#THE START BUTTON. (cos its push to start. of course. disgusting) is like

[toytulini]

i keep being subjected to muscle cars. awful

[seokustic]

➝ three months into working for min&kim, coming across the forged company audit is the last thing you’d want in your plate. and min yoongi isn’t convinced that you’d keep your mouth shut.

➝ yandere!ceo!yoongi x secretary!reader

➝ 2 242 words

➝ warnings: dub-con, blackmail, coercion, unprotected sex, stockholm syndrome

➝ author’s note: read the warnings. don’t proceed if those elements make you uncomfortable.

―

“please, i won’t tell anyone,” you can taste the fear on your tongue as you gaze into yoongi’s unbending eyes.

“i understand i’m not in any position to make demands but please let me go home and i’ll forget this ever happened,” words of desperation and submission leaves your lips faster than the ‘sorry’s you owe every possible colleague that works under you.

“self-aware. i like that,” he husks, tossing the sleek black blazer of his onto the couch as he begins to undo the buttons of the cuffs around his wrists, “no wonder namjoon’s eager to keep you to himself.”

at the mention of that name, a bleached blonde haired man with the kindest dimpled smile flashes at the back of your mind. you remember shooting up from your seat and bowing as he passed by you whilst words of “have a good evening, mr. kim,” leaves your pretty wine red coated lips.

‘will i be able to meet him again?’

the thought chills you to your bones.

‘why wouldn’t i meet namjoon again?’ you internally laugh. if it was an audible one, it would have sounded pathetic yet hopeful.

to think you’re worrying about the future when your present is shriveled with uncertainty.

you watch as the man he calls his brother and partner amble towards you with leisure but dominating steps. like a hunter sizing up his prey.

if yoongi was black leopard, you’d be a white little bunny who’s trapped between the recliner and the glass desk, unable to move even though you’d spot him in your line of sight.

“i-is it money you want?” the words slip past your lips before you can even register them.

when you’re mentally hitting yourself for asking the co-owner of the firm you’re working at if he wants what little savings you have in your account, yoongi is already chuckling. it sounds melodic for someone who looks like he’s about to eat you alive.

“you and i both know i’ve got more money on my wrist than you do in your account.” he stops in front of you, feet wedged between your heeled ones.

as if on cue, the rolex on his wrist glints. as if mocking you as he pulls open the top most drawer, pulling out a miniature tripod with a phone readily attached to it. all you can do is continue to watch as he unlocks the screen.

the sound of you sucking in a sharp breath is the only thing that fills the silence when you see yourself reflected in the square frame. the time played over your wide-eyed gaze begins at 00:00:01.

“oh, that? don’t mind that. i like to look back at the time we’re about to spend together and... reminisce.” he wears a smirk on his face and pushes the hem of your dress up with his hand.

yet the billion dollar smirk you’d be dying to see and would fawn over with krystal from afar now makes your stomach knot with disgust. your heart’s palpitating but the sweat trickling down the side of your face is cold.

“please,” your head shakes, as if that little gesture could touch his heart and make him stop what he’s doing.

the metallic sound of his belt clicking as he undoes it drums it your ears, “get on the desk, sweetheart.”

when silence and your disbelieving stare is all he gets as a response, yoongi’s voice rises higher than the usual smooth, husked tone you’re used as he passed you and bade you good morning these past three months since you started working and min&kim.

“fucking do it!”

you scamper to hoist yourself over the flat surface of the table. both your ass and palms feel ice cold against the glass material.

“spread your legs.”

the tip of your heels teeter on the edge of the desk as you force your legs apart, gaze thrown to the pen holder on the opposite side of where the camera phone is set to capture every angle of your disgraceful position.

a whimper escapes your mouth when you feel something touch you through your panties.

“i must say, i didn’t peg you for a lace girl, ___.” gone is the rage in his voice once you did what he asked and in its place, a deep, appreciative purr. as if it’s supposed to be a compliment.

“won’t you even look at me?” he sounds almost devastated, as if your silence and refusal physically hurts him.

“look at me!” he roars a second later, giving you no time to ponder nor prepare yourself for it.

you meet his gaze with furrowed brows and bitten lip, trying hard not to show how much they’re trembling.

