kevin, and Jean are all talking about the latest updates with Ichirou in French with the occasional gesture towards FF. Jean Moreau looks at him with a raised eyebrow but gives him a single nod when Captain Neil explains what happened.
Jeremy is chatting with Jack and even Jack was finding it hard to maintain his usual level of rudeness in the face of such unbridled positive energy. Nicky was talking with Katelyn and Alvarez. Aaron was chatting with a fellow med student college athlete who was an offensive dealer.
It was shaping up to be a good night.
MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU
NEXT
#Fluent Freshman AU#Jeremy Knox essentially threatening FF on accident#With a huge smile#Fucking kills me#Winter Banquet getting into full swing#Ya'll know where it's heading but not all the parts that happen#Foxes are on high alert#No one likes Neil being in Binghamton#There was definitely an all-hands meeting about how Neil is not allowed to go anywhere alone#That if a security guard approaches Neil you treat that security guard like an active threat#Nicky just thinks it's Andrew wanting an excuse to hold his BF's hand all night#Andrew: “Smith you're on covert operations. Keep an eye out for threats.”#FF: “Aye aye Captain.”#Neil: “OH SO NOW HE'S A CAPTAIN TOO? WHAT'S NEXT?!”#Neil is butt hurt about the whole “Captain Jeremy” thing#He could accept it for Dan#But JEREMY?#Neil's gonna need a lot of TLC to get over this betrayal TBFH#In adult news#My closing is next week Friday!#Wooo#I really speedran the whole owning property thing#Thank you bullshit luck#AFTG#AFTG AU#AFTG OC#Andreil#Wow 40 parts on this thing#Still wild#Thanks for joining me on this ride
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for @auroraworldtourftbughead who asked about my "road trip to ohio" fic: ok so this is a s5 au that i started writing back in Feb/Mar. it picks up a few weeks after they find Polly's body, ie at the point in the show where it became extremely clear that they were just dropping the arc they'd been building for Betty & Jughead and veering off in another nonsensical direction. i really want to finish this one and correct the sins of late s5, lol. (and i just miss jughead's family!) here is a snippet from the beginning of the story:
It’s just past eight in the evening. She’s dragging the trash bins from the garage out to the sidewalk for tomorrow morning’s pickup when she sees him standing in the driveway next door, struggling to wrestle an oversized duffle bag into the storage compartment of his motorcycle.
“Jug. Hey.” She’s already halfway across the yard between their houses by the time he notices her. His eyes soften from surprise to mild concern as she approaches.
“Hey. How are you holding up?”
Betty mulls for a moment over her response. It’s a fair question to ask someone three weeks after they found their sister’s body rotting in the trunk of a rusting, broken junkyard sedan. She doesn't especially want to answer; she's just tired of coming up with ways to change the subject.
Thankfully the scene she's stumbled upon makes it easy. She gestures to the bag. "Hanging in there. What’s this?”
Jughead sighs, giving the duffel bag another half-hearted shove, to no avail. “I’m heading to Ohio for JB’s graduation.”
Recognition flickers dimly in her memory. He’d mentioned this to her weeks ago, when they were deep in investigation mode, one of probably a thousand things he’d said that had filtered in and out of her brain like water through a sieve. She’d said something like oh, my god, she’s graduating already? we’re so old! in response, and then promptly returned to obsessing over their latest clue in the hunt for the highway killer.
“But I guess the gift I got her is too big for this stupid thing –”
“You’re driving all the way to Ohio on a motorcycle?” she interrupts. “In the middle of the night? Isn’t that, like, a seven hour drive?”
He shifts his gaze away from her, towards the Andrews house, which she interprets as yes, I know this is a dumb fucking idea and no, I don’t want to talk about it.
After the last few months she's had, she can relate.
“It’s tomorrow,” he says. “I was supposed to leave yesterday, but – I kind of got distracted, with everything that’s been going on.”
Betty tries not to react to that. He must mean “everything” that’s been going on with Tabitha – her parents’ arrival in town, their burgeoning relationship. Kevin had seen them out at a restaurant together with the Tates, holding hands at the dinner table. Betty wishes they’d just make it public already, post a couple's photo on Instagram or something. It’s getting uncomfortable, pretending she doesn’t know.
He's muttering to himself, hoisting the duffel bag out of the storage compartment and onto his shoulder. "Maybe if I repack this into a backpack instead…"
“You can take my car, if you want,” she offers, and then, without allowing herself to actually consider what she’s proposing, adds, “Or…I could come with you.”
Jughead freezes, his eyes darting from her face to her car where it sits in the opposite driveway, and then back again. “Oh, no – I couldn’t ask –”
“We could tag-team the driving. And I’d love to see JB and your dad, and…everyone.” She doesn’t actually know if Gladys is still in the picture or not. “To be honest, I – I really need to get out of this house for a few days.”
