#(he needs to be credited as private tutor ofc)

[jokeroutsubs]

ENG SUB Mr. Worldwide Käärijä speaking in Slovenian 🤩🇸🇮👏👏👏

His pronunciation was very good, yes yes!

[cheeriecherry]

Ty for answering that -w- I wanted to make sure of your comfort zones before I asked this. What are your HC for when some of our favorite UA teachers realize they have a thing for a student (who they may or may not have realized have a crush on them back)

Ofc! I should make an official list of thing I’m comfy writing/uncomfy writing <:3c

Anyhoo! I’m assuming our fav teachers are the same, but in case not, this post includes Aizawa, Yamada, and Yagi!

Warnings: Depictions of student x teacher! This is a work of fiction, and in no way represents how I feel about the matter irl. Please read at your own discretion. 

AIZAWA SHOUTA|ERASERHEAD

-He has an ‘oh fuck’ moment XD 

-At first you were just one of his most tolerable students; kind, hardworking, level headed. He sees a lot of potential in you, so he does his best to train you well.

-You have a habit of always wishing him a good afternoon when class is over and you’re headed out the door. He keeps a straight face, but deep down he finds it charming that you always take the time to say goodbye.

-Probably doesn’t realize how deep his feelings for you actually run until you’re older, maybe a second or third year. You come back to his classroom after summer break, and the moment you walk in the door, laughing with a few friends, his heart clenches in his chest. It fucks him up for the rest of the lesson.

-I think he’d let it stew for a while, anger and shame pressing at the back of his mind. Every day he sees you he falls deeper, whether you’re laughing and smiling with friends, or concentrating hard while studying, or even just meandering around the campus. Everything about you draws him in.

-He’d never act on his feelings, not while you’re a student. Besides the fact that he could lose his job if you got caught, he wouldn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize your future. He cares about you too much, and you’ve worked too hard to have it ruined.

-Until he notices you staring at him in class. The moment he catches your eye, you look away and pretend to be interested in something else, but that specific moment sticks out in his mind. It’s the first of many.

-Sometimes you fluster when you get caught looking at him, other times you’re so lost in thought that you don’t even realize he figured you out. It’s usually when you’re daydreaming that Aizawa gets a good look at you; pretty features, soft skin, cute lips wrapped around the end of your pencil as you think about him-

-The moment the bell sings and everyone starts leaving for the day, he beckons you over. Probably sprouts some kind of nonsense about how you’re distracted in class, and how you need to pay more attention or your grades will start to suffer. It’s complete bullshit, but coming from him it sounds serious.

-At least, it would to anyone else but you.

-You sit on the edge of his desk, leaning back casually and swinging your legs, and you look at him in a way that almost makes him feel like prey. 

- “If my grades suffer, you could always give me some extra credit~” you say with a coy smile.

He’s deadpan as always when he replies, “Your grades haven’t dipped. Not yet, at least. This is a warning, Y/N.”

You pout a little, and sigh. You’re obviously dejected about something, but he’s got no idea why you’d be sad about having good grades...

“Pity,” you mumble, “a private tutoring session could have been fun.”

-You slide off his desk and make your way towards the door, and only then does it click for him. You like him, the same way he likes you.

-He calls out to you right before you slide the door open, and motions you back over. You huff and do as he says, and move to sit back on his desk, but just as you’re getting settled, he reaches forward and pulls you into his lap. It feels a little awkward at first, while you squirm and get comfortable, but once you find a good seat it’s actually pretty comfortable.

-You’ve got an arm tossed over his shoulders, and you’re leaning against his chest with your face tucked up by his neck. He resists a shudder at the feeling of your warm breath against his skin, instead looping an arm around your waist to keep you steady.

- “You’ve been flirting with me,” he says, and it’s not a question.

He can feel a smile break out across your face, before your lips press tenderly against his throat. “I have been for the past eight months, but thanks for noticing.”

He deadpans and pinches your thigh gently, earning a muffled squeak from you, a noise he decides he likes very much.

-But the overall question looms over him. What to do now? He didn’t want to put your future at risk, not to simply sate his own desires. He loved you too much to do that to you.

- “We can’t do this,” he says, and he feels you freeze against him. “Not yet, at least.” He feels you relax.

