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#i even got prize money for it again all good here
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sucks to suck sometimes
#that is to say i'm going to vent here in the tags i would apologize but this is my blog so#but i won a sonnet contest yay congrats go me if there's one thing i can do it is write pretty weird sonnets that people like for some reas#i even got prize money for it again all good here#however yesterday i was driving because you know i was planning to go try and take my driving test and get a license#for you know government id and also so i can. drive a car and whatever useful skill in this car-centric hellscape amiright#and i did passably all hour i just drove around the city practicing like passing and stopping smoothly and all those good things#and then i drove onto my street which i cannot stress enough is a one way residential street#and it was the middle of the day so like. there were a total of five cars parked along the block#and my mom picked up a call with her girlfriend which like good for her right but it's very distracting because she's right next to me#and i'm trying not to listen because she doesn't like to be eavesdropped on when she's talking to her gf#and the apartment has paper thin walls so i basically have to try and turn my attention off so as to give her privacy#so anyways i turn half my attention off and manage to tap one of the cars parked on one of this nearly-empty street#because to quote olivia rodrigo i'm not cool and i'm not smart and i can't even parallel park#and they test u on that so i was trying to parallel park right which i can't#so now i am refusing to go take my driving test because i hate myself and my abilities#and to get back to the setup i can't even be happy about prize money or anything because obvs i have to pay back my mom#because cars are expensive even if it's just small dents in them#and like. there's been a whole thing about me being promised a job and then not getting it so i don't even have a job right now#i'm applying to all the places i can think of that i can get to on public trans and who might wanna hire a teenager with v little experienc#so anyway until someone decides to take pity on me and hire me i don't even have a job to help pay her back with#which it could be worse! we have enough money that it's not going to be a disaster until i can properly pay her back#and my sweet twin is even begging me to let them pay half because we generally split expenses and pool our money and whatever#even if it's usually like. buying coffee for both of us or getting lunch someplace not me managing to fuck up driving on an empty street#so like it could be way way worse however it really sucks#anyways i feel terrible about the whole thing obviously and needed to vent someplace#so hi strangers on the internet it was probably not worth it at all to read all of that#rio remarks
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jhkfan123 · 3 months
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don't forget me (like the others) | coriolanus snow
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pairing: mentor!coryosnow x mentor!reader
warnings: mc death, violence, graphic, soft!snow, hysterical reader
in which: the arena tour turned rebel bombing hit you hard. snow, your boyfriend of a few years, came out barely harmed. you however? that was a different story.
wc: 2.8k
a/n: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 100 FOLLOWERS!!! I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH AND IN RETURN.... 😏....you guys get an absolutely soul crushing fic that almost made me cry while i was writing it. enjoy!!! 🥰 (i'm so sorry)
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you were looking forward to your anniversary. three years. you and coryo had agreed to celebrate after your mentor work was done. that included touring the arena and preparing your tributes for the interviews.
you needed this plinth prize. your family wouldn't make it without the prize money in your possession. coryo offered to help you out, but you knew he couldn't contribute much. which meant you had to win the hunger games, or your tribute at least.
if your tribute, jessup diggs, didn't win, you had no shot at affording university. and without university, a well paying job wasn't in the question. so you were going to attempt to make the most out of the two events planned for the day. your boyfriend offered up some valuable advice to you in the days prior. his adjustments to the rules opened up some advantages. with the opportunity of sponsors, you just had to make jessup likable.
after your sit down meeting with jessup, you weren't as confident in his ability to win. his bat bite was getting bad. infection was going to consume him, or even worse some other disease bats could transmit. ebola, rabies, even. either way, it was going to be much harder for him to win. unless the others wiped the other tributes out, and he just waited it out. coryo had suggested that strategy to you. the two of you had talked for hours last night.
either way, it was now time to make your way to the arena. coriolanus, along with clemensia dovecote, had been pulled away, to dr. gaul's office. you hadn't seen him since the tribute meetings. but now, here, outside the gates of the arena, you waited for him.
they claimed they wouldn't start the tour until all mentors were there. that meant coryo. it was good to know he would be here for this. you saw his tribute, lucy gray baird, at the front of the line. she was amazing. a singer, from what you had heard on reaping day. coriolanus had told you that he was planning to get her to sing again. she was fidgeting, waiting for her mentor to arrive. you were too. you looked to your tribute, jessup besides you. he was fairly tall and strong, but he looked weak now. the bite got worse just in the period of time between your meeting and now.
"remember to take in every part of the arena. you need to familiarize yourself." you suggested. he didn't say anything, but nodded. he hadn't spoken much in the time you'd known him. you truly felt bad for him. you weren't supposed to get attached to your tributes. but jessup needed help. from a doctor. anyone. the minute the bell rings this time tomorrow morning, he would have little to no chance of winning. he was just a boy. he was a little younger than you. no one deserves to die that young.
while looking at him, you felt someone place a hand on your shoulder. you looked to your left and found your boyfriend, coryo, his hand resting on you. you de-tensed at his touch. you were glad he was here.
"hi." he was smiling now. he placed a quick kiss on your cheek and grabbed your hand in his.
"hey, coryo." you admired his features as he looked at you. the moment was interrupted when a peacekeeper shoved him forward. probably to align him with lucy gray. you hands were pulled apart. it was sudden. the peacekeepers had no time for pleasantries. when you could see he was next to lucy gray, the line began to move.
after numerous "enjoy the show!'s" you finally made your way in. it was very dark, you could barely see the person in front of you. there was a dim glow from capitol cameras gearing towards the front of the line. suddenly, a loud click allowed for all the windows to open in the arena, sunlight shining in. you gestured for jessup to follow you, and you made your way to coriolanus. he was with his tribute, in the center of the arena.
"do you know how long this is going to take?" you asked, regaining his hand in yours. he glanced over at you, his tribute too.
"they won't let us have much time." he said. he was probably right. it wasn't until a peacekeeper came on the PA system and claimed that you had 15 minutes to "tour the arena and discuss strategy." you nodded at the announcement. "stay by me, please. i wan't you safe. none of these tributes are cuffed." he said. you looked around. none of them seemed like immediate threats. they saw and were aware of the multiple peacekeepers assigned to each one. but you still, felt safer near coriolanus.
you turned to jessup, who was already looking around the arena. you surveyed it too. there was no where to go. it was a colosseum. a big circle with no escape. no where to go besides the main circle. you knew the games would be over quickly tomorrow. but you didn't want to tell jessup that. you assumed he already knew. but you had to say something. make use of this time.
as you opened your mouth, you were cut off by a loud boom. then another, then another, and another. you had no idea what was going on. you fell to the floor from the wind pushing you around. dust was everywhere. getting into your eyes and mouth and nose. suffocating. the loud noises kept on going. then you heard crumbling. the roof must have been falling. concrete was beginning to land everywhere around you. you heard shouting. then, you could identify a more specific voice. that of coriolanus's. he was shouting incoherently. you couldn't see him through the dust that hadn't yet settled. the loud booms stop, but the sound of the arena actively crumbling continued. you then felt sharp pains. in your legs, your arms, everywhere.
glass. it was getting everywhere.
you couldn't move. you were in a state of shock. and you were flat on the floor. every time you tried to crawl your body wouldn't budge. your boyfriend was still shouting things you couldn't make out. the ringing in your ears was too loud.
then he got closer. you could hear him better now. he was repeating the same word.
"MOVE!" you heard. he kept repeating himself. you understood him, but your brain wasn't working quite right. you still couldn't move. suddenly, you heard a screeching sound. metal. you managed to turn yourself onto your back. it was a bad idea. it wasn't until it was too late when you realized that the metal beam was falling in your direction. when you saw it become increasingly near, your body attempted to trigger fight or flight. you tried to move out of the way but it was too late. the beam slammed into you and everything went dark.
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the first thing you heard was your heartbeat. then you heard some sort of beeping. then your sight came in. blurry at first, but your eyes eventually focused on a blank ceiling. you took a deep breath and attempted to move your head. looking around, you identified the room around you as some sort of hospital room.
the next thing you became conscious of was the fact that something hurt like hell. you pinpointed it to somewhere on your leg, but you couldn't see. you wondered if you were alone. that was soon proven wrong when you noticed a certain blonde standing in the far corner of the room. he was talking to a doctor. the words were incoherent. then you noticed something unsettling. there were streaks of tears down his face.
that couldn't be good.
soon he noticed you were awake, and immediately rushed to your side.
"oh my god, are you up?" you could tell by his shaky voice that he had been crying. hard. you nodded and he broke out into a smile. he brushed your hair from your forehead and replaced it with a kiss. you smiled back at him.
"what happened?" you asked. his smile faded at your question.
"there was a rebel bombing. seven died." the number hurt your heard.
"seven? seven..mentors? tributes?" you asked. you weren't sure how that was going to help you.
"a mix of both. mostly tributes." he answered. you knew you had been unfit for this mentor position. you were far too empathetic for this. you shouldn't have started crying at the tribute's deaths. but you did. coriolanus immediately noticed. he shushed you and wiped your tears with his handkerchief.
"hey. remember. it would have been worse to die in the games tomorrow, right?" his attempt at making you feel better did nothing much. his answer also confused you. it would be cruel to continue with the games tommorow.
"the games are still happening?" you asked. he nodded with a melancholy feeling. "that's- awful." you couldn't believe the acts of the capitol. "which mentors are...gone?" you hesitated to even say it.
"diana and apollo. felix ravinstill is in critical condition." you had known the siblings well. and felix, well, his dad was president. this would not go unnoticed.
"oh no." you sighed. he grabbed your hand and intertwined it with his.
"it's going to be ok. you're going to be ok." there was something strange about the statement. it was like he was reassuring himself and not you. you nodded, almost hesitantly. "i should have helped you. i just stood there and shouted like an idiot-"
"don't start with that. please. don't kick yourself for it." you re-assured him. then you felt a sharp pain in your leg. you winced. you hissed through your teeth and the unexpected feeling.
"what? what? what it is?" he was immediately shot into a state of panic.
"my leg!" you shouted. it felt like it was on fire. you immediately reached down to grab where it hurt out of instinct, and when you released it, you found blood on your hands, and lots of it. "my hands!" you shouted, tears running down your face. coryo was now standing up.
"we need a doctor! please!" he pleaded. you began to sob as it was the only thing you could think of to do. you watched as coriolanus looked down at your leg. he looked back up almost immediately, which was not a good sign. through thick, hot tears you saw a figure walk into the room with a team of men behind him. you saw as they ushered him out into the hallway. that only made you increasingly nervous.
you panicked as the lights began to fade again.
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you were in a new room now. this one felt more, eerie. your boyfriend was sat beside you, his head in his hands. the only thing you could do was reach your arm out to his. he immediately jolted at your touch.
"coryo what happened?" it was all you could think about.
"um.." he stuttered. his breath was very shaky. "look. you lost-" he paused. "a lot of blood. in your leg. too much." he continued. you immediately got concerned.
"too much? what do you mean too much?" you mind began to race to every possible bad outcome.
"you're in critical condition." he finally blurted out what he had been meaning to say all along. your heart began to beat much faster.
"no. no. no. no. no. no. no-"
"hey, hey hey it's ok-"
"no." you began to cry again. in panem, you didn't know of very many people who made it out of critical condition. "coryo, i-" you paused. you considered lying to yourself. you considered thinking that everything was going to be ok. "i'm scared." you shuddered. instead, you went with the truth. "i-" the words you wanted to say made you want to throw up.
"what? please. tell me." he asked.
"i don't want to die." the phrase broke the wall between tears and sobs. admitting that death was a possibility in this situation made everything worse. no matter what comfort he would attempt to give you.
"you're not going to die. you're not going to die." he repeated. he once again seemed to be finding comfort in his own words.
"how do you know that?" you cried.
"i don't." he admitted. "but i don't want to think of anything like that until it becomes the most likely possibility. if it ever does." you saw a tear roll down his face.
you knew your body. you knew the condition you were in better than any of those doctors. so with a heavy heart, you did anything but ease your boyfriend's mind.
"coryo." there was now multiple tears scattered on his cheeks. "coryo." you picked his head up with your head. "it is the most likely possibility." you could immediately tell that he had already known that. his head fell again and you heard quiet cries. you rolled onto your back, the position you had started in. you looked up at the ceiling.
you had never been fond of death. it had always scared you, since you were a little girl. you had always hated the idea of the hunger games. you had watched one year and never again. mentoring in the hunger games was hard. you hated the games. the deaths were unnecessary. and each time the buzzer ruled them out, you just thought of their family.
and now that was happening to you. you knew that the buzzer would soon rule you out. you didn't know when. you knew how. and you knew that, it was going to be sooner rather than later.
you were terrified.
"i'm scared." you repeated. you tried to move your mind to something else. you found one thing, and it didn't help. "coryo. today's our anniversary." three years. you had almost forgot in the chaos of today. "i'm sorry we couldn't enjoy it." you continued to stare at the ceiling.
"it's not your fault." his voice was stern. "besides. we are spending time together. look at us. like our own private date." his joke somehow made you laugh.
"thank you for being here. i haven't even seen my parents." you admitted.
"they are outside. they just said they couldn't bear to see you like this." you admired coriolanus's bravery. you knew that your leg was not a pretty sight. the huge gash slicing it open. it was at this moment you began to feel lightheaded. you knew the blood loss was getting to you. you knew death was getting to you.
"coryo?" you asked for him. you turned over to face him again. he looked up at you. "can i have a kiss?" now usually he was rough, aggressive with his affections. but at this command, he was soft. he gave you a soft kiss on the lips and nothing more. you appreciated that this may be the last kiss you would share. "coryo?" you called for him again.
"yes?" he answered.
"do you promise you won't forget me when i'm gone?" your voice shook immensely. he didn't even try to counteract your statement. he knew.
"i could never forget you if i tried." you heard his voice quiver. "you're my love. my one and only love. i'll never love again." he declared.
"no, no don't do that. please. enjoy your life, ok? promise me you'll find somebody else to love." you closed your eyes. you couldn't bear the thought. it pained you to say it but it was necessary.
"i'll never love somebody as much as i love you." he grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss to it. a doctor came into the room. one wo had probably been monitoring your vitals from outside. all he did was give coriolanus a nod. you immediately saw tears fall from his face, though no sound was heard.
you focused on your heartbeat. you knew that time was ticking, and the doctor had just silently confirmed it. listening to your heartbeat, you noticed every once in a while, the beats would get farther apart.
"look, i-"
"i know what's happening." you couldn't bare to hear him say it. his tears became more rapid. you had stopped crying, however. you just wanted to be here with him.
"i'm going to stay, ok? i don't care how long it takes. i'm not leaving you." he stated. he tried to be loud even though his tears were silencing his words.
"just hold my hand." it was all you asked of him. "i love you." you said.
"i love you more." he replied, almost immediately. it had been a tradition the two of you had come up with. if one said "i love you," the other had to try to say it back as quick as possible. bonus points if you overlapped. the small gesture made you smile. you finally decided to close your eyes, and relax your body.
you heard the beeping turn into one long sound as you took a deep breath in. the last thing you heard was the boy next to you finally break down in a loud cry.
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From Her Knees
❝either we're smoking, or we're drinking, or we're at each other's throats. ❞
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Summary: You're in a toxic relationship with Aegon.
Pairing: Modern Aegon Targaryen x Unnamed Female Character (no Y/N)
Word Count: ~1.5 k
Author’s Note: This is a rewrite of an old fic for a different character, but it fits Aegon so well that I had to write it for him. I hope that you enjoy it! As always your support through a reblog or comment is appreciated!
Warnings: alcohol use, language, p in v intercourse, oral (m receiving), mentions of previous domestic abuse, they are so bad for each other.
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“You don’t do anything, Aegon!”
That was true.
The words she screamed at him usually were. He knew that, of course. That’s why it pissed him off so much. She was always right and she rubbed it in his face every single time. He had been home less than an hour after the shittiest day and she was already gunning for him.
“When am I ever here?” He spat. “I’m never fucking here! And when I am here, I have to listen to you bitch, and moan, and complain, and I’m fucking sick of it!”
That was also true.
He was almost always working; bearing the cross of being his father's son, forced to live a life he despised. It was exhausting, and draining, and all he wanted to do was come home and rest for the few short hours that he had before he had to get up and do it all over again. She’d never let him, though.
“Oh, you’re sick of it? Boo-fucking-hoo, Aegon,” she threw her hands up in the air. “What are you going to do? Leave? You tried that before, remember? It didn’t work.”
She was right again. How many times had they broken up? They had probably been separated more times than they had actually been together. He broke up with her the night before over something equally as futile, and yet, here he was again.
He just couldn’t stay away.
“You’re such a fuckin’ bitch!” He yelled. “You know that?” 
Yeah, she knew. She always had been and he always knew it. Yet, he stayed, she stayed. The two couldn’t stay away from each other.
They were moths to a flame.
He threw the door open, marching outside to the balcony, cigarette already lit and beer bottle in his hand. He slammed the door behind him, but she didn’t flinch. She was used to slamming doors, used to him in her face. Their screaming fits turned into fist fights almost every single time.
“Yeah, well fuck you,” she mumbled.
She poured herself a drink, swallowing the warm liquid quickly; it burned the whole way down. His silhouette danced along half-opened blinds as he paced back and forth on the balcony. Through the thin glass of the door she could hear him talking to himself; talking himself through hypothetical arguments while waving his hands in the air as he rehearsed. She didn’t even know why she was mad anymore. That’s how it was most nights. Something so small would trigger one of them, and then one sarcastic remark after the other and they were fighting again. The only time they ever got along was when they were both drunk, high, and fucking like animals on the closest surface available.
He was contemplating leaving again. Contemplating grabbing the keys, getting in the car, and spending the night in the gutter of some bar. This relationship was toxic. It always had been. His family begged him to stay away from her; the ‘narcissistic bitch’ they called her. Told him she was no good for him and that all she did was use him for money and sex. No matter how many times he tried to tell them that wasn’t true, they still wouldn’t believe him.
She didn’t want or need money. She didn’t want or need the sex. Hell, she barely wanted him. She could do so much better, they both knew it. She was beautiful and smart, and had everything going for her. Why she was sucked into this black hole of a fling, he would never know, and at times that made him feel even worse; knowing that she- in all of her holier-than-thou attitude and narcissistic personality disorder- she was still the prize of the two of them. He was just some cubicle junkie who only amounted to anything because of his last name, not because he cared.
Not because he was good at anything.
He came back inside when he was done smoking his cigarette and feeling sorry for himself. She was sitting at the table waiting for him. That was it, that was all it took; either he left or it was going to be World War III. He knew it by that shrewd look in her eye. The one that said, ‘you say one word to me, and I’m going to hurl this bottle of Jack Daniels at your fucking head’. He pulled the keys from the counter and started making his way back towards the door.
“Where the fuck are you going?” She asked him, standing up from her seat at the table and placing her hands on her hips.
He rolled his eyes and stopped. He really, really didn’t want to argue with her. He was tired, his muscles were sore, and he was so fed up with her shit. When he turned to face her, he sighed internally. She looked so cute standing there like that. Like at any moment she could just jump on him and claw his eyes out.
He hated crazy, but he loved her crazy.
“Well?” She drew out after not getting an answer the first time.
She was really trying to start something, and Aegon was caught in a cross hair; if he answered her, they fought. If he didn’t answer her, they still fought. If he left, they’d fight when he came back. Either way, there was going to be a fight.
“I’m getting the fuck out of here!” He yelled, knowing that everyone in their apartment complex could hear him. “Away from you and you’re fuckin’ voice that’s like nails on a goddamned chalkboard.”
All he had to do was say ‘I’m leaving’. He didn’t have to add the comment about her voice. But back-handed remarks were his thing, and he really couldn’t keep his mouth shut when it really mattered.
“Oh my voice is like nails on a chalkboard, huh?” She replied. “You aren’t saying that when you’re asking me to scream for you in bed! And trust me, the only reason I would be screaming is in laughter because your dick is so fucking small!”
She was in his face now, not intimidated at all by the way his eyes darkened. His fists were balled. He had hit her before a few times, and he always felt bad about it. But Gods, she was so annoying.
“What are you going to do? Hit me?” She egged on.
He was seriously thinking about it. Shut her up for the rest of the night. She might even pack her bags and stay with someone else for a few weeks. But he couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t. Instead he grabbed her by the arms and pulled her into him, crashing his lips on to hers. It didn’t take long at all for her to wrap her legs and arms around him.
They wasted no time; Aegon pushed her up against the wall, unbuttoned his jeans, pulled her panties to the side, and spit in his hand to wet the tip of his cock before he pushed himself into her. She gasped, fistfuls of his hair. Her mouth hung open as he pounded into her, slamming her up against the wall with each thrust. Her heavy moaning in his ear only added to the built up frustration that he needed to take out on her. She nibbled at his ear lobe, sending a shiver down his spine.
“I fuckin’ hate you,” he groaned in between thrusts.
Aegon pulled out of her and forced her down to her knees, shoving his wet cock into her mouth. She sucked the taste of herself off of him with pleasure before he pulled himself out and slapped the tip against her cheek, exploding on her face. He stood there for a minute, riding out the climax as she licked the dripping seed from his shaft. Then, she looked up at him from her knees; the sticky white liquid covering her face as she smiled. 
This was why he couldn’t stay away.
She stood up, adjusting her clothes, and wiped the semen off of her face with the t-shirt she had pulled off of him. Aegon fixed his pants and plopped down on the couch.
“Grab me another beer, would you?” He asked after a yawn.
She resisted the urge to laugh out loud. “Get your own fucking beer.”
“You’re so ungrateful!” He replied.
“I’m ungrateful?” She started. “I fucking cook your meals, wash your fucking clothes, do your fucking dishes! And what do you do? Nothing!”
She suddenly realized why she was mad at him in the first place.
“Here we go again,” He replied with a groan. “For the last time, I’m never fucking here!”
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vintagexherry · 8 months
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Child's Play [3]
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Part 2 here
YandereBully!Miguel O'Hara x Reader
//Bullying, Degradation, Public, Panty Stealing(?), Humiliation,Miguel being rich and a playboy, Miguel isn't as grumpy as we know he kinda ooc here
Steven Grant from Moon Knight makes a Cameo :)
Previously
"Thank you for the drink, goodbye Miguel" You stood up without waiting for his answer who only clenched his fist as if forcing himself to stop grabbing your wrist to pull you back to sit down.
You got a taxi and head straight to your dorm and Miguel was left seething.
It was the next day and you were at the library.
"You look like a slut in that skirt Y/N"
You know that voice, of course it's Miguel O'Hara.
"Miguel, not right now please" you said as you tried grabbing a book you needed for your research, you tried searching for PDF's online but none was helpful.
As you grabbed the book a larger hand took it out of yours.
"Wha- Hey Miguel give it back!" You harshly whispered.
"Oh perfect, just what I needed" Miguel said as he look into the book's contents.
"There's ton of books available Miguel just please give me that." You tried taking it out of his grasp but he was quicker to move out of your way.
Miguel only side glanced at you and smirked
"This book? You want? then get it, come on who's a good doggie" Miguel mockingly changed his tone as if praising a prized puppy and you winced from disgust from it.
"Come on Miguel I don't have time for this" You said as you tried jumping up and down to since he moved it above your head and out of your reach.
"There's a good puppy come one almost there." Miguel chuckled as you gave up jumping.
"Giving up already? I thought a slut like you should know better than that" Miguel raised an eyebrow at you. You know his enjoying this, You remember a similar scenario during high school but the time you gave up was the time you almost failed the subject due to not having a detailed work.
And knowing Miguel he would have ways to get you moving.
"Fine... What do you want"
Miguel smirk brightens even further and you hate what he has in store for you.
"Simple things really, All I need is your phone number and panties"
You froze
Usually he would ask for your lunch money (Even though he has more money than you could count) or force you to eat with him at the cafeteria but this? This is too far.
"Miguel I-"
"Phone number and panties or.....No book, no research and no grades for little Miss Y/N"
You hate him
so much
You hate him you hate him youhatehimyouhatehim
"Come on Y/N, you either do it yourself or I will" Miguel started swaying the book in front of your face with impatience on his face.
"Ok...ok...Just let me go to the bathro-"
"No do it here."
You froze again
"W...what, Miguel I ca-"
Miguel didn't say anything but wave the book again at your face
You either give him your number and panties or get a chance to lose tons of grades that you work hard for, even getting into this school free through a scholarship.
Miguel watch as you breath in and out.
Finally you swallowed your pride and dignity. Thankful that there was only a few people in the library.
You move your hands up to under your skirt without hiking it too upward. Meanwhile, Miguel watched with glee as you finally slid out of your panties and handed them to him with shaking hands.
Miguel quickly pocketed your panties and still looked at you with expectancy. "Well? Your phone number?" he demanded.
You inhale as you take out your phone told him your number which he happily accepted.
With that he dropped the book to the floor with a thud and watched as you tried to gather it while pulling your skirt down. With that Miguel walked away chuckling and you hurried back to your dorm, changed your clothes, and as you go to your bed you cried into your pillows until you fell asleep.
□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■
You woke up with a groggily hearing your phone ding.
You hesitated to pick up and check the message thinking it was Miguel who texted you.
But it wasn't
Instend you get a text from a luxury clothing online store saying your delivery has arrived.
Delivery? You don't remember ordering anything much less from a brand that costs more than what you could pay.
You decided to check anyway, thinking they got the wrong address, You checked the peephole but didn't see anyone, as you opened the door your greeted with a black box with vintage design and wrapped with a red ribbon.
As you grabbed it for closer look a folded letter seemed to be attached to it.
You decided to take it inside hoping the letter has something useful in hopes you could give the box to the rightful owner, You sat down on your couch and unfolded the paper.
"Dear Y/N,
Hope this box finds you well and hope the contents can replace your panties.
-Miguel O'Hara"
Ohno oh no no no no.
All he got is your number and now he has your address?
Knowing who sent it, you dreaded to open the box especially him mentioning your panties.
You relented from your fear and unwrapped the ribbon from the box
Lo and behold your eyes were greeted with a full set lingerine, complete with lacey stocking and a corset.
What ticked you off more that it's the same color as the panties you gave him.
You stared at it with disgust for good whole six minutes, taking note of the straps,lacey details and expensive looking embroidery.
But you for sure as hell ain't keeping this. So as fast as you can you put back the letter in the box, closed the box messily not caring for the contents anymore and threw it straight in the garbage can.
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"Judging from your face, I'd say you enjoy my gift last night?" Miguel smirked as he sat beside you in class, resting his cheek on his fist.
You ignored his question and opted on focusing on your finishing your notes.
"What? still grumpy? I already gave you the book you needed, don't act so ungrateful. " He clicked his tougue at your attitude, but nonetheless, you still ignored him and his overall presence.
Miguel was about to tell you off again till another girl sat down next to him.
"Hey Miguel! Was wonderin if ya did the homework last night?" You looked over and see that she's the president of the a club you forgot the name, you admit she's pretty and has the brains but not much for attitude since you heard about her beating up someone who she thought was talking shit about her.
Miguel started conversing with her with a suggestive tone, knowing him since high school he has a reputation for what he does in bed, and with that you would rather mind your own business and you thanked for the teacher for coming in.
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Lunch time came around you can't help but go directly to the cafeteria, as you arrive you can smell freshly cooked omellete with cheese, another side it showed thst you could either get a slice of Lasagna or freshly baked croissants, at another side you see a place where you could make your own coffee or get a cup orange juice, and you opted for the coffee since you swear could use it right now with the amount of work you decide to do while your in the cafeteria.
You opened your notebook and wrote some stuff while taking occasional bites of your food and sips from your coffee.