She knows how she sounds: desperate. But she also knows that if anyone in her life can come anywhere close to understanding what this is like – what it means to be the child of a parent who is a walking, weeping open wound, a gaping hole of need that cannot possibly be filled – it’s Jughead.
(And she feels guilty for thinking of her grieving mother in those terms, she really does, but the truth is she’s suffocating. Put on your own oxygen mask first, Dr. Glass told her all those years ago. It was just about the only useful thing he'd imparted to her in a cumulative sixteen hours of therapy, other than a prescription for Adderall.)
“At least take the car,” she insists. “You can’t even fit your stuff in here.”
Jughead’s lips press together. His eyes flit back towards the house again – only the garage light is on, which is where he’s been staying. “You’re sure you want to sit in a car with me for seven hours? I’ve got terrible taste in music.”
Her face breaks out into a tremulous smile. It feels weird, but good – the first uncontrolled display of emotion she’s had in weeks that wasn’t borne of despair.
“I’m sure.”
#bughead#bughead fic#fic#my fic#riverdale#riverdale fic#i have shared a few paragraphs from this before...a section that makes it clear jug is not actually dating tabitha lol
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Who wants some Argit 10 fic? Specifically, an Argit meets a Kevin.
~~
Earth isn’t that bad a place. Mind, his standards are as low as it is possible for them to be, beneath underbrush, but the point still stands. It’s a habited planet, dominated by a species he has access to from the watch, where nobody looks twice at a scrawny kid wandering around alone. That the place is a backwoods, pre-First Contact, mudball where nobody would expect anyone to go doesn’t hurt either.
Argit doesn’t feel safe, he hasn’t felt safe since he left the pouch and his experiences since finding the watch have only made that worse, but he feels safer. As safe as a kitten can when they’re being hunted and hiding out by pretending to be another species for brief stints at a time on a strange planet. He can’t remember the last time he had a full day’s sleep, and that the locals are most active then certainly isn’t helping.
But after a few days, and with plans for many more as he waits for his pursuers to well and truly lose the trail, he’s getting into the pattern of things on this new planet. Humans, he’s realizing, aren’t a vertical species no matter how high they build and so he can easily take shelter in high places and know that the odds are far lower of being discovered. There aren’t a lot of trees in the part of the city he’s been adjusting in, but what there are nobody inspects, and there are plenty of spaces a small Erinaen can get and rest with ease that humans would struggle with. He’s figured out the basics of the local money system- everything costs more than they say it costs, he does not know why and doesn’t want to draw attention by asking- and is figuring out where he can steal money, and where he can still necessities if it’s not an option.
And it’s that last one he’s working on when things take a turn.
Humans have better day vision than Erinaens, but their hearing is crap, and it isn’t until a local his age had crept into the same aisle of a small store that Argit realizes they’re even there. Both start when they see each other, the local’s hand darting to a shelf and Argit freezing in the midst of shoving a package of nuts and dried fruit into a bag he stole four planets back.
Something happens in that moment, as they take each other in. Both thin, both dirty, ragged, scarred. A sense spreads within each of them that the other gets it.
In two heartbeats the local kitten turns and takes a careful look around the corner, towards where what Argit assumes is the owner has been arguing with someone.
“We’re good,” they says in a near whisper. An amount of tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying drops from Argit’s muscles, and he sets to work shoving more than he’d planned into his bag. For the first time in what feels like an eternity somebody is keeping watch.
“What do you want,” he asks at about the same volume, and the local turns back just long enough to do a quick scan of the shelves, grab an orange bag, and toss it to him before turning back. Argit grabs another one, and some weird stick things he can’t identify but that don’t take up a lot of space. He shuts his bag, adjusts it over his shoulder to account for the added weight, and runs over the layout of the place as he saw it on his entrance. “I need to grab some water.”
The local shook their head.
“I know a better place,” they said, backing away from the end of the shelf and turning towards him again. Looking him over, their eyes narrowed at his now stuffed bag, flickering towards the entrance. They were on the same page again, it might attract attention if the owner was properly distracted. Already Argit was considering ways to ensure it, you couldn’t count on an argument doing the job, but the local came to a decision faster, clapping a hand on his shoulder as they slipped past. “Come on.”
Having already decided to trust them, at least for now, Argit followed without question. Besides, it would have been stupid to risk saying no, he has more to lose by making a scene than the local does. They lead him carefully through the rest of the small store, away from the entrance, muttering something he can’t catch in a pleased tone when they come across another door. This one is metal, with a push bar and a well-marked button beside it. The local ignores the button, laying both hands on the bar and letting off sparks that arc over it as they push it open into an alley.
Together they slip out, take a sharp right, and are gone. Down two alleys, over a fence, and through one of the smallest parks Argit has ever seen. Not that he’s seen a lot. It’s not until they’re passed the park that the local finds a bench next to a road, under a small roof, and drops down onto one of the seats. Argit carefully does the same, silently lamenting not being able to scan about with his ears in this shape.