“I figured as much,” you grumble, but there’s no malice in your tone. “I’m gonna wait for you, you know that, right? The moment I graduate, I’m jumping you. I see the way you look at me when you think no one’s watching; you want me just as much as I want you.”

-He doesn’t deny it, simply holds you tighter.

-You smile softly and take his face in your hands. “If it’s gonna be a while until we can do this again, then...a kiss for the road?”

-It’s sweet, and warm, and a little bit desperate. It’s been a long time since he’s had anyone with him like this, and you’re spectacularly warm and pliant. It’s not a kiss he’ll soon forget, and will only serve to make you both yearn for more, but it’s worth it to feel your lips against his.

-You keep things on the down low after that, sneaking conversations here and there and whenever you can. He gives you his phone number in case you ever need anything, but you mostly use it to send him cat memes and suggestive texts.

-He scolds you every single time, but you both know his heart isn’t in it.

-He takes you out on an official date not three days after your graduate.

YAMADA HIZASHI|PRESENT MIC

-Unlike Aizawa, he does not have an ‘oh fuck’ moment. His feelings for you culminate slowly, and he’s quite aware of them, just the same as he’s aware of your feelings.

-He notices your lingering glances, small smiles, and cheerful greetings whenever he’s around. You’re not obvious about it, not being more than friendly from everyone else’s point of view, but he’s perceptive, especially when it comes to people.

-A little piece of him hopes you get over your crush on him, so that he in turn could get over you too, but the big emotions part of his heart wants you to keep loving him in hopes that he might have you some day.

-He tries rationalizing it when he’s on his own, telling himself that he’s really not that much older than you, and that he’s seen larger age gaps, and that after you graduate you’ll just be another hero. He knows he shouldn’t be harboring such strong feelings for one of his students, which is why he doesn’t tell anyone, but he figures that as long as he doesn’t act on it then no one will get hurt.

-But it’s very hard. By the time you’re in your third year, you’re openly flirting with him. He doesn’t necessarily encourage it, but he doesn’t dissuade it either. If anyone ever questions him on the matter, he’ll say that he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings or embarrass you so it’s best to let you work through your feelings on your own.

-He absolutely plays favourites, though. He only calls on you in class when he knows you know the answer to something, and always offers helpful advice about your classes when he’s able to. Some of your classmates grumble about ‘special treatment’ but none of them take it any further than that.

-It all comes to a head one rainy afternoon when he finds you curled up under a tree, looking very, very sad. He hasn’t got anywhere to be, but even if he did, he’d still come over. You’re still his student, even on weekends, and he cares about you a lot.

-You’re surprised when the rain suddenly stops dripping on you, and you look up to find Yamada holding an umbrella over your head, while the rain starts to soak him. You scold him lightly, complaining that you’re already wet so it doesn’t matter if you don’t have an umbrella. He has none of it though, and offers a hand to you.

-He pulls you to your feet and carefully arranges the umbrella so you’re both under it, and after a couple beats of silence, he finally asks what’s got you looking so down.

-You fidget a little, chewing your lip in consideration and wringing your hands. But you’re almost a graduate, you tell yourself, so it shouldn’t matter now if he knows. You’re pretty certain he likes you back, anyways, but on the off chance he doesn’t, you can cope with a month or so of awkwardness.

-You sigh deeply, and explain to him that your classmates were teasing the shit out of your earlier, on a subject that is very near and dear to your heart. You’d had enough of their antics, so you’d left to dorms to get some fresh air, and it had started raining. You’d hoped to get some respite beneath a tree, to no avail.

-He looks you up and down quickly, just now fully realizing how soaked you were. Your clothes cling to your skin in a way he never sees you dress, and it’s a little unsettling how something so mundane gets his heart racing.

-But he pushes through, and rests a hand on your shoulder, going on about how other people’s opinions can hurt but ultimately don’t matter, and that it’s most important how you feel about yourself. He tells you that you’re deserving of kindness and respect, and praises you lightly for being his favourite student and a bright young hero.

-Less than two seconds after he finishes speaking, your lips are on his. Soft and damp, and your fingertips are cool against his jaw where you’re holding him, but he doesn’t mind. Not in the slightest. He drops the umbrella in lieu of gripping at your hips, pulling you flush against him so he can kiss you back.