As you place down you coffee back down the table but, you unexpectedly got burned since it suddenly got knock off the table by someone and hot coffee landed on your lap.
"SHI-!" You stood up as fast as you can to wipe off the burning substance of you, you heard laughing beside you and it was none other than Miguel with his hand on the waist of the girl he talked with during class.
"Oops my hand slipped" Miguel and the girl laughed at your state, gathering attention from other people in the cafeteria, some laughed some whispered to each other.
You look down at notes thankful they didn't get affected.
You were fixing your things, your appetite gone in a flash, you didn't want to shout at them since you already gathered enough attention.
As you put your last notebook in, somebody else approached you.
"Y/N! Are you ok?" A man you see time to time to the classes you go took his jacket and wrap it around you.
"St-Steven?" You were surprised, Steven Grant is a shy person and would rather stay out of crowded attention.
"Oh! you remember!" Steven beamed at you and you can't help but feel at ease, meanwhile Miguel raises an eyebrow at what's his witnessing while the girl started to pester him if they can go somewhere else already stating she's bored.
But your attention still stays with Steven who helps you carry your things even if you said it was alright. You can't help but admit even though he's shy, he does have looks and adding to his gentleman acts you swear your face started burning.
"No no no it's alright really, it's almost time and it's the least I could do."
You and Steven quickly leave the cafeteria leaving Miguel and his girl to go on their way but Miguel watches as you listen to him intently something about Egyptian gods.
And as you go further and futher away from him not even sparing him a glance or a glare or anything, he swears he feels his eye twitch at what he just witnessed.
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grison-in-space · 2 months
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worker uprisings are not an upside.
I see this rhetoric here all the time, and it drives me up the wall. So you're all getting a good rant here: a worker uprising is not good.
The worker uprisings that bought the NLRB paid for it in blood and lives, and another uprising means that we will have to find the price to buy it again. And there will be families, people, and lives blighted in the meantime. Worker uprisings are not upsides for anyone and they are not fucking consolation prizes. They happen when things go bad, horribly bad, and they generally only result in positive change insofar as they create so much chaos, bloodshed, and disruption that the overall situation has to change. In the mean time, people are still left dead, destitute, and maimed. If we can avert a worker uprising by using nonviolent means of pressure to force accountability, we should do that, because it results in vastly more stable outcomes for everyone. If this pissant, damn-fool shortsighted Supreme Court decision goes through and violence is the only remaining option to enforce change that anyone sees, that is a bad thing.That is not a flood gift. People will die fixing that bullshit. People did die fixing that bullshit!
You know how we got the NLRB the first time, back in 1935?
It took almost fifty years of labor unrest in the United States before we got the NLRB. Let's start with the Great Railroad Strike of 1877 (which was majorly disruptive but happened before labor unionizing was widespread). That's a great template for your fucking worker's uprising: there's no union leadership to coordinate fury and direct it properly, so when workers lose their shit after the third goddamn time wages get cut (not "fail to keep the pace of inflation," actually "you get less money now"), they all kind of do things on impulse without thinking much about long term strategy. The fury just erupts. In the case of the Great Railroad Strike, angry workers burned factories and facilities, seized rail facilities, paralyzed commerce networks, and existing power structures panicked and called out militias, National Guard units, and federal troops to forcibly suppress the workers. About a hundred people died.
Let me pop a cut down while I talk about what happened next. Spoiler: there's a lot of violence under the hood coming up, and like all violence, it absolutely sloshes around and hits people who aren't necessarily directly involved in conflicts.
You have continuing incidences of violence over strikes throughout the next several decades as nonviolent strikes are met with violence from pro-employer forces and workers resist with violence back. I can't even list all the violent incidents here that ended in deaths, because they were frequent. The 1892 Coeur d'Alune labor strike broke out into an actual shooting war and resulted in a number of deaths, not to mention months of detainment for six hundred protesting miners; the same year, you have another shooting war kicked off between hundreds of massed paid private Pinkerton security and striking workers in Pittsburgh through the Homestead Strike. Imagine how that's going to go down today.
And the thing about violence like this, and tolerance for violence, is that eventually you just get used to using it to get your way. You actually also do see quite a bit of violence conducted by striking labor workers, sometimes without recent provocation from management. For example, the national International Association of Bridge Structural Iron Workers embarked on a campaign of bombings from 1906-1911 that eventually culminated in a bombing of the office of the LA Times that killed 20 people. Do you want to live in a world where the only way to resolve conflicts like this is to risk someone bombing your office because your boss mouthed off at his cause? Even if he's right, do you want to risk losing your life, your arms, your friend, your sibs, to someone who thinks that the only option available to him to address systematic inequality is violence?
And you think about who really suffers when violence erupts, too. Look at the East St Louis massacre in 1917, when management tries undercutting the local white-run unions by hiring black folks who are systematically excluded by the unions. (If you think labor solidarity is free from the same intersectional forces that hit every other attempt to organize in solidarity for humans, you really need to go back and revisit your history books. We can do better and we should, but when we set up our systems and hope for the future, we have to be clear-eyed about the failures of the past.) Anyway, when labor tensions between white union workers and management's preferred use of cheaper, poorer, less "uppity" black people erupted, the white union workers attacked not management, but the black parts of town. They cut the hoses to the fucking fire department, burned huge swathes of East St Louis belonging to black homeowners, and shot black folks fleeing in the streets.
Money might not trickle down, but violence sure fucking does. The wealthy insulate themselves from violence by employing intermediaries to do all the dirty work for them, or even to venture into any areas that might be dangerous. When we resort to violence as the only way to solve our problems, inevitably the people and communities who pay the highest blood prices are the ones who have the least to provide. You think any of those robber barons are going to wind up on the ground bleeding out? They have their Pinkerton troops for that shit. The worst they lose is money; the rest of us have to stake our bodies and our homes.
No one should look forward to a worker uprising. If the Supreme Court is stupid and short-sighted enough to reduce avenues of worker redress to extra-legal means, the worker uprisings will come back around again, sure enough, and we'll all write our demands in blood once again. But the whole fucking POINT of the NLRB is that the federal government objects to having to sort these things out when they dissolve into open violence, so it sets rules about what the stupid short-sighted greediguts fat cats up top can do to reduce violence erupting again.
Anyway. Best thing I can think of right now is to get a Congressional supermajority in with the eye of imposing limits and curbs on the Court. Because look, I'll march if I need to, but I ain't going to pretend the thought puts a smile in my mouth and a spring in my step. Fuck.
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imaniwriting · 4 months
Note
feral over the idea of rafe w a very sensitive reader. she cries so easy and hes the type to be cussing someone out then turn to her and call her pretty or smth. imagine rafe dealing drugs and shes just tucked into his side, happy to just be in his presence then one of his buyers makes a comment and she gets upset and rafe sees red (idk what you can do w this but food for thought)
- 🦈
(I decided to make this part 2 of ‘Soft spot’ because it kinda matches
𝐒𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭 𝟐 (part 1)
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Warnings : drug use, rafe being a drug dealer, swearing, drinking
Summary : y/n loves to spend time with Rafe no matter even if it meant seeing his bad side.
Genre : Fluff
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Rafe didn’t care that you sat beside him snuggling into his side the complete opposite actually he loved it every second of it. Every once in a while he would lean down and place a kiss on your head or whisper some kind of compliment.
“Hey Rafe!” Yelled a random dude that Rafe had never seen. “Sup” he replied bored not wanting to talk to anyone who could be potentially a pouge. “You still have some dough?” The boy asked sitting on the chair in front of Rafe and you. “Yeah, how much you want?”
The boy turned to look at you while you played some random game on Rafe’s phone. Seeing that Rafe’s glare hardened. “What you staring at do you want coke or not?” He snapped making the boy turn to him his hands in the air in mock surrender.
“You got 10 grams?” The boy asked pulling out cash that was obviously not enough for so much coke. “Yeah if you had enough fucking money” snapped Rafe annoyed with him. “Dude just this one time come on I’ll pay it back” the boy promised making Rafe roll his eyes.
“Fuck off you know i don’t do shit like that either you pay the fucking Prize or not.” Said rafe his hands balling up into fists. The boy rolled his eyes and stood up to leave. When he did Rafe turned back to you.
“Hey baby, you want some more apple juice?” He asked softly his hard demeanor long gone. “Yes please” you said making him smile and kiss your forehead. He found it quite amusing that you explicitly wanted apple juice to make it seam like you were drinking whiskey or beer. He yelled for topper to get you some before he turned back to you.
He grabbed your face something he loved to do to get your attention. You stared into his eyes before slowly leaning in “you look so pretty baby” he whispered before kissing you passionately. You kissed back him back before you got interrupted by some boy called David.
“Rafe man give me 30 grams” he said while rubbing his nose and hungrily at you. Rafe wrapped his arms around your waist. “Fuck, dude since when do you go for the pussy’s” he asked while spitting on the ground.
Rafe stared at David daringly to make you cry and he would completely lose it he just needed a reason to. Your eyes were already starting to water. You were always so insecure about the way some people treated your relationship with Rafe. “I mean she doesn’t even look good i bet that pussy isn’t that great too” he continued drunkly.
Now the first tear started to roll down your cheek and Rafe stood up. “Well how about you try this fist here maybe its better” he said before punching the guy’s face. David stumbled over his own foot and fell on the ground giving Rafe enough time to hover over the guy and punch him repeatedly every time harder than the last.
“Rafe!” Topper yelled after David was unconscious he pulled Rafe away from David. Rafe’s knuckles hurt so bad he couldn’t even move them but when he saw you hunched up on the chair he once sat at he pushed Topper away and made his way to you.
He picked you up bridal style and walked you to his car ignoring the shouts all around you. He sat you down in the passenger seat and removed your hands from your face.
“Come on baby” he started his eyes scanning over your face for any cut that would make him turn around and beat the shit out of the guy again. “Let’s get you home” he finished leaning in to kiss you one more time before buckling your seat belt for you that you had completely scattered with stickers of your favorite cartoon series and colors.
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sugar-petals · 1 year
Text
The Canvas (m)⎮𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚕!𝚓𝚓𝚔
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/ - CANVAS (n.) a tattoo client or professional ink model.
pairing. › dancer!jungkook + female tattoo artist!reader
❞ SUMMARY. jk serves as your canvas for a renowned LA tattoo competition. experienced in keeping it calm, you lift the trophy by giving him a full torso makeover. the prize money and glory is yours, plus his new tattoo couldn’t look any better. so, what are you gonna do with all that? 
MASTERLIST | [READ IT ON AO3]
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↳ WARNINGS/TAGS. slow burn, femdom undertones, ponytail jk, friends to lovers energy 💕, smut + slice of life, jk is buff and shy (...and a sucka for pain 😛), warning for needles obviously, profanity, jk earns money as a camboy, riding, sub-ish koo {terminology note: `skin break´ ≠ injury, but blank skin space left between ink bits}
word count. 14k
↦ CARO’S NOTE. happy 5th year blog anniversary — gotta celebrate it with a story! you will find a lot of tattoo slang and the various schools of practice in this, but it will be explained along the way. enjoy, and thank you for all the support over the years 🐯
✪ PS. in the banner you see a famous tattoo artist, miss ryan ashley and her partner. it’s just for the aesthetic 😄 the reader insert doesn’t look like this, her description is vague as always :)
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„Turns out we got actual money to blow!“
You overlook the six tied-up cash stacks on the makeshift plastic table, presented in a small iron case. In between, a massive champagne bottle: Unopened, because neither of you drinks. And, to be honest: It would not be necessary, nor pleasant in today’s oppressive heat.
The shaky nervousness from before the contest, far gone. Only adrenaline remains. And a jumping joy that makes Jungkook cover his face with both palms flat.
„I still can’t believe it!“
Since it’s his first time doing something like this, the whole event has left him increasingly weak in the knees. Jungkook really did look surprised when the results were announced in bright screen colors and the room was in absolute shambles. Standing ovations, even a couple cameras, big noise, everything.
„I know, man,“ you reply. „Wild day.“
„We did it.“
„Yeah. We can definitely be satisfied.“
You sitting down after all that maneuvering around on stage and behind it — it felt like a good way to cool off. Standing before an audience for two hours was something not to be underestimated.
Thank God there was an actual aircon back here. But still, there’s so much excess energy in your body. You can’t help but turn and turn the metal trophy in your hands, and kick your feet ever so lightly at the thought of really taking it home this time. Jungkook can’t settle on a chair at all. He’s just pacing around not knowing what to even do with his hands.
„The competition… They were so strong,“ he puffs out — the tone loaded with genuine respect rather than the much stricter attitude of discernment shared among today’s attending pros, yourself included. „They really preferred yours and not the tiger. Or the guy with the Leonardo DiCaprio portrait. That’s incredible.“
„Maybe. I think we got a better rating because yours healed so well,“ you gaze over your work again. The masterpiece of ink on him. You’re carrying a certain admitted pride in your words, but also relief. This has been one of your most ambitious tattoos in all the 15 years you’ve been in the game. It’s seriously been a journey.
In fact, the preparation cost more time and effort than inking a month’s worth of regular clients. Yes, daily practice was one thing. Competing, another. Especially with a model like that: Jungkook, whose performance had been nothing short of electric and stellar. On the ink bed, and on stage alike.
Even your fiercest opponent trying to impress the judges with their wannabe surrealistic tiger didn’t stand a chance against the level of 3D shapes and shading you created on his body. But the decision of the jury seemed close regardless, maybe for dramatic effect, so you retired backstage overjoyed. Where, and you really feel like you did his body justice, his tattoo looks just as vibrant under more crisp and cool energy-saving lamps overhead.
„Yeah, it really did heal nicely, though,“ he pats his solar plexus, almost massaging it. „It feels good.“
You bet it does. Jungkook is the type of client you would describe as— well. Very healthy.
Your mind would add some more colorful adjectives to that. But that string of thought really does stay at the back of your brain where some of your naughtier tattoo ideas reside as well. Which, and you were fine with that anyway, was certainly not the topic of today’s contest. Which rather wanted artists to show off their clean lines and some pretty harmless motifs, mind you.
Sure, the process of contests was always a little different. You didn’t care much. Some tattoo awards had the artists ink their models literally a couple hours beforehand. Others did a speed challenge on-site. Mutually nerve-wracking, but it was doable. Artists with a tight schedule did the same in their personal studios, after all. Canvasses would walk on stage with red blotchy skin all around the tattoo. This show, however, placed emphasis on longevity, the final result. To be prepared until the last detail, Jungkook had walked up in your downtown studio ten times beforehand.
As of now, a highly stylized XL rendition of Jungkook’s Doberman graced his torso. An illusion of color, created by brush strokes in ink rather than an exact replica of the polaroid pictures he had given you. Bam was a pretty cute pet dog, but also a very lively sight to see. Since you had insisted to watch Bam in motion like a live study, Jungkook brought him to the parlor more than once, which added to the hours you had spent together.
He was quite a majestic, eye-catching, streamlined dog. You had often tattooed smaller portraits of pets. Their faces usually, but not the entire animal, on a whole upper body for that matter. People usually wanted other tattoos to take precedence, like a landscape design. It took you five hours to come up with a dynamic winding pose. One that showed Bam in a slightly right-twisted bird’s eye perspective. Not in actual brown that was true to the real-life dog, but black, adding to the feel of a severe-looking brushstroke painting. Which apparently left an impression with the judges.
„And, the jury wanted enough contrast,“ you cuff your shirt on either side. „Was a good idea we went just as dark as your hair. Wouldn’t have worked as well otherwise.“
„It all fits together really well, I think. It’s become a bit, how do you say. One with me.“
Although you wouldn’t blurt that out like a preschooler, you do think so, too. Jungkook stood out among your clients as one of the cutest, with a body that was nothing short of meticulously sculpted. A waist that shocking, you’d never seen it.  Even some of the bodybuilders you had tattooed didn’t have this kind of hourglass. Perfect to pick up on some carefully planned artistry, and easy on the eye anyway. However, nothing you’d say to his face.
Yet.
Who knows. You keep your expression neutral enough when he’s around. All day, you paid special attention to maintaining a stern composure in general, given how it was such a hasty crowded event to begin with. Not that competition would always favor the stern, but it sure helped with focus.
„To be honest,“ you put the trophy onto the table now, „The judges don’t splurge their points if it’s some muddy shit. The tiger paws looked pretty washed out from some angles. Your tattoo will fucking pop in any lighting. It has to.“
Bam was as eye-catching as a tattoo as he was in real life. You paid special attention to adding enough solid black. Contrast always needed a certain amount of courage. On your side, and a client’s.
Even now, in the solely artificial lighting of this shabby backroom, the heavy blocks of extra strong ink on his ribs, sternum and stomach create a nice interplay with the shape of his upper body. Unsurprisingly, Jungkook didn’t remember to put his top back on yet. And why would he bother. It’s been piping hot in the valley districts since 9:30 AM. So hot, a couple palm trees on your way to the contest site have been looking crispy.
„That’s one of the best parts,“ he nods, all while toweling down his neck from all the sweat. The stage had burning hot overhead lights and the audience number was breaking the four digits. Stressfully enough, in terms of decibels as well. Jungkook walked offstage with you saying his ears were reeling for a solid minute. It was more than necessary to get away from all the hustle and bustle after the supposed celebration was dispersing.
„Glad you like how it turned out, then. Took a lot of risks here.“
„I, uh. Really gotta thank you though,“ Jungkook proceeds to retie his little wavy ponytail, plucking the crown and baby hairs that went astray on stage back in.
He leaves some side bangs to the front, which is what you once remarked looks the best on him with his current hair length. Little did you know he’d take this so seriously, but you haven’t seen him without a hair tie since.
„You invested so much time,“ he continues. „You couldn’t take so many other clients because of me.“
„Time doesn’t bother me that much,“ you shovel some money bands into the bulky grey rucksack you drag out from underneath your chair, then take out some bottled sparkling water instead. This backpack has been both your lifeline throughout the day. „Those weren’t the easiest sessions, that’s what I mean. But you made it through.“
„Yeah,“ he smiles. You can tell he is a bit flustered by the money.
„The other clients can honestly wait. They know I do competitions from time to time. The regulars, at least.“
A dozen people sure said they missed you. Some newbies at the studio resented you for spending your „efforts and talent on one singular canvas“, but as today’s MC of the show had said: It’s for the greater good of a career to pursue contests, and helps a tattooist to be out there. „It’s an adventure!“ was the cheesy contest tagline. Not to mention that an artist who was good enough… would meet attractive people as a `pleasant byproduct‘ as one of your fellow West Coast contestants had joked backstage.
You had rejected that mentality beforehand. Craft came first. Ironically, it was you who simply searched for the right skin, motif, and proper frame who ended up with someone attractive indeed. Those things always happen if you don’t search for it. And it was an adventure, sort of.
Jungkook didn’t exactly pass out when you moved up to the rib with your tattoo gun, but damn. He was bleeding. In essence, the first appointment turned out to be a three hour groaning session. Since he already had a complete and partially reworked sleeve, it appeared like another tattoo following many. But the second visit was so intense, it had your canvas screaming out loud at some point — albeit he stubbornly refused to take a break. `Keep going… I can handle it.´
You usually did mid-range tattoos as your specialty, but his one was gigantic and painstaking. How he muscled through that psychologically, at his tender age, you’re not sure how. After the session was done, you would hang out eating pizza in the shaded backyard of the studio, listening to pop music and talking about tattoo shows as if nothing had happened.
„You mean, it was demanding?“
„Oh yeah,“ you screw the bottle open. „Demanding is the word. I mean, count the elements. That’s almost 150 sepearate parts to fill out.“
„Right.“
„If you want a tattoo to look like a real ink stroke, you need to consider how the separate hairs of a brush would behave. The color needs to be, sorta— like disconnected. I’ve freestyled a lot of it.“
That’s also a reason why you’re sure the tiger didn’t win, and Jungkook got full points. Which surprised you more than him, something that caught you off guard in a peculiar way, even if you were endlessly happy, of course. That Jungkook was sure that you had winning potential was definitely an emotional pat on the back.
Your New York-based opponent sure did ace the Old School American style. It had some pretty memorable turquoise highlights that made the other competitor’s trendy watercolor freestyles look boring, and his canvas was beautiful. But: In your eyes, the design didn’t have an elaborate sketch behind it, and tried too hard to be East Coast.
To their demise and Jungkook’s gentle content, the judges ruled that your tattoo had 99% razor-sharp edges and a smart construction of the design: „You’ve done your studio justice.“ Because Jungkook looked promising as a canvas and he was kind as a person, you were willing to sacrifice some things to approach that level of hard perfection, even if it was `just an edgy tattoo of a random guy’s pet´ as some of your rivals had criticized you arriving on stage.
It took you three days to draw it all beforehand, and one to make a stencil that could even remotely fit on a body as curved as that. You didn’t wing it. Got creative. Stayed up. Talked a lot. Played around with the dog. Filled in every blank, and calculated every skin break to make actual sense from a distance. Jungkook had an unbreakable patience, too. Making the tattoo a big deal and taking it this far was worth the extra eye-squinting hours.
„It was fine by me. I’ll have this masterpiece for life,“ Jungkook rubs his stomach, almost as if he could caress the motif. He really does genuinely like it.
„You will. Those colors won’t fade anytime soon.“
Three weeks of successful healing time proved the durability of the tattoo and the raw diligence of preparing all this. It all went by in a hurry. The whole competition was a sequence of travel, rehearsing, check-ins, and finding some suitable lotion to oil Jungkook up with since you quickly ran out of what you brought along. He was okay with you touching him like this. Jungkook said, since you had been under his skin, being simply on it was not the slightest inconvenience.
You did over a dozen contests before. You wanted your canvas to be shining bright in front of the discerning jury. Oil would add a gleaming touch to any tattoo, and helping Jungkook apply it was more than gratifying — not just artistically. You gotta drink a big sip on that.
„Amazing,“ he continues looking down on himself, his eyes really telling how exhausting the show was, but how rewarding. The 6’3 guy who got an entire sleeve and snake motif looked like an amateur canvas next to your model. Sure, the micro tats of some other competitors weren’t exactly precise and outstanding either so it had been easy to move to the Top 10, but when a tattoo artist was talking big game, big motif, big color, they better deliver.
„So— what do we fancy for the evening,“ you wave your backpack left and right, letting the cash tumble around. „Bowling? You’d be killin’ it. Buying some clothes? Or maybe we’ll go to an expensive club. You dance on the tables, I watch random people. You know, to judge their bad tats.“
He’s laughing at that. You’re sure you’D just be watching him move at best, he’s a dancer professionally — but anyway.
You continue listing ideas, but Jungkook sort of gapes at all the options without saying anything. He’s from a modest home like you were, the big city overwhelms him, as does the fact that you won 20,000$.
„You know what,“ the bottle wanders back into your rucksack, half empty. „We probably don’t have the energy to just straight up throw some big balls at a couple bowling pins, eh.“
Jungkook laughs again.
„Guess not. Would all just land in the gutter.“
„And shopping, that’s running a marathon. Maybe we can go to the club next week. What if we just sit on my terrace and watch some clouds? Back to the roots. I always do that to get inspiration.“
Jungkook perks up. You already invited him to your house before. It was a quicker, gentler recoloring session on a pretty dull rainy morning. To make sure he was competition ready, you carefully retouched some of his existing tattoos. His oldest, dearest ones. That’s how he got to see the Grey Room. Your art atelier, so to speak. Why grey? Because you don’t smudge — and the chair will prove it. Messy tattooists won’t go far, that was your opinion. Buying a black tattoo chair was an excuse.
„Hm, why not, I mean,“ he stumbles over his words, but you can tell he’s interested.
„Okay,“ you get up from your creaky chair, collecting the rest of your stuff, and he helps you with it. „It’s a done deal. You’ll see more of the house. The food is all prepared. Like, to perfection.“
During his recoloring session, Jungkook had to catch the bus right after, plus another client, Namjoon, came in for a lengthy consultation. It was all about whether you’d be sending Namjoon to an aesthetician for a laser treatment, or try to cover up the botched crooked rose on his pecs with a bigger design to one-up your precursor, this absolute idiot of a ‚line artist specialist‘. Your ass. It’s a crime to soil a person’s skin like that. Namjoon came in completely devastated and in need for help, so Jungkook quickly left. It ended up being the latter option, you tattoed a big fat 3D bonsai tree across the rose.
You only got back to Jungkook two days later, checking how his color was healing through video chat. He had stripped down enough for you to see the progress, and you tried your best to be professional, analyzing the next steps. Which had you excited, he always recovered exceedingly well, but you were both in a busy phase. Yet, you really couldn’t complain about not having him around. This tattoo and contest was a once-in-a-lifetime two-people project. It felt like being an Italian designer, taking your flagship testimonial to fashion week.
„Food?“
„I had Yoongi handle the ice cream maker this morning,“ you put on your shades, ready to go with your backpack filled to the brim. „But don’t tell anyone, lest my house gets robbed again. Banana flavor, by the way.“
Jungkook strangely doesn’t look as happy as you thought he’d be. But then again, not so strangely. Once the needle is inside and the first drop of ink settles in, you can read a canvas’ mind. It’s a connection that cannot be explained.
„Okay,“ is the lukewarm reply. He shoulders his own cross-body bag without really checking it once. Since he forgot his tank top, you hand it to him. It takes a couple seconds to register at all.
„Something not right?“
„It’s just, I wondered,“ he fumbles with the bag’s kinda tucked-in zipper. „You have— a boyfriend? Yoongi?“
„Ah, him,“ you chuckle. „No, Yoongi is my personal chef.“
„Oh, I see, the chef. I just, um.“
Jungkook looks wildly flustered at that realization, trying to find an excuse of looking away by fixing his ponytail, and rubbing his neck. Almost as if he got caught red-handed.
„And assistant. And the one who cleans my pool. And he schedules all my clients unless I do it myself. Yoongi handles everything on demand basically, so I can do this,“ you point at the surrounding hallway after opening the backroom’s lanky door.
A big red banner reading - LOS ANGELES ANNUAL TATTOO AWARDS - stretches well across the wall, and the area seems completely swept of people.
You did spend quite a lot of time talking backstage after you gave an interview for the local press while Jungkook posed for the camera — despite his first time doing this, like a natural.
„Seems like the competition headed home already,“ is your dry comment, but you’re not that surprised. It was too warm to linger in this building complex for any longer than the show lasted. You didn’t even register how stuffy the air was since you got so carried away together, talking. Although you would have loved to talk to some of the attending experienced masters, maybe it had been a good idea to dodge the hype.
„They really did hurry home.“
„That’s what we’ll do as well. Fifty scoops for each of us. Yoongi always makes a generous amount of ice.“
„Wow, it’s really all taken care of then,“ Jungkook finally manages to stuff the tanktop back into his bag, absent-minded. He hasn’t even considered putting it on, then. He’s too busy admiring that you have such a thing as a personal assistant and cook. The two of you tread down the hallway, causing a bit of an echo.
Jungkook looks at ease learning that Yoongi is more of a janitor. You give him the side eye, which he shamefully returns with a nervous laugh.
„I figure you like banana. And walking around like Abercrombie and Fitch.“
You point at the mauve-colored tank top that’s hanging out of his bag, caught by the zipper.
„Oh, oops!“ it finally clicks with a big flinch. He’s really been half-naked all the time, and only now makes an effort to pull the crumpled little piece of clothing back on. „I didn’t notice! I think the tattoo makes me feel dressed, um.“
„Car’s gonna be piping until the A/C runs full throttle,“ you head the way to the motor park, sandals randomly clacking onto the heated concrete. „Next thing you know, you’re gonna chuck your jeans into the Malibu beach waves and don’t  even notice.“
„No, no worries. I uh, I’m back to behind the scenes mode,“ Jungkook’s giggling to himself, trying not to make it too obvious that he was quick to react.