“pretty,” he holds you by your jaw, turning your face to the left and then right, as if conducting some kind of observation, “if only i didn’t take rose as my secretary... we would’ve had so much fun, you and i.”

“i can ask to be transferred here! i’ll keep your secret. just please... don’t do this.” gaze boring into his with sheer disgust while you beg with desperation while the cold nips on your exposed legs.

at your words, his hand seems to stop just millimeters from your clit. as if he’s truly considering the offer. the heart that blooms with hope gets crushed in that same instant as a smile stretches across his face.

“you really think you’re in a position to be negotiating?”

nimble fingers pulls your panties to the side before you feel his digit teases you, “sweetheart, you’re dripping wet.”

as if only realizing the juices leaking down your ass and the full view he has, your legs start to close, only to be tightly gripped by his free hand. you wince. that’s going to leave a bruise.

but before you can think of what excuses you’d use to wear skirts longer than your usual mid-thigh ones, the sound of the zipper grazing as it gets pulled down - brushes your eardrums.

“no, please! i promise i’ll do anything! everything you want! just please! don’t!” s series of pleas pour out of your lips like a broken tap. you don’t realize you’re crying until yoongi’s tall, lean figure becomes blurred from the tears.

“shhh,” he coos, sweet as honey but pushes himself in to the hilt.

the sigh the leaves yoongi’s lips makes your stomach twist.

‘how can he enjoy this?’

your palms clasp over your face and eyes as tears wet your skin. your back is cold as you lose all energy to hold yourself up. your body shifts upwards with every thrust.

but it’s the way he slides right into you that burns you with self-loathe. the way the discomfort you felt in the beginning gradually morphs into flames of wonton as you taste blood in your mouth, biting on your lower lip as hard as you can to not make a sound.

because you’re not sure if it’s a plea for him to stop or a plea for him to fuck you harder that will come out.

and you silently sniffle as yoongi turns you on your side, bent over to hold your body that’s wrecked with sobs and pleasure. the groans that brush your ear sickens you to your stomach but makes you clench around him harder as you near your climax.

“don’t be shy, moan for me, sweetheart,” he says grunts, tugging on your wrist as if trying to get you to stop covering your face.

as if he wants to see you break. see the tears cascading down your cheeks. see the shamelessly pleasured face you’re making as your heart beat to the staccato of his thrusts.

“stop...” you whimper, “stop, please, don’t- stop- ah! oh!”

“what’s that? don’t stop?” he laughs, “i’m not wearing a condom though. you sure you want me to but a baby inside you?”

“fuck, just like that. yeah- yoongi-ah right there- oh!”

you should’ve kept your mouth shut. because once the moans pour out of your lips like an open floodgate, there’s no stopping the salacious sounds from filling the room.

you don’t even realize yoongi pushed you to lay on your back again. don’t even realize how your legs clench around his waist whilst your ankles lock together on his lower back as he fucks you raw like he’s never fucked a woman in a long time.

you don’t even realize your lipstick smudging that area on his shoulder as you bite into his flesh, unable to take the surge of ecstasy coursing through your veins before a scream scratches your throat, your back arching as you see stars behind your eyes.

the warmth of his cum spreads through your lower belly as you lay limply on the desk, muscles still twitching from the sparks of electricity of your after orgasm. your legs dangle off the edge of the desk, still parted and in full view of the cum that pours out of you and onto the carpeted floor.

it takes you what feels like hours to push yourself up. gather your broken pieces, put your panties back on and pat down your skirt, feeling the warm, sticky cum drip down your legs and soils your skirt.

the heat of yoongi’s gaze digs into your pores. even when you’re all dressed up like the way you first walked in and saw the open email of the files of the unaudited expenditure of the firm’s income and the forged one. underneath the email, signed victoria song, the head accountant.

“come on, i’ll drop you home.” he says, the blazer he tossed now draped over his arm.

it’s as if he didn’t just smirk as he rewatched the first few seconds of the video. the sound of your desperate pleading commanding the silence while you laid like a lifeless corpse on the desk, trying to make sense of what just happened.

he’s acting as if nothing happened.