-You stay there for a few moments, rain soaking further and further into your clothes as your lips mold and slide against each other. He has half a mind to push you back against the nearest surface and deepen the kiss, but he remember that you’re still in public, and you’re still his student.

-He pulls away slowly, grinning inwardly when he sees how breathless and hazy you are. He presses one last kiss against your nose, before he’s grabbing the umbrella off the ground and tugging you along. 

- “That can’t happen again,” he tells you, “Not while you’re still a student here. Okay?”

You begrudgingly agree, even though you know it’s for the best. you really do love him, and you don’t want him to lose his job -or worse- over something like this.

“Understood,” you mumble sadly. “I’ll try to get over it, and I’ll stop flirting with you in class.”

-He tilts his head slightly, a questioning gesture, and gently laces his fingers with yours. Just once, out here in the rain, where no one can see.

“I said ‘while you’re a student’,” his tone is playful. “Sweetheart, the moment you graduate, I’m wining and dining you like it’s nobody’s business.”

-Your heart soars after that, and your anticipation for what’s to come makes your last month of school -and your friends’ teasing- more bearable. That, and the fact that you get to text him whenever you feel like, and how your sweet private conversations. He chides you when you get too lewd about something, either in your words or in photos you send him, and tells you to be patient.

-By the time you graduate, you’re just about ready to say fuck it and dive on him, but he beats you to the punch. After the official ceremony, he scoops you up and spins you around a couple times, asking you how it feels to be an official hero.

-You simply kiss him.

YAGI TOSHINORI|ALL MIGHT

-Most concerned out of the bunch. He’s got one hell of an image to uphold, and he never wants to put any of his students in harms way. He probably notices really early on the way his heart flutters around you, the way his stomach twists up in knots when he hears you laugh, the way it’s hard to breathe when he watches you train. Ngl, it scares him a bit.

-Having feelings like that is one thing, but having feelings like that for a student? That’s got bad news written all over it. And it’s especially bad when he realizes you don’t treat him like you do your other teachers; you’re kinder, softer, more interested in lessons.

-Sure, you could just think he was a good teacher, but he’s had many a people crushing on him over the years, so he knows the signs. You like him.

-He hides himself away from you at first, keeping you at an arms length, a curt distance, a professional ways away. He realizes that he may be coming off a little harshly towards you, often keeping any one on one time to a minimum and overlooking you in class.

-You thought he felt bad for liking you? Look how shitty he feels when he realizes he’s made you sad. The day you seek him out after class and ask him why he dislikes you so much, it feels like someone has stepped on his heart and ground it into the pavement with their heel.

-The way you hold yourself to appear smaller and less threatening, the way you avoid his gaze like you’re afraid of his judgement. He decides then and there to be honest with you. You’re almost done your second year in school, so you’re a little more mature, a little more capable of handling what he has to tell you.

-And tell you he does. He explains the way you make him happy, how he enjoys your company, how your smile warms his heart. He also tells you about the guilt he feels for looking at a student in such a way, and how he wouldn’t be offended if you never wanted to speak with him again.

-You, of course, have not been subtle about your feelings towards him. Strange as the situation is, it’s comforting to know he thinks of you the same way. You take his hand gently, marveling a little at how it dwarfs yours, and assure him that you don’t think less of him, even if he thinks you should.

-You can tell that he’s genuine and serious about having feelings for you. You’d never want to put him at risk for anything, so you quietly ask him if he’d be willing to wait for you, until you graduate. After that, you’ll no longer be his student, there’ll no longer be any risk associated with your relationship, and you can be together.

-He’s got his reservations still, but you talk about it more throughout the months, convincing him by the beginning of your third year to pursue something more after you finish school. Once that’s decided, he finds it difficult to keep you at an appropriate distance, but he does his best. From time to time he’ll keep you after class to ask how things are going, how you’re doing, etc. almost always ending with a gentle kiss on the forehead.

-From the outside, it looks like you’ve patched up whatever hole was formed between you, with only the two of you sharing knowing and longing glances across the room. He tutors you and gives you extra lessons when he’s able to, wanting to make sure you come out of this with as much skill as possible.