„Took you almost half an hour,“ you say through a big grin, getting out your dangly car keys with the miniature plush bunny attached to it. Flashback to last month, Jungkook bought it for you as a thank-you present after he heard you mope about always overlooking your keys.
„Dancer thing,“ he says, sounding wildly apologetic. „I usually don’t wear that much.“
„Talk about getting naked,“ you both settle in the car, a block of heat hitting you in the faces. „You can use my shower to scrape off all that oil. There must be some kind of special cleanser I got, the one with the light green stripe on it.“
„Yeah, it’s gotten so sticky—“ Jungkook turns to check his back. „My shoulder will smudge that oil on the backrest… sorry.“
„I’ll leave the seat cleaning to Yoongi, he likes looking after the car,“ is all you can comment, kick-starting your car. What follows is the deep humming noise that the engine typically emits when the LA heat is extra crazy. „You can turn on the radio over there. It’s kind of a one-hour ride from here. You said you sing pretty well?“
The now switched-on A/C blows his tanktop around the way it wants. Maybe L.A. is cooking today because Jungkook is out here.
Rolling into your garage, you realize you’ve brought home everything: Except the champagne bottle. Fuck it, the heat in the car would have done weird things to the oh-so sparkling content, and putting it in a flash freezer at home would have resulted in a fizzy explosion that would leave Yoongi with some high ceilings to scrub. Treating yourself to some cold juice sounds much better. You have no interest acting out drunk and passed out on the floor in Jungkook’s presence. And in case an impromptu tattoo happens, alcohol is the last thing you want in his blood. The same goes for everything more than just a tattoo.
The metal trophy, which is elegantly shaped like a stencil and lighter than you thought, is more important. After parking, that one goes straight to the Grey Room award wall. You’re chugging the rest of your bottled water in one whole go. Sitting next to him had your eyes averted from the street more often than not, which in and of itself was a bad idea — but who knew a traffic jam could be a nice thing, especially if it took two hours.
Jungkook is busy otherwise. Exhausted from the black seat’s stored warmth, he exits the car moaning out loud at the heat outside. And, from a later-day sun having grilled the right-hand side of his body. Through the car window, all the way. His body is chilled from the A/C, almost freezing down the sweat on his tanktop, at least that’s what it felt like, until you noticed he was shaky and dialed it down. Jungkook is actually a little hoarse from singing his heart out. That will fade in a minute, though, he says.
While he takes that so needed shower, you dig through an absent Yoongi’s clothing rack, built into his assistant wardrobe. Since Yoongi is on the smaller side, there aren’t too many options, but you guess he’ll survive.
Feeling much better now, Jungkook winds up dangling his legs into your garden pool fifteen minutes later. That is, with extremely tight tennis shorts and otherwise nothing on, yet again. The white of the fabric might be opaque, but his thighs are big enough to let either leg ride up. Yoongi can be glad he buys so much stretch material, otherwise, those shorts would be bursting at the seams.
Unlike during the way home from today’s show, the yellow-pinkish color of the sky is finally worthy of a tattoo artist’s eyes looking at it. The white pillars of your terrace frame the outlook effortlessly like a little arcade, and the pool water feels like it has been cooling down significantly around your calves. No smog, no direct sunlight, no skylines. You’d not allow Jungkook to step even one foot in your backyard topless as he is if the sun was still high up. His tattoo had to be carefully preserved.
„I do like banana. Anything banana.“
He licks up a drop of surplus ice cream from the back of his thumb. It’s all melting in record time despite the 9 PM cool approaching. You both have to be quick. Luxury problems — at the expense of your waiting lemonade. Which you told Jungkook to feel free to pour up for the both of you during your own bathroom break some minutes ago. You changed into something even looser, put your base cap on, and the ice was already getting a little too creamy under the poolside evening glow.
„Mmh. Self-made ice cream is a whole ’nother level,“ you twist your cone. Mainly, to take off the melting edge of your scoop with the right corner of your mouth. „Cools the vocal cords, does it.“
„Seriously didn’t sing that much in a while,“ he cracks a smile, and you can tell he missed having free time like this.
„You’re not out of the loop, though. I could have taken you to America’s Got Talent and we still would have won. Hell, the Masked Singer. Dressed as a Green Raccoon. Or a fencing man. Lord knows what. You got a beautiful voice.“
Jungkook almost chokes on his ice cream at the mental image of that.
„I guess I’d rather be dancing,“ he shakes his head, „and walking around at a tat con. I’m really nervous about that one.“
„We can chill, that’s four weeks from now,“ you sip on your lemonade eventually, swallowing an ice cube that has melted down to a peanut-sized chunk. „You’ll get used to your new look by then. And everyone is out there, it’s packed. They all wanna outdo each other. We’ll blend in somewhere. Even if it’s probably not gonna be much cooler and we’ll still look like glazed donuts. We might as well leave the oil at home.“
Which didn’t sound to unrealistic. You’ve had Yoongi book the two of you for a tattoo convention display down at Hacienda Heights. Body Art Expo — one of the biggest events in the area. You could finally showcase your latest craft and meet some of your role models. This year, an influx of famous contemporary Japanese masters was guaranteed.
The overarching theme was announced to be traditional horimono craft. You’ve been dying to set up a little booth and take Jungkook with you to see the best of the best, and also flaunt his own frontal tattoo.
„Yoongi might as well park an ice cream truck for us there,“ he jokes.
„You’ll definitely need ice indeed after I go buckwild and give you a whole beginner’s hand poking treatment.“
„Hand what?“
„Hand poking,“ you laugh. „Tebori artists don’t really use automatic needles with some exceptions. It’s all done manually. You prick the skin by hand. Even the tattoo needle you have make on your own.“
„Like DIY, completely yourself?“
He got you started on one of your favorite topics. Well, well.
„Yes. It’s like a small wooden or metal stick. It has a grouping of needles fastened to it by string.“
„Oh… so that’s why— by hand.“
„Yes. And it doesn’t stop there. A machine has say, nine to 35 needles. My favorite tattoo gun has 22. Japanese traditional can go as far as 42. That’s why outlines are so difficult to do in that technique. And the gradients. Those are fucking hard. Getting a tebori  tattoo is expensive with good reason.“
„42 needles!“
„Depends. It actually bleeds less. You feel relaxed after a session. The whole thing is like. Eleven inches long, bit more. The artist has ultimate control over how deep it locks in the coloring fluid.“
„Um, yes,“ is all he can say staring.
„The artist will use a sponge to pick up the ink, and drive the stick in by hand. Hence they call it hand poke. A full-body tattoo can take a year to complete. But the color has the best saturation. The needles are thicker, you can put lots and lots of ink under the skin that way.“
Which is why you’re so interested in it. Six years plus until you’d be able to fully practice that technique on someone. It’s your goal for your later career. To have your own tattoo family, apprentices, and letting the art live on through your canvases.
Maybe settling in Japan itself to learn from the best, or remaining overseas. As long as you’d be able to hand poke a clean line like a true master and sketch properly, artfully, just as the craft demanded. Time and place wouldn’t matter.
„You said that Japanese tattoos work with woodblocks, right?“
„It’s inspired by woodblock carving art,“ you nod, pulling out your phone. Plenty of pictures to show him, over 600, if not more. You shade the display with one hand and sit closer to Jungkook, swiping through the gallery.
„The actual design is painted with soot ink beforehand,“ you keep on explaining. „Like, a phoenix. A river, with flora. Some scenes of a kabuki theatre play. Or a goddess figure, that’s pretty common.“
Jungkook does look as hooked as you are. And— as a side note: He smells damn good from the cleanser you gave him. That shower must have been thorough. You sort of don’t smell it anymore when you use it, but when it mixes with his scent, that’s a whole different thing.
„That’s so cool… Would you do that on me?“
„Jungkook,“ you raise your brows at him. „That technique takes years to learn. With a mentor— And endless copying practice of their grand pieces.“
„You even need a teacher and copy what they do? That’s crazy.“
„When we go to the fair, I might get my hands on a bamboo needle to see how it’s like to hold. But I’ll probably just stand there and watch in awe just like you.“
„Wow. We’ll really be able to see a lot there.“
Jungkook’s posture appears significantly less tensed-up now, and you know you took his nervousness about the convention by directing his mind to a new idea. That he asked you to give him a traditional-style tattoo by hand without even hesitating has left an impression, but you try not to let your face show your respect. Most canvasses would be skeptical, frightened, or completely dismissive of the technique. Jungkook is nothing short of sexy, it’s literally right next to you — but it’s his open mind that makes him interesting.
„I know, right. But you still might be lucky getting a Japanese tat from me.“
„Really?“
He almost jolts up, which makes his left thigh rub against you by accident.
„Okay, I can’t just walk up and hand carve an entire body suit into your skin. Right. But you can actually do parts of horimono with, you know, automatic needles and stuff. Many traditional studios do outlines by machine these days, and only the coloring or shades by hand.“
„They do it both?“
„Pretty much. Hybrid tebori. The art of doing precise lines by stick is recently dying out. If we use the gun instead, for everything? You can still get a goddess tattoo like an original motif. It does take practice and immense research. But it’s doable with modern machines and an excellent design.“
If you think about it, Jungkook might just be the perfect canvas to dive deeper into Japanese tattooing, even more so than you already did. Not being able to do it the manual way would irk you, but you can work with what you have.
„Any suggestions where?“ he looks across his body, traces his hands, deliberating. „I mean, it could go anywhere for me. But, I mean you should choose where it fits the best.“
You do know a perfect spot, in fact.
The slimness of his hip makes it so that an ascending motif would widen up perfectly on the shoulder area. On the other hand, the extreme curve of his spine could easily warp the design when looked at from afar, so that had to be carefully considered. It’s all a matter of adaptation. You can already see details of this next project form before your inner eye, still.
„Your back is completely virginal, so. What about that.“
„Right, of course!“
„And that’s where you find a traditional placement anyway.“
Some proper skin breaks between the shoulder blades, maybe some more grey towards the waist level, putting in more contrast across the shoulders and neck… it all starts to form in your head. Fuck, Jungkook’s neck is actually your dream target area. Front and back. The underside of his jaw as well. Peak difficulty.
A pet peeve for many of your colleagues in the field because the skin is so delicate and hard to put a design on. Many people just say fuck this shit and freehand it completely. But to you: Sweetest spot you can think of. If he’s good to go, you’ll ink him with his neck hung from the edge of your tattoo furniture one day with an extra anesthetic. Maybe some kind of animal or interlocking pattern. It’s gonna look fucking awesome.
„Would you like, actually sketch something for me?“
„Sure. Or we’ll work together with a master who will design something with ink on paper to suit your body perfectly. We still need an entry piece for next year’s tat awards.“
„But I only want your stencil,“ he finishes biting off the lower half of his ice cream cone, looking pretty disgruntled at the idea of someone else being in charge of his back. You would rather consider an expert, but you can see his point. Everything on his body should look coherent, as in one singular handwriting. And you heard it. He only wants your stencil or nothing at all.
Of course the back has to match the abs and the pecs. Only a consistent style would ensure that Jungkook’s tattoos would come together as an aesthetic whole that carried your signature, which was not just something a show jury would appreciate. It was a just because thing.
„Fine by me, it’ll just take longer. And we do color.“
Which means, more time spent in the Grey Room, where you would keep all of your treasures. The inner city studio you share with your colleague, Taehyung, who was more of a Neo Traditional and portrait enthusiast. He also did blackwork just like you. That meant the present ink supply was either batshit crazy colors and dark shades only. Hence, you set up your own extra coloring studio at home to specialize.
„Love the idea!“
„So it’s a done deal, huh. We’ll do the project in the Grey Room by then, I’m thinking.“
It needs a different atmosphere and lighting to really get the most out of the hues. And: You created this area to make a canvas open up and relax. With your technique and shading style, coloring in the big areas was always a real pain in the ass for anyone with skin that wasn’t super thick.
Taehyung’s philosophy was always to ‚paint‘ his clients in a suave and fleeting way, whereas your approach was always go hard or go home. Jungkook could handle it, and his skin was rewarding to work on when it came to recovery. You can tell he’s more than excited.
„Really, thank you for this…“
„If a couple months work sounds like fun to you, we’re gonna walk up with another 20,000€ price money next year.“
You are starting to enjoy this idea of Jungkook being a tattoo muse, sort of like the faux Greek statues and busts that you had Yoongi put up around the garden when you moved in here. A lot of tattoo artists you were friends with were inspired by the renaissance, and you could see the appeal. That Jungkook was a walking Greek aesthetic with his curls and decadent body really does fit well into your home, now that you think about it.
„I have no problem hanging out here at all,“ he’s munching, tongue in cheek. „Your house is amazing. I bring along some groceries and such when you’re too busy. If, if you want.“
„Really?“
„Long as you can sketch in peace. I like doing laundry and those things.“
„Yoongi will appreciate it. More time for cooking his latest creations. You’re already renting out his clothing, we can cut him some slack there, huh. Doing a full landscape and figure will take us twice as long as with your ribs.“
And those were already insane to do. The skin was behaving almost like paper in some bits. Only the fact that he works out decently enough has probably saved Jungkook from losing his mind then and there. His back is going to be much easier to tattoo.
„A background landscape as well? “ he drops his jaw. „This is genius… Maybe we should do it later this year, September or so.“
„Good call,“ you blink. „Gonna be a bit colder. And you’re gonna be a birthday boy. A tat’s always a nice gift to yourself.“
The reality is: Most tattoo artists would kill to secure a canvas that was so patient. It was a biased view, but Jungkook would not just be a wanted man in his dating pool (which he already is, he’s told you about a lot of concerning things in his DMs) if he graced the cover of `Inked´ magazine.
The whole ink world would come running. You already brace yourself for the storm of showing him off at Body Art Expo. He would be noticed. Today’s experience showed his potential. People found him likable and sweet, and the muscles got them going. You worried if Jungkook would have to be protected from too much attention in the community. It wouldn’t be long until you wouldn’t be alone in a cool-down room. Today’s show wasn’t the busiest, but an Expo would be. People would absolutely bother him. Rather than asking you about your tattoo journey, or anything else constructive and useful.
„I’m really getting a back tattoo,“ Jungkook is buzzing with energy, splashing around water with his feet. His voice is just fine by now, only a hint of raspy at best. The energy low of the backstage room is pretty much forgotten.
„I’ll sit myself down with some books and I’ll get back to you next month with a first  rough draft, yeah?“
„Can’t wait!“
„And after that,“ you shoot him a warning gaze more jokingly, „I’m sketching for your legs, too. Maybe with a realistic thigh tattoo. Or with some big red highlights and otherwise black only.“
„Woah! Red and black?!“
„Anything’s possible. Though, you know. Only if you want to, of course. I’m just brainstorming.“
But those thighs basically scream for ink, oh my god. You can’t even hold yourself back. Was he actually okay with that? By the looks of it, Jungkook didn’t have a single problem with you planning out his whole body’s new design.
„I have nothing against being a BLACKWORKS gallery,“ pats his thighs the most innocent way you could imagine. „I know I’m in good hands.“
BLACKWORKS was the name of your tattoo parlor, carrying with it the color you had specialized in. Ironically, setting up the Grey Room was the exact opposite, making a space to dabble in color. It was sort of the bane of your existence. One or the other, both, or alternatingly? Your sentiment changed with every larger project or every other client.
„Well, thank you. Any further questions?“
„I um… I don’t want to sound rude, but.“
„You don’t sound like it’s anything offensive, though,“ you lower your shades to squint at him.
„What are you like planning,“ he kneads his palms against each other, „I mean, with the prize money? I was, you know, just, uh curious. You always create cool projects and stuff, that’s why.“
„Oh that? We need that money for all the fucking ink you’ll be wearing!“
„Help!“ he squeals out, just as joking now.
„Seriously though. You’re gonna be my most expensive canvas. Taehyung spent a fortune finding the right pigment for all the True Black that went here,“ you point at his chest. „Only the highest quality Acrylic components in there. No metals, no allergens. No nothing.“
„Is it organic? That’s so Los Angeles,“ Jungkook giggles into his hand, trying not to make some organic this, organic that joke most probably.
„Better than having that shit in your lymph system. We don’t want that.“
„Thanks, you’re looking out for me.“
No toxins for your canvasses. And nothing you don’t know the effects of. More clients gotta get some education about this.
„Just duty. And LA sucks, I don’t care. Cheers.“
For the last sip of lemonade, you toast, and Jungkook reiterates that he’s feeling very much in safe hands — especially now that you offered him a sofa place to sleep on.
It’s really too late to drive him home. The highway ride would take ages, the traffic is even more terrible at this hour. Returning at like 2 or 3 AM would set you up for a lackluster sleep routine. He’s living alone in his flat so there’s nobody to inform, he’s not urgently missed and needed for something. That there’s no one waiting for him always surprises you.
That Jungkook is his own best roommate and doesn’t cohabit with his parents, all in a decently well-off part of the city on top of that — not the most flashy one, cozier, but still — tells you that he must dance pretty damn well and knows how to live life. He probably thinks the same about you anyway, although he keeps on saying you work too much for your own good, which might have a grain of truth.
You do wish you lived a bit like him. Then again, you’re well aware he has a hard time sometimes. Going by pictures he showed you, the flat he has isn’t a bad one at all. You don’t charge him for the tattoos, obviously. They’re competitive entries based on your decisions, not commissioned pieces. He offered pay, but you rejected the eight hundred bucks.
On a day where he let his guard down after three hours of conversation, Jungkook told you he’s selling his pics and videos between otherwise casual sentences. That was about two month ago. He didn’t say what pics and what videos, but you were beginning to connect the dots.
All the signs, they were there. The way he undressed, the way he was aware of how he came across, the way he was so photogenic. You worked extra hard on getting the clarity of the tattoo right. It’s one thing to look at black ink pigments in daylight or below the artificial lighting of a studio, but on camera, it’s absolutely a different thing.
Why he opened up to you, you don’t know. It was inconsequential. He didn’t mention it again, and it didn’t look like he was observing your reaction to it.
There was no telling what his shy tone of voice was supposed to say, or his intent, and you guess it all had many meanings at once. Maybe he just said it to say it. To get something off his chest. Jungkook often hesitated to vent, but he was honest telling you that. If anything — he trusted you enough to do so.  
„I’ll just give you one of these at this point,“ you weed through your closet, pulling drawers, checking metal hangers. Eventually, Jungkook catches a white sporty tee that you’re tossing him, and lays down on the white king-size couch in the center of the living room. 11 PM. Sunday tomorrow. None of you caught a heat stroke. You’re both not that tired yet. There might as well be something left to do. So… Well.
„Have a good night’s sleep then,“ Jungkook smiles, already half settled— about to put on the shirt. You gotta stop him in this tracks somehow before he’s dressed again.
„Maybe it’s still time for a little treat,“ you say, wiggling your eyebrows at him, which he reciprocates with unbridled surprise.
„Did Yoongi put some other desert in the fridge, or—“
You shake your head.
„No, no. Something else. Actually, way else. Wait here, Jungkook.“
„O.k.?“
„Heading back in just a minute,“ you turn your head across your shoulder. „Look at my drawings on the wall or something.“
He does, gazing around the spacious room that is actually pretty bright and light at this hour. The team that did the electrics in here were absolute top tier in their field, although the house did not pass as 100% interior art. Rather, the tall walls were clad in big unfinished pen sketches and other blackwork ideas behind frames, mostly showing anatomical poses and various animals from all around the globe. Looking up, Jungkook got lost in a painting that showed a distorted self-portrait of you while drawing something on a table. Art of the artist doing art.
„You need to get yourself some of this,“ you interrupt, posturing yourself in the doorframe upon returning. Jungkook’s head twists in record time. His confusion is more than visible all across his face reacting to what you’re holding up with your right hand.
„Is that… Is that— Lubricant!“
Someone looks pretty damn flustered right now and it’s not you.
„Oh my god Jungkook,“ you shuffle closer to the sofa, thoroughly amused. „Actually read what’s on this tube. Here.“
You hand the mysterious black item to a very panicked mess of a weekend guest.
„Aftercare cream?!“
„Read on.“
„…for protecting tattoos.“
He just looks mighty exasperated now. Oh Jesus.
„Come on. It’s not some kind of after-bondage ointment,“ you laugh. „Just plain ole tattoo balm, okay. Nothing BDSM going on here.“
„Yeah… Yeah.“
„The whole thing’s pretty much a vibrancy serum, healing cream, moisturizing lotion, et cetera. All in one. That is considered a treat in my book. Treat as in skin treatment.“
„I uh, should have figured.“
Jungkook’s knee-jerk reaction has him crouching together in a gullible pose on the sofa, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. Broke a sweat for a minute there, did he.
„Your tattoo had a lot of stuff going on today. Oil and sun and sweat and chlorine, too. We’re not gonna let it rest unprotected tonight. There’s some regeneration it has to do.“
As per the contest rules, tattoos need to be fully healed to enter anyway, so today he’s not been freshly inked under the UV rays outside. But it’s still better to apply cream to support the tattoo as it is. And exposing Jungkook’s dirty mind for the sheer fun of it.
„Am a bit of a dummy,“ he hands the lotion back to you.
„The clean air around here has you wearing tennis shorts… and your mind in the gutter, does it,“ you snap the tube open, squeezing a generous double dime-size amount into your palm. It’s not like you didn’t check him out all day. Two minds in the gutter? That’s twice the fun.
„Sorry.“
„Don’t be. Now let me work it in, I’ll do that for you. The shirt needs to wait for another minute again. Fine by you?“
„Okay!“
„Then relax. It needs to be spread out properly.“
Running your hands across one’s favorite canvas should be considered a therapeutic method for any tattoo artist out there. You need to listen to a lot of shit, discuss a lot of shit, compete against a lot of shit, and draw a lot of even more shitty shit. It’s only fair you get to enjoy the silver lining as well. Savoring what you all do it for: Enjoying the aesthetic and the feel of the skin.
Jungkook is as pliant as ever accepting the treatment, and the balm does what it’s supposed to do. Seeping in, refreshing the skin, cooling it off. You knead his body in broad strokes of your palms, making sure the coverage is even. The tattoo again proves its bold winning ways shining bright even under the low ceiling lamp, and you again congratulate each other. No scabs at all, and the whole jury convinced. You beat a tiger, the watercolor dudes, tiny tat mania, Leonardo DiCaprio, and the tall snake bloke. The result was a memorable rendition of a pet dog that your client could not get enough of. What more could you really ask for.
 Jungkook visibly hums under your touch and seems to react with cozy noises having his sides massaged. You’re careful with the ribs, his sensitive area. You’re totally not lingering on the pecs for a little longer. Your mind revolves around the thought of sitting down on his thighs to unpack the real treat and finally ride out your craving.
„What if we,“ you start, „You know. Actually use some lubricant. Here on this sofa.“
„Huh—? Really? In a way that…“
Jungkook awakes from his half-slumber that your hands had so calmly induced. In fact, he goes from sleeping beauty to wide alert in two seconds, propping himself up from the sofa cushions. To meet you face to face — he’s incredulous. Well, you aren’t exactly feeling coherent either, which surprises you, too.
„Sure! I mean. If you want to. There’s some of it in the other room that I can fetch. I figured we might. Just for fun, and… We know each other for a while now. To me it would be nice. Nothing fancy, just. We just do our thing if we like it. I’m still your tattooist. I wished we could sleep with each other at some point. I didn’t say anything because we had to focus on competing. Sorry for that.“
„Please, please don’t.“
„I preferred to make it about work until we sat at the pool today. If we’re fucking… It should be a comfortable moment where we really got to know each other already. You were pretty shy. So I was careful, right, although I’ve been teasing you anyway, I don’t know what you thought about that, if that was funny or not. But you know, the heat of the moment.“
„Don’t worry, I liked it.“
„I also didn’t want to make it look like I was trying to get in your videos for money or just because you do them, or mess with your personal business. I know this is a separate thing. So I was more, uh, asking casually. With the conventions and our projects, I want nothing to change there.“
„No, of course.“
„If we make this a big deal, I thought it would be risky. When I ask you this, there’s always the chance that it gets weird, people are being particular and act different when getting intimate like that, no matter if the night is good or bad or boring. But to me, I thought, after all our sessions being the way they were we had a body feeling for each other that was more progressed than just having sex. And I was curious how it would be naked, how we’d be catching up. Because you’re really hot to me… I really want to be on top of you. I waited so long to say this. God, fuck, Jungkook.“
„Yes.“
„Hm?“
„Yes, I want to. I’ve… been thinking about it as well.“
It’s a bashful confession that comes with a lot of baggage off his shoulders, you can tell. This all has been simmering underneath the surface. At least you managed to spill it all out yourself. Drawing a 3D face was infinitely easier, tattooing an inner fucking lip was easier. But now he was in the know, if he wasn’t before.
„Makes two of us,“ you twirl at his curly bangs with one digit finger. „Should I get it? And some other stuff. So we’re safe.“
„I, I have some protection in my bag,“ Jungkook goes on stumbling over his words, clearly not prepared for you touching his hair so playfully. „Just a minute. It’s upstairs. In the shower.“
Standing up, you both separate ways with telling, loaded glances. Jungkook couldn’t climb the stairs any faster, his expression is so sheepish. You really fucking did it. You asked and he said yes. Damn, hell yeah.
Walking into your dark bedroom, you pick up a non-fragrant wet wipe to clean your hands from any tat cream residue, although you’ve really worked it into him. Every last corner of his torso. The sleeve as well.
You constantly taught him how to take care of his arm and the other tattoos, but this was a new one. Jungkook will keep the healing cream, you’ll gift it to him. It’s high-priced stuff, but why’d you care. Your home tresor now holds a whopping 20,000$ in cash, and you can topple into your bed happy and content after knowing you own the L.A. tattoo scene as of today.
Jeon Jungkook, he was truly a standout client. Picking up the bottle of lube from underneath your bed, you couldn’t believe you just make the step to breach the professional, invisible wall of being artist and canvas. The excitement gave you a nice gut feeling that was similar to walking up at the show’s venue this morning. You’d have him on the couch, you’d get some fucking dick tonight, no sketching, no planning, no phone calls, no nothing.
You bring a large towel that Jungkook puts under his back and legs, protecting the sofa. Two water bottles, too, there he goes. Although you don’t want this to be the most sweaty exercise of all time, you both have to stay hydrated. After such a stuffy long day, anyhow.
He looks hot chugging it down up to the half-a-litre mark, and you drink from your own bottle with one hand pulling down your pants to the knees. He helps you remove them across your ankles, and he leaves two little kisses on your lower shins. It’s the first time feeling his lips are on you, and it’s a peck just as unique as you thought it would be.
When you hook your index fingers at the top of his shorts, you notice that Jungkook already fitted a blue condom inside his pants.
He didn’t want to do it in front of you and make it awkward, or expect you to touch him just for practicality first rather than touching him for sensuality first. Obviously it could be hot rolling it down on a guy, feeling up what would be inside of you, the whole girth. But safe to say he knew what he was doing. Jungkook didn’t want to compromise you. With all your thoughts that you had, that was a subtle act of reassuring.
Since you brought along the lubricant, you could still get to enjoy having your hand wrapped around him, spreading the heavy liquid rather liberally, feeling it melt around him. You wiped your hand on the towel and climbed up to his lap while Jungkook was kicking off his pants with a hip-to-knee coordination that you haven’t seen yet.