“So,” the local says, sitting up straight and flashing a bright smile, “I’m Kevin Levin.” Argit is surprised to find himself honestly smiling back.
“Argit,” he says, without even thinking, a stupid move he’ll be grateful later didn’t come back to bite him. In the then and now, however, he just pulled one of the orange bags out and handed it over. “Thanks for the help, friend.” It isn’t meant in the moment. A turn of phrase learned from his parents’ tails. But Kevin brightens at the word. Something in Argit brightens to see Kevin brighten.
The rest is a history.
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wreck my plans - chapter two
Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader
Series rating: M
Chapter rating: M
Word count: 4,241
Notes: All my love to @ezrasbirdie for continuing to beta read this series and for her enthusiasm for this chapter when she read it over ❤️ Also a huge thank you to everyone who left such kind feedback on chapter one. I’ve got most of the plot mapped out and I’m excited for you all to see where this goes!
Comments/reblogs appreciated!
Chapter warnings: Swearing, fated lovers, divorced main characters, therapy, yearning, a couple of horny adults
previous chapter || next chapter || masterlist (main) || masterlist (marcus pike)
SEPTEMBER
It’s a hot day. Summer is clinging on to the very end this year with its last gasps being prolonged. You don’t mind. Having a functional air conditioner for the first time in years is keeping you cool. Kevin had refused to fix the air conditioner at your shared house and had balked at the idea of calling a repairman.
The washing machine has you mesmerized. It’s the night before you’re supposed to go to Marcus’s first figure drawing class and you have no idea what you want to wear. He’d said comfy clothes, but that’s so vague, you’re not too sure what he entirely meant. You’d needed to do laundry anyway, and this way you’d have options.
Marcus seems nice. Handsome, too. You don’t know if it’s because it’s been so long since you’d noticed someone, but there’s a pull there. You could feel it when you met up with him to discuss the job. It’s silly, you know, but it’s been so long since someone had actually looked at you and seen you.
You’re so lost in thought, you hardly hear Charlotte come in. “How many loads is this?” she asks, plopping down on the floor next to you.
“Huh? Oh, three, I think. I had a lot to do,” you say, returning your attention to the washing machine with a yawn.
“Are you ready for tomorrow?” your sister asks you after a minute of silence.
You shrug. “I guess. Dr. Ridley said it was good to get out and do something for myself.” You’ve been seeing your new therapist since March and you really like her. You think she might be the best therapist you’d ever been to.
“And she’s right,” Charlotte affirms. “When was the last thing you did something for yourself on this scale?”
Again, you shrug. “I don’t know. A while. You know how Ke – how he – felt about that sort of thing.”
Charlotte grumbles. She really doesn’t like your ex-husband, she hadn’t when you were married to him either. You think she may have been the happiest after you when you announced you were finally filing for divorce. “Well, he doesn’t count. You’re getting paid really good money to basically just stand there and look at the eye candy while people draw you.” At your look of slight incredulity she continues, “What? Ellie’s sister is in that class and she says Professor Dameron? More like Professor Damn-eron.”
You bark out a startled laugh. Ellie’s sister isn’t wrong; you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought the same thing. “There’s just one thing,” you say, chewing the inside of your lip.
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know what to wear. Marcus just said to wear something comfy for the first couple of sessions.”
Charlotte nods, remembering her own experience in the class. “Well, last year when I took it, it wasn’t someone as gorgeous as you. But she basically wore, like, jeans and t-shirts.” You whine, thinking about wearing jeans on an 84-degree day. “But it’s really up to the model. You could show up wearing that for all you like. It’s not a fashion show, it’s more, like, the students getting used to drawing different textures and shit.” She looks at you, wearing a cropped top and cutoff denim shorts. “You could wear something like that if you want to,” she suggests.
You shake your head. “I don’t know, Char. I wanna make a good first impression, you know?”
Your sister understands. “I get it. But just a piece of advice? Don’t overthink this. Just… I don’t know, go with it. What would Dr. Ridley say?”
You know exactly what Dr. Ridley would say. Let this thing happen as it does. “Okay. I was thinking maybe a dress? You know the sundress I got last week when we went thrift-shopping?”
Charlotte’s eyes light up. “Oooh yes, perfect!”
You yawn again. “Thank God Cassidy was able to cover tomorrow morning’s opening shift.” You’d asked to switch with the other morning manager so that you could have a chance to sleep in and give yourself plenty of time to get ready after your bi-weekly morning appointment with Dr. Ridley.
When the laundry is finally finished at eleven forty-five, Charlotte helps you fold it all carefully. “Hey, if I don’t see you before the class tomorrow, good luck. Not that you need it. I think this is really great that you’re doing this,” says Charlotte, setting the laundry basket down on the floor outside your bedroom door.