-The year is long and every day is more difficult that the last, but the weekend after you graduate, the two of you are curled up on his couch watching a movie after eating dinner, sharing sweet kisses and basking in each other’s presence.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Medicine

I’ll be fully honest, I’m not a Marvel nerd. I enjoy the movies but I have gaps, some I haven’t seen due to being broke. I just love all the hot ass sassy men, mkay? It’s been almost 3 years since I’ve written anything, let’s see what happens, shall we?

     Summery: Doctor Reiko Martin is a world leading Diagnostician, the youngest in her field. Daughter of Doctor Paul Martin, she was always in a shadow. When she gets a 4am call from Doctor Stephen Strange, she want’s nothing more then to ignore the man. However, he will not be ignored and insists that he needs her. Maybe this is her chance to be the better Doctor. Maybe this is her chance to be more then just a Doctor. 

Stephen Strange x OFC

Series Warnings: Language, illness, possibly future smut. 

Chapter 1

     Dr. Reiko Martin glanced at the chart in front of her. Pass, a simple case of phenomena was hardly worth her time. The chart below it belonged to a old woman with chronic kidney stones. Boring. Borning. Borning. Most of the cases that came to her desk were just that, boring.

     Her father was a legend in the field. The Doctor Martin, master diagnostician regarded around the world as second to none. He spared no penny in his daughter's education. Private tutors, long hours and constant drilling. It all paid off, she was second in her field until the day he died. The anniversary of his death was quick approaching and she couldn't help but find herself feeling reflective. It lead to her being antsy and short tempered, more then usual at least.  

     She didn't cry at his funeral. She didn't feel any sadness at his passing, not really. She didn't really feel anything when he passed, not even relief. Maybe, she should have felt joy at finally having freedom? He would no longer be pushing her to excel. She was in her late twenties and her life hardly lived. Graduating High School early with college credits already under her belt, she was pushed ever onward.

      With her father's support and constant pushing, she took as many classes as she could, flying through her college work and soaring though Medical School, an unstoppable force. Many were envious of her, oh how they wished they had someone like her father in their back pocket. His support was believed to have been amazing. They were sure she worked hard to make him proud

     Only when she began her residency did her world begin to slow down. She stopped being the star and started being tested. The attending physicians wanted to break the star student, to stump her and knock her down a few pegs. It was a time she truly loved. An ego in a young doctor could be deadly for a patient. They never found a fault in her. Maybe that was ultimately her fault.

     Father's lectures were never far from mind. Her specialty- Diagnostics, just like him. She was interested in surgery but alas, as she was always reminded a surgeon is only as good as their hands. She was young now, her hands steady and sure but any number of things could take that from her. It was better to go with diagnostics, something prized, something that she could continue even as she grew old and gray. All she needed was her mind. She didn't need to be a part of the boy's club in the Surgical Theater.

      Sometimes she wonders “what if”, but quickly puts those thoughts out of mind. Regrets were useless. A waste of time.

      With a sigh she closes the chart. Maybe she would find something tomorrow. The hospital director wants her to take more cases in house, or else she could expect to be ordered to be on loan to another hospital or worse, increase her clinic hours. Spending time helping with colds, coughs and broken bones at the walk in clinic that served to decrease minor visits to the hospital ER were not something she liked.

      Her most recent patient would be discharging at the end of the week into a inpatient psychical therapy program. It was an interesting case of a hidden brain tumor. The surgeon reporting finding teeth inside the mass. How fascinating. Or at least it would be to someone else. She'd seen it before. Most things she'd seen before.

      With a sigh, she turned off the light in her office. Her life was boring. Her cases were boring. Her home, boring. So why bother going home? She didn't see a good reason to bother with the trip and so plopped herself down on the couch. At the very least, her office was a step up from the call rooms from her residency days.

      She drifted off into the embrace of sleep. One more day down. If she gave herself a moment to think, she would likely wonder what she could have in her life. Would she find love? Have a family? Did she even have friends? As long as she kept herself busy, as long as she kept looking for the next case, the next challenge, she can ignore those pesky thoughts.

      It didn't matter. The world was over populated. Love was over rated. The only thing that mattered was the next puzzle.

      Maybe.

      Maybe not.

      Ringing attempted to drag her from the depths of her sleep. It wasn't her pager. It wasn't her night on call. She was groggy, tired. What time is it? She slapped at her phone, rejecting the call. With a glance at the window she saw it was dark outside. Still night. Good.

      She was just descending into sleep again when the infernal ringing started again.