“i’ll take catch a cab,” you send your thanks to the gods for venom in your voice and the glare in your gaze.

“i said,” his husks, ever so gently with a threat that he will have no problems executing, “i’ll take you home.”

the whole ride is silent save for the sound of your sniffles yoongi pretends not to hear.

how gentleman-ly of him.

when the car rolls to a stop in front of your apartment building, you meet his gaze with round, terrified eyes. heart palpitating uncontrollably as he smiles like he’s dropping off his girlfriend after a date.

“how do you know where i live?”

you were too busy wiping away stray tears and gazing out the window to worry about giving him directions.

supposed he doesn’t need it after all.

yoongi doesn’t answer. he dodges it as smoothly as he dives in for a kiss. you recoil, pushing yourself up against the door and as far away from him before realization hits you like a pang of ice cold water in winter.

the glint in yoongi’s eyes is telling enough that he isn’t pleased with the trick you just pulled.

even if it was no trick at all. even if you truly only want to leave.

but there’s a video of you in a phone stored inside his desk 20 minutes from here. and you’d be a fool to think he didn’t airdrop it to his personal phone when he was rewatching the video after that.

who knows how long it’ll take for it to hit the internet if you so much as piss him off more than you do now.

the answer is a no brainer.

in a matter of seconds, min yoongi could ruin your life and rebrand you as a licentious woman who sleeps her way to the top.

those pleas for him to stop?

easily overridden by the way you clung onto him like you don’t want to let go.

“sorry, i was just... surprised,” you blink back the tears, lips curling into one of your professional smiles, heart thumping at the way his expression lightens into a pleased one at your own change of expression.

with a trembling hand, you touch his cheek. it feels soft under your fingertip. you wonder how it’ll look if you’d graze it with your fingernails.

your lips brush his and your stomach knots in discomfort. he deepens the kiss, pulling you by your hair, tongue slipping past your lips, tasting the fear that lingers like an unspoken truth on your tongue.

but it’s the way your arms involuntarily wrap around yoongi’s shoulders, kissing him back without even a word of command - that’s what makes you want to hurl your insides out.

it’s the moan that slips past your lips that makes you push him away. eyes wide. you look at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“i-i’ll see you tomorrow.” it’s almost as if waiting for his reaction has become an instinct to you too fast and too soon.

“yeah, see you tomorrow,” when yoongi reaches out his hand and wipes away the corner of your mouth that might’ve been lipstick that got smudged from the kiss, you grope for the door handle.

and you slip out of the car and walk to the entrance of your apartment building, not looking up even when you hear the amicable “good evening, miss ___, working late, are we?” from the security.

you keep walking until you’re inside the elevator.

and only then do you let out a breath you didn’t know you’ve been holding. then the sob wrecks through your cold body.

funny how being trapped inside a metal box gives you more security than any human could provide.

[thelittlesttimelord]

The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 43

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 43 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 43/? SUMMARY: Elise Smith is now a teenaged Timelord. In addition to losing the Ponds, the fields of Trenzalore are calling. But first they have to figure out exactly who Clara Oswald is.

[A/N - Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Everything you know will change.]

The Doctor and Elise went through the portal and hit the ground. They stood up and Elise saw the man who had saved her life.

The Doctor’s tenth incarnation looked at them.

She hadn’t known him long, but it still made her hearts ache. Those brown eyes had comforted her when she was scared. She remembered as he held her close to him as the Timelords were sucked back into the Time War.

Ten was shocked. He ran to her and hugged her. “It’s you! I thought I’d never see you again! I mean, you told me we’d meet again but I didn’t think it’d be like this.”

Elise looked at her father and then back at the man hugging her. “Um, sorry?”

Ten’s smile fell as he pulled back from her. “Oh…it’s not happened for you yet, has it?”

Elise furrowed her brows. “What are you talking about?”

“Spoilers.”

“Ah, so you’ve met River I take it?”

Ten just nodded.

“Who is this man?” Elizabeth I asked.

Ten finally turned to him.

“Oh, that is skinny. That is proper skinny. I've never seen it from the outside. It's like a special effect. Oi!” the Doctor said. He knocked the fez off Ten’s head. “Ha! Matchstick man.”