“Thanks, kid,” you reply. Toeing the laundry basket into your room, you quickly put it all away before curling into bed and falling right to sleep.
- - - -
Marcus isn’t sure why he’s disappointed that you’re not at the cafe the next morning, but he feels the pang of disappointment all the same. He tries not to question it; he’s seeing you later today for Christ’s sake. But still, the barista, a university student he thinks, doesn’t make his order the same way you had done a few weeks ago.
Today’s the first day that you’re going to be sitting in his figure drawing class. He wonders how you’re feeling about all of it. Nervous? Excited?
It’s a talented bunch of kids that he’s undercover-teaching. At first, he’d been nervous that he wouldn’t be a good teacher, that Megan had been right. But after a while on the first day, he’d gotten into the swing of things. And he finds he’s quite enjoying it as well. If this weren’t an undercover thing, he’d say maybe he should switch careers.
He’s so glad that he found you as his model. It’s odd; he’s just met you and he already feels a connection. A connection that he can’t explain. He’s only met you a handful of times but he likes you. If he didn’t have an undercover operation to maintain, he’d maybe ask you out for a meal. Get to know you better. But he has the integrity of the case to maintain. And if anything got out, the entire sting operation would be up in smoke before he could make any headway on it.
He takes his less-than-perfect coffee and heads out to Dr. Ridley’s office. He’s not allowed to say much about this case, not wanting anything to get out before the Bureau is ready to release a statement, in addition to the confidentiality that comes with being an FBI agent. He does, however, mention that his new case requires him to be undercover as an art instructor. Dr. Ridley isn’t surprised that he’s doing better at it than he originally expected. “Marcus, the only person who thought you couldn’t do it was someone who was manipulating you into doing something they wanted you to do. Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she tells him. “This is very good, these improvements you're making with yourself.” This makes Marcus feel better.
Before he realizes it, it’s time for him to get ready for the class. Usually he shows up about ten minutes before the class starts, wanting to make sure that everything is set up the way he likes it. When he arrives at the studio, you’re standing outside the door, waiting.
And oh, god, you’re wearing a dress. “Hello,” he says, attempting to swallow his nerves.
You look up from your phone, putting it in the pocket of your dress. “Hi, Professor Dameron,” you reply.
“Marcus, please,” he reminds you and you repeat his name. “You found the classroom okay?” Marcus asks you, unlocking the door, letting you go in first. As the door shuts, he flicks on the lights.
“Yeah. My sister Charlotte took this class last year and she gave me directions.” There’s a sea of desks and chairs facing a platform that you’ll presumably be standing on. You gulp. “H-how many people are in the class?” You try to make your voice sound casual.
“Maybe fifty? I’d have to double check,” Marcus says, noticing your trepidation. “Hey, don’t worry. We’re not jumping into the deep end just yet. The first couple of weeks are a warmup. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out, no big deal.” Secretly, he’s unsure if he’d prefer it if it didn’t work out so then he would feel less weird about wanting to ask you out. He shakes the thought away. Get it together, Pike.
“Yeah.” You let out a breathy chuckle. “Just stage fright, I guess.” Looking at the stage, you gesture to it and say, “Is that where you want me to…?”
Marcus nods. “Yeah. I know there is a desk there, too. But I’m the type that walks around, observing. So it’ll just be you.” He notices the blip of panic in your eyes that quickly dissipates. “You, uh, can put your bag and other things under the desk.”
Students are beginning to filter in as you place your phone in your mini-backpack before stuffing it beneath the desk. Marcus notices the pins on it as you slide it off your shoulders. “Mandalorian fan, huh?” he asks, pointing to the Grogu pin.
“What? Oh, yeah.” You’re still a bit flustered but Marcus has managed to calm your nerves. He stands next to the desk, pulling out a pair of glasses from his bag.
“I apologize for how nerdy I’m about to look,” Marcus says to you in an undertone, pushing the square-framed glasses on his face. “But my eyes were really sore this morning and I just really fucking hate putting contacts in on days like that.” And oh my god, he looks the last thing from a nerd. You need to catch your breath.
You look away so you don’t get re-flustered right before the class starts. The class is mostly female, with some male students as well. You’d say it’s a seventy-five/twenty-five ratio if you had to guess. You spot Ellie’s sister, Tessa, sitting near the front with a gaggle of girls you vaguely recognize.
“Good afternoon everyone,” Marcus begins as he calls the class to attention five minutes past the hour. “As you all know, this week we are beginning our semester-long project of figure-drawing. As discussed in the first class, your grade will largely be based on how you improve over the course of the next three months.” He gestures to you. “This is going to be your model for the semester.” Giving your name, he continues sternly. “I only want to stress this once, we are all adults in this room and she has thankfully accepted this position, so please treat her with the same respect and dignity you would treat me or anyone else in this room. Am I clear?” The class murmurs their assent.