It dawns on you. How could you forget what he usually does. He wasn’t just a dancer by profession, but at heart. Those things were hard to suppress or not do. Just like you couldn’t look at Jungkook without feeling inspired to create tattoos. Which, and you couldn’t lie to yourself, his bare skin was desperately begging for, it was so inviting. You already saw him more than scantily clad, but with his shorts down, his waist and hip showed themselves in their best light. You loved his body shape.
And damn, it felt so good to finally be naked in that summer evening heat, feeling the A/C lightly tickle up your spine and neck from behind. It cooled down your back just right, and you chucked away your underwear for it not to lay around on the sofa. Although the lube was more than enough to go by, you gathered some saliva in your mouth to spit on his dick. It made him twitch and moan, „Yes please.“
There was no need for any aperitif, you weren’t in the mood to go through any foreplay. Jungkook looked delicious enough to have you on edge, and the lubricant would do the rest to make him gliding inside even smoother. You squatted over him and aligned yourself, got comfortable in stabilizing your legs this way.
Jungkook closed his eyes and only looked when the tip was way in, approaching the mid-length of his cock squeezing inside of you. Of course you were still a little tight, but some positioning would change the angle for the better. Jungkook asked if he could use his hands and got green lights from you. Judging by how they were slightly dry on your skin and the scent they had, Jungkook soaped them down when he was picking up his cross-body bag from the bathroom some minutes ago. Everything by the book.
One on your hip, the other playing with your clit, you began to realize just how good he was with his beautiful fingers. It wasn’t just you having the manual skills in this relationship. He was remarkably cautious and had concentrated eyes. So far, you enjoyed that Jungkook was more observing rather than staring, and had such a nice ring to his moaning voice as if he was a singer.
From your perspective, seeing his tattoed fingers curl between your labia and his tight chest muscles moving right along made you crave more cock inside. It slid in almost naturally with the stimulation that came from his fingertips. Jungkook’s voice went right along with it, describing in sounds rather than words what the situation was like.
„That’s really good, stay in that spot,“ you told him, and added a slight up and down to your movement on his dick. Only a slight drag on his shaft made it harder to push him inside further, but that was likely because he had been growing in size a little more.
Learning how to tattoo meant studying some architecture as well to be able to pull it off, and in your case, you soaked up all historic Greek building styles there everywhere. If you were to describe Jungkook as a column, it would be Doric. Full in the middle, definitely not Corinthian in length, actually more Roman Tuscan which was full and convex with a slender, triangular tip that extended toward a nice curving girth the further down you went to the middle.
„So pretty. Your dick feels good.“
„I really hoped you’d like it.“
Meanwhile, he had less circumference at the base. Which you found pleasing to the eye, and pleasing when you sunk down on him fully. That meant squeezing down some lube which would squirt on his balls and made your labia extra slick and juicy, stretching on the sides of his shaft like soaked little lips.
A bit would splatter to the side and smear across the lower side of your ass. It pulled threads when you were reaching the lowest point of your bounce, which alerted Jungkook’s usually waist-bound hand. He had noticed that you felt discomfort with it and wiped it flat to the side in one go.
To your surprise, he gently licked across the sides of his fingers to clean it up. Jungkook licking his tattoos had to be something you didn’t know you needed and one of the top five things happening today. The innocence but quick efficiency with which he did it, priceless. He didn’t stick out his tongue that much, just a decent fourth of it. His calm and naughtiness spoke of low performance anxiety, which you attributed to him being camera-savvy, doing his solo videos.
Still, going balls deep had Jungkook whimpering through his teeth with his eyes closed again, an immense tension spread across his face. Even his left hand on your clit briefly stopped. He had to accommodate to being inside, so you wouldn’t go on moving until his features would relax a little more and he sighed out. It was all fully in the moment and you loved to continue moving up once he was okay again.
Jungkook and you were comfortable with one position for now. In your head, you have a thousand things just like a full-body tattoo would look like, but in reality, you can only ink one thing at a time. Perfecting his little quickie would pay off much more than bending each other around. He had been hectic enough going up the stairs, he had been nervous and confused all day. You had so many ups and downs of adrenaline yourself. This had to be deliberate.
Although you told him he didn’t have to if he couldn’t do it, you found yourself asking Jungkook to give you some understated hip work. Just to begin meeting you halfway, to press his balls against you softly, to create some more lewd noises — and to see his whole body go like clockwork so you would see his tattoos dance above his muscles.
Since he observed you well, Jungkook amped up the stimulation enough for you to feel your pleasure starting to build up fast like a coil waiting to be undone, at its very peak of feel-good. The thought of having a climax right on his dick was spurring you to move, chasing the high and needing the smack of your ass against the jerk of his desperate thighs.
„Keep going… I can handle it!“
Jungkook sounded like he was about to cry, which told you he must have cum inside the condom. Hell, he was moaning so passionately, it could have been at any point in time. Going by his usual policy, he didn’t want to put pressure on you or mess up your own timing. He left you to do your own thing, just like you said you wanted. Lord knows he might have popped a pill in the bathroom to keep his dick up for long enough.
All you knew was, the suction created by you riding him very roughly at a high pace kept him erect, leaving you space to cum on his sloppy dick before Jungkook would enter a post-sex delirium. It was sudden and left you clenching up, heart rate thumping and a huge wave of release making the round through your torso. You squeezed him tight, he reacted by slowing his waist down. That way, you could savor the orgasm without disturbance, and leave your eyes shut for a moment. Jungkook helped you go from squatting on the heels of your feet to the knees, coming much closer to him now and leaving him buried deep.
„Fuck, so good!“ you plant your hands on either of his shoulders, cooling down. The A/C continues to release a calm stream of air into the room, which is deeply needed. You can’t believe it’s already happened. Or, how fast it could happen once you asked this way. He gave himself away freely without expectations, Jungkook went along like a champ.
You stay seated this way for a long time. Relaxing. Up until you both have normal breaths, up until your sleep hormones are kicking in. You glide off his dick with Jungkook’s help, him kissing the inside of your thigh while you lift it across his face.
Jungkook insists to stay on the couch, he doesn’t want to move or just come along to the bedroom he’s never been in out of nowhere. He mumbles that he’ll somehow get himself to the bathroom in ten minutes, it’s okay, he doesn’t want aftercare just more to drink. And a little snack from the fridge, maybe.
He cleans you up with love and care, then discards the more than ruined condom that had to endure being soaked from either side, outside, inside. It didn’t rip, but it looks as mushy as it gets. You really fucked the shit out of him. Everything wet and full of lube. Although it looked messy, it didn’t feel like it. Jungkook was effortlessly good in bed and immediately grasped what you wanted. The fully wet condom was a mere testament.
Seeing just how drenched and mixed up everything was, though, Jungkook points to his bag, you pull out a flat paper box.
„Yeah, just to be sure,“ you nod and pop the contents on your tongue, downing the little pill with a bunch of water. Jungkook probably made the cutest babies ever, but your whole stomach was your former first teacher Boa freestyling the absolute madness of an impeccably scaled dragon in every available color that was your lucky charm, so that wasn’t happening.
Where stretch marks would mean a ruptured masterpiece, a whole C-section would give you a thousand years of bad luck for chopping off the dragon’s feet. It would be an aesthetic crime for someone aspiring to perfection, and you wouldn’t want to draw the wrath of Boa for the sake of a kid you had zero time for to begin with.
Come to think of it. Your conservative neighborhood would probably call the cops if they learned about how the eccentric tattoo artist raving about ‚hand poking‘ and homoerotic Greek culture all day had a lovechild with the Doberman chest guy whose main source of income was shaking his ass into a camera.
So — Jungkook himself was more than just prepared. Even if he didn’t look nor act like it, he had his sex life together. Hacks, contraception, technique, hitting perfect pitch on his moans, everything. This guy was a professional in a way that you would tattoo abstract art. You admit to yourself that you tasted blood despite 85% of California men not doing it for you, and that included the majority of model canvasses. Jungkook had something completely unoffensive and pleasing about him. Something intricately submissive that was worth exploring.
Even if he came too early, he didn’t complain about it or give himself a hard time, or get in your way with it. If anything, it let you know that Jungkook liked what you did. You felt complimented that he reached his climax so easily with you, though you have to ask why he wanted to remain in the living room when your bed was much less improvised than the couch.
„Not making it a big deal,“ he says, smiling a little at you. „Nothing much changes. You’re my tattooist.“
And he’s right. He would have slept here if you didn’t fuck. The couch is big and comfortable, anyway.
While you get dressed in the bedroom, you hear him sneak upstairs. Using the tap, and you hear the clothing dryer being switched off.
You’re already tucked in when a little „thank you for todays session 🐰“ text lights up on your phone screen, followed by „and congratulations 🎊“. You reply with a „right back at you“ and call it a day, recounting today’s events in your head with an excited feeling. Good one. You even forgot you actually had a phone. Today felt like the longest 24 hours of this year.
Jungkook gets comfortable with a cold drink on the living room table next to him. Even if he’s not getting the hang of this house yet, that’ll do. He’s closing his eyes at some point. Everything that’s happened feels like it’s locked into his body. Big show, big lights, photoshoots, karaoke, brainstorming for the future. The two of you need some well-deserved rest tonight. He’s not going anywhere, and you’re not going anywhere.
The heat of the summer nights in this part of the town is reliably stable. Still, you left him the shirt in case he still needs it. Yoongi will take care of breakfast before either of you wake up tomorrow, and the kitchen will be clean as day. A nice thought to hold onto, as well as the confetti raining down on stage. And that fact that you just hooked up.
„Rise and shine my queen,“ resounds the upbeat voice of Yoongi. You always twist around under the duvet for a solid minute, then realize every time that it’s just your phone alarm sounding off like that. On a grumpy day, you once told Yoongi to record something that will get you out of bed, and this was the result. By the time you’re waking up, though, your house is all prepared. Yoongi took off for errands already.
After handing Jungkook an illustrative traditional tattoo book from your little house library to get a feel for possible designs, you sit down together. At the kitchen counter-turned-bar-turned-breakfast-table, Jungkook is fresh out the shower in a bathing gown he found nearby. Again — a garment way too short for someone with tempting legs like that.
On him, it’s basically a mini wrap dress. Not to mention the cleavage, where his tattoo is boldly peeking. Crisp edges, deep color, the black consistent. Not to brag, but you want to pat yourself on the shoulder for that job. It looks just as scrumptious as the little buffet that awaits the two of you.
„How’d Yoongi react to the tennis pants on you?“
„No idea,“ Jungkook ruffles his hair, damp and strongly curling. „Probably didn’t even register that it was his clothing at first. I was sleeping anyway when he arrived.“
„Right, he comes in around 5:50,“ you pick up a brimming sandwich, stacked with lettuce, bell pepper, and extra-layered vegan cheese. „You just saw him leave or so, right.“
„We said hi for like ten minutes when I woke up,“ Jungkook gets busy putting cherry jam on a croissant, „and he congratulated us.“
„I sent him a link to the interview we did after the competition.“
Your group chat is just a cat picture, event info, and meme dump at this point, this was one of the more serious entries. You know Yoongi for too long.
„Then I asked if he also got tattoos from you,“ he stirs his tea, and a little smile rises. Of course he had to ask that. Yoongi was plastered in freestyle 3D tattoos and song lyrics. „Then he told the story about how he started working here. So that was hilarious.“
„Abbreviated, though.“
„Abbreviated?“
“Yoongi never tells the full version where he freeloaded getting a portrait of Holly on his underarm. He didn’t have the cash, but we were college friends. I almost fell for the trick when he wanted a matching one for his girlfriend. As an exchange, he was cooking here for a week. I ended up hiring him, he’s really good at those things.“
„I was still so tired, I think I didn’t quite pay attention to the story anyway,“ Jungkook laughs. „After he showed me his knuckle designs up close, I was thinking about how I got my own.“
„Hand tats are different gravy,“ you fill up an empty glass with extra orange juice, one eye still in Jungkook’s cleavage. „Probably ’cause you see ’em all day.“
You think he does notice your gaze tracing his body. But you never know when Jungkook is terribly shy or ready to flirt the house down when he does that one wide-eyed expression.
„And then Yoongi said, I should just put on his stretchy sweatpants from the lowest drawer? I didn’t really know where that was.“
„Oh right, he doesn’t use that drawer anymore. That chapter is closed.“
„Anymore?“
„Yoongi stopped playing golf. He had his shoulder messed up in an accident.“
„Oh no…“
„Five years ago, I think. He got hit by a delivery car a mile up the lane. Never fully recovered.“
„Ouch…“
„So all that golf stuff is unused. Might as well steal a polo shirt and socks from there as well. Down the hallway, last door to the left. I make sure nobody eats your croissant in the meantime.“
He’s giggling. Golf clothes, it is. The morning is significantly cooler, you can feel it in your bones. A welcome refresher.
„Sucks. Sorry about Yoongi’s injury,“ Jungkook gets up, which loosens his belt a little too much. The bathroom gown really is falling apart left and right. You can see his thigh exposed, all the way up to the right hip. Your dear guest tries to hold everything in place shamefully with two hands, then pulls the belt now twice as tight. „Down the hallway, last door, left, correct…?“
„Yup.“
Off he goes with bouncing hair. You browse through the tattoo book while obliterating your sandwich, shifting your brain back into business mode. Shit, why’d he pick that short fucking gown instead of a regular damn towel.
In the assorted picture part of the later chapters, you find some beautiful ornaments that would literally, and you can tell right away, work so well as a frame for his back tat. Some almost naturalistic shapes, and either clouds or wind on top. Maybe even both, most deity figures in the book had several elements surrounding them. A playground for anyone who knows what they’re doing. The sketch was going to be fun to make, and interesting once it came to application.
You already put in an extra hour for Namjoon’s bonsai cover-up. Jungkook’s September appointment would be twice as intricate and dynamic. Because of the sheer overwhelming size, anyway, and Jungkook’s body shape presenting the challenge of tweaking the design’s perspective. Now that you’ve seen him stripped down all the way — maybe you do have a better understanding of him even more so.
You shiver at the thought of an unskilled tattoo artist ruining a beautiful physique like that, especially across such a large area. Thank God Taehyung sent him to you after realizing that ‚suave and fleeting‘ was clearly not what Jungkook was looking and suited for. JK’s first tattoo had been a simple refresh of some letterings on his sleeve, and the heart on his hand. A month later, he was ringing you up again.
„I think you’re the one. I have a shoulder bit that needs a touch-up. And maybe… you have an idea for the right underarm.“
What surprised you, Jungkook has never been the one choosing the tattoos. He quite liberally had you picking it all— and even without his request, you’ve now been coming up with motives to add on.
Laid-back as he is, „you do you, all access“ is all he thinks about that. Jungkook does an impromptu trust fall into your tattooing chair every time. To be honest, you could never. Boa was the only one you’d confide in like that because she knew what your taste was like and had the best technique you knew. When she told you that she’ll be moving to San Francisco and you were ready to open up your own parlor, that your 5-year education was complete, you cried, it was the best and worst day of your life. Maybe, she’ll be hosting at the next convention.
The road to San Francisco was a 6-hour drive, you do see her every other month at least. Hanging out at her own gigantic studio was one of the best things to do on the weekends. But it sometimes feels like she’s missing in presence and advice, still. Hell, you text Boa almost every day. You like all her Instagram posts, she sends you almost every larger tattoo or notable smaller ones she did on clients, so you could study the way she did it.
Just when you ended a session contouring Bam’s ears and eyes and paws, Jungkook once met your former mentor when she dropped by on a Friday evening at BLACKWORKS. Boa was depositing some ink and needles that she didn’t need, and she said well, maybe you could those try out if they work for you. However, she refused to give you any counsel. Boa insisted you had to figure out Jungkook for yourself and own up to that. Knowing her, Boa was always 90% right about the things she said.
So, all else aside, she would be the only person you’d allow making a surprise design on you. But anyone else? You’d tell your tattooist when and how and why to fucking move the needle one split inch to the left and to the right, even if they were tattooing your back and you couldn’t see a thing. In your deepest sleep, you could feel and hear and smell an idiot not filling out a corner properly.
You’d tell them exactly when to switch colors, disinfect their tools on your own, and not allow a single deviation from the stencil. Or else you’d instigate a general lawsuit to shut down their studio, good riddance. And Jungkook was the precise opposite of that.
Switching colors? He didn’t even care about those things. It was all about lying down and letting it happen instead. Taehyung once remarked to you over a very strong coffee: „He’d still think you’re cool if you ruined him entirely“.
The vast majority of your clients would rather give you their idea and you execute it for them. Point blank. Modify it at best. Maybe correct it a lot or give a second choice of the same aesthetic. Say, you’ve had this lady Hyuna come over, she wanted a cute teddy bear, but the area on the leg was better suited for an elongated cotton candy motif, so you both went with that and put the teddy bear on her shoulder blade and her husband got the same one later.
But you never got someone begging for you to decide it all to the last millimeter. Not even the canvases that flirted with seasoned contestants at the show were ready to surrender their skin this way. If someone wanted to kiss their tattooists’ ass? They’d rather spill out the most dramatic speech of praise on their work. At this point, you’re sure Jungkook likes you in a way you don’t yet understand, or never experienced.
Even the most trusting veteran clients of yours wouldn’t act like he would, and even canvasses of absolute genius tattooists would come to the revered maestros with their own suggestions and some big no-gos. Jungkook’s `do what you want, and only you can touch my body´ attitude has almost made even Taehyung’s eyes fall out. And Taehyung’s seen a lot of unhinged clients over the span of his career.  
It was quite obvious to you that he’d be your award show canvas for more than just one gig. He had the kind of enthusiasm and an empty space on his legs and back. His dance background had also given him the gift of even subconsciously presenting himself well in front of crowds because of his posture and way of walking.
In a way, you were almost too happy that Jungkook came back for more now, and he was trusting. You’d reward him with poker straight edges and extra time for creativity. For some reason, you were biased, and that already happened way before you slept together. Jungkook would spend the birthday of his lifetime getting his back tattoo.
While you ponder, there’s some noise from the other side of the house, and he’s returning.
„Did he mean those?“ a little question poses from the entrance of the hallway, and it’s Jungkook standing in the frame all dressed up.
„Sporty!“
„Yeah—“
„Can you still feel your circulation or not?“
„I needed to try several socks until it felt comfortable,“ he giggles, in typical manner, and does a little spin for fun.
Even though you’ve seen Jungkook’s naked back a thousand times in your studio, in fact you know every hair of peach fuzz on it, you’re carefully surveying it now more than ever, painting a tattoo across the bones and muscles with your eyes. Maybe his ass was next in line after the thighs, by the way. You’d run out of conventional space anyway.
„And I always thought Yoongi’s feet were pretty large. Turns out yours are bigger than his?“
„I can’t really explain it either, maybe the socks ended up in the dryer somehow?“
Yoongi really is quite a bit smaller than Jungkook. Formerly just a normal fitting piece, the polo top is pretty much a muscle shirt now. Preppy fashion runway? No, he can make your house look like a gym outfitter. The light-colored pants — it’s obvious he’s not wearing anything underneath. That silly riffled waistband is holding on to dear life. He couldn’t even tie a ribbon with the strings.
„Turn this place into a laundrette, I don’t mind. I’ll leave you in charge of the washing machine next time. Yoongi bought enough fabric softener last Wednesday.“
„I saw! Cotton candy flavor.“
He might as well be a tailor, too. Most of the clothing construction threatens to fall apart at the widest point of his thighs, at least the slender calves fit in these pants. But: It stretches, and he’s got something on.
You drop your empty juice glass into the sink, alongside your plate and sandwich knife. Your wink is far from unsettling to him.
Jungkook doesn’t want to wait until Yoongi returns to take care of the dishes. He also hand-washes his clothing from yesterday in the sink. It’s funny seeing it hang and sway dry outside, but the approaching sunshine heat promises that he’ll be good to go soon enough: With proper underwear.
For the time being, you pour some water into the fridge’s icemaker and give Jungkook a house tour. There’s finally someone you can play table football with. On the first floor, where you arranged your luxury woman cave five thousand. Yoongi could only play the defense with one arm, so you had to rely on random color tattoo clients being down to square up against your national team after a consultation. It was more fun to play with a friend.
Powered by his now-tied ponytail, Jungkook is actually too good to play against, which you notice being five-nil behind. Regardless, you `magically´ recover at seven-nine, right after he whines how a stray lash keeps poking in his eye.
There is no stray lash to be found when you check up close, but you still enjoy looking in his eyes. Jungkook was definitely blessed with some of the most reassuring bambi-like eyes. That deep reflective hazel tone looks better than any pricey brown ink of yours ever could.
Nature, after all, is the best tattooist.
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note. thank you for reading to the end <3 i hope i got you dreaming of back/chest tattoos for jk now 😂 i love this topic, it was really intricate to write and i hope you enjoyed!
© 2017-2022 sugar-petals. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed. all depictions are fictional and for entertainment purposes only.
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sunnybeewriting · 1 year
Text
peachy keen. Part Two
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Wow! Thank you all so, so much for all the likes and comments on last chapter, I was blown away! Every time I get a notification that someone liked or commented on something I’ve written I get giddy, so thank you! And I read everyone's comments and they were all so sweet!
Someone actually posted fanart of peachy keen!! I nearly died when I saw it, so thank you again to @desertrose244 for making that, it’s wonderful. And I’m sorry this chapter took so long, classes got me all kinds of messed up. So without further wait, peachy keen. Part Two!
peachy keen. Part One
WORDS: 9,000
WARNINGS: Adult themes and language
“Bitch, you better wake the fuck up right now.”
A hand whacks you on the back of your head firmly and you are jerked right out of your hazy sleep state. You let out an embarrassing snort as your head lurches up from its position of laying on your arms crossed over the table.
Your eyes squint tiredly against the bright light of the room. For a brief moment, your fuzzy mind struggles to remember where you are, until you realize that you’re still sitting in the break room.
“The time?” you slur out as you straighten your back in the chair. You lean backward, arms stretching out above your head, and strong relief fills you as several pops resound in different places. You groan loudly at the feeling, and blood rushes back into your body parts as you shift them. Hunching over in a chair for a half hour to try and get as much rest as you could had not been a good idea.
The sharp scent of something chemical makes you wrinkle your nose, and you look over to your left to see where the odor is coming from.
Margot sits beside you, humming softly and painting her nails a pretty light pink color. The little bottle of nail polish she is using cost her a lot of money to buy from the supply shop, given that nail polish was a rare find in Bridgehead. Granted, it wasn’t like there were a lot of military personnel or scientists who were fist-fighting over nail polish, but still. Margot had insisted it was completely worth the price, although you had definitely seen her lip wobble when she had looked at the dent in her wallet.
Margot had lasted almost two months before whining about missing her pretty nails, and the next day she caved and forked over the big bucks to get the tiny little bottle. Now, she likes to joke that it’s her most prized position (it wasn’t really a joke).
You yawn, then press your lips together as your right hand rubs at your eyes to help wake yourself up.
“What’s the time, Margot? Why did you even wake me up?” your tone is almost a whine as you question your friend, ready to throw a fit if she says she only woke you up because she was bored.
Luckily for Margot’s physical safety, she has a fairly good excuse.
“We’ve got that meeting with the new team leader, Amanda What-the-fuck-ever, in ten minutes.” Margot rolls her eyes as she carefully paints a strip of polish on her left index finger, tongue sticking out in concentration.
You snort softly at Margot’s clear disrespect toward a woman neither of you had even met, but you couldn’t really blame her. Your own feelings about this mystery lady were mixed as well.
Two months into being in Bridgehead, Amanda Hall was assigned as the field team leader of the new Avatar Program by the RDA. Her job is essentially to connect the members of the program to the important people in the company. She is the one to handle any concerns within the group, any issues with military personnel, any special reports about discoveries on Pandora, shit like that.
She also apparently did data work, collected samples, and would go out into the field with your team whenever the RDA finally chose for that to happen.
All that would be fine and dandy if it weren’t for the gossip from the other Avatar team, who told Margot that this lady was essentially here to report all matters of the program and its members to the RDA. Every slip-up, every boo-boo, every time someone sneezed out of turn, she would be mentioning it to the same higher-ups who would be deciding whether to disband the program or not.
This was very unpleasant news to all of you, given that your entire purpose on Pandora is to be an Avatar. The program was already in a precarious position, being that it was still in the testing stages. If it got disbanded because of whatever Miss Hall said, you’d all be completely fucked.
So yeah, none of you were exactly fond of her, too worried that she might very well ruin your lives.
Margot blows on her finished nail, holding it up closer to her face for careful inspection. Once she’s satisfied, she carefully screws the lid of the nail polish shut and gently places it into the right pocket of her light blue windbreaker.
She rises from her seat to check her reflection in a small, circular mirror on the grey wall of the break room, fixing her hair and smoothing down her clothes.
You watch her, not even bothering to do anything to fix up your own appearance. You’re certain your hair is slightly mussed and your clothes are wrinkled, but you’re beyond too tired to really give a shit.
You hadn’t slept well the past two days, too concerned about the rumors of Miss Hall. You have no idea what you would even do if the program went tits up, no idea what would happen to you or your friends.
Would you be shipped back to Earth, as if you were an unwanted toy the RDA no longer wanted to play with? Would you be forced to remain in miserable Bridgehead, doing nothing but look at samples for the rest of your life? As a xenobotanist who thrives on nature and color and unique things, that would be one of the worst things you could ever think of happening to you.
All the terrifying possibilities swirled around your head, digging so deeply into your brain that you were beginning to dream about it.
So yeah, you were stressed and unable to sleep, which made you exhausted and anxious. These past few days had been nothing but a vicious circle of misery for you.
Margot’s hands pause as they fluff up her hair, eyes meeting yours in the mirror. You stare back at her, too spent to even muster up a fake smile.
She turns away from her reflection, walking over to your slouched form and taking your hands in hers. You stare up at her with watery eyes, and she squeezes your hands tightly and says,
“Oh, honey. You don’t have to be so worried about it, it’ll be okay. The RDA spent billions on our Avatars, they’re not going to throw them away so easily, alright?”
You nod shakily, deep down knowing that she was probably right. Still, it was hard to shake the fear from your heart, the cruel little whispers of ‘but what if?’ refusing to let go.
It wouldn’t even be failing to reach a lifelong goal that would bother you so much, wouldn’t even be the years of school and training and sleepless nights that would all have been for nothing if the program was discontinued.
It would be failing to keep the promise you had made to your mother as she lay on her death bed that would be the worst of it.
Oh, your sweet, vicious mother. Once so kind and caring toward you as a child, she turned spiteful once her mind and body began to weaken. Bitterness and regret seeped into her heart and turned it as dead and cold as her husband, and the name-calling, the pinching, and the ugly insults began by the time she was confined to her hospital bed.
For five years you stuck by her side through it all, through the malice and the failed treatments and deterioration. You stayed by her side even when your aunt on your father’s side offered to take you away, because she was your mother, and you would love her always. Even on the bad days when she couldn’t even remember who you were, you stayed with her.
Through all the nastiness and difficulty, your mother’s true person would shine through sometimes, like when she told you about your father, when she made you promise to follow your heart and never let anyone or anything get in the way of your dreams. Those were the moments you stayed for.
And so, even the mere thought of letting her or yourself down, of failing to keep your promise, scared you to death.  
You shake your head, pushing the ugly thoughts back into your mind so you could focus on kind, lovely Margot.
It’ll be okay. You’ll see.
You swallow thickly, squeezing Margot’s hand tightly in your own.
“I know, Margot, I’m okay. I just need a little time to adjust, that’s all,” you smile shakily at her, and she looks at you, eyebrows furrowing with concern even as she smiles back.