“You're not…”

They both pulled out their sonic screwdrivers.

Ten noticed his future incarnation’s was bigger. “Compensating?”

“For what?”

“Regeneration. It's a lottery.”

“Oh, he's cool. Isn't he cool? I'm the Doctor and I'm all cool. Oops, I'm wearing sandshoes.”

“What are you doing here? I'm busy.”

“Oh, busy. I see. Is that what we're calling it, eh? Eh?” The Doctor picked up the fez and put it back on his head, turning to the two Elizabeth’s. “Hello, ladies.”

“Don't start.”

“Listen, what you get up to in the privacy of your own regeneration is your business.”

“One of them is a Zygon.” The Doctor crinkled his nose and made a noise of disgust. “I'm not judging you.”

The portal reappeared.

Both Doctor’s put on their glasses and then looked at each other. “Oh, lovely,” they said in unison.

“Your Majesties. Probably a good time to run,” the Doctor told them.

“But what about the creature?” they asked.

“Elizabeth, whichever one of you is the real one, turn and run in the opposite direction to the other one,” Ten said.

“Of course, my love.”

One of them stepped forward. “Stay alive, my love. I am not done with you yet.” She kissed him and then ran off.

“Thanks. Lovely.”

The other one stepped forward. “I understand. Live for me, my darling. We shall be together again.” She kissed him and then ran off in the other direction.

“Well, won't that be nice?”

“You just cannot help yourself, can you?” Elise asked.

“As I remember, you are quite a flirt as well.”

Elise blushed.

“One of those was a Zygon,” the Doctor reminded his past incarnation.

“Yeah.”

“Big red rubbery thing covered in suckers.”

“Yeah.”

“Venom sacs in the tongue.”

“Yeah, I'm getting the point, thank you.”

“Nice.”

“Doctor, is that you?” Clara asked.

“Ah, hello, Clara. Can you hear me?”

Ten turned to Elise. “Ah, so that’s Clara.”

Elise gave him a confused look.

“Yeah, it's me. We can hear you. Where are you?” Clara asked.

The Doctor turned to his previous incarnation. “Where are we?”

“England, 1562,” Ten answered.

“Who are you talking to?” Clara asked.

“Myself,” they said.

“Can you come back through?” Kate asked.

“Physical passage may not be possible in both directions. Its… Ah!” He took off the fez. “Hang on. Fez incoming!” He tossed it into the portal.

“Nothing here,” Clara told them.

“So where did it go?” Ten asked.

“Who's he talking to?”

“He said himself,” Kate said, “Keep him talking.”

Ten turned to his future incarnation. “Okay, you used to be me, you've done all this before. What happens next?”

“I don't remember.”

“How can you forget this?”

“Hey, hang on. It's not my fault. You're obviously not paying enough attention. Reverse the polarity!”

They both pointed their screwdrivers at the portal.

“It's not working.”

Elise sighed. “Because you’re both reversing the polarity.”

“…I knew that.”

“There's two of us. I'm reversing it, you're reversing it back again. We're confusing the polarity.”

An older man dropped through the portal. “Anyone lose a fez?”

“You. How can you be here? More to the point, why are you here?” Ten asked the man.

Elise had no idea who he was. She dropped her mental barriers. Who is he?

It’s him. The one who pressed the button. The one who killed them all.

Elise’s eyes went wide. She’d heard both their voices in her head. This was getting to be weird.

“Good afternoon. I'm looking for the Doctor.”

“Well, you've certainly come to the right place.”

“Good. Right. Well, who are you boys? Oh, of course. Are you his companions?”

“His companions?” the Doctor asked, almost like he was horrified by the idea.

“They get younger all the time. Well, if you could point me in the general direction of the Doctor?”

They both pulled out their sonic screwdrivers.

“Really?” the man asked.

“Yeah,” the Doctor said.

“Really,” Ten said.

“You’re me?” the man asked, “Both of you?”

“Yep,” Ten said, popping the ‘p’.

“Even that one?”

Elise laughed at the offended look on her father’s face.

Ten smiled. He’d missed that laugh.