      “Fuck off” she drawled and declined the call again without even opening her eyes.

      Off on the other side of the country a man she had known years ago growled in his own frustration. Goddammit, he was just trying to help an acquaintance and Martin wasn't even answering. Again her voice, cold and flat on the voicemail. He slammed the end button and just as quickly hit call again, redialing her number.

      She was like him. That's not true, she was like how he was before. Cold, indifferent. One could offer her all the money in the world and she wouldn't take the case. It had to be just right, it had to catch her attention. If he could just get her to answer, he could sell her on the case.

      Voicemail. Again. What damn Doctor doesn't answer their phone?! Again, he listened to the ringing. Behind him his...friend? Acquaintance perhaps was a more correct term, paced.

      Across the country, Dr. Martin finally roused. Whoever it was calling had better have a good reason. She groped blindly at her phone, wincing at the bright light of the screen, displaying the name and number of the caller, 'Dr. S. Strange'. The phone went dead in her hand and she breathed a sigh, thinking maybe, just maybe she would get back to sleep.

      The joke was on her however as after the briefest of moments, it began singing her it's song yet again. She saw 12 missed calls and assumed they were all from this man. Why on earth he would be calling her was the question. They hadn't gotten on well nor had they spoken in at least a year, maybe as much as four years. It was hard to say, they would often see each other in passing at medical events.

      “What do you want?” Her voice didn't sound nearly as harsh as she had intended, more tired then anything. Without waiting for his answer, she pulled the phone from her face, glancing at the time. “It's 4AM, go away”, she snapped, cutting off the voice on the other side as he had just started speaking.

      He and her father had a history. Years ago when Strange was just a resident, her father was an attending physician. Father would talk of that time as if Dr. Strange was his shinning star. In reality, the man likely gave the young Doctor a hellish time. Father never really cared for surgeons, they were the Jocks of the hospital. She assumed she inherited that view, they did always annoy her. They never did have a puzzle, the path was nearly always put forth for them. Just jocks doing as they are told. Even one as renowned as Dr. Strange wasn't immune to the hospital cliques.

      He wasted no time with pleasantries, none on “hello”s or “how are you”s. Rather, the first thing he said was, “Martin, I have a case for you.”

      He never did call her “Dr. Martin” outside of formal hospital events, unless in front of patients. Rarely, had they ever shared a patient. It always irked her. He was just another doctor to dismiss her. She was both young and a woman. Medicine was still very much a boy's club and even with the female medical staff, she didn't fit because of her age.

      “Call back in the morning.” She snapped and disconnected the call. Before she even had the phone out of her hand, he was calling again. She answered, sighing in defeat and glancing at the analog clock on the wall. “You have 4 minutes. Time starts now.”

      “Female, age 46, admitted four days ago with high BP, aches and fever over 104. Sores present on extremities and mouth. Patient presents with extreme fatigue and isn't retaining new information well.” Behind him, the patient's fiance glared at Strange, not feeling comfortable with the cold and clinical way his fiancee was being spoken about.

      “Recent travel?” Reiko hadn't even bothered to move from her position lounging on the couch.

      “Extensively within the last 90 days.” She sat up. The possibilities could be endless with extensive travel.

      “Labs?”

      “Depressed but mostly within normal range. Whatever this is, it acts both viral and bacterial, yet beyond the fever there is minimal immune response. Supportive treatment has slowed the progression but beyond that, treatments tried have been ineffective.”

      “You are no longer practicing.” He had hoped that she wouldn't point that out.

      “No, the patient is a... acquaintance of mine, you can say.”

      “Mm-hmm,” likely story. She knew his reputation. Women had been in and out of his bed on a revolving door for as long as she could remember. “Have her Doctor send me her chart.”

      Swiftly she stood and made her way to the computer. Within a few seconds, the ping went off in her ear. “That was fast, considering.”

      “I may not be practicing but I still have sway.” Age, reputation and experience granted him that much.

      She didn't really offer much of a response but he could hear the clicking away of her keyboard. In the background, she could hear a man talking to Dr. Strange.

      “Just wait, give her time.” His voice was muffled, clearly not speaking to her.

      Someone was clearly not appreciating the wait. Page after page of lab results, treatment plans, patient history all flashed across her screen. She dismissed some pages with little more then a glance, others she read in detail. Patient Potts has lost weight, regardless of effort to prevent it. She was failing to retain liquids and solids both for more then a few minutes at a time.