“Right. Right, honey,” she tears her eyes away from you to glance at the clock, eyes widening when she sees the time, “Oh shit, sugar! We gotta go!”
Margot pulls you up from your chair by the hands she was still holding, and you sway dizzily as blood rushes back into your head. You barely have time to pull on the tennis shoes you had kicked off underneath the table before she’s tugging on your hand and you’re out the door.
“Margot, slow down!” you laugh quietly as you almost trip over the shoes not quite pulled over your feet correctly, and it feels so, so good to laugh again, even if it is just slightly. You hadn’t realized it’s been days since you felt genuinely well.  
Margot glances back at you, grins, and picks up her pace. Before you know it, you’ve reached the conference room, and you drop Margot’s hand and kneel to fix your shoes properly. Then you finally find the motivation to put your hair into a ponytail, straighten your clothes, and take a few breaths to calm your nerves.
Once you are ready you nod at Margot, and she nods back before opening the glass door to the room.
Inside is a long, metal table surrounded by ten chairs, along with an enormous whiteboard, several holotablets, and other various fancy-looing equipment.
David is already sitting in a chair closest to the door, posture straight as he reads from a tablet. He looks up eagerly when he hears the door open, and his overwhelmingly saccharine sweet smile drops fast from his lips when he sees that it’s just you and Margot. He scowls deeply, rolls his eyes, and points to his wristwatch like the little prick he is.
You resist the urge to childish stick your tongue out at him, but only just.
Probably got here an hour early, the teacher’s pet. What a weirdo.
You and Margot reluctantly take seats across from him at the table. It had been very tempting to sit all the way in the back of the room, as far away from David as possible, but that definitely wouldn’t have been seen as very professional by your new team leader. And, god help you, you did want to make a good first impression.
Hopefully that doesn’t make me as much of an ass-kisser as David.
You turn to look at him just as he takes a pocket mirror out of his pants, checks his reflection, and then positions himself in his chair so he’s the first one Miss Hall will see when she walks into the room.
Yeah, nope. Jesus Christ, David.
Barely a minute passes before Emma and James walk just in time, giggling quietly and blushing. They take a seat across from one another, James sitting by you and Emma sitting by David. They grin across the table, clearly amused about some private joke only they know.
It’s so cute, but it also kind of makes me want to puke.
You tear your eyes away from them in hopes that no longer looking at such sweet affection will help your stomach settle. They were awfully charming, but also gross if you looked at them too long.
You know, I wonder if employee relations are something Miss Hall will report to the higher-ups?
You turn to tell Emma and James they should probably keep their affections discreet whilst in the company of Miss Hall from now on. Just as you open your mouth to speak, the woman in question finally walks through the door.
The first thing you notice about her is her hair, bright red and pinned up into a smooth bun. She’s a tall, slender, strict-looking woman with young features, and while she does look stern, she also has a small smile on her lips as she looks around the table and introduces herself,
“Hello, everyone. My name is Amanda Hall, I’m the new Avatar Program team leader, which means that I will be overseeing any concerns you have and guiding you through our travels in Pandora. From here on out, if you need something or would like to speak to the RDA, you will do so through me and me alone. Do you have any questions?”
Your lips thin but you shake your head, and all members of your group rise from their seats to shake her hand in greeting, all smiling as pleasantly as they can. You notice that David is the first in line to introduce himself, and he eagerly shakes her hand and lists off all of his titles when he tells her his name.
Ew.
You’re worried your small smile might look more like a grimace than anything else when it’s your turn to greet her, but she doesn’t seem to notice as she slips her cool, smooth hand into yours. She looks at you, and her smile doesn’t seem to reach her eyes as she says,
“I look forward to working with you, Doctor…?”
Miss Hall trails off and you tell her your name. She nods her head in understanding and then shakes your hand in three perfunctory pumps before releasing you.
The next two hour is almost mind-numbing as Miss Hall talks about her new role in the science division, what she expects from you, all other mundane things that almost bore you to tears. Just as sound becomes muted in your ears and your vision begins to blur as you drone out, Miss Hall mentions something that quickly snaps your attention back to her.
“…and so, your group will be cleared for field-work within the next week or so, and you’ll be able to begin your jobs at Bridgehead in earnest, as well as-”
You gasp, “They’re finally letting us out?! In the next week?”
Miss Hall looks startled as she says, “Oh, well, yes, in the next week or so. Given that it’s been almost two months since you arrived, it’s about time you are able to do what you came here to.”
You slump back into your seat, mouth open in shock and joy. Your thoughts run wild as you realize that in a week's time, you will be in the wilds of Pandora, actually able to touch and observe and collect alien plant life. You’ve been waiting for this exact moment for years.
I can’t fucking wait!
Miss Hall smiles slightly when she sees your stunned face and then goes on to talk about her education. You don’t even bother trying to listen, simply too busy thinking to pay attention. By the time the meeting is over, you mindless shake her hand again and walk out the door with Emma, James, and Margot.
David had neglected to leave with you, staying behind to spend a few more minutes speaking with Miss Hall.
Better her than us. He’s probably sucking up for a promotion or some shit.
As you all wander back to the break room in a daze, you realize that you aren’t the only one stunned by Miss Hall’s announcement. All three of your friends look pale and glassy-eyed, and poor Emma is destroying her fingernails as she picks at them while biting her lip anxiously.
Since Pandora is a dream come true for you, it’s always been difficult for you to remember that it’s not a safe place, not an easy walk in the park, and that you could die out there. You just get so lost in your own head, so busy thinking about all the scientific possibilities that you forget the danger that may be lurking. Your one-track mind is a dangerous flaw of yours, and you hope it doesn’t get you killed someday.
Once you all reach the room and sit down, everyone has some color back in their cheeks, and James has grabbed one of Emma’s hands to stop her from hurting herself. You sit in silence for a moment before Margot breaks it,  
“I still don’t like her,” she huffs, arms crossed over her chest as she practically pouts in her chair.
You roll your eyes, having seen that coming from a mile away. Ah, classic Margot. Once she made up her mind about someone or something, it was incredibly difficult to get her to change her opinion.
“She wasn’t that bad,” Emma says quietly. Over the past month since your group really came together, Emma had opened up more and more until she was able to hold full conversations without freezing. You had once thought that her dreary attitude was because she was an unhappy person, but it turns out she’s just painfully shy.
James certainly helped with bringing her out of her shell; his caring attitude and cheerfulness are good for her.
You take a deep breath and agree with Emma, surprising yourself when you say the words aloud,
“You know, I don’t think having her as a team leader will be as bad as I thought. I think she’ll help our team more than hurt it, but we should still be careful with what we say and do around her for the next few months, just in case.”
Margot sighs but nods, uncrossing her arms from her chest.
“Yeah, okay, that’s probably for the best. I guess she didn’t seem that bad. She had pretty hair,” she mumbles the last part, and to your utter bewilderment, Margot tucks her hair behind her ear and actually blushes.
You gawk at her; it was incredibly rare for Margot to turn red, and it usually only happened when she was extremely angry or embarrassed. She hadn’t even blushed when she got super drunk at the bar downtown, took off her top, and climbed up on a table to dance around. Well, she tried to dance, but the only thing she succeeded in doing was falling off the table and throwing food and drinks everywhere.
You had tried to get her top back on and get her off the table but were fairly drunk yourself, and you failed terribly. When she went flying off the table, she kneed you right in the face, and you had to walk around with a black eye for two weeks.
Yeah, defiantly not either of our best moments.
But even when you had told her about it the next morning, hungover and miserable, she still hadn’t tinged red even a little bit at the fact that she’d shown her tits to an entire bar full of people. She had just waved her hand indifferently and asked if you got any good pictures.
So, it was defiantly bizarre to see her blush now for seemingly no reason.
Huh.
Margot catches you gaping at her and blushes even more before clearing her throat and turning her attention on you. She smirks mercilessly, eyes gleaming, and says,
“You know, I was surprised you even gave her your real name, I was half expecting you to tell her to call you Peach.”
Now it’s your turn to burn scarlet, and you shrink back into your seat with a flustered, “Margot!”
She laughs at your squeaky reaction before saying, “What? I’m just saying, Colonel Quaritch is always calling you that, and I’ve never heard you tell him to stop, soooo.” She wiggles her eyebrows and jams a sharp elbow into your ribs.
You wince, one hand reaching up to grasp where she hit you as you say, “Uh, yeah, I’m not going to Quaritch of all people what he can and cannot say, and you wouldn’t either. He could call me much worse names, so I’ll take Peach any day, thank you.”
“And I can’t believe you’re still going on about this!” you scoff, annoyance tinging your voice.
“Oh, come on! You guys spend so much time together-”
“Yeah, for lessons. During which he knocks me around for a few hours, so yeah, I can certainly say that we are, at best, acquaintances.”
“But you have such good chemistry-”
“Ha! Margot, you and David have more chemistry than Quaritch and I.”
Margot blanches and leans away from you, disgusted at the thought of such a thing, “I can’t believe you would even say something so horrid!”
“Well, it’s true!”
Margot lunges from her chair, jabbing an accusing finger in your face as you lean back, “Lies! I know for sure that you want to do the hanky-panky with him!”
You shake your head, amusement bubbling up in your gut and making you laugh as you say, “Hanky-panky? Are you fucking eighty years old, what’s the matter with you?”
To both your utter delight and disgust, Margot rolls her hips in a way she must think is provocative, but it mostly looks like something in her body is broken and she’s struggling to stand upright.
You burst out laughing and shout, “Jesus Christ Margot, what the hell are you doing?”
“Come on, I know this what you want to do with Quaritch-”
“What, roll my hips in a way that makes it seem like my spine is shattered to get him to sleep with me?”
Margot falters and stops wiggling around to say, “Is that really what I look like?”
“Yes!”
“Okay, okay, fine!”
She sits back in her chair with a pout but leans forward, and her green eyes bore into yours, “But my point still stands. You know, you’re starting to be like those little ducklings you had talked about seeing him with that first time, always following him around.”
You groan, “Ugh, Margot. You know what, I’m not even going to worry about it anymore. If you want to be lost in your delusions, you do that. I’m going to go to bed because I actually have something important to do in the morning.”
You pat your thighs and stand from your chair as Margot boos and shouts, “You grandma!”
“Goodnight, Margot,” you say, still absolutely tickled at Margot’s ability to bullshit even herself. You pat her on the shoulder as you walk past her to the door, and she smacks you on the ass and says, “Night, bitch.”
You barely remember to say goodnight to Emma and James, whom you had honestly forgotten were still even in the room.
They jumped slightly when you called out to them, having seemingly forgotten you and Margot’s presence as well, even with the way you had been so loud.
You shake your head fondly as they guiltily say goodnight, and you’re out the door.
You spend the journey back to your quarters thinking about the past month you’ve spent with Quaritch.
Your relationship with him, if you can even call it that, has grown from distant to something more of an…understanding. A mutually beneficial, symbiotic agreement. He’s still a massive prick, always poking and jabbing nastily, always quick to make fun.
He's still likely to smother you in your sleep if you do or say something bad enough, but he isn’t as terrifying as he was when you first met, that’s for certain.
You’re not sure if it’s simply the result of spending four hours every damn day for a whole month in his company, or if he chose to be less frightening on purpose. Either way, that all-consuming terror you felt in the first week of meeting him has faded into faint uneasiness.
And it was hard to stay so scared of him all the time when he did almost, dare you think it, nice things.
Like that one time, just a week ago, when he had been teaching you different ways to hold your blade so you could better attack someone instead of just defending yourself.
Quaritch had stood close to you, and even through the stifling, humid heat of Pandora, you could feel the heat coming off him. His bare arm brushed against yours gently as he moved from your right side to stand in front of you, and he lifted the little knife he had given you three weeks ago.
As he had warned you to, you’d kept good care of; you didn’t want to give Quaritch any other reason to dislike you, and losing the knife he entrusted into your care would worsen his feelings toward you for sure.
So, you kept it on you whenever you were in your Avatar form, nice and safe tucked away in your right short pocket. Sometimes, whenever you were distracted, you’d find yourself stroking over the M.Q engraved on the handle, thumb roving over the groves. It was sort of comforting, in a way you couldn’t describe. You probably just liked the texture.
“Alrigh’, Peach. Your defense with this puny little thing has been adequate at best, but it's good ‘nough for now. So, we’ll be moving on toward something a little bit more fun,” he grinned unpleasantly, head tilting to the side, “your offense.”
You swallowed uneasily but nodded.
Can’t be any worse than before, right? You had naively thought.
You were really, really fucking wrong.
Five minutes in, you figured out that Quaritch is a fucking monster at defense. You’d known this to some degree, just because this was Quaritch and he’s good at everything when it comes to combat, but trying to even touch this guy with your knife was utterly impossible.
No matter how fast your feet moved, no matter how much your muscles burned, no matter how hard you tried, Quaritch is bigger and better than you’ll ever be. You could see it in the way he moved, the ease of which he ducked and weaved around your inexperienced blade. He had a smug look on his face and his lips were curled up in amusement as he played around with you like a cat with a mouse.
Someday, you might get jealous of his skill, of his ferocity in combat. Now, though, watching him just made you feel in awe.
Embarrassingly, you can’t help but think he’s stunning when he moves like that. Maybe in the future you’ll actually get to see him against a real opponent, a real warrior who knows what they’re doing. You have no doubt that Quaritch would give them hell.
You leapt at him one more time in a last-ditch attempt to cut him, and he surprised you by not immediately dodging as he had done the past few minutes. Instead, he simply stays still as you run at him.
You tried to slow down once you realized he wasn’t going to move, but it was too late. He stepped slightly toward you and stopped your body’s momentum by splaying a huge hand across your upper chest and pushing you back with barely any effort at all.
You went flying backward, ass landing hard on the ground with a grunt.
Ow!
You groaned as you struggled to stand back up and Quaritch offered no helping hand, not that you had expected him to. Instead, he crossed his bulging arms across his chest, smirked, and said, “Well. You weren’t as pathetic at offense as I thought you’d be.”
You scoffed, eventually able to stand back up and dust off the gravel that clung to the fabric that covered your ass, “I was ridiculous, I didn’t even manage to make contact.”
“Well, that’s just ‘cause you ain’t pissed enough. You gotta think of me as some sorta son of a bitch you despise, someone you hate. Really let it provoke you, feel the hate in your blood and let it guide you until you kill em’. Then you’ll be golden.”
You considered his words thoughtfully, wondering who the hell you could ever hate so much you could brutally kill them.
Quaritch sighed when he saw the questioning look on your face, one large blue hand resting on the thick belt wrapped around his slender waist. He reached up to rub at his jawline as he rolled his eyes at your naivety, and then he said, “Look, Peach, there’s gotta be someone you don’t like-”
“David!” you blurt out, remembering how irritated he’d made you the past week with his stupid little comments and snotty attitude, “I really, really fucking don’t like David. If you think I’m a priss, you’d hate David if you ever met him.”
“…Alright, David it is, then. Come on, get ready to come at me again, and this time don’t be such a pussy about it. Remember what I taught you and think about whatever it is about this poor David bastard you hate so much.” Quaritch spreads his legs into a wider stance, long arms deceptively relaxed at his sides as he waited for you to come at him.
“The guy’s a douchebag, always rambling on about how he’s better than everyone else. He’s a real stuffy, know-it-all science puke. You know, your favorite type of person.”
You flashed him a sharp-toothed grin and he smirked back, wide golden eyes grudgingly amused.
“He once told me that it would be highly unlikely that you would be able to teach me anything. I really wasn’t sure if it was a dig at your teaching skills or my intelligence. Probably both, knowing him.”
Quaritch’s eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened as he said, “…Interesting. Might have to meet this David guy some time.”
You grinned at the thought of massive, terrifying Quaritch looming over a tiny, frightened David, grinning down at him evilly. That might finally be enough to deflate David’s ego, though it was David. Who knows, he’d probably be delusional enough to think Quaritch was talking to him out of respect or some shit.
I would literally fucking pay to see that happen. Quaritch would eat him alive.
“Alright, I’m ready, let’s go again.”
You spent the next thirty minutes pathetically struggling to hit him, and you didn’t make contact even once. You came close a few times, but you never actually touched the bastard.
And thinking about how utterly irritating David was didn’t even help! As much as you disliked the guy, you really couldn’t develop enough anger to want to kill him, even if it wasn’t real.
Maybe throttle him or duct tape his mouth shut, but to kill? That wasn’t you; you just didn’t have that sort of determination or ferocity in your heart. Maybe one day, but certainly not now.
It seems Quaritch could see that because he sneered at you before sighing and coming to a stop.
“Jesus Christ, alright, this isn’t working. We gotta figure somethin’ out, ‘cause at this rate you’re just going to hurt yourself by flailin’ ‘round like that. Goddamn.”
You stopped when he did, panting, face flushed and sweaty. You winced at his words but admit defeat by nodding your head in agreement.
Quaritch propped both his hands on his hips as he considered you for a moment, eyes flicking over your body. He checked the watch on his left wrist and then said,
“Well, Peach, we only gotta few minutes left and I’m fuckin’ hungry, so let’s call it a day. I’ll see ya nice and early morning tomorrow on time, you hear me?” He gave you a look, and you internally rolled your eyes even as you nodded understandingly.
It was one time you’d been five minutes late to meeting up with him, weeks ago, and he’d never let you forget it. Tom had woken up late, so you’d had to wait to link into your Avatar. You were only a few minutes late, but Quaritch had been a grumpy little bastard about it the entire morning.  
He was fucking relentless, and now every single time at the end of the lesson, he always has to say some little thing about it, because it’s Quaritch. Why ever waste an opportunity to be a dick?
“See you tomorrow, sir.”
Quaritch gave you one last look, golden eyes stern, before turning around to head back toward the gate of the courtyard.
You watched as he went, hands distractedly reaching for the sheath of your knife so you could safely put it away.
You gazed at the thin, green fabric of his tank top that stretched taught over his broad shoulders and muscled back, eyes lowering down to take in his slender waist wrapped in his belt.
And then your eyes went lower, and you made a daring observation that shocked your world, an observation you would have never dared to even think a mere few weeks ago.
Miles Quaritch has a fantastic ass.
You blushed strongly even as your head tilted to the side, eyes locked on his camo-covered ass as he practically struts his way to the gate. Your mouth parted gently before you bit softly on your bottom lip.
I’m mean, really, he’s goddamn packing it away down there. Is there any part of him that isn’t fucking attract- mother fucker!
You yelped as stinging pain ripped through your senses, concentrated strongly on the palm of your right hand. You dropped your knife on instinct, looking down hurriedly to see what the hell was hurting so bad.
You hissed lightly, shocked, when you saw the angry, bright red cut on the upper part of your blue palm, already weeping blood profusely. Your tail flicked irritably behind you, ears lowering on the sides of your head.
No fucking way, you absolute dumbass.
You’d been so distracted with checking out Quaritch’s ass that you had accidentally cut your palm open with your own knife while trying to sheath it.
“Mother fucker!” The words burst out of your mouth before you could stop them, tingling pain finally pushing its way through your surprised brain and throbbing from your palm all the way up your arm.
Blood slowly dripped on the concrete of the courtyard as you grasped your right wrist with your left hand, gasping softly.
I have to get to the medical center, Jesus Christ, why the hell does it hurt so much!?
You’d just started taking steps toward the gate, eyes locked on your bleeding palm when you heard stomping footsteps approaching fast. Before you knew it, camo-covered legs were in your peripheral vision.  
You looked up at Quaritch’s irritated and baffled face, his eyebrows furrowed as he snagged your wrist and yanked your arm up to his face to closer inspect the bleeding wound on your hand.
“Jesus Christ, Peach, the fuck did you do? I left you alone for two seconds!”  
“I-I know, I know! I was just trying to put it back into its sheath and-and I must have not been paying attention and it-” you stuttered, mind franticly trying to come up with an excuse to say instead of why you’d been so distracted.
There was no fucking way you were ever going to tell Quaritch you’d actually injured yourself because you were preoccupied with checking out his ass. Your pride and dignity would never make a recovery.
He interrupted you before you could finish, gripping your wrist tightly as he hissed, “Yeah, I can see that. Fucking hell, I should just start callin’ you clumsy instead of Peach. Let’s go.”
Quaritch lowered your arm from his face, scowling deeply, his own ears flicking angrily.
He began walking with your wrist still in his grasp. He tugged on your arm when you remained rooted to the ground, and you stumbled after him.
“U-Uh, hey, where are we going?”
“To the medical center, you idiot. It doesn’t look too deep but you’re going to need to get it cleaned. Hurry the fuck up, let’s go.”
He marched you out of the courtyard, through the bustling area of soldiers and across Bridgehead, all the while still holding onto you.
Every now and then he’d shorten his long, angry stride to take a look at your hand, and every time he did, the scowl on his face grew. His sharp teeth were clenched angrily as you walked on.
You didn’t say a word, too embarrassed and in pain, even as you struggled to keep up with his aggressive pace. You winced every time a gust of air blew across your open wound and made it sting even more. Every time you winced, Quaritch’s grip tightened.
Eventually you made it to the med center, and Quaritch waltzed through the doors with zero concern or hesitation. He tugged you upfront to stand beside him and finally released his grip on your wrist.
Ten or so tiny little humans wearing exo-masks and white sanitary gear bustled around the near entrance of the center, but none took any notice of the two giant blue Avatars standing in front of them, too busy with their own tasks.
When none of them looked up from their work after two seconds, Quaritch lost his minuscule amount of patience and barked,  
“Hey!”
You jumped slightly, not expecting Quaritch to shout, and every person in the immediate vicinity froze, heads snapping up and around to you and Quaritch. His deep voice almost echoed in the ensuing silence as any other sound stopped.
You wanted to shrink away from their stares, to just go back to your quarters and take care of your wound by yourself. Quaritch must have sensed your uneasiness and desire to bolt, because he firmly placed one large hand on your bare back, fingers splaying out across your sensitive skin.
You jumped again at the unexpected feeling of his skin against yours and tensed, mouth parting to gasp before you choked it down.
Quaritch’s hand was so big that his thumb brushed up under the loose fabric of the training crop top you wore, and goosebumps erupted across your body as you involuntarily shivered at the feeling.
You could feel the pads of his fingers against your skin, and it felt so strange (good).
“If any of you busy fuckers wouldn’t mind takin' a moment to check out this girl here, I would greatly appreciate it.” Quaritch’s deep voice boomed across the silent room, clearly irritated and sarcastic.
He sneered at them all, and then lifted an eyebrow when everyone remained frozen, “Well?”
One brave little human finally managed to unstick their feet from the floor to approach you and Quaritch slowly, as if you were both wild animals that might attack her at any moment.
They come close enough that you can tell it was a woman, even through all the bright white gear she wore. She was short, stout, and stern-looking, with grey hair pulled up into a tight bun.
She tilted her head up to meet Quaritch’s fierce yellow gaze firmly, and you almost raised your eyebrows in surprise when she refused to look away from his angry glare, her back straight and gloved hands folded in front of her.
Jesus Christ, this lady has some serious balls, you had thought incredulously.
“What’s the problem, sir?” she asked, voice coming out polite but stiff.
Quaritch had seemed startled for about half a second, then he narrowed his eyes once more and said, “This idiot sliced her hand open.”
He nudged you strongly with the hand on your back and you took a stumbling step forward, looking down at her small face and sheepishly raising your right bloody hand. It had stopped bleeding so much a few minutes before you had entered the center, but it was still a gross-looking mess.
“Uh, yeah, I’m sorry, I did do that,” you said sheepishly, apologetic.
The lady didn’t seem remotely bothered by the blood, though, and she simply sighed before guiding you over to a nearby cot with a white privacy sheet away from the entrance of the center.
You walked over willingly, careful not to jostle your hand. The stinging had faded slightly now that you were inside, but it was far from numb, and you didn’t want to make it hurt even more.
As you walked over to the tent, Quaritch left your side without your notice and wandered somewhere out of your viewpoint without a word.
You turned around to say something to him, and only then did you even notice he was gone.
Oh, you had thought, he could have at least said goodbye.  
The lady introduced herself as Doctor Miriam as she moved around your cot to grab various medical supplies. She asked you some questions, like how and when you injured yourself, and with what.
You sheepishly told her that you had been distracted when you had cut yourself, and your hand drifted down to your pocket to grab your knife to show it to her.
Your heart dropped to your shoes when you were met with nothing, and you tensed in alarm before immediately slouching when you realized you had dropped it in the courtyard.
You’d have to go back for it once this was done, but you’d much prefer that than it being lost like you had thought it was when you hadn’t felt it in your pants. Quaritch would have killed you.
All in all, the process for healing your hand was a simple one; Doctor Miriam cleaned your palm, removed the gravel, smeared a clear gel on it, and wrapped the upper part of your hand with a simple white bandage.
“Luckily,” Doctor Miriam explained, “the cut is shallow enough that it didn’t sever any of the nerves in your hand. It’ll be healed by tonight because of the medicinal properties in that healing gel, but be careful not to squeeze anything too tight. You don’t even have to wear the bandage for more than a few hours.”
You thanked her profusely and apologized again for causing her trouble, and she simply waved her hand, patted you on the back firmly, and guided you back toward the entrance of the center.
You stepped outside back into the light of Pandora, so ready to go back to the Avatar center to take a shower and get back into your own body after such a tiresome ordeal.
You’d barely taken a few steps before Quaritch rounded the corner of the building, stepping into your viewpoint.
You jerked to a stop, wondering what the hell he was still doing here.
He headed toward the entrance of the med center in long strides but stopped when he saw you standing outside. He changed his course of direction to you and reached you in a scant few seconds.
“I thought you were gone?” you asked, bandaged hand raising to shield your eyes from the bright light as you looked up at him.
Quaritch grabbed your wrist once more to examine the handiwork of Doctor Miriam. Apparently satisfied, he dropped your arm a moment later, and you let it go limply back to your side, still waiting for an answer.
“Noticed you left my knife in the courtyard, and I don’t like leaving my shit where others can take it,” he said, and lifted up your knife to your view.
“Sorry, sorry, I was just about to go back for it!” you exclaimed, hand reaching out to grab it from his own.
Quaritch pulled his hand back before you could take it, scoffing loudly before he asked, “What, you think you can just leave my shit laying around and then just take it back?”
He took a step closer to you, face lowering down to yours to look you firmly in the eye. He glowered at you, yellow eyes burning as he said, “Don’t do it again.”
You wanted to scoff at him and say, ‘Well, I was a little distracted by all the blood pouring from my hand!’, but you bit your tongue. It would just result in an argument you would never win.
“Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”
He glared at you one last time before dropping the knife into your hand. You took it gratefully, and as you tucked it into the pocket of your pants, you noticed that he had cleaned it of your blood. 
“And the next time you handle that knife, Peach, do your best not to slice open your own hand. Jesus, you gotta be the clumsiest brainiac I’ve ever met.”
You winced, suddenly feeling a hot flash of embarrassment all over again at the thought of your accident. You shuffled awkwardly and cleared your throat before you tilted your head up to meet his gaze, and you said, “Thanks for your help, sir. I really appreciate it.”
Quaritch sneered down at you, ears flicking as he sniffed derisively and said, “You’re damn right you’re thankful,” and then he stormed away as quickly as he had arrived.
You had watched him go, and it wasn’t until later that night as you laid in bed staring at the ceiling that you realized how surprised you had been that Quaritch had even bothered to take you to the center.
For all the cut had hurt like a bitch, it was far more superficial than life-threatening. Quaritch had been able to tell that the moment he had looked it at, but he still stayed with you to take you to the center. And he hadn’t even complained about it once while you were walking, which was a goddamn miracle for Quaritch.