“Yes!”

“And what about you, my dear?”

“She’s our daughter,” her father and Ten said in unison.

“You're my future selves?” the man asked.

“Yes!” both Doctor’s answered.

“Am I having a midlife crisis?” The older Doctor stepped towards them and they backed up, pointing their screwdrivers at him. “Why are you pointing your screwdrivers like that? They're scientific instruments, not water pistols. Look like you've seen a ghost.”

“Still, loving the posh gravelly thing. It's very convincing,” Ten said.

“Brave words, Dick van Dyke,” the Doctor quipped.

A group of soldier ran towards them.

The Doctor and Ten pushed Elise behind them, hiding her.

“Encircle them! Which of you is the Doctor? The Queen of England is bewitched. I would have the Doctor's head,” the leader said.

“Well, this has all the makings of your lucky day,” the older Doctor said.

“I think there's three of them now,” they heard Clara whisper.

“There's a precedent for that,” Kate told her.

“What is that?” the leader asked, looking at the portal.

The Doctor and Ten pointed their screwdrivers at him.

“Oh, the pointing again. They're screwdrivers! What are you going to do, assemble a cabinet at them?” the older Doctor asked.

Elise snorted in amusement. She could get to like this older incarnation of her father.

“That thing, what witchcraft is it?”

“Ah, yes. Now that you mention it, that is witchcraft. Yes, yes, yes. Witchy witchcraft. Hello? Hello in there. Excuse me. Hello!” the Doctor called, “Am I talking to the wicked witch of the well?”

“He means you,” Kate told Clara.

“Why am I the witch?” Clara asked.

“Clara?” the Doctor asked.

“Hello?”

“Clara, hi, hello. Hello. Would you mind telling these prattling mortals to get themselves begone?”

“What he said.”

“Yes, tiny bit more color.”

“Right. Prattling mortals, off you pop, or I'll turn you all into frogs.”

“Ooo, frogs. Nice. You heard her.”

“Doctor, what's going on?”

“It's a timey-wimey thing.”

“Timey what? Timey-wimey?” the older Doctor asked.

“I've no idea where he picks that stuff up,” Ten told him.

One of the Elizabath’s walked up and the soldiers fell to their knees.

“The Queen. The Queen.”

Elizabeth turned to the Doctor, Ten, Elise, and the older Doctor. “You don't seem to be kneeling. How tremendously brave of you.”

“Which one are you? What happened to the other one?” Ten asked.

“Indisposed. Long live the Queen.”

“Long live the Queen,” the soldiers echoed.

“Arrest these men and this woman. Take them to the Tower.”

“That is not the Queen of England, that's an alien duplicate,” Ten insisted.

“And you can take it from him, cos he's really checked,” the Doctor said.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Venom sacs in the tongue.”

“Seriously, stop it.”

“Both of you stop it!” Elise snapped, hitting both of them on the arm, “Honestly, you two are worse than children!” Elise was starting to get extremely annoyed with her father and his tenth regeneration.

“You seem to be the voice of reason, my dear,” the older Doctor said.

“Well I keep him from getting killed on a daily basis, so…”

“Hang on. The Tower. Did you say the Tower?” the Doctor asked, “Ah, yes, brilliant. Love the Tower. Breakfast at eight, please. Will there be Wi-Fi?”

“Are you capable of speaking without flapping your hands about?” the older Doctor asked him.

“Yes. No. I demand to be incarcerated in the Tower immediately with my co-conspirators Sandshoes, Ellie, and Granddad.”

“Granddad?” the older Doctor asked.

“They're not sandshoes!” Ten argued.

“Yes, they are.”

“Silence. The Tower is not to be taken lightly. Very few emerge again,” Elizabeth said.

They loaded the group into a wagon and they set off for the Tower.

“Please tell me you have a plan,” Elise hissed to her father.

“Meh, it’s more like a thing.”

Elise rolled her eyes. “Oh who am I kidding? When have we ever had a plan?”

Ten smiled. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing,” he told her.