You can’t help it. You’re flustered now for a different reason. Seeing someone be so authoritative like that has always done something for you. You bite your lip, trying to keep yourself calm, but you’re not sure how well you manage. You’re glad that his attention is on the class and the class’s attention is largely on him. Still, you manage to catch Tessa’s eye unintentionally and she winks discreetly, knowingly, smirking as she returns her attention to Marcus. Finally managing to school your features as Marcus directs his attention back to you, he says, “I want you to stand as you are. We’ll break in about half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes.”
Waiting until the class has their sketchpads and charcoal pencils at the ready, you adjust your position ever so slightly and stand at the ready. You’re going to be standing for a long time; you’re glad that your sandals are supportive.
The only sound in the room is that of pencil on paper; every so often Marcus’s shoes will squeak as he takes a turn around the class.
Marcus is mesmerized by you, your look of slight defiance and determination. It stirs something, rekindles something that he thought long gone: inspiration.
- - - -
“I started drawing again,” Marcus says to Dr. Ridley two weeks later.
She looks up from her notes. “That’s wonderful, Marcus,” she says. “You’ve been saying for so long that you thought your inspiration was long gone. What brought it back?” she asks.
Marcus hesitates. He can’t tell her that much about the case still. “You know that part of my undercover work entails teaching a figure drawing class.” Dr. Ridley nods. “So, the inspiration is partially to do with teaching, but mostly to do with the model.” At Dr. Ridley’s look of alarm and confusion, he hastens to add, “No, no, no. Nothing like that. Fuck, no. Not anything like that. She isn’t a student. She doesn’t even go to school there, she was just looking for a job. She’s closer to me in age than she is to the students.”
The dots connect in Dr. Ridley’s head as she remembers another client of hers talking about doing a modeling job for a university class. She doesn’t say anything. “And tell me about this woman. What about her inspired you to pick up the pencil again so to speak?”
Marcus opens his mouth and shuts it several times in succession. “There’s a connection,” he finally says. “It feels like we know each other, even though we just met for the first time just under a month ago.” He knows how it sounds; he doesn’t want to dive in this quickly. Not to mention, he can’t.
“And does she feel the same way?” asks Dr. Ridley.
Again Marcus hesitates. How can he know that? “I’m not sure. She seems to like me.” Last week you had genuinely laughed at a bad joke he’d made before the class began. You’re always eager to start a conversation, and you haven’t been scared off yet, not by the class or, more importantly, by him.
The class has moved, with varying results, from fully clothed figure drawing to figure drawing in undergarments. Today is the first day that you’ll be standing up there in nothing more than a bra and panties. You’d taken it in stride when he told you at the end of last week’s class. You’ve settled into the gig pretty easily. He sometimes sees you in the morning at the cafe if the paperwork and ordering was all caught up.
(More often than not, you took a break from paperwork and ordering when he came in so you could see him; it helps that he always comes in at about the same time. You feel like a high schooler with her first crush all over again. At least Marcus is better than Oliver ended up being.)
“It doesn’t matter, though. I can’t ask her out,” Marcus ends up saying.
Dr. Ridley frowns. “If this has to do with your previous relationships –”
“It doesn’t. It’s just… This case is so secretive and I can’t risk the integrity of it.” He sounds like a broken record, but it’s the truth, it has to be. As much as he likes you and enjoys the easy friendship you’ve started, it has to stay there for the sake of the case. Even if he wants to take you for breakfast and have you try the best pancakes he’s ever had. He doesn’t even know if you like pancakes but he still wants to share them with you.
“That may be,” Dr. Ridley says. “But that doesn’t mean at the end of the semester, or once you’ve cracked the case, you can’t…”
He’s considered it. It’s only been a month, but he’s never had a connection like this with anyone else. “After admitting that I’ve lied to her the entire time about who I really am?” he asks ruefully.
“If the connection is there like you say it is, isn’t that worth the risk?” asks Dr. Ridley.
That evening, you’re running late. “Christ,” you pant as you run to the door just as Marcus is unlocking the door. “I’m not late, am I?” you ask. The weather’s begun to cool slightly. You’re in a long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans.
“Right on time,” Marcus says.
But you’re not, you think. You don’t have enough time to pick up where you left off on your discussion from last time.
Marcus holds open the door for you, his heart hammering as an idea forms. “I was wondering… You can say no if you don’t feel comfortable…”
You arch a curious brow at him. “What’s that?”
“Well, if we should exchange numbers.” Marcus rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. “That way if ever either of us is feeling under the weather or running late or something comes up, neither of us is left in the lurch.”
You’d been angling for a way to get his number. Trying not to sound too eager, you say, “Sure, that’s a good idea.”