      GI tract appeared normal, yet nourishment and fluids introduced via feeding tube caused immense pain and bloating. Interesting. Labs appeared mostly in normal ranges.

      “I'll take it. Proceed to have her transferred.”

      “No. She's not stable enough to travel,”  

      “Good luck, then.” She was bluffing. If she could get leave from her hospital and be loaned out, she could travel. With a few keystrokes she pulled up flights while she let him simmer. She could hear background talking but paid it no mind. May as well play hard to get.

      She'd be looking at 5-8 hours travel time, including a possible layover to get to New York. Plus time in the airport and delays. Let's face it- there are always delays. In a short moment she was up out of her chair and on her way out of her office, cellphone held to her ear.

      “Come to New York to treat her.” Doctors had a way of making questions into statements. It seemed as if Strange hadn't lost the talent with his career.

      “Talk to the Chief, I'm on my way to do the same and touch base.” With that, the call was disconnected, thankfully to not ring again. He knew he had her.

[exolstice-blog]

Going Crazy | Jongdae

Genre: Fluff

Description: Kim Jongdae, the institute’s alleged bad boy, is your student—so to speak; he makes you go crazy.

Word Count: 1500

Author’s Note: Highly inspired by EXO’s (ofc they r my muse) Going Crazy - of course, only that one line.. e n j o y *^*

…

Kim Jongdae—the boy made you go crazy, quite literally.

“Give it back, Kim!”

You were livid. Screaming and running around in circles, too, as you’d been doing for the past five minutes. You exhaled a throaty noise. If it weren’t for the cursed need of extracurricular credits, you wouldn’t even conceive something like this actually happening.

This as in having the institute’s so alleged “bad boy"—yes, do emphasize the quotation marks—in your dorm stealing your, what you called, “shit nobody should ever see unless they want their eyes extracted with teaspoons”. Ah, and you were chasing him.

“You do realize you’re slow, right?” The guy had the nerves to say.

“You do realize I could sue you for this, RIGHT?!” You retaliated, aiming for his back with a pillow.

“Tsk, think I can’t find a good lawyer—?” There was a crash. “Nice aim.” He regarded you with mock when you stared wide eyed at a broken flower vase. Maybe you shouldn’t have thrown that pillow.

“Jongdae…” you seemed to growl between gritted teeth. “Give him back or—”

Jongdae’s scream appeared to be laughter, shrill and loud. “What, you give them names too?”

Brandishing him as he said so, dark tendrils of hair fell upon his face; his eyes, a similar black, were covered; his mouth twisted into a grin. He held his hand up high, where you could see him: Your plushie.

“Oh, have you ever named one after me—ah!” He had begun when you full on went on tackle mode, bringing him down with all the power that fit in your body.

Fortunate enough, you managed to throw him onto your pillows—you weren’t going to let this brat fracture yourself, for crying out loud!

You struggled to bring your head up, perhaps you’d hit his chin. Serves him right. His eyes connected with yours upon rising them, or so it seemed as you couldn’t see well due to your hair having fallen out of your whatever that thing had been. Who actually invested hours in their hair anyway? Probably Kim, here, you thought a bit bitterly.

“Why,” Jongdae pushed some strands behind your ear, making you look at him. “I did say you’ll be all over me someday but I didn’t think you'ld be actually all over me.”

You gave him a sugar-coated smile, “Tell me again why I agreed to be your tutor.” All the while, your knees purposely stabbed his thighs.

His breath caught, “B-Because you need the credit.” You drew back. “And because you’re a nerd.” You pushed back immediately.

“Who even uses that word anymore, nerd,” your tongue clicked against the roof of your mouth. You patted his shoulder in mocked sympathy. “No one will know about this, are we clear?”

And no one must know. You were already somewhat bizarre to begin with, you wouldn’t deny it. Of course, you had your friends and nobody ever went over the line of simply saying “wow, you’re kinda weird”, but hey, you couldn’t risk it. It mattered little to you, really, what others thought of you. Regardless, you felt this one secret a bit more private—a personal struggle or a never ending recollection of yours, perhaps. Ever since the age of five, you’d been collecting those plushies…

“Sorry, can’t promise something I can’t accomplish,” he said. “You see, there’s the slightest possibility of me having taken some pictures of…that.