[hermannsthumb]

If your'e still taking prompts the one from the halloween list: "we’re secret friends with benefits and you accidentally wore my shirt to to the party so you’re pretending you came as me and it turns out your impression of me is on point and you know me better than you know myself are you sure you’re not in love with me??" seems like such a good newmann one. love your writing :)

from list of halloween prompts here

this one is literally so fucking good for them. god. GOD. theres like the tiniest bit alluded to not sfw in the beginning (after the making out) but after that its fair game

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

“Ngh,” Newt says. “Keep doing that.”

“Hmm?” Hermann says. He drags his mouth up from Newt’s collarbone, eyes dark, pupils wide, mouth curled into a lazy smile. Almost coquettish.

Newt blinks down at him blearily. And with a little poorly-concealed irritation. “I said keep doing that,” he says. “Not stop doing that.” He gives Hermann’s head a nudge. A tiny gentle one. He’s eager, he can’t help it; Hermann always gets him all eager and hot and bothered. He doesn’t think he’ll mind. “C’mon, baby, c’mon--”

It’s a mistake. Hermann minds: his demeanor changes in an instant, like Newt flipped a light switch that was clearly labeled with a do not touch! in masking tape and Sharpie. (Shit, Newt thinks.) “Don’t,” Hermann snaps, and swats at Newt. “You know I can’t stand it when you pull--”

“I’m not pulling your hair!” Newt says. He drops his hand away and holds it high above his own head just to make his point. “I swear. I was just trying--”

Hermann rolls off of him and onto his back, huffing, arms folding across his bare chest. Lacking any better ideas, Newt follows him. “Aw, Hermann,” he says, “don’t be like that.” He presses kisses to Hermann’s jaw, his chin, the corner of his mouth. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to--”

“Unhand me at once,” Hermann mumbles. Newt kisses his cheeks, his mouth. Hermann kisses back. His hand slides up to cup the back of Newt’s neck. “Wretched little man,” he continues to mumble. “Ah.”

“There we go, Hermann,” Newt says, grinning against his lips, and adds, sarcastically (because it always makes Hermann laugh), with a little nip of teeth, “There’s my Hermy-wermy.”

Hermann makes a face. “You know I can’t stand that either.”

“Really?” Newt murmurs. He tiptoes his hand down Hermann’s chest, down to the waistband of his ugly slacks, the open zipper; his grin spreads wider. “Because I think,” he starts to tug Hermann’s slacks down, “your hermy-wermy would say otherw--”

There’s a knock at the door.

Mood ruined, and all of Newt’s hard work getting Hermann game to go again ruined, too, Newt slides his hand back to safe territory and lets out a colorful stream of profanity. Hermann wrinkles his nose beneath him. Whatever, he curses just as much as Newt. “Fuck,” Newt finishes. “Who the hell is that?”

Hermann pushes him off and sits up with a grunt. “We’ve probably got a damned laboratory meeting we forgot about,” he says, “because someone couldn’t keep it in his Hot Topic skinny jeans long enough to wait until we clocked out for the night.”

“They’re not from Hot Topic,” Newt says. He pauses. “How do you even know what Hot Topic is, anyway?”

“I’ve seen the label on them,” Hermann says. There’s another knock. Hermann sighs, and makes to slip out of bed. “If you won’t get it, Newton, I will.”

Newt drags him back down quickly. “What are you doing?” he hisses. “Get back here! You are not answering my door looking like--” He plucks at the elastic of Hermann’s tighty-whiteys peeking out, pokes at the hickey purpling on his neck. “--this. Or at all, actually, how suspicious would that look? This is my bedroom.”

“We’re colleagues,” Hermann says with a sniff. “It’s perfectly natural for us to--er--consort. Outside of work. For all they know we’re talking about work.”

“In our underwear?” Newt says, and points out, “It’s not really natural for colleagues to screw each other as much as we do.”

Hermann flushes. “No one would be able to tell--”

To be completely honest, Newt really, really doesn’t care whether or not people know he and Hermann are--uh--rivals with benefits, but Hermann is always so weird about privacy, and Newt supposes it’s a little bit of a cliche to sleep with a co-worker, so he takes one for the team. “Jesus, Hermann, I’ll get the door,” he says. He swings his legs to the floor and does his jeans back up, then grabs the first shirt he can find and pulls that on too. “Just sit there and look pretty.”