You give him your number before helping him set up a partition off to the side of the platform. “So you can change behind there with some privacy,” he explains to you.
“Right,” you say. “I’ll just…” You point to the partition as people begin to file in. As you begin to shimmy out of your jeans your phone buzzes.
Hey, this is Marcus. Just wanted you to get my number/contact information, reads the text.
Hi Marcus, you reply, sending a waving emoji along with it, before you return to changing. You can hear Marcus greet the class as the last minute din of chatter and discussions die down.
Oddly enough, you don’t feel as nervous about this as you had at the beginning. You chalk it up to being used to having a hundred and two eyes on you for the past month or so.
Waiting until Marcus finishes his opening spiel, you step out from behind the partition and stand in position, wearing the same neutral expression as always. As Marcus makes his rounds across the classroom, pointing out corrections and observations, he meets your gaze. You hold it for a long moment, his brown eyes blazing into your own eyes. It’s almost like playing a game of chicken with him, seeing who will look away first. It’s Marcus. Clearing his throat he looks down at Tessa’s sketch of you. “Very good, Miss Thompson. I like how you’ve captured her gaze. Like she knows something you don’t.”
- - - -
“How do you think it’s going so far?” asks Charlotte. It’s been almost a month since you officially started.
Picking up a box of spaghetti, you toss it into the cart that you’re pushing, Charlotte in step beside you. “I think pretty good. It’s kinda boring sometimes. And my muscles ache after a long pose.”
Charlotte nods. “I think that’s par for the course,” she says. “And the…” she gestures to herself, “stuff?”
It takes a minute for you to realize what she’s asking. “Oh. That. No, we haven’t gotten there yet. I don’t think that’s until mid-October if I’m not mistaken.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right. But how is professor hottie?” she asks with a knowing smirk. You and Marcus had started texting each other outside of the official reason why you’d exchanged numbers. Mostly sharing memes, but sometimes you’ll carry on a conversation that was cut short earlier in the day.
With a shrug, you grab a bag of rice. “Nothing to report,” you say, attempting nonchalance. She sees right through you.
“Oh, sure. Yeah. I believe that,” she says sarcastically.
“It’ll sound silly,” you say, “it sounds silly to me. But I feel this… magnetic pull towards him?” Charlotte doesn’t say anything. “Like, we’re definitely friends. But, I don’t know. It could be that I’m feeling all these post-divorce feelings, but Char. It’s like he sees me. In a way that no one ever has. Not even Kevin really saw me.” Charlotte fake spits at the mention of your ex-husband. “I’m probably reading too much into it. I don’t know. What I do know is he’s so fucking pretty to look at. But he’s also my boss, technically.”
Charlotte mercifully changes the topic. “And how are things at the bistro?” Of the three jobs you have, you only really mention the cafe and the modeling gig.
“Not much to report there. They gave me the all clear to go down to ten hours a week, but you already knew that. I don’t know what’s going to happen after this semester is over.”
As you push the shopping cart to the checkout, Charlotte says, “Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to.” And you know she’s talking about more than one thing.
Charlotte drops you off at the building before she heads out for girls night with her friends. She keeps trying to get you to join them but it never works out or you’re worn out from work and just want to sit on the couch with a glass of wine and a book. Maybe one of these days you will go.
Marcus is just coming into the building as the door shuts behind you. “You’re earlier than usual,” he says.
“Sister dropped me off. She’s going out with some girlfriends tonight,” you explain, falling into step beside him. Your stomach growls.
“Hungry?” he asks, glancing at his watch. He has his glasses on again today. “We’ve got time before class if you wanna grab a bite to eat.”
“Um…” you hesitate for a second. It’ll be going on seven by the time class gets out and then factoring in the bus, it’ll be almost eight before you get home. “Sure.”
And that’s how you find yourself sitting across from Marcus in the cafeteria, eating wraps and chips. You’d both gone for chocolate milk as a drink. You’d offered to pay for yours, but he had simply waved you off and paid for the entire meal.
“That’s better,” you say. “It’s been so long since I had cafeteria food.”
Marcus nods. “Well, we can’t go to class on an empty stomach.”
The two of you chat on the way to the studio, the topic going to where you went to school. “I went to the University of Texas, in Austin,” Marcus offers, “art and art history.” It isn’t a lie. He had started in the art department, which was very different to the current art department he was in.
You gape at him. “No way, that’s where I went! Only I took business.”
Marcus chuckles. “Huh. Small world.”
“No kidding,” you reply as he unlocks the door to the studio. “When did you go?”
“Oh, god. Like. Fifteen years ago?” he guesses. “I graduated in 2009.”
“I started in 2008. God, that’s kind of freaky to think about. Do you think our paths ever crossed?” you ask.
“I think I’d remember if our paths ever crossed,” Marcus affirms.
You raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you quite sure about that, Professor Dameron?” you tease, your voice just this side of flirtatious and there’s a pang in Marcus’s chest at the reminder of who he really is versus who you think he is. Still, he forces a chuckle before you step behind the partition to step out of your leggings and hoodie.
Focus is hard to achieve tonight for some reason. You’re fidgety and you blame it on what little you’re wearing. Still, you try to maintain your pose. Unable to tear your eyes from Marcus. As he’s making his rounds around the class who are diligently sketching you, he frowns. Your pose isn’t quite right.
He should just tell you to adjust the way you’re facing ever so slightly. But that would distract the class and you could change the pose too much. Once he’s finished with the student whose sketch he’s currently giving a once-over, he strolls over to you.
Your eyes lift to meet his as he steps up onto the platform, asking a silent question of “yes?”
His voice, quiet, responds, “can I just…?”
And without breaking eye contact, even for a second, he reaches out and touches you just beneath your chin, moving your face ever so slightly into the position needed.
Oh. You realize it all of a sudden, the dawning realization hitting you like a freight train, your face blazing with the sudden comprehension, the air knocked from your lungs. You’re so overwhelmed with this sudden feeling; you need to calm down, but keeping calm is the last thing you’re able to do at the moment. You’ve never been this affected by a touch as simple as this one before, not even when you were with Kevin, and that scares you a little bit if you’re being completely honest.
All of your nerve endings are on fire. It’s such an innocuous gesture, meant simply to adjust the way you’re facing. Marcus has touched you before. But not like this, never like this. You keep your eyes fixed on his, trying to school your features and, somehow, either through divine intervention or sheer fucking willpower, maintain that neutral look of defiance. His own face is impossible to read, his intense brown eyes still locked onto yours.
But he fucking knows. You liked it, want him to do that again.
“That’s better,” he murmurs gruffly. And as if he hadn’t just rocked both your worlds with his simple, innocent touch, Marcus returns to the sea of students to see how they’re progressing.
This is not good, Marcus thinks, trying to pretend like he hadn’t seen the way you reacted, the way he had reacted. Not good at all.
---
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whumptober 2023 day 5 : cold
Chicago med/pd, Sarah & Jay
part two to this fic — calling this blacklit paradise!au
warnings: dark!ava, kidnapping, mentions of non-con & unwilling drugging & restraints
Sarah shivers as her bare feet step over the cold floor of the apartment, it’s wood and while Sarah assumes that means there some type of insulation in this place, she doesn’t think there actually is. She wishes she could go outside and see if the building is under construction or something, she was unconscious when Ava had brought her inside so she didn’t have the chance to see where she actually is.
“Are you okay?” The man, the one Sarah still doesn’t have a name for, asks as he helps her slump against the mattress in the corner of the dingy room Ava’s been keeping her in. The others are all in the living room of this particular apartment, but Ava said Sarah got her own room because she’s special, she wishes she was where the others were. Maybe they would be able to come up with a plan to get out of here together.
“Just cold.” The thin white dress Ava put her in this morning isn’t very warming in the Chicago winter that’s only bound to get colder.
“Here, I don’t need it.” The man slips one of his jackets off and wraps it around Sarah’s shoulders. It seems old, worn out, a thick plaid material that was big on the guys frame so it swallows Sarah whole.
“Thanks. Hey uh- what’s your name?” Maybe she shouldn’t be asking this because it’s been weeks and he hasn’t said his name yet so he might be avoiding it for a reason, might be helping Ava because he wants to and not because of her forcing. But Reese seriously doubts that with how guilty the man always seems to look, nobody with that much sympathy gets off on drugging random er doctors.
“You really don’t recognize me?” Sarah’s brow furrows as she takes him in for a moment. He has a beanie covering his hair but she can see a little brunette peaking out from under it, stubble that’s more than a five o’clock shadow but not yet a beard, his frame is big and he seems healthy, strong, and he has caring eyes that are oddly familiar. Even then, she still doesn’t recognize him.
“It’s me Jay.” He says in a half whisper. Her eyes blow wide but when she looks at him again it almost seems obvious that it’s Jay, get rid of the baggy clothes, wipe off the dirt and grime on his skin, and he’d be recognizable in seconds.
“Halstead? Did she take you too?” If Ava had taken him then maybe he was the first considering his facial hair, anytime Sarah’s ever seen the cop he’s been clean shaven like Will is.
“I’m undercover, Ava thinks I’m homeless and was squatting in the building when she bought it and started to bring you guys in. She’s been giving me food and letting me stay in turn of helping her with whatever plan she has.” He summarizes quickly, leaned into Sarah’s space so only she’ll be able to hear him if someone was to walk in.
“So your team knows we didn’t really quit our jobs?” The nod Jay gives could make Sarah cry, someone’s looking for them, an entire team, intelligence is looking for them. There’s real hope.