And there was that other time a few days into the first week of lessons when you had neglected to eat much of breakfast, nor much of dinner the night before. While that would have been fine to do in your human form, your Avatar needs a massive amount of nutrients and calories to survive. Since you were working yourself to the bone every morning for the past week, it was a very dumb move to forget to eat two meals in a row.
You had gone out one morning to meet Quaritch and had felt fine through his Na’vi lesson, and it was only during your own combat session that you began to weaken.
You were thirty minutes in, clumsily dodging Quaritch’s hits when black spots began to cover your eyes. You stumbled to a stop, panting and dizzy, and your limbs felt much heavier than before. Your arms lowered from where they had been positioned defensively in front of you as you struggled to stay upright, swaying unsteadily on your feet.
Quaritch paused in his own movement, his fists lowering down in confusion as his eyes flickered over your face before he said, “You good, Peach? You’re lookin’ a lil’ green for such a blue girl-woah!”
Your vision faded, sounds muting out as you felt your body slacken. Just as you began to tilt backward, Quaritch lunged forward and caught your limp form before you could hit the ground.
It took a moment to come back to reality, to claw your way out of the darkness as the harsh buzzing in your ears lessened. You slowly moved your fingers and legs as feeling came back to them, and you realized distantly that your upper body was laying down across something firm and covered in soft fabric.
 A deep voice began to filter into your ears as you kept your eyes closed, still not fully conscious.
“Hey, Peach? Peach, you wuss, you went and passed out on me, wake up.”
You groaned as a hand began to lightly smack your right cheek, slowly blinking open your eyes.
For a moment, the only thing you could see was fuzzy blue, until Quaritch’s upper body and face became clearer. His eyebrows were raised in surprise, lips curled in light amusement, but you felt more than saw his shoulders become less ridged when you met his eyes.
You swallowed, mouth dry, and whispered, “Oh. Did I pass out?”
Quaritch barked out a ridiculing laugh and said, “Yeah, sweetheart, you sure did.”
“Oh,” you said again, still stunned. It wasn’t the first time you’d fainted, but the empty and dizzy feeling never got easier.
You swallowed again and realized just how thirsty you were. Your stomach growled furiously, and all of a sudden you were starving.
Didn’t even think about eating, you realized, beyond disappointed in yourself for not taking proper care of your Avatar. 
You moved your shoulders to start lifting yourself up from the ground, before you realized with disbelief and humiliation that you weren’t laying on the hard ground, but rather your upper body was mostly in Quaritch’s fucking lap.
No wonder I had been able to smell him so well, I’m practically on top the poor guy!
You blinked and lifted your head up, your face coming closer to Quaritch’s own, close enough that you could see the small flecks of brilliant green in his bright yellow eyes. More embarrassment flashed through you even as you subtly inhaled his intoxicating scent, made more overwhelming and mind-numbing by your proximity to him.
You wanted to scream and bury your face in your hands. Not only had you passed out like an absolute pussy for such a stupid reason, but Quaritch had actually had to catch you like you were some prissy damsel in distress. Honestly you were surprised he had even bothered to prevent you from falling, let alone bothered enough to cradle you in his lap until you had awoken.
Probably just pitied the stupid, clumsy girl who couldn’t even take care of herself, you thought bitterly, lips thinning.
You sniffed quietly as you met his eyes, your own golden eyes flicking between his as you said, slightly breathlessly, “Thanks for catching me.”
He looked back down at you blankly, eyebrows furrowing for just a moment and ears flicking back on the sides of his head before he scoffed and said, “Fuck, Peach, I just didn’t want you to bust your head and get blood all over my courtyard is all.”
You saw his muscled biceps suddenly flex with tension and realized you had about two seconds to get yourself off his lap before he tossed you away, curious generosity swiftly revoked.  
You tensed your core to sit upright quickly, and once you no longer felt dizzy, you shifted your hands to support yourself. Your right one went to press a palm down firmly on the ground, and once you began to lift yourself up all the way, your left hand moved to place itself better. That would have been fine if Quaritch hadn’t still been sitting there, waiting for you to move so he could get up.
Your hand landed just on the right side of his crotch, pinky finger brushing gently against something really fucking big by the cold zipper of his pants.
Oh.
Your stomach exploded with butterflies before sinking violently like a stone in dread as you realized exactly who you were practically fondling.  
You gasped loudly, head whipping downward in wide-eyed horror to confirm your terrified thoughts, and, yep, that was your hand full on Colonel Quaritch’s lap, just an inch away from earning you a horrifying phone call from the human resource department. If Quaritch didn’t rip your arms off and strangle you first, that is.
You jerked your hand away as fast you could, face and ears already burning. You franticly started lifting yourself away so you can give him more space, and you turned to look at him so you could furiously apologize and beg for your life.
Quaritch snatched your wrist in a bruising grip before you could fully pull away and tugged you angrily back into his body space. You hit the ground hard on your knees, wincing, kneeling in front of his sitting form. You didn’t even have time to pull away or straighten up before Quaritch is shoving his furious face close to yours, tail flicking furiously behind him.
And you couldn’t help but distantly think, this close to his face and eyes, he really is fucking pretty.
“You,” he hissed, bright yellow eyes enraged and narrowed as they flickered across your own wide ones, “need to watch you put your fucking hands, sweetheart, before you start something you can’t finish.”
“Sorry, sorry!” you squeaked, heart pounding in your chest with all sorts of emotions, “It was a slip of the hand!”
Quaritch growled, baring his sharp teeth slightly before tossing you your wrist back to you. You scrambled up and away from him quickly, taking several steps to widen your distance, chest heaving.
Quaritch rose as well, glaring at you one last time before turning on his heel and walking right out of the courtyard, fists clenched and tail still flicking angrily behind him.
As you squint worriedly after him, wondering if this was the end of your brief partnership, you could see the slight hint of a pretty purple on the back of his neck and the tip of his ears.
It was an accident, you wanted to shout after him, but somehow you don’t think it would help any.
Jesus Christ, I think my heart is about to explode.   
The morning after that whole thing had been unnerving, with Quaritch still grouchy and you still embarrassed. It was a little awkward when you began Quaritch’s Na’vi lesson, but by the time it was your lesson, you were back to inelegantly moving around and Quaritch was back to kicking your ass.
Now, every morning since your fainting spell, Quaritch will ask, “You sure you won’t pass out again, princess?”, or “Sure hope you snagged some grub, Peach”, always smirking callously and teasing you whenever he gets the chance, the dickbag.
You can’t really blame him, though; you really, really didn’t want another crotch-grabbing incident. Knowing your luck, you’d do something even worse, like full-on fondle him or trip and land face-first into his lap.
So now you make sure to take proper care of your Avatar, always eating and drinking enough and listening to the signals your body gave you. It had been massively dumb for you to not do that in the first place, but now you’re going to make sure it is your top priority.
As you finally arrive at your quarters, you conclude that you are far from friends with Quaritch, if that was even a possibility for him. In fact, you don’t think he even had any friends.
Sure, he was the commander of the Recombinant Unit and everything, and those guys fucking worship him, but it didn’t seem like it was the same as actually being friends who care about each other.
You get ready for bed, mind consumed with thoughts of Quaritch, and you can't help the thought that pops into your head as you shuffle around your room.
You know, I don't think I would mind all that much being friends with him.
Peachy Keen. Part Three.
Tagging: I'm sorry, I did my best, for some reason it wouldn't let me tag everyone!
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swappingbryn · 7 months
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Contest Winning Halloween Costume
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My name is Derek, and I everyone around here knows my name and gives me as much space as I demand.
Halloween was coming up and I had secured an invitation to a highly exclusive party, obviously invite only, filled with hot chicks, free drinks, and the best part was the costume contest with a $10,000 prize. The rules were simple, “Best Costume Wins, No Holds Barred.” I had an idea, I’d need my buddy’s help, but he wasn’t invited to the party and I’d cut him in on the prize money if it work.
My plan was to go to the party in a different body, the ultimate costume. My buddy’s dad worked for a government research company that had perfected the technology. Before I even started looking for a body, I made sure all the body swap trope shit wouldn’t be a problem, like it wasn’t a one way trip, there wasn’t an issue with a body swapping back with itself, if the machine was destroyed we wouldn’t be trapped and there were other machines capable of doing the swap in case one malfunctioned.
Satisfied, I went about finding the best, most different than my own, body. I found it as I was leaving the gas station, he was a guy asking for change on the side of the road. He had to be close to sixty, his clothes were dirty and looked greasy, and I could smell him as I approached. I gave him a $20 and asked if he wanted to make more. He thanked me, but looked suspicious and asked what I meant. I explained my plan and offered him $200 to swap, and an extra $250 if I won using his body. I explained that it was safe, that all the safety protocols were in place, that there was no risk. He just laughed and said “it seems like if anything happens, I don’t need to worry about being safe, I’d be making out pretty well.” I guess he was right haha.
We went to the lab and initiated the swap, and it went off without a hitch. I walked out of the room in his old, smelly, dirty body. When I got to the party, I was stopped at the door (which is a good sign that I’d be winning the contest, since no one recognized me), but I presented the invite and explained who I was, so I was let in. I was definitely in a great position to win, no one recognized me, and when the host questioned me, I pointed out he specifically said “no holds barred,” which made him laugh and reply “you’re right bro, you’re right.” I spent the night drinking (which didn’t do much to me since I guess this hobo has a high tolerance), hitting on chicks, who weren’t into it since I looked gross. When the contest winner was announced, it was no surprise I won. The host even said “I know it’s seems like a cheat, but I did say ‘no holds barred,’ which I meant to mean much less drastic measures, but still, his WAS the best costume, no one would ever guess it was him.”
I collected my winnings and decided to leave soon after. Chicks were ignoring me, alcohol didn’t work, other guys avoided me saying I smelled, and this body ached all over with age and years of abuse on the streets. I went back to meet my body and swap back. He wasn’t where we agreed to meet and I freaked out, he was supposed to wait for me and not leave. However my fear subsided as he walked over, saying he didn’t expect me back for a while. Turns out while I was gone, he’d gone to the gym with my buddy who had helped us swap, my body said on their way back he stopped to get a drink from the store, and apologized for using $5 from my wallet. I was so relieved and just laughed, I told him not to worry about the $5.
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We went back to the lab and got ready. I gave my body the money and kept his $250 in his pants, and he placed my money in my jacket pocket, since after the swap we’d both have our money. The machine whirled and flashed, but nothing happened. We tried it again, I felt it working, but nothing happened. I asked what the fuck was wrong, and my buddy’s dad said there was a problem with my body, it was resisting the swap. This homeless fuck was preventing us from getting back. He promised he wasn’t doing anything, he was ready to swap back, he knew it was only fair.
My buddy’s dad ran some tests and said he figured out the problem, turned to me and said “it doesn’t look good,” before looking at my body and asking “do you want to swap back?” “Of course, I have to give him his body back, it’s only right,” my body replied. “That’s not what I asked. Do you WANT to swap back or would you rather stay like that?” “Well, I mean, I obviously like this body more. I’m younger, better looking, I don’t smell, and people don’t walk away from me to avoid me. But I know I can’t keep it.” “See Luke, that’s the problem. He is willing to return your body, he’s consenting to it, but he doesn’t WANT to swap back. The machine wasn’t calibrated for a forced swap, and we can’t change that mid swap. Since his mind doesn’t want to swap, the machine won’t do it.”
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That was almost a year ago. That fucker has been in my body all that time. He has been living as Luke Potter, the hot jock, the big man on campus. He has been hooking up with everyone he can find, guy or girl, he’s been doing a little modeling and even became an OF star and gay findom.
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And I’m stuck as Derek Grainger, the old, fat, drunk hobo. I developed a huge reputation at the homeless camp under the bridge. I’m ready and willing to fight any motherfucker that gets in my way. No one believes me about some swap, they think I’m just an old alcoholic that imagined it.
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pluckyredhead · 1 month
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ur post abt the green lantern’s political leanings was so interesting!! can you do one for the bat family? (but only if u wanna!!)
Honestly, I can't, because their politics are so incoherent.
Like, take Bruce. (And again, like with the Lanterns, I'm talking about canon here, not how I wish things were.) On the one hand, you would imagine he's pretty progressive, right? He's almost certainly a single issue voter and that single issue is gun control. He believes in rehabilitating criminals and in fact a lot of Wayne Enterprises hires are formerly incarcerated people. He is an active philanthropist who pours money into schools, orphanages, hospitals, public spaces, and the arts. These are all leftist values!
And yet the modern Batman is also a completely unrestrained violent anarchic-libertarian power fantasy. Bruce has invented his own law, which he enacts and enforces completely arbitrarily, however he feels like doing so. He obeys the laws he wants to obey and ignores the ones he doesn't care about, while insisting he is law-abiding. He tortures people literally constantly and considers it righteous. He uses the profits from his publicly traded company to become a one-man military industrial complex. (The emissions from the fucking Batmobile alone...!) He illegally surveils the entire city and sometimes the entire planet (Brother Eye, anyone?) because he has decided that his moral authority overrides literally anyone's right to privacy, anywhere. He allows his defeated foes to be locked up indefinitely regardless of their mental state in an institution that would make any qualified mental health professional run screaming in the opposite direction. He's sexist. All of these things sit on the right of the political spectrum, but imagine me pointing to the right like Charlie from It's Always Sunny pointing to his murder board.
And none of the Batfamily is any better. Some of them are honestly worse in certain aspects. Dick was a cop. Jason loves guns. Babs and Tim are even more in love with surveillance than Bruce is. Remember when Tim wanted to replace the police with, like, a Bat-army??? BECAUSE I DO.
It's not really "their fault," as much as anything can be a fictional character's fault. It's the result of being written by writers who are, for the most part, consciously trying to write the Bats as good Samaritans, but are also living in a world where we have had our brains warped by all of our blockbusters being funded by the US military, in a medium where badassery is prized above everything else, and so all this really problematic shit spills out onto the comics page without being questioned. It's also kind of a boiling frog situation: i.e. Batman has always had a cool car, so as he got tougher and tougher, of course that car would eventually become a tank, and no one stopped to go "Wait, what the fuck? What the fuck? How is this billionaire driving a tank around helping anyone???" I guess god bless Zack Snyder for inadvertently highlighting how fucking stupid and counterproductive a Batman taken to his worst extremes is.
To be clear, I don't think this is what most writers are trying to do with Batman (some of them are, but fuck those guys). But it's what happens when all you care about is rule of cool, and the more I think about it the more I'm like...shit, maybe Alan Moore was right and superheroes are just stupid.
Anyway in conclusion, comic book writers should consider the ramifications of what they're writing occasionally. But Bruce Wayne probably still votes blue, at least.
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respectthepetty · 8 months
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Because I'm making Dangerous Romance my entire personality for the next three months, I need everyone to understand just how smart I think Sailom is, and who would I be without a wild ass theory?
TLWR: Sailom is going to make Kanghan care about him, so he will get good grades because Kanghan's grandma will pay off all his debts and possibly dangle a university scholarship in front of him, but Kanghan will find out and think this was another way someone used him for money, and that Sailom doesn't care about him.
Sailom got away from Kanghan by helping the teacher after the bullying incident. He outsmarted Kanghan at the car wash with the credit card switch. Then, he kissed Kanghan in front of everyone recording.
However, Sailom always understands the assignment and does his homework. Literally. And this is why he is smarter than everyone else.
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Sailom is on an academic scholarship. Kanghan knows that.
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Kanghan didn't just rip up Sailom's papers to bother Sailom. He did it because no paper = no score = no academic scholarship. Instead of fighting Kanghan, telling a teacher about it, or panicking, Sailom immediately got to work. Even when Kanghan followed him to the cafeteria, and Guy wanted to fight them, Sailom stayed focused.
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Because to Sailom, Kanghan is a waste of his time. Sailom has goals greater than that school and knows Kanghan doesn't. It's not worth his time to fight Kanghan because 1) Kanghan can't really lose since he has money and power behind him and 2) Kanghan doesn't really have anything to lose since he doesn't care about anything.
And this is where Sailom will prove he is really smart - he will give Sailom something to care about.
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I believe Kanghan is going to break Sailom's laptop because the laptop is the way Sailom does his homework. He even unplugs the computer in the episode two preview because if Sailom can't do his homework, he can't get good grades, and he certainly can't buy another laptop.
So it's really Kanghan's fault that Sailom's accepts the grandmother's offer because he needs money for a new laptop.
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They are enemies. Sailom wouldn't want to be around a guy who doesn't care, but when Kanghan gets in trouble (this is the school, so the grandmother will be called there since the dad is busy), she will ask the honor student to tutor her grandson.
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But that's the first deal. The one Kanghan knows about.
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Because Sailom will lose that job, so either Kanghan doesn't pass his tests (doubtful), or he figures out there is more at stake for Sailom than originally discussed and there is a falling out.
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Because the grandma will hire Sailom again after the original deal.
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And that's when she offers him the bigger prize that wasn't mentioned in front of Kanghan, and Sailom, who always understands the assignment, will do his homework.
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Kanghan asks Sailom why he accepts the offer instead of taking the money and running.
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And Sailom answers honestly.
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But, once again, I don't think Kanghan understands the extent of the deal. Saving money to pay off a debt versus the grandma willing to pay off his entire family's debt (brother's included if not more, like a university scholarship) is different.
Because the real conflict here is Sailom thinks Kanghan pities him.
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And much like Only Friends' Ray, Kanghan will throw money around to control others.
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While Kanghan believes people only want him because of his money.
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So for a boy who doesn't care about anything in life since he uses money to control others because he thinks he is only wanted for his money . . .
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Wouldn't it be smart to give him something to care about that he thinks money can't buy? Like Sailom's love and support? Because daddy will probably buy his way onto the team, which will only hurt Kanghan more.
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So it would really hurt if he found out that it was all about the money for Sailom, the one person he thought was above it all.
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Or at least for him to think that.
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beomgyuslilracha · 1 year
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the ceo's son ✧.* [ pt. 9 ]
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⊹ pairing: choi soobin x f! reader
⊹ genre: strangers to friends to lovers
⊹ warnings: uhhh angst if you squint?? but i make up for it with fluff
⊹ wc: 5.4k
summary: you've been an intern at c company for roughly over four months now - directly under the ceo as his assistant. everything was going perfectly: you were saving up money to attend uni next year, and you knew that you were under the ceo's good graces to receive a great recommendation when the time came! in fact, he took a liking to you so much that he'd often joke that he wanted to set you up with his son. at least ... you thought it was a joke.
before continuing on to the 2nd floor, you excitedly pointed out the game factory area full of a multitude of arcade games that you thought would be fun for you and soobin to try. although, soobin had suggested that you wait to play any games until you reached the game village on the 3rd floor.
which is where the miscalculation soon comes into play.
at game village, he knew there were prize machines that he wanted to be able to win you a cute plushie from.
he didn't admit this to you, though, are you kidding?
instead he opted for the 'they have better games' excuse, which he honestly wasn't even sure if they did. he was especially glad you didn't question him further about it, since all he remembered was the prize machines.
he needed to win you a prize, and he was willing to lie to do that.
after quickly riding the french revolution rollercoaster on the 2nd floor, where you practically squeezed the blood out of soobin's hand from exhilaration and slight fear, you both then made your way to the 3rd floor for the arcade.
seeing as neither of you were all that interested in the jungle adventure ride, you ended up making a beeline straight for the game village.
that was up until soobin managed to catch sight of who was inside, causing him to freeze in his tracks.
they should've just stayed on the first floor.
"actually, why don't we give jungle adventure a chance anyway?" he suddenly suggested, confusing you from his quick change of mind.
"but i thought you said-"
"yeah, but it might be better than we remembered," soobin interrupted you, not wanting to give you a chance to speak and risk being caught.
"soobin hyung!!"
damn it.
although soobin had attempted to keep walking away, you whipped your head around to spot soobin's group of friends from yesterday all watching the two of you from inside the game village.
"aren't those your friends?" you questioned him, confused once again as he had tried to keep softly tugging at your hand to walk away with him.
unfortunately for him, the two of you couldn't get away fast enough before all four idiots came running up to greet you both.
"hi, you must be y/n, right?" kai was the first to speak, smiling down at you as he finally got to see you face-to-face.
you could only nod, suddenly feeling incredibly shy and tiny, seeing as there were now five men towering over you at once and reminding you of just how small you were.
"how funny, we didn't expect to see you here," yeonjun lied, poking soobin's shoulder playfully and causing the poor boy to grow even more upset.
"yeah, of all days, i didn't think any of you would be here either," soobin forced himself to play along, though practically speaking through clenched teeth as he glared at all of them.
he only hoped that they would catch the hint and leave, but, of course, they pretended not to.
"kai really wanted to come," taehyun explained with an amused smile, finding the situation rather funny.
believe it or not, there wasn't any secret intentions or malicious planning behind it - neither of them actually expected to run into either of you in such a niche place out of the entire park.
a happy coincidence!
at least, a happy coincidence for four of them.. not so much for a certain someone.
"hi, i'm beomgyu! soobin hyung told us so much about you," beomgyu introduced himself to you, commenting in a teasing tone. he didn't even suppress his laughter when soobin shot him a glare in return.
"hopefully all good things?" you said in more of a questioning tone, now glancing up at the embarrassed boy beside you.
this time, it was your turn to squeeze his hand gently. you weren't sure if he was upset with his friends suddenly crowding you both, which he was, but you hoped to silently let him know that you weren't bothered.
in fact, you couldn't help but to think it was rather nice to meet them in a more public setting rather than awkwardly back at the dorm.
"trust us, he goes on and on and on about how great you are," yeonjun reassured you, now being the one to laugh as he watched both yours and soobin's cheeks turn a matching shade of pink.
"we should probably leave them alone now," taehyun nudged yeonjun, being the only one out of the four to finally catch on to soobin's telepathic screaming for them to go away.
not that he actually heard it, but soobin thought for a split second that he might have.
"unless you want to join us, y/n?" kai interjected, perking up at his own suggestion.
truth be told, you really did want to join them. you wanted to jump at the opportunity to get to know them more and have a blast playing games with them as well. although, you knew that if you were to look at soobin, one look would convince you to say no and go on your way somewhere else.
against your better judgement, you chose not to look at soobin just this once.
"i'd love to join you!" you told the cute blonde, growing even more giddy as each one of their faces lit up and cheered after that.
as they all ran back into the arcade, fighting over which game you should play first, you took your time to hold both of soobin's hands in your own.
"come on, it'll only be for a little while, okay?"
soobin's cute pout shifted into a small smile after a minute, nodding his head slowly and allowing you to pull him along to the arcade room.
even though they set his plans back a bit, he supposed the experience wasn't all that bad. soobin got to watch all four of his friends warm up to you quickly, and it was enough to make him happy all over again.
he was especially glad that you weren't entirely turned off by them all - mostly beomgyu - screaming in your ear.
it wasn't exactly ideal for you, of course, but you didn't mind as much as you expected. instead, it felt rather nice to know that they felt comfortable enough to be themselves around you, despite having just met for the first time.
well, sort of for the first time.
in any case, seeing how easy it was for them to be themselves, you also found yourself warming up to them more and more by the second.
instead of flinching slightly every time they yelled in excitement, you found yourself laughing or jumping excitedly beside them. they were such a joy to be around and you couldn't believe soobin never introduced all of you sooner.
however, watching you now, soobin remembered exactly why he held back introducing you all to one another sooner. because now he was struggling way too much for your attention.
it was all fine and dandy at first, such as when the six of you agreed to play a few rounds of air hockey against one another.
it even surprised you to watch soobin transition from the sweet, shy boy you once knew to the sudden screaming one as he played a match against beomgyu.
of course, compared to the yells at the other end of the table, soobin was still remaining relatively mild.
the competition above all had you sweating for soobin's sake, but the screaming and excitement had you laughing like crazy. you felt as light as air, feeling nothing but genuine joy bubbling up inside of you the longer that you spent with them.
soobin was even letting out the cutest little laughs and screams that your heart almost couldn't take it.
for every sudden urge you got to risk it all and kiss him, you found yourself biting harshly at the edge of your thumb to push every thought away. you merely blamed it on the adrenaline, getting far too excited with the group beside you.
after an exhilarating tie breaker, soobin ended up winning the final round against beomgyu.
this then opened for an adorable game between you and kai.
neither of you wanted to play too roughly for the other, so it consisted of many cute giggles and tiny taps of the puck towards each other's side.
while yeonjun and beomgyu groaned for the game to hurry up, taehyun and soobin were both smiling at the adorableness between you both.
soobin more than taehyun, obviously, seeing as he gazed over at you like you were the most precious being on the planet. with every giggle that escaped your lips, he had to bite into his cheek in order to fight off every urge that wanted to race forward and kiss you.
he needed to get you to magic island quickly.
when the timer ran out, with an adorable score of 1 - 1, this was when soobin failed to beat the rest of the boys from earning your attention. regardless of how many times he had tried to call your name, it seemed like they all had something to tell you at the exact same time.
"aww, y/nie, let's try to win matching plushies!" kai cooed, making you giddy at the sudden use of a nickname, lightly grabbing your wrist and leading you to the machine that held the cutest pokémon plushies inside.
soobin's eyes widened in panic, spotting yet another flaw in his plan.
"ahh, kai, why don't we try a different machine first?" soobin had tried to suggest, looking around for any other game that they hadn't tried yet.
"no, hold on, y/nie and i want these snorlax plushies!" kai giggled beside you, both of your shoulders now rubbing together as your eyes focused intently on the game inside.
yeonjun, beomgyu, and taehyun weren't particularly interested in the prize machines, so they opted for a new round of air hockey to determine a champion between the three of them.
"y/n-"
soobin was quickly interrupted by yours and kai's cheerful squealing as the first snorlax was instantaneously won and dropped into the prize box.
kai rushed to pull the plush out of the machine, squeezing onto it tightly and squealing with you happily at how cute and soft it was.
"here, y/n, do you want-" kai trailed off on his sentence, having finally caught sight of soobin's death glare directed at him from behind you. "actually, uhh, i want to keep this one."
"that's alright, i can try to win one for myself!" you shrugged simply, not bothered at all. he did work hard to win the plush, so it wouldn't have been fair for you to accept it anyway.
"here, let me try," soobin finally found his chance to step in, his hand covering yours on the machine and sending sparks coursing up your arm.
your face warmed at the contact, and you failed to suppress the smile that overtook your face. "okay!" you agreed excitedly, swooning at the mere idea of soobin winning a plushie all for you.
at least, that was the plan, anyway.
quickly running threw 5 thousand won without even thinking, soobin still managed to fail time and time again to win the plush that you wanted. his head bonked against the machine glass, his frustrated focus being no help no matter how hard he tried.
"soobin, it's okay, i don't need it," you had tried to tell him, tugging lightly at his sleeve to try and earn his attention away from the machine.
soobin said nothing, mindlessly feeding another 500 won into the machine for just one more attempt.
why was it so hard??
he just wanted to win you a cute plush to see your precious smile. he just wanted you to think of him every time you hugged and looked at it. he just wanted to give you a cute memory where he won you a toy - so why was it so hard?!
just as you were trying to convince soobin to give up and that it was okay, beomgyu came hopping over to suddenly gain your attention again. apparently yeonjun and taehyun gave up playing against him, so he begged for you to play at least one round.
you would learn in a second that the other two gave up due to beomgyu being a horrific menace and a huge cheater.
it was funny, though, so you didn't mind.
once you were distracted, kai finally shoved a defeated soobin away from the machine and took over. in a matter of seconds, he won another plush.
with soobin gaping in absolute shock, unable to believe it, kai merely patted his friend's back and walked away - wordlessly allowing soobin to take all the credit.
even though he knew it wasn't the same, soobin was way too tired to try again. on top of that, he wasn't looking forward to wasting more money on that hell machine. he figured he would try some other day to win one for you fairly, but he was all too willing to take anything he could get for now.
thank you, sweet sweet kai!
grabbing the snorlax from the machine, soobin shyly made his way over to where you were still playing, with the plush now in hand.
at least it would still make you think of him, even if you didn't know that he wasn't actually the one that won it for you.
you were still midgame with beomgyu, giggling happily as you watched him practically use his entire body to cover his side of the goal. trying to keep things 'fair', you used your free arm to cover your side, now just having a game of hitting the puck and forth with no end in sight.
although, the second you caught the briefest glance of soobin finally standing beside you, you stopped everything to gasp in excitement — allowing beomgyu to take immediate advantage and score on you without hesitation.