Newt learns two things in the course of squeezing his head out the door and talking to a mildly intoxicated LOCCENT worker: one, that the guy was sent by Tendo to remind them about the super awesome spectacular Halloween party going on down the hallway right his second, and two, that Newt and Hermann were invited to this Halloween party, apparently agreed enthusiastically to coming to it a week ago, and if Newt doesn’t find Hermann and show up with him in ten minutes, Tendo is totally never speaking to them or inviting them to another awesome party ever again. Newt learns a third thing once he and Hermann toss on the rest of their clothing, smooth out their hair a little, and hurry down the hallway to where the party is being held within those allotted ten minutes: he’s accidentally put on Hermann’s shirt. A fourth: Hermann’s accidentally put on his.

Before Hermann can waltz in through the door and raise questions (because his buttons are straining obviously under his low-cut button-up sweatervest, kaiju blood stains a spot just under the lapel, and Newt’s swimming in Hermann’s sleeves and has got a fucking pocket protector in), Newt drags him off to the side and shoves him against a deserted wall to explain their predicament.

“We have to change,” Hermann declares immediately. “We can’t be seen--”

“No, look,” Newt says. He’s quickly formulating a plan. They won’t be able to swap pants, obviously, but-- “Take off your blazer and sweater.”

Hermann frowns. He tucks his blazer tighter around himself. “No,” he says. 

“Take them off, jackass!” Newt orders, ripping his own tie off from around his head and starting to kick off his boots. “And your shoes. Look, it’s a Halloween party, right? People dress up for Halloween parties. Let’s just say we’re going as each other, everyone will get a huge kick out of it, no one finds out we’re, you know.” He adjusts his left index finger and thumb into a small circle, and pokes his right index finger through it a few times with bonus sound effects. “Rendezvousing. Platonically. Your public image is saved.” 

“No,” Hermann repeats, though he flushes. “I am not wearing your disgusting boots.”

Patience running very, very thin, Newt corners him closer against the wall. Not very successfully: Hermann does, after all, have several inches on him. Newt has to glare up at him. “So help me God, Hermann,” he says through gritted teeth, “if you don’t give me your blazer right now, you can find some other horny bozo to--”

“Fine!” Hermann says quickly. He yanks the skinny tie from Newt’s hands. “If you spill anything on--”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

After a hurried exchange of accessories which leaves Newt looking like an exceptionally short and baggy Hermann, and Hermann like Newt if he wore contacts and enjoyed attacking his hair with scissors, they waltz into the party together. Newt’s actually pretty pleased with how their costumes turned out, all things considered--Hermann even consented to having Newt draw shitty approximations of his tattoos on Hermann’s arms with a marker they found in Hermann’s pocket.

Everyone at the party gets a total kick out of it, too, which is the best part--especially when Newt decides to toss in some quality Hermann Impressions. 

“Newton,” he grumbles, poshly, hands on his hips, "quiet down right this instant.” That gets a few laughs. “You know I can’t stand it when you have fun.”

More laughs; Hermann, nursing a drink, looks only the vaguest bit amused. “Very funny,” he says. “My turn, now.” He shrinks in on himself in a way that makes him look just a bit shorter, and clears his throat: the voice that comes out next is so high-pitched, so scratchy, so fast, so--uncomfortably Newt that Newt nearly drops his own drink in shock. Especially once Hermann tosses in equally uncomfortably Newt hand gestures. “I’m going to do something ill-advised and dangerous to prove I’m right and give Hermann a stroke,” he declares. “Don’t you just love kaiju? They’re so cool.”

“I’ve never said I loved kaiju,” Newt says, but he’s grinning. 

“They’re so cool,” Hermann repeats. “Do you like my tattoos? You know I have a Doctor Who one on my--?”

“Dude!” Newt hisses. He was eighteen, okay? Anyway, that’s not the kind of private, personal information that Hermann should be sharing if he wants to even remotely pretend they don’t get up to hijinks in the lab after hours. 

“Dude!” Hermann echoes, perfectly.