“When you “quit” then didn’t come home to you and Noah’s apartment he called Will who called me, things spiraled from there. We didn’t think she’d take this many people.” A small sigh escapes Jay, he’s obviously stressed, Sarah can’t blame him. Switching between being here to being with Intelligence must be hard on him, they’ve never been best friends or anything but Will has said Jay goes undercover a lot and it makes him worried.
“What about Kevin? I- I mean, couldn’t he have overpowered her by now?” There’s been plenty of moments where Sarah almost wanted to scream at Atwater to just jump on Ava’s back, that it’d be the easiest thing to do.
“He could but he won’t, Intelligence is working on a more organized way to get you guys out of here.” Figures.
“How?” She asks and slumps a little further into Jay’s space, almost leaning forward enough to touch his shoulder, she’s just cold. So fucking cold, and Halstead is radiating heat, Will does too. It must run in their family.
“We’re trying to do it before tonight, Goodwin is going to call Ava in to discuss bringing her back since her getting fired was what started this and now Goodwin can say half the ed staff “quit”, once Ava’s at the hospital we’ll move you guys out while Kim and Voight go to arrest Ava with some patrol as backup.”
“Why before tonight?” A pained expression crosses over Jay’s face and Sarah instantly straightens up, no cop would look like that if things weren’t bad.
“What is it?”
“You and Ava got married today, tonight’s your “wedding night” and Ava she- she’s going to want to have the full wedding night experience.” Sarah knows what Jay is implying, she knew it was a possibility from the first day she woke up in this building, she’s honestly a little surprised it hasn’t yet. Thankful, but surprised.
“My team is doing everything they can to avoid that happening.” Jay assures in that sincere way she’s heard him use on victims in the hospital, it brings a sense of comfort to her even knowing why he’s using it.
“Thank you.” She gives as much of a smile she can but Jay shakes his head.
“You don’t need to thank me. When we move you it’s going-.” Whatever Jay was going to say gets cut off by the bedroom door flying open to reveal Ava standing with an irritated expression and crossed arms.
“What are you doing?” It’s a sneer that makes Sarah’s eyes squeeze shut momentarily. Anytime Ava gets mad it makes Reese feel frozen in time, unable to breathe properly, unable to think clearly until the tension slips away.
“I- I was just cold, he was giving me his jacket.” The blonde huffs a little but nods, she already looks to be calming down, Sarah thanks god for it.
“Fine. Alex help her up we’re going down the hall.” Ava turns on her heels as Sarah stumbles to stand with Jay, thankful for the arm he puts around her back to help her stay upright. Between not eating enough and the amount of drugs Ava’s given her, Sarah’s been finding it harder and harder to function correctly.
“Where are we going?” Bekker gives a wide smile as she leads the pair past the living room, Reese doesn’t have time to look at anyone but she could hear them murmuring so she assumes they’re okay, sober if nothing else.
“Our bedroom.” A sick feeling washes over Sarah in seconds, she thinks her feet would’ve completely stopped moving if it wasn’t for Jay keeping her walking.
“I got us some wedding gifts for tonight.” Ava comes to take Sarah’s hand once they reach the second bedroom in the apartment, it’s on the complete opposite side than the one Sarah was originally in.
“Do you like it?” The door swings open so Ava can pull Reese inside and leave Jay in the hallway.
There’s a queen sized bed in the middle of the room, it’s the only thing aside from a mirror in the corner and a small nightstand on the left side of the bed. The bed itself seems nice, red silk sheets visible from the puffy white comforter being pulled back by the plethora of pillows by the headboard. Everything on the bed is obviously new and untouched, Ava has a grin on her face as she urges Sarah to sit down.
“It’s really nice.” Reese says and feels too much relief when she sinks into the memory foam mattress. She hasn’t slept properly in weeks, and while she knows how disgusting of an act this bed was planned for, she can’t help but let out a sigh of contentment at the thought of sleeping soundly even for an hour.
“I knew you’d like it. Now, I have some errands to run but then I’ll be back so we can spend the night together.” A kiss gets pressed to Sarah’s forehead, she leans into it, knowing that Ava likes it when she does.
“Get some sleep baby.” She nods and watches as Ava slips out of the room, the sound of the lock clicking from the outside following her.
Sarah shuffles back against the bed to lean on the pillows, there’s no chains on her ankles or ropes on her wrists so she’s able to curl under the blankets, hugging Jay’s jacket around herself even with the comforter covering her. She’ll sleep for now, pray that Intelligence’s plan works, and if it doesn’t she’ll remind herself it’s better her than someone else. She can’t imagine anyone else having to go through what Ava’s put her through, she’d rather it all fall to her shoulders, keep the others safe.
#whumptober 2023#blacklit paradise!au#writing#sarah reese#jay halstead#sarah & jay#ava bekker#dark!ava bekker#chicago med#chicago pd
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