"oh my gosh, no way! you finally won and i missed it??" you exclaimed, happily accepting the plush that he was now shyly handing over to you - making him look all the more adorable. despite how happy you were, though, you found yourself still pouting rather sadly. "i guess i'm just your bad luck charm."
"what? no!" soobin quickly denied, cupping your cute face in his large hands and tilting your head to look up at him. "you're my absolute favorite charm."
kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.
kiss her, kiss her, kiss her.
despite you both sharing the exact same thoughts and staring at each other with the same adoration in your eyes, you both ended up clearing your throats and quickly pulling away after beomgyu called for soobin to leave you alone and let you finish the game with him.
you lost miserably after that, not being able to focus at all with just the thought of soobin's lips putting you in a daze.
as desperately as he wanted to, soobin was far too afraid to rush things with you. he thought maybe the moment could have potentially been perfect, but he wasn't keen on the idea of his friends being around when it finally happened.
eventually, seeing as the time was getting later and later and you both still had the 4th floor to get through, soobin finally asked you privately if you were ready to move on without the others.
"oh yeah, let me just say bye to everyone first!" you told him with a smile.
which then lead to the second and a half miscalculation of the night.
the half miscalculation being the absolute failure that occurred at the prize machine a short while ago.
in which you were merely meant to say goodbye, suddenly beomgyu brought up the absolutely wonderful idea of joining you two as a group.
you didn't want to be rude and refuse, so you looked to soobin to see what he would prefer. obviously, he hated the idea and told them all to stay there and let you two move on alone.
apparently none of them got the hint - even though it was more of an outright protest than a hint, but they still didn't listen either way.
much to soobin's reluctance and dismay, the four nuisances ended up accompanying you both for the remainder of the 3rd and 4th floors anyway.
hell, they even convinced you to join them again on the 1st floor to repeat some of the rides together.
to make matters worse, beomgyu and kai found themselves naturally attaching to you so easily the more time you spent together. you were able to match beomgyu's hyper behavior and excitement for practically everything, as well as double the cuteness when paired with huening any time either of you did anything.
had it not been for the sake of you, soobin would have beaten them both for ruining everything for him.
in fact, he almost did whenever they both made it a habit to take what should have been his place beside you during the rides. it first happened during the pharaoh's fury ride back on the 4th floor, where you all split into groups of three for the front and back row.
he was forced to watch the three of you laugh and squeal in excitement altogether right in front of him, while yeonjun and taehyun mainly teased at his misery for the entirety of the ride.
soobin's thankfulness to kai from earlier quickly faded into that of anger, knowing full well that the boy hated rollercoasters yet still agreed to join - apparently just as long as he got to sit beside you.
meanwhile, you, on the other hand, were so surprised at how easily you got along with soobin's friends! all of them were so sweet and so funny, you couldn't help but to feel genuinely happy that you could blend well with them.
to your delight, you were ecstatic that they all seemed to really like you too!
they were all practically competing to gain your attention, even going as far as playing rock, paper, scissors to see who got to sit next to you during each ride — though the game never mattered, since beomgyu and kai would whine dramatically until they got to be the ones to sit with you.
on top of it all, soobin was pretty sure you forgot entirely who he was by this point.
not that you did, not one bit, but he was too busy sulking to understand.
you were simply trying to make sure that his friends genuinely liked you, hoping to get along well with them so that you could spend more time with soobin in the future. you thought that if they enjoyed your company now, maybe they'd convince soobin to invite you along to more things so that you could spend more time together with him.
you didn't mean to ignore him, truly. you merely thought that he'd be happy to see you and his friends getting along well with each other.
and he was, don't get him wrong at all, but that didn't mean he wanted you to spend more time with them instead of him.
unfortunately, soobin was on the verge of giving up.
after all that planning they did earlier, he couldn't believe his friends came along and ruined everything. they completely stole you away from him, and it didn't even dawn on any of them that the park would close soon without him ever having confessed to you.
luckily, there was still one person that kept their poor friend in mind.
taking one glance behind them to practically see a storm cloud hovering over soobin's gloomy head, taehyun then leaned over and whispered something in kai's ear.
after glancing back as well, kai tapped slyly on beomgyu's shoulder on the other side of you in order to silently signal him as well to look behind them. this followed with the same reaction from beomgyu to yeonjun, getting him to notice the poor boy trailing behind the five of you.
one by one, all four of them finally got the hint.
when you all had reached the 2nd floor on the way to ride the french revolution again, they conveniently stopped in front of the magic island entrance, where beomgyu let out the fakest and most dramatic yawn possible.
"woah, i'm getting tired," beomgyu acted loudly, going as far as rubbing his eyes like he were some sleepy cartoon character.
yeonjun rolled his eyes behind the boy, unable to believe anyone would buy his act.
but you did.
"oh no, should we stop here?" you asked him, hugging tightly to your snorlax plush to keep yourself from being sad. you were enjoying having fun with them, you didn't want it to end so soon.
"no, no, don't worry about us!" taehyun quickly cut in, smiling sweetly at you. "you and soobin hyung can go on ahead and we'll probably just head back to rest."
soobin finally perked up for the first time in the past hour, realizing now what was happening in front of him.
turning your head in time to spot how cute and eager soobin appeared to be from the idea, you giggled and happily agreed.
the boys all gave you gentle hugs goodbye, sent secret winks and thumbs up to soobin, then went on their merry way to secretly enjoy the lower levels of lotte world instead of going home.
you would find this out much later, though, after the four of them had to practically beg and convince soobin to let you hang out with them again - only under the promise that they would not steal you away like last time.
"your friends are a lot of fun," you told soobin, offering your hand cutely so that he could hold it.
he didn't waste a single second to interlock his fingers with yours, practically melting at the realization of how much he missed being with you. despite having been just a few steps away from him the whole time, it had felt like the two of you were still so far from each other.
now here you were again, your hands together, and walking side by side as you made your way across the long bridge leading to magic island.
"i'll be sure to tell them you thought they were all annoying," soobin teased, laughing adorably when you started to whine and protest for him not to lie.
when soobin had asked what you'd like to do first, you began looking through the guide map that you had picked up from the information desk on the way in.
you gulped nervously, though, as you read over every attraction. they all seemed to be a little too thrilling for your taste.
the gyro drop, the gyro swing, the bungee drop - anything they could possibly think of to make you nervous and sick to your stomach at the thought. you wondered if soobin would be up to the idea of going to the fantasy dream attraction just to look at a bunch of cute animals instead.
"actually," soobin spoke up through your silent worries, having glanced quickly at the time on his phone. "what if we, uh ... what if we, um, go on- on the moonboat?"
oh God, he was so nervous. his stomach was twisting in knots and he was starting to feel the slightest bit lightheaded just from trying to articulate what he was going to say.
did he stutter? did he even ask you right?
honestly, he was pretty sure he blacked out while trying to get the question out, so he seriously couldn't remember.
the brief second it took for you to answer felt like hours to him. "oh, yeah, that'd be so cute!" you cheered, purely happy at the idea of avoiding all the other scary rides that you were way too nervous to suggest.
as you first walked past the bungee drop and swing tree, soobin's stomach first felt like an entire nest of butterflies were fluttering around trying to look for an escape. once you reached the comet express and the dock was now in plain sight, the butterflies suddenly felt like a swarm of bees buzzing around and stinging every surface.
was it too late to suggest something else?
would it be okay to prolong the ride just a little bit longer?
he glanced over at you, taking in your cute smile and the little hums you would make as you mimicked the music you heard nearby.
he didn't want to wait anymore. he wanted you to be his. he wanted to sweep you off your feet and call you his girlfriend so absolutely no one else in the world could.
meanwhile, you were delighted in your own way. with soobin in his own little world, you were simply looking forward to sharing such a cute moment on the moonboat with him.
you couldn't help but to think it was a rather romantic suggestion, especially now that it was night time and all the boats were shining beautiful colors on the lake. you doubted it was his intention, but it still made your heart flutter at the thought nonetheless.
reaching the dock where the moon and ufo boats were waiting, you only had to wait just a few minutes before reaching the front, where soobin paid for the 20 minute ride and allowed the worker to escort you in ahead of him.
this was it.
everything soobin had planned has finally led him to the end of the night moment.
wanting to see your precious smile from excitement, he let you take full control of the boat settings to do whatever you pleased. after tucking snorlax in between the two of you in the seat, you then set the color of the boat to a beautiful shade of purple and used the arrow keys to start leading you around on the lake.
soobin's heart was swooning at the sound of your excited giggles, melting at every little thing you did and said while he connected his phone to play music for the two of you.
would it be too obvious to play a romantic song?
maybe too corny?
the second soobin noticed the song appear from his playlist, his heart flipped. it was all too perfect. the words, the voice, the melody, the meaning.
now playing: strawberry moon by IU
taking a deep breath, soobin locked his phone and put it away, now focusing his entire attention solely on you.
"it's so beautiful," you sighed happily, staring at all the other boats around you and the gorgeous lights shining from the park itself.
soobin agreed, but only because he was looking at you when he did. no other sight mattered to him. nothing else came close to how beautiful you were, with your eyes sparkling from all the different lights being reflected off of them.
"thank you for bringing me today, binnie! i had a lot of fun," you told him, finally looking over to meet his eyes.
the second you did, your breath hitched and your heart flipped entirely. he wasn't looking at you the same way he normally did, with his cute semi circle eyes and flashing dimples. no, this time was much more ... serious?
serious, but in a good way. at least, it felt like a good way. his gaze on you was soft, it practically made you melt into the seat. his small smile was so fond and gentle, for lack of a better word. almost like he was looking at something he deeply cared about.
but ... he was looking at you?
he was looking at you as if you had handpicked all the stars in the sky - the same stars now reflecting back to you in his eyes.
"y/n, can i tell you something?" his voice was low and calm, but it caused your heart to pound harder and louder in your chest. the music and noise from the park quickly became a muffled background, and all you could hear was the pounding of your own heart directly in your ears.
"yes, of course," you finally managed to say, though rather breathless.
without breaking eye contact, you felt his hand slowly trail along yours to intertwine them together once again. it felt as if he ignited a fire that started in your fingertips and traveled throughout the rest of your body.
time stood still. everything went quiet. all that either of you could hear was each other's breaths and the faint whisper of IU singing around you.
"y/n, i want you to know that i ... i really ...," soobin's words trailed off, his adoring gaze shifting from one of your eyes to the other as he soaked in just how beautiful you looked staring up at him.
meanwhile, your heart practically stopped beating. you couldn't even be sure if you were still breathing. every part of you was waiting.
you knew exactly what he was going to say, but you desperately needed to hear the words for yourself. you desperately needed to hear him confirm that everything you've ever felt for him was reciprocated and not just in your head.
"i really like you," soobin practically whispered, his following breath shaking from nerves.
there it is.
the words you never expected to ignite a show of fireworks in your heart, sparking every nerve to heat every inch of your body twice as much as before.
it was unbelievable how you never knew just how badly you needed to hear something until the words came out of his mouth.
"soobin," you spoke his name so softly, still at a lost for breath. "i really like you too."
though both your confessions were rather simple, it was enough. for you two, it was fitting. simple and easy, but meaning absolutely everything to one another.
soobin's free hand softly traced the shape of your cheek, allowing him to feel just how warm your face was to the touch as it turned a pretty light shade of pink.
his touch, though light, sent electricity running through the entirety of your face. you could only find yourself craving more.
with his fingers now tucked under your chin and his thumb lightly grazing your bottom lip, soobin's eyes flickered from your eyes, to your lips, and back again.
he was suddenly much closer to you now, though his lips still felt like they were miles away. your hearts were pounding in sync, and you could tell that he was still feeling just as nervous as you were.
"can i kiss you?"
"yes, please."
once the words escaped your lips and both your eyes fluttered shut, you half expected for soobin to roughly crash his lips against yours without any hesitation.
but that wasn't soobin.
instead, you were surprised.
his lips delicately brushed against yours before softly pressing closer. it started off as a precious little peck before his lips naturally parted, tilted his head, and deepened his kiss with you. it was slow, electrifying, and absolutely perfect.
it was so ... soobin.
your free hand instinctively reached out to grab the edge of his coat, yearning to pull him even closer to you. happily obliging, soobin's hand moved from under your chin to cradle your cheek and deepen his affection for you even further.
your lips practically fit together like a puzzle piece. connecting and moving together in sync, driving each other into a state of breathless euphoria.
soobin's forehead softly rested against yours as you both pulled away to finally catch your breath. simultaneously letting out small exhales of laughter, neither of you were able to think of any other way to express the absolute bliss you felt in that moment.
you had attempted to sit back, but soobin cutely shook his head and grinned as he leaned forward to follow you. "one more time," he whispered, earning cute giggles from you as he pecked tiny kisses all over your cheek before planting another kiss on your lips.
he had been waiting far too long for this moment, so he was planning to enjoy every second.
you didn't mind one bit. you wrapped both arms around his neck to keep him close, deepening the kiss with him even more than before.
when you first started working at c company, you had thought his father was absolutely crazy for suggesting something so bold as to set you up with the youngest member of his own family.
now here you were, just short of two months later, your lips slow dancing together with the ceo's son.
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previous | masterlist | epilogue
a/n: (warning: long) (pls at least skip to the highlighted part for brief info!)
okay, can i just say ... the ceo's son was originally supposed to be a oneshot. when i first wrote it, i had absolutely NO idea that anyone would enjoy it as it was - much less encourage me to turn it into a 9 PART SERIES. i'm seriously... i have no words. i appreciate EVERY single one of you that liked, replied, reblogged, and sent multiple asks complimenting me for something i truly started on a whim. i appreciate all of you more than you could possibly understand. all the comments and tags had ME giggling and on the verge of CRYING. i seriously got so emotional with all of your sweet words and support, which gave me all the courage i needed to continue writing and posting as soon as i could <33
i truly hope you all have thoroughly enjoyed this little series, and i genuinely wish i could have dragged it on for longer - but i didn't want to risk burning myself out trying to come up with more ideas. (i do have a little idea of a bonus part, but i'm going to wait on that for now).
but alas, the ceo's son has reached its end 🥹 soobin and y/n finally came together as they were meant to be, with only a few hiccups along the way. i'm gonna miss these two kids, they were so dumb and adorable, i seriously loved writing them together. BUT, the good news is, i already have a TON more ideas i want to work on for other members (hehe peek the masterlist for a preview of what's on the way) and i really really hope that you all will continue to stay tuned and support me 🫶
AHH I KNOW I WROTE SO MUCH, BUT PLS IF YOU SKIP EVERYTHING ELSE, PAY ATTENTION HERE REALLY QUICK:
i want to create a permanent taglist for anyone who would be genuinely interested in what i come up with next - so for anyone already tagged here and anyone else that isn't, pls pls let me know if you would be interested in being a part of it !!!
okokok i'll shut up now, but omg thank you for everyone who read all of this - i appreciate YOU even more. much much much love <333
~
taglist:
@sha-aesthic @wccycc @yjusei @ihrtgyu @strawberrydaichi @seodami @sparkswhoz @o934pm @dongmeiii @cannedturtle @intrrverted @fanfangying1304 @n0tprettybutt1red @human-misery @baekberrie @softcabur @goldennika
[ bold = couldn't be tagged :( ]
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imagineredwood · 1 year
Text
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
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Request: imagine for Gilly being into a girl that works at a bar and trying his hardest to get her attention. Secretly she’s had a crush on him the whole time
Pairing: Gilly Lopez x female reader
Warnings: Shitty men, derogatory language 
Word count: 1,031
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You smiled immediately as soon as you saw the wall of a man saunter into your bar. You looked down and willed the smile to go away but it was easier said than done. The muscles in your face were being puppeteered by your heart and weren't relaxing easily enough for your liking. Even still, you managed to have a straight face on by the time Gilly got to the counter. He placed himself off to the corner as he always did, the other two in tow as per usual. It was Angel who complained first as they took their seats. 
"Don't know why you always wanna come here instead of staying at the clubhouse. It ain't even that good here."
Gilly rolled his eyes and forced himself to look around, already having spotted you but not wanting to make it obvious. Typically Coco and Angel would go off to play a game of pool or chat-up girls, but they were tired tonight, the desert having taken a toll on them. So they sat beside their friend and waited, making small talk. Gilly entertained them, but they knew him well enough to notice how his eyes lit up at something passed them. They both turned and saw you walking towards their end of the bar and shared knowing smiles, Angel's hand rough as he pushed and squeezed at Gilly's shoulder. 
"Ahhhhh, now I see." 
Gilly scoffed and rolled his arm roughly, tossing off Angel's hand right as you stopped in front of them. He offered up a cheesy smile and you returned it before nodding toward Angel and Coco. 
"How are you guys doing?"
You didn't pay too much mind to Gilly, as usual, not wanting to blow his head up. You also didn't fully trust him, or any of the men in your bar really. It always felt like they had ulterior motives and at the end of the day, you were here because it was your job. You had a crush on Gilly, that much was certain, but you had seen how the others went after a new girl every time they came in and while Gilly's focus always seemed to be on you, you were pretty sure it was because you feigned not having interest. You figured he just enjoyed the chase and was happy to play a game of hard-to-get. You didn't feel like being a prize or notch on a bedpost. 
Yet here he was again, eyes on you. 
You took their orders and then poured their drinks, making sure to move around the bar, refilling for all of your patrons, not just the ones in kuttes. At some point, he had given up the act of trying to impress you with his pool skills. He had gone home with enough money to pay rent plenty of times, and it hadn't ever seemed to really matter to you. He'd gone to the ends of the earth to impress you and get your attention, yet nothing had really worked. 
It was the sound of fingers snapping that got your attention, your head turning to follow the sound. There you found a middle-aged man with his hand still up, a permanent scowl etched into his features. 
"Bout damn time. Running around here worried about cleaning the counter when you should be worried about getting my order."
His tone was harsh, his scratchy voice even more so and you forced a tight smile, answering him while still not being a doormat. 
"You wouldn't want to sit at a dirty bar, now would you?"
You were still professional while letting a slight edge into your voice, but the interaction had caught Gilly's attention, his eyes on the man who scoffed and leaned back in his seat. 
"I don't wanna sit at a bar with no drink either, now come on. Get me a beer."
Your eye twitched but you held it together, not unused to shitty demanding men. Reaching over to the fridge, you grabbed him a beer and popped the top, handing it over. 
"Enjoy." 
You attempted to walk off to the other side then but he just wouldn't quit, his grating voice sounding out again. 
"I'd enjoy it more if it didn't take 6 years to get, bitch." 
You turned slowly, ready to speak up for yourself when you saw Gilly stand from his seat and calmly walk over to the man. He placed his hand on the back of his neck and squeezed, the shirt collar scrunched up in his grasp. The man winced and tried to turn and get a look at him but Gilly was already leaning down, mouth close to his ear. He spoke quietly, not nearly loud enough for you to hear what he said, but the way the man's eyes widened, it must've not been nice. You looked over at Angel and Coco, both of which were simply watching with entertained smiles. 
And then just like that, Gilly was releasing the man. He backed off and you watched as the man hurriedly dug into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled wad of cash and handing it over to you, his voice shaky. 
"Sorry about that, ma'am. Won't happen again, I promise. I apologize for my behavior."
Your eyes narrowed as you looked at him, never once having seen any manners from him. He was leaving quickly then, stumbling over his own feet as he tried to leave the bar. Grabbing your tips, you looked back at Gilly, who was now back in his seat, the anger from before slowly dissipating. 
"Thank you."
You let your smile from before come out now, eyes twinkling as you looked at him. His smile returned too, the boys getting up and going off to the jukebox to give you guys some privacy.
"You're welcome. I wasn't just going to let him talk to you like that."
You nodded, the Mayan finally getting your attention and approval. Glancing at the clock, you read the time and looked back at him. 
"I get off in about 25 minutes. Maybe we could hang out?"
Gilly's smile was all teeth as he nodded enthusiastically. 
"I was hoping you'd say that."
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General taglist
@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl @elcococruz @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast @iambabyharry @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114 @saturnsaree @multiyfandomgirl40 @destynelseclipsa @sadeyesgf @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben @all-the-boys-to-the-yard @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lyly00 @kaystacks17 @cole-winchester  @alexxavicry @kaykaysuh @savagemickey03  @fanfic-n-tabulous   @gangstaliciou06 @carma-fanficaddict​  @xbloodyxangelx​
Mayans MC taglist
@dazzledamazon  @abunnykisses @briana-mishell24 @angelreyesgirl @wrcn9fvlcver @peaches009 @capt-canadian @thesandbeneathmytoes @krysiewithak @darklingveracruz @appropriate-writers-name @cind-in-real-life @blessedboo @montanaraed @kkim120 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @emoengelfurleben @blowmymbackout @abby-splace @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @redpoodlern @xonickibaby @myakai13
@cruzwalters @yosoynicolexo @mrsstevenbuchananstark @danimals1096 @po3ticb3auty @lyly00 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @kaykaysuh @angel-121 @fanfic-n-tabulous @90sisthenew80s @lovelytricia @carma-fanficaddict
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vodika-vibes · 8 months
Text
Pod Racer! Neyo x Reader
Summary: Star Wars AU - Pod Racer Neyo wins yet another Pod Race, and decides that things need to change.
Pairing: Neyo x Reader
Word count: 1578
Songs: None
Warnings: None
A/N: This was requested by @starrrgazingbunny, so I hope it's close to what you wanted.
Divider by saradika
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“How’s it looking?”
You don’t look up from the drafting paper as Neyo walks into the garage, “Bad.” You reply, as you make another note on the paper, and then spin on your stool to look at your boss.
“What’s wrong with it?” Neyo asks as he walks over and leans over your shoulder, his gaze sharp as he took in all of the information. He frowns, “It looks solid to me.”
“The numbers don’t add up. I’m telling you, that Toydarian racer did something to your pod.” You argue.
He glances at you, and then back at the numbers, “You may be right. Can you fix it?”
“What am I? A miracle worker?”
“You’ve never failed before.”
“Ugh. I hate you. Yes, I can fix it, but it’s going to take me all night, Neyo.” You say with a scowl.
He flashes the smallest smile, and you intentionally focus your attention on the draft paper so, hopefully, he won’t see you blush. Damn him and his stupid smile.
“I’ll make it up to you,” He says lightly, leaning his weight against the table. 
“You better,” You pick up your pencil and start doing some quick calculations, “I like watching the races too, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” You feel his hand, warm and gentle, on the top of your head, and then he’s gone, likely going to rest for the race the following day. 
You tap your pencil against your forehead, and let out a sigh of annoyance. Later. You would deal with the emotions later. Now you need to get Neyo’s pod-racer back into working order, and make sure that it won’t blow up with him in it.
No pressure.
True to your calculations, it takes you half the night to repair the sabotage, and then the rest of the night to get the pod back to Neyo standards.
You’re running on Caf and ration bars, and almost no sleep, but the racer is in one piece, and it looks even better than it did before the sabotage. A fresh coat of paint, in Neyo’s deep crimson naturally, was the final touch.
“She looks perfect,” You jump when you hear Neyo’s voice from next to you, he glances at you, amused.
“Don’t do that!” You blurt, pressing your hand to your racing heart, “Fuck, Neyo. I need to get you a bell or something-”
He smirks, “Did you finish?” He asks.
You shoot him an offended look, “Of course I finished! She’s in perfect working order, and I even made some adjustments so sabotage like that will never happen again.”
Neyo glances at you, and a slow smile crosses his face, “Good girl.”
Oh. Nope. Abort.
You very pointedly don’t look at him, “Well, hop to it.” You said, “I’m sure you wanna give it a test.”
“Hm.” You feel his fingers against your spine for a moment, and then he’s gone, easily hopping into the pilot seat and checking the systems that you’ve already triple checked. 
“Well?”
“Looks good.” He replies, his gaze locked on the panel in front of him, “All that’s left is winning the race. Maybe I’ll use the prize money to buy you something nice.”
“Please, we both know you’re going to use the prize money to upgrade the racer.” You roll your eyes, and then walk over to the racer, “Alright, time to load her up. The race starts in 3 hours, and we need to be there in one.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He powers down the pod, and lifts himself, “You got things settled here?”
“Of course I do. The pod will be loaded up in fifteen and then Ace will drive the truck to the race track.”
“Do you really need Ace to drive the truck?” Neyo asks.
You roll your eyes, “A side effect of having stayed up all night, boss, is that I’m not going to the race today. I’m going to sleep.”
Neyo frowns at you, “You love the races.”
“I do. I’ll watch the next one.” You reply, “Honestly, Neyo. I need the sleep. You and Ace will be fine without me for 12 hours.”
“...fine. I’ll see you later then.” He says flatly, sounding very unimpressed, before he leaves the garage.
You momentarily feel bad for the other racers, Neyo in a foul mood meant that there were likely to be a lot of crashes. You make a note to remind Ace to pack Neyo’s thicker race suit and helmet.
And then you load up the racer and you watch as Ace and Neyo leave the garage for the race track. And as soon as the truck was gone, you vanish into your bedroom, intent on sleeping until they return in 12 hours.
10 hours later, you wake up, and immediately turn on the pod race. The race itself is long over, but you love being able to hear who won and any highlights. 
A small grin crosses your lips when you hear that Neyo came in first, and you shake your head in amusement when you hear that he accidentally caused several near fatal accidents with other racers. Typical Neyo.
With the highlights running, you make your way to the kitchen that you share with Neyo, and you start making him his normal victory meal. It sounds like the race was very eventful, you kind of regret not being able to make it, but, well, you needed the sleep, so it’s a very small regret.
And, an hour and a half later, just as you pull dinner out of the oven, you hear the truck pull into the garage. You know, from years of experience, that Ace would unload the truck, and then he would clean it, before he retired to his charging station for the night. And, depending on his mood, Neyo would either come directly to the kitchen, or he would go into his room to shower.
The main door slides open, and Neyo steps into the kitchen, he looks surprised, “You made dinner?” He asks, his gaze lingering on the glass dish sitting on the counter.
“Mm. I saw that you won, so it’s your favorite.” You reply cheerfully, “It looks like it was an eventful race, I’m sorry I missed it.”
“It was alright.” He pauses, “It’s never the same when you’re not there, though.”
You roll your eyes, “So sorry that my not being there threw off your groove.”
“I accept your apology.” Neyo replies loftily, a small grin crossing his lips as you shoot him an offended look. “I want you to come to the next race.”
“So long as I don’t have to pull an all nighter, I will be.” You promise, “But it isn’t like you need me there to help ward off your adoring fans.” You tease as you think about the men and women who always tried to convince Neyo to go home with them after a race. 
He scoffs. “I want to race, I don’t want any fans, adoring or otherwise.”