The little crowd of their co-workers laugh. (Louder laughs than any of Newt’s impressions got.) Newt laughs, too, despite his embarrassment. And despite something beyond embarrassment, something he can’t quite put his finger on--it’s making his heart race, his palms sweat. Hermann sure must, well, know him to get him down like that, obvious comical exaggeration aside. (Or maybe it’s just because Newt talks a lot.)

“Ha, ha,” Newt says. “Okay, you win.”

“Thanks, dude,” Hermann squeaks in his Newt-voice. He winks. 

Newt corners him at the snack table crammed into the far back of the room later, while Hermann is--innocently--scooping some bat-shaped pretzels onto a plate with a large plastic spoon. Newt makes his presence known by stealing a handful and swallowing down half of them. “Gotta say, dude,” he teases, “I’m a good look on you.”

“Of course you’d think that, you narcissist,” Hermann says, but he’s smiling. He swipes a few pretzels back. “Get your own. The bowl is right there.”

Newt steals another from Hermann’s plate. “It’s a crying shame you didn’t borrow my jeans, too,” he says. “I bet you could rock ‘em.”

“Mm, I highly doubt that.”

“You absolutely could,” Newt says. He glances around to make sure no one’s looking, and quickly darts his hand out to pinch Hermann’s ass. Hermann drops the spoon back into the pretzel bowl in surprise. “Though I guess there’s not much to fill them out--”

“You’re a wretched little man,” Hermann says, for the second time that day. The guy really needs some new insults.

“Your voice was really fucking good, by the way,” Newt says, casually, as they lurk in a different corner (lit up with a blacklight) a few minutes later. He’s finally gotten his own plate of food, though he keeps stealing from Hermann’s anyway. “Your Newt voice, I mean. And the--” He waves his hands around. “Do you practice it a lot?”

This pulls a snort from Hermann. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“How’s it so good, then?” Newt pushes, and Hermann shifts, clearly uncomfortable.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says. “I suppose I just--pay attention to you.”

Newt cracks a grin, and bumps his elbow against Hermann’s side. “I would kinda hope so.”

“Not like--” Hermann sighs; Newt shuts up fast. (Hermann’s moments of emotional candidness are very, very rare: the most he’s ever done after a fun romp in the sack, beyond leaving immediately, is pat Newt’s hand and say thank you, Newton.) “What I mean to say is that I am...fond of you. Fonder than I am of anyone else. And I watch you, occasionally, because I am fond of you, and notice small things about you--your speech patterns, how you carry yourself...”

That’s, well--it’s certainly candid, and unexpected, and good, of course, to know that Hermann like-likes him, but it’s also a little-- “That’s kinda creepy, Hermann,” Newt says. “You watch me?”

“That’s not--” Hermann stammers, and it turns into a quiet groan. “Oh, I’ve fouled this up. Newton--”

Newt saves him by stretching up on his tiptoes and planting a firm kiss on his mouth. Completely chaste. Devoid of any dirty intentions, like all of their previous kisses have been, like what they’re used to. Just a simple little kiss. It takes Hermann aback: Newt can feel him freeze up before he returns it tentatively.

It’s over in seconds. Newt pulls back and pats Hermann’s cheek. “I know what you mean,” he says. “I feel exactly the same way.” Then his grin returns. “I mean, I don’t watch you like a creep or anything--”

“Shut up,” Hermann says, pink-faced and very pleased.

[savvyqueen18]

SilveeLocke | Let's Go Eevee ZombieLocke | Pt.11

I was having a hard time with this chapter, so if it is a little lackluster than some of the previous ones, that’s the most likely reason.

And OwO who's this?

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Part 11: Electric Tensions

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>Next Part

>Previous Part

>Part 1

>Meet Silviana

>Meet Xander

Long acrylic nails on one hand tapped the base of the wine glass. They lifted the glass and brought it to burgundy colored lips, gaining a stain on the glass in the same color. The other hand shifted long black hair as the head tilted to one side. Eyes like the sound of a rattlesnake shaking its tail watched the lower deck of the cruise ship. The dark lips pursing and clicking after a moment.

“Pokemon trainers,” the woman’s voice scoffed. She continued to watch the two young trainers on