Your fingers wobbled slightly before tightening menacingly around his shirt. How you wanted to strangle the boy. “Why—why would you do that?”

“Would you look at that, I was wondering the same—”

“Kim…” You down right whined and quickly recoiled—the creature was rubbing off on you, you thought grimly.

“Why, I could always give them to you, the pictures,” he said. “But you would have to—”

“To what, Jongdae?” Your chest was heavy and your head throbbed with unwanted anticipation. Nothing, really, that came from Kim Jongdae you thought could mean good.

“Go out with me.”

The words hung in the air, painfully clear. You’d been expecting anything. Anything but that. The thought would have never, could have never crossed your mind. Even after hearing it from him, right this very moment, you knew the universe could only be playing tricks on you.

“G-Go?” You were faintly lightheaded though you wondered if it was rather from the good bump you’d gotten. “Go where?”

“On a date, of course, where else is there to go?” Jongdae replied calmly.

How about home, you wanted to urge him into leaving immediately. Surely, he was doing it to amuse himself.

“Wait, so you are saying that you won’t spread that picture if I go out with you?” You said instead.

He hummed, “That’s pretty much it. Not so complicated, huh?”

Your face ought to be catching on fire, you were burning. “What the hell—no. No, absolutely no!”

“What—why? It seems pretty fair to me,” Jongdae was utterly taken aback.

“Fair?! I— You can’t coax someone into dating you, Jongdae. However pretty your face may be, you can’t. And to blackmail—”

“I’m not forcing you into anything, (Y/N). Much less dating or a relationship. I’m simply… asking you out, is that too hard to realize?” The corner of his mouth twisted upwards, a tiny bit of teeth showing in a expression that only meant trouble. “Besides, I would hardly say I’m blackmailing you—think of it as returning a favor.”

“Bullshit. If you wanted to go out with someone you could very much pick ANYONE. Why me? Well, of course to…” You groaned, scratching your bedding. “I’m going crazy.”

“I know what you’re going to say. To annoy you. To play with you.” Jongdae shook his head and you could see what appeared to be disappointment. “Do you think so severely of me?”

Lost at word, you struggled to come up with an answer to that, jumping onto something else entirely. “Even if that were true; you wanting to hang out, I mean, why not pick someone else? Jongdae, I’m weird! Remember that? And you, well, of course, you shouldn’t be seen—”

“Weird? What is wrong with that?” His words surprised you, much so that you went still. “Sure you have an actual shrine dedicated to stuffed animals, but who hasn’t one about something else? I think it’s cute.”

You realized Jongdae was waiting for your response. “B-But, I’m a nerd, right? And don’t come at me with that crap, you say I’m weird, too! Why don’t you get someone more cool, a better fit for yourself,” you said in a gulp.

“Oh, you know I was joking about the nerd part. You’re… interesting, too. Quite a lot, in fact. And I can’t help it, I want to know what you’ll come up with next, be around you to see it.” He said sheepishly. Then, his face turned unexpectedly bleak. “As for finding someone else, don’t you see? I can’t find anything real but you between the fakeness of people.”

You found your mouth wide open. So he thought you were interesting, real. Well, that last bit was true, at least. You never pretended to disguise your quite visible dislike towards him—what would be the point of it. Yet you couldn’t help that tiny sting. That itty bitty feeling of pity and something else you couldn’t precisely put your finger on.

“So,” Jongdae said with a light to his voice. “Have I convinced you? I still have the picture if it didn’t, you know, a precaution.”

“Ugh, Jongdae,” you brought the pillow you’d be holding to his face before ruffling your hair like a madwoman. “I hate you.”

“Is that a yes?” As dark his eyes could be, hidden behind black tendrils of hair, they seemed to brighten.

“I hate you, really,” you merely replied with a small smile.

He smiled, too. He looked much more beautiful while doing so, you thought. He laughed, then; screaming a ‘yes!’ that appeared to you to be out of focus.

As if your hearing could blur, your eyes were deaf, and you were confused as to why he pulled you by the shoulders. As to why he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead and as to why he suddenly left. The door slamming closed with a click after him as the clock ticked the end of your tutoring lesson and you thought, I’m really going crazy.