True. Neyo always ignores them, which only makes him more popular. But you’ve long since accepted that Neyo probably just didn’t do relationships like that. It hurts, but, well, your emotions are your problem, not his.
“If you don’t want fans, Neyo, then you need to be less charming.”
“I literally told one of the people who tried to talk me into going home with her that I didn’t want whatever diseases she was carrying.” Neyo replies blandly. 
“What! Neyo! That’s so mean!” You yelp, spinning on your heel to look at him.
“Yeah, well. So is trying to pressure me into doing something I don’t want to do.” He counters. 
You laugh weakly, “Neyo, I know you don’t really do relationships, but you’ve got to learn to be nicer-”
“Says who?”
“...literally everyone says you need to be nice to your fans-”
“No, not that.” Neyo interrupts, “Who says that I’m not interested in relationships?”
You blink, “Oh. I just guessed, since you never seem interested in, well, anyone.”
“I’m not interested in the vultures who swarm after I win a race, that doesn’t mean I don’t do relationships.” Neyo says.
“Ah. My bad.” You smile apologetically, and then turn to start divvying out the dinner, “In any event, you do need to start being nicer to people-”
Neyo stares at you, for a long time, and then he reaches out and stops you from serving the food, “It’s you.” He says bluntly.
“...what’s me?” You ask eyes wide.
“You’re the one I’m interested in. Have been for ages. I thought the nicknames and the way that I’m always touching you would be a bit of a hint.” Neyo continues.
You stare at him in disbelief.
He stares right back, arms folded and amusement writ on his face.
“Me?” You squeak.
“You.” He agrees, and then he smiles, “You want me to prove it, sweetheart?”
“Uh…” You’re not really sure what to say, in fact the only thought in your brain is a series of increasingly loud question marks.
He chuckles, and leans in, “Do you want me to stop?” Neyo asks, his eyes alight with mirth.
“...Please don’t.” You whisper up to him.
At that he grins, and crashes his lips against yours and starts walking you backwards out of the kitchen. You whine into the kiss and he rumbles in pleasure, as he shifts and lifts you into his arms to carry you into his room.
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supercorpkid · 4 months
Text
Ace Reporter - Final Part
Supergirl, Kara Danvers x Reader, Lena Luthor x Reader
Word Count: 3940.
You roll in your hotel bed thinking about the cheap shot you threw at Kara earlier. You've hated Kara for the longest time, with the burning passion of a thousand suns. But only because it was a lot easier to blame your failure on someone else. And while you were many kilometers away from her, you got away with it pretty effortlessly.
That was until you met her.
And Kara was nothing you built her up to be. No vulture trying to steal the spotlight, no untalented lucky bastard, no nerd with no life. Kara is the opposite of every single flaw you embedded her character with.
And yet. You can't, for the life of you, admit the truth. Because if you did, if you finally took Kara out of the equation, you'd see that the reason why you didn't get the prize, and then the promotion, and the reason why your career got side-tracked is because you didn't try enough. You yield to your editors every wish. You let Lois Lane and Clark Kent go on every single assignment you were more than capable of doing. You never stood up for yourself.
So you think about Lena's offer while you march into CatCo the next morning, with no idea on whether you'll be walking through these doors everyday from now on, or never again. 
Kara is awkward and barely amicable when you get there. You want to apologize, but you don't do it. You hold your truth even though it is a lie. 
It would be a lot easier to write the article together if you two were at least talking to each other, instead of sending emails back and forth while she is at the desk next to yours. In fact, you only regret taking so long to write and review it, when the last person makes their way out of the office and you're left alone with Kara.
You sigh for the hundredth time. 
"I'm sorry, is this bothering you?" Kara smirks, making as much noise as she can on the chair. You narrow your eyes at her.
"The chair, or you in it?" You bicker. She raises her eyebrow, and you look at her waiting for the comeback, but it's cut off by your phone ringing next to you. "I have to take this. Here, wear my noise canceling headphones and keep out of my private conversation, Supergirl."
Kara sighs, picking it up from your hands and putting it on. She yells. "SAY SOMETHING SO I KNOW IT WORKS."
"Yeah, it works."
"HUH?" You roll your eyes at her. "HEY, THIS IS GOOD! IT ACTUALLY WORKS! CAN I BORROW IT SOMETIME?"
You breathe deep before picking up the phone, knowing you'll need all of your patience for this conversation with your editor. "Yes?"
"Where is my quote, Y/L/N?"
"I don't have it yet."
"What do you mean you don't have it yet?" He is clearly stressed, so you prepare yourself for the upcoming outburst. "You were in the plane with Lena Luthor and you went to fucking Kaznia," His voice raises up in a crescendo. "And you're telling me you don't have one fucking quote I can use in an article? I don't think you realize this is a job assignment! You're not in National City to make friends, you fucking moron." You open your mouth to argue, but he doesn't even give you time. "Had I known you were so fucking stupid I wouldn't have sent you! Clark told me you're good at finding people's secrets, well I think you're good at wasting company's money! Pack your things and get back here. You'll be lucky if I give you dog shows after this!"
He hangs off the phone and you look at it. Tears welling up on your eyes, and whisper. "I have something better.” 
Kara turns on the chair, and is met with your eyes full of tears. She ditches the headphone on the desk and basically runs towards you. “Hey, hey.”
“I’m fine!” You snap, cleaning your tears aggressively. 
“Y/N…” She tries with a sweet voice.
“Don’t you dare feel sorry for me, Danvers!” You clean your nose with your hand. Tears come back to your eyes immediately. “I don’t need your pity, I know prize-awardee-Kara is much better than me and-“
Your words are cut off by her arms quickly evolving you. Your head is trapped between her chest and her arms in an almost bone-hurting hug, and you hate how much you love this. "You're alright." She makes sure, then whispers almost to herself, "I've got you. I've got you."
You can't tell for sure, being face deep into Kara's chest, but you think you feel a kiss being planted on the crown of your head, with sweet reassuring words coming right after. And you cannot not cry. No matter how much you try to be strong, and unbothered, and better than Kara Danvers. Right now, inside her embrace, is the safest you've ever felt in a long time.
It's a while before you can finally whisper, “I’m alright.” 
Kara lets go of your head. There are no more tears wetting your face, because they’re all wetting her cardigan. Her stupid, comfortable, nice scented cardigan. You want to say something, apologize for this ridiculous and weak behavior, you want to beg her to forget this ever happened, instead you say nothing.
“Ok.” Kara says, a trying smile. “Food break!”
And proceeds to order from her favorite Chinese restaurant because you have to try her favorite potstickers in the world and not another word is commented on your cry for help. And soon you're both back to the old ways. Can't really describe it better because what are the old ways? Flirting? Laughs and banter? Working so well together it reminds you of Lois and Clark? Whatever it is, you're back at it.
“Hey.” Kara waves her hand in front of your face. “The article is amazing, there are no typos or grammatical errors. You’ve reviewed it enough. Let’s go celebrate!”
"Celebrate?" You make sure. "What are you celebrating? Lex is still on the loose, you and Clark will still have to deal with it."
"Yeah, but we finally finished the article!" Kara beams, excitedly, touching your arm. She doesn’t know that you actually don’t have a quote yet because you’ve been debating with yourself whether you’d like to move to National City or not.
"Oh, so we're celebrating that I'm leaving." It’s what you choose to go with.
"What? No! That's not - I didn't - No." She fumbles and you make a real effort not to let your feelings show. It's really hard to hold back the truthful smile you wish to give to her adorable confused face.
"Relax, Danvers. I know what you meant. You could never celebrate that I'm leaving when you're so in love with me." You joke with a smirk, but are you really just joking or is this another failed attempt to not flirt with her? 
Kara also laughs, even though it sounds pained and strangled on her chest. Not funny. Not funny at all. 
"You know I can just come and visit, right?" Kara says, a dorky smile filled with double meaning and secrets. You hold back your own dorky smile, but it's getting harder by the minute. 
"Is that a promise or a threat?" Kara looks at you fondly, a smile still playing on her lips, because she knows better now and so you roll your eyes. "Don't count your victory too soon, Danvers. Lena offered me a job at CatCo."
"She did? That’s so great!” She celebrates, eager to have you close. Then she thinks about it for a second, not sure what it means. “And, um, are you? I mean, staying?"
You breathe deep, looking outside the window. You could get used to this view. You could get used to doing some actual investigative journalism even if it means you getting punched in the face from time to time. You could get used to Kara’s dorky face even if you want to punch her most of the time. 
You look back at her, kind blue eyes filled with anticipation and clear adoration, “I don’t know, Danvers. There’s probably space for just one investigative reporter in this magazine. You know I don’t like sharing the byline.”
“God, Y/N. Is that the only thing you think about?” Kara steps closer, her hands shake a little when she reaches out. “Don’t you ever think about sharing something more than a byline with someone?”
“Like what?” You ask, but you know the answer. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes. It’s clear as day when you can cut the sexual tension with a knife. It’s screaming at you in bright light and you are making sure you close your eyes so you don’t see it. 
“Life, maybe?” Kara’s hands travel slowly from your arms past your shoulders and up your neck.
“Life?” You parrot. Mouth running awfully dry, eyes so glued to Kara’s, you can’t even blink. And you only realize you’ve been holding your breath for so long when your lungs beg for it. 
“Yeah.” Kara Danvers stops staring at your eyes and stares at your lips instead and you’re so close you can’t help but dare a look at hers as well. Soft, pink, kissable.
“But maybe we can start simpler.”
“Oh?” It’s a strangled sound coming out of your lips full with want, but lacking oxygen.
“Maybe-” Kara’s hands make way to the nape of your neck, fingers brushing your hair gently and then, suddenly, not gentle at all when she grabs it, almost demanding.
If you want this to stop you gotta say something now! This is your chance! Stop your lips from meeting your almost-nemesis lips right now! 
“Maybe we can share a kiss.”
Your eyes widen even though you saw it coming, but when Kara’s face comes closer, your eyes just close, unwillingly. Wanting, needing, ready for what’s coming next.
You don't stop her when her face comes closer; you don't stop her when you feel her shallow and anxious breath on your cheek; you don't stop her when her lips lightly brush on yours asking for permission; you don't even stop her when she takes a second to utter your name out of her lips so full of desire and passion.
"Y/N, Rao."
And your heart stops when she finally takes your lips into hers, and you can't even think about how you'll have to fight anyone who says it was you who deepened the kiss, even though it was indeed your lips and your tongue that made the first move.
You stop thinking of how this is the lips of your almost-nemesis. You fail to see how this might ruin your reputation. When Kara's tongue slides into your mouth, and her demanding hands tightens around the nape of your neck and your hips, your brain cannot function properly to see all that is wrong with this, and the only thing it wants is more.
More of Kara. More lips and kisses. More hands on hips. You don't think you can get any closer to her, but you want to be close, and then closer. 
The closer you can get without letting her know how much you're loving this. Even though you're pretty sure she can tell by how hot your entire body feels, like you're being set on fire by your desire. Even though she can feel you're running out of oxygen and yet you have not tried to separate your lips to catch some air. You're sure she can listen to your heart beating almost out of your chest and the tiniest moans out of your mouth. She probably feels your arms so strongly wrapped around her, pulling her fully into you. Yes, Kara probably can tell you're as turned on as she is right now when her leg slots right between yours.
And that is so close, but still not close enough. You want to be the closer you can get without letting Kara know how much you truly like her. 
Your brain finally catches up, when you think about how much you like her, instead of how much you dread her. 
"This was a bad idea." You get away from her so fast, she is left dumbfounded, breathless, red cheeks and mouth wet. It makes you want to go back and kiss her some more because she looks dazzling. Gorgeous. Perfect. 
Instead, you force yourself to turn your back at her, quickly grabbing all of your stuff and making your way out of the office. 
"What?" Kara is finally able to come out of her shock. 
"You and I, it's not, it's just not-"
"It's not what? Right? Gosh Y/N, will you stop with this 'I hate you' act and admit your true feelings?"
You bite your lower lip, looking at her from the elevator, when it dings, you just step inside. "Fuck off, Danvers. Not everyone loves you."
You make it out of CatCo, and dare a last look behind yourself. You hope you never have to cross these doors again in this lifetime, because if you do you don't think you'll be able to separate your lips from Kara's again.
Lena texts you as soon as you get to your hotel room. You ignore the text until after you pack your bags, but you can't ignore her forever. She invites you to have lunch with her at L Corp the next day, and you think it's a good opportunity to ask her for a quote before you go back to Metropolis. It is the least you can do, anyway.
“I’m glad you accepted my invitation.” Lena points to the balcony. “You told me you liked the view. So I thought we could eat outside.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t talking about that view.”
Lena gives you a knowing smirk. “I know, darling.”
You follow Lena to the balcony, fancy food displayed on the table, the prettiest view of National City. Nothing like the potstickers and beer from last night. And yet, it doesn't seem to catch your attention any more than the improvised dinner on Kara's tiny work desk.
“So, have you thought about my proposition?” You open your mouth to tell her the news. “Before you say anything, remember I’ll be your boss and I can give you lots of benefits. Not at work, but definitely somewhere else.”
Lena winks at you and oh God, what have you got yourself into?
“Y/N, I really want you to stay.”
Your heart drops on your chest and the words fall out of your mouth without you being able to give a second thought to them. “I have to go.” 
You get up from the table, making your way out of Lena’s office. Your escape is put to a stop by her hand, pulling you towards her. 
You bump into her, face-to-face, bodies so close you can feel her warmth, flesh with flesh. Lena is staring right at your lips.
“Don’t run from this.” She whispers, breath hot on your own mouth and then, just like that, her lips touch yours and oh my God, what’s happening? Lena separates her lips, taking yours into hers and you can’t. Just can’t.
“Stop. I-I can’t.” She blinks at you, confused. “It’s not you, it’s-“ Lena is one second away from rolling her eyes, expecting a ‘it’s me’ out of your mouth, but it never comes. “It’s Kara.”
“Kara?” Her shock is visible, undeniable. To be honest, yours is too.
“Kara kissed me.”
“Oh!” Lena steps back, out of your personal space.
“And I hate her, I do. And you’re also the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen-“
“But?”
“I think I’m in love with her. I think I’ve loved her the whole time.” 
You see Lena's surprised face, and you're surprised too. Probably even more so than she is. How could this happen? How could all of that hatred and annoyance have just turned into love? How is it possible that when you hear Kara's name you don't want to roll your eyes because she is irritating, but rather because she is not here next to you. Was this love all along? Were you blinded by your fury and didn't see the obvious? Ugh. Why does Kara Danvers make you feel so many things? And why are all of them confusing as hell?
"I'm sorry." You walk a bit farther away, back turned to Lena in clear embarrassment, because let's be honest, you have been leading her on. "I promise you I'm just as confused as you are. I really thought I hated her."
"Well," Lena's voice is back to normal, no more shock. "Love and hate is such a thin line." 
"I'll get out of your hair." You start walking towards the door, but Lena holds you by your shoulder.
"Y/N, I meant what I said about the job in CatCo." She rounds you, so she can look at your face. "You and me, it was never a condition for it to happen. You are way too talented and I'd be stupid to let you get away." You blink your eyes in confusion, and she nods at you slightly. "Please, take the job. I promise it won't be weird in any way. Kara is my best friend and I see the way she looks at you. And now that I know your feelings towards her, I'll be the biggest supporter, trust me. Just don't let that almost kiss stop you from making a life-changing decision."
She is right. Lena Luthor is so right. It's time for you to finally stop sabotaging yourself. It's time to try harder than you've ever done. It's time to be honest for the first time.
You can't wait any longer, you've waited too long to tell her. You hid it (not so well) from yourself and the world for longer than you should've, so you can't anymore. It has to be now so you run out of Lena’s office and into the park adjacent.
"SUPERGIRL!" You yell, and yell and yell her name a few times until Kara lands in front of you. "God, what took you so long?"
"Caught a little bit of air traffic." She says with a doofus smile and you can't, won't fight yours anymore. So you smile at her joke, the biggest one you've let people see in a while. "Do you have an emergency?"
"I do." But you can't do this while she is in her Supergirl attire, because even though they are the same person, Supergirl isn't the one you fell in love with. You fell for dweeb Kara Danvers way before you learned her secret. "I need to talk to Kara Danvers."
"What?" Kara asks, confused. Given she is right in front of you and you know that all too well.
"You don't get it, Supergirl. I need to talk to Kara Danvers right now or I'll die. It's a real emergency." 
Kara tilts her head looking at you, confused. You keep running from Kara Danvers and saying the most mean things you can think of, and now you’re in front of her saying you’ll die if you don’t talk to her. Takes her a while, but she finally picks you up and flies you to her apartment. She disappears into her bedroom and comes back a full minute later into your sight, with her real doofus clothes. 
You can't really explain what happened to you when you saw her. Come to think of it, you haven't been able to explain half of the things that happened on this trip to National City. But your heart did a weird loop, your breath got stuck on your lungs and fuck, you had to kiss her right there, right then.
You run towards her, jumping on her arms and she catches you in shock, but you're so fast to kiss her, she can't even overthink this whole thing. 
So you kiss her, and kiss her. Until there's no air left in your lungs, until you realize her dweeb face is your favorite thing in the world, until you both fall into her bed entangled in each other.
"What is happening?” She manages a whisper in between kisses, unable to stop herself from kissing you, even though she doesn't truly understand what's going on.
"You were right. God, you are always right. You're my favorite person in the universe even though I hate you sometimes." She has a dorky smile, the one you would normally want to slap it out of her face, but instead you just kiss her again and again. "I never knew I could feel all of these emotions for just one person. Never realized I could feel so safe inside the embrace of the biggest nerd I know." Kara can't contain her happiness and you can't stop but showering her face with kisses. "I hate to admit when I'm wrong, but I was. I was fighting this feeling because it scared me, how-how could I like someone so much already?”
Kara’s smile reaches her eyes, she literally lights up when you say that and while a few days back you’d want to bring her down, now you just want her to be the happiest she can be.
“But you, Kara Danvers, you really do make it easy for people to like you that fast, don’t you?”
Kara kisses you, softly. “I wouldn’t say you liked me that fast. I mean, you were basically insulting me daily for two full weeks.”
“You have a real dorky face.”
She shrugs. “Yeah, but you like it.”
“I really do.”
And you thought it would be the hardest thing for you to admit. But right now, inside Kara’s embrace with her face so close to yours, you realize it is a lot easier to tell her the truth then fighting it so incessantly like you have since you got here.
"Can't believe we went from enemies to lovers."
"You were never my enemy. You're way too cute for that." Kara raises her eyebrows ready for a comeback. "And only half evil, anyways."
"Oh, you're getting quicker with the comebacks." You smile when you see how excited Kara gets with the compliment. "I still wanna punch your dorky face sometimes."
"Why don't you punch it with your lips." Kara raises her eyebrows suggestively a few times, and you can't help it but to laugh at her dorkiness and then to do exactly what she said.
Epilogue:
"Kara?" You hear Nia's voice next to the door, your eyes widen, and so does Kara's.
"Yeah?"
"What are you doing in the closet?" You hold back the laugh from the double meaning, and Kara rolls her eyes at you.
"Changing back." She finally opens the door, leaving you hidden there.
"Because of Supergirl or because you've been making out with your girlfriend in there?" Nia knocks on the door. "Come out, Y/N. No one here wants you guys back in the closet. Also, the new boss is here. The making out in the closet era is over."
"But this was the first time." You defend yourself, slowly coming out of there.
"Oh please. It was the first time today. I might not have x-ray vision, but I have eyes, you know." Nia says and you and Kara share embarrassed smiles. "Now look alive, Andrea Rojas is here and something tells me she's not gonna give us special treatment like Lena did."
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arc-misadventures · 1 year
Note
What are Those?! AU: After finding out that Jaune hoards gems how many of the girls decide to try and use gemstones to try and get into his bed
Diamonds Are A Dragons Prize
Pyrrha: Hey, guys how’s it…
Weiss: I don’t care who the hell your gem grader was father! I had the, Lapidary Master himself graded all of my diamonds, and he identified that almost all of them are fake! They’re not diamonds, they’re Cubic Zirconia! Fake Diamonds! So you will bring all of our precious gems, Mom’s, Winters, yours, and even mine to, Beacon, right here, right now! Before your precious net value plummets even further then it already has!
(Beep.)
Weiss: Prick…
Pyrrha: Uhhh… D-Did I miss something…?
Blake: Oh, we learned, Jaune hoards precious gems; diamonds, rubies, and the like. So people have been giving him precious stones as a… dowery of sorts. But, Jaune apparently is super rich because he owns several mining companies that mine specifically, precious stones. So, Jaune has been inspecting, giving people prices, and proof of their stones value instead.
Pyrrha: And, he did that for, Weiss’s diamonds as well?
Blake: Yeah, for her ‘diamonds.’
Weiss: My fakes! Tens of thousands of Lien were spent collecting diamonds, and other precious gems for my family. I brought approximately 67,000 Lien worth of diamonds with me to, Beacon!
Ruby: 67,000?! You had that much money kept in a simple latch lock box in our bathroom?!
Weiss: Well the fuck does that matter now?! 67,000?! I’ve got less than three grand of real diamonds in that chest! My father bought fakes! Millions of Lien worth of fakes!
Pyrrha: Oh, so that’s why she’s so upset.
Nora: Yeah, it’d be like if I had a mountain of pancakes, and they were all foam…
Blake: That… Sounds like a, Nora analogy.
Pyrrha: She’s been having nightmares about it for the past week…
Ruby: It’d be like having a dream about eating chocolate chip cookies, and it turns they’re all oatmeal raisin…
BP: …
Pyrrha: So where’s, Yang?
Ruby: Hmm? Oh she was taking a engagement ring, Dad gave her mother foe, Jaune to grade it. She wanted to know if it had any worth to it.
Nora: Is she going to sell it?
Ruby: I think she said something about seeing if mom abandoned something else of value besides her, and dad.
Pyrrha: Ohh…
Blake: Uhh…
Weiss: …
Nora: Nice~!
Ruby: Yeah… Yang’s mom is… is something else…
Yang: And, a fucking idiot~!
Ruby: Yang, you’re back!
Pyrrha: Hello, Yang, good news I take it?
Yang: Hell yeah~! Jaune just apprised this wedding ring I have, and he gave me one hell of a price on it~!
Pyrrha: Oh, how much?
Yang: Well, Jaune described it as a: Light yellow diamond, Class Z. 3 carats in weight. Custom Cut. Valued at approximately, 30,000 Lien~!
Pyrrha: Oh my gods…
Ruby: W-W-What…?!
Nora: How many pancakes could I eat with that…?
Weiss: 3-3-30,000…?! M-My diamonds were nearly 70,000. Then, Jaune graded them, a-and it turn out most of them were fake! A-And, I only have 3000 Lien… and, you just go there with some rinky dink ring… and it’s worth ten times that?!
Yang: Yeah, pretty much.
Weiss: …
Weiss: Ah-ha…? Ha. Hahahaha! Ahh-hahahahahaha!
RBYNP: …
Weiss: AHH-haaaaaaa…
Ruby: Got you, Weiss!
Nora: Whoops, she fainted again…
Pyrrha: Again?
Blake: Yeah, she fainted yesterday when she found out, how, and why, Jaune was super rich.
Pyrrha: I best ask him about that…
Blake: Don’t touch his rocks, he’ll gut you if you try.
Pyrrha: W-What…?
Nora: So, Yang; You gonna make a pretty penny, or are you going to keep that?
Yang: Yep~! I’m gonna keep it though. There’s too much sentimental value to get rid of it.
Ruby: Are sure about that…?
Yang: I’m sure; besides if, Jaune picks me as one of his wives, I’m gonna ask him to give it to me as my engagement ring.
Ruby: Oh, that’s ni… Wait! Y-You want become, Jaune’s wife?!
Yang: Well, one of them, I don’t really mind sharing.
Ruby: But, why? Why do you want to marry, Jaune?
Yang: I’ll admit it, I’ve always had a thing for, Jaune. He’s cute, caring, supportive, handsome, and just a really sweet person… I wasn’t going to act on my feels, I was going to let them fade away because, Pyrrha had claim on him, and I’m not the kind of girl to steal another girls man. But, since he’s more, or less open game because of the harem thing… Well, I’ve decided to throw my hat in the ring. Unless… You don’t want me to, Pyrrha…?
Pyrrha: Shoot… I owe, Nora fifty Lien…
Nora: Whoo! Pancake money!
Yang: Wait, did you make a bet on me?
Pyrrha: On whether, or not you liked, Jaune. I bet against, and lost. I just though he wasn’t your type.
Yang: Well, he is! So… Do you mind…?
Pyrrha: Not at all, I wouldn’t mind you joining us at all.
Yang: R-Really?!
Pyrrha: However, it’s his choice to make not mine. So, good luck winning him over.
Yang: Sounds fun~! So, speaking of you, and Jaune~!
Pyrrha: What about it?
Blake: What was it like?
Pyrrha: Oh, that? Well, do you really want me to tell you what happened, or do you want to find that our yourself~?
Yang: Mmmmm… Nooo… I rather be surprised really…
Blake: But, since he put you out of commission for a while; I’d like to know what to expect.
Ruby: Well I don’t! Bye!
(Slam!)
Yang: Good. She’s not ready for such things…
Pyrrha: Well, you know about his tongue, and how long it’s is~!
BY: Yes…
Pyrrha: Well, lets just say he can get it really deep inside of you: Really deep~!
Blake: How deep…?
Pyrrha: Oh, you’ll feel how deep he can get it~!
Blake: And, what is it like, is it more human, or is more faunas…?
Yang: Faunas?
Blake: Depending on the faunas, they sometimes have more… animal bits.
Yang: S-Seriously?! I thought that was some sort of racist talking point?!
Blake: Yeah… There’s a bit of truth to every stereotype. We don’t like to talk about it, because its… It’s just uncomfortable to talk about for all of us.
Yang: I-Is, Jaune like that…?!
Nora: Nope! It’s a perfectly normal human penis!
BYP: …
Yang: H-How do you know that…?
Pyrrha: Nora, likes to peek on us in the shower…
Yang: Oh, okay… So, uhh… what is it like?
Pyrrha: I’ll just say this… He’ll ruin you for all other men, forever, and you’ll love it~!
BY: NICE!!!
~~~
Ruby: Hey, Jaune!
Jaune: Hi, Ruby.
Ruby: How goes the gem collecting?
Jaune: I’ve found some interesting gems, like this one.
Ruby: Whoa… That’s beautiful… What is this…?
Jaune: That is a, Moss Agate Opal. One of my sister’s likes to wear these, so I got it for her.
Ruby: Aww, how sweet of you.
Jaune: I may like my stones, but I love my family even more…
Ruby: You don’t sound so certain on that.
Jaune: Depends on the stones…
Ruby: Okay…
: Excuse me, would you take a look at this?
Jaune: Oh, of course! Allow me to… Well hello there~!
Ruby: What is it?
Jaune: Oh, aren’t you a beautiful little thing~!
Ruby: Is that a sapphire?
Jaune: Hmm?! No! No not even close.
Ruby: Then what is it?
Jaune: While it may appear like one, but this isn’t anywhere close to a sapphire.
Ruby: Then what is it?
Jaune: Tanzanite, one of the rarest gems you can find. It doesn’t have the same value as a diamond, but they can only be found in one place, hence the rarity. And, considering where that is, they tend to hoard them.
Ruby: Where’s that?
Jaune: Menagerie. Isn’t that right, Miss…?
: Sienna, Sienna Khan, High Leader of the White Fang.
Jaune: Hmmm. Well, this is certainly one fine introduction letter. So, what can I do for you, Miss Khan?
Sienna: Oh so many things, my King. Oh so many things~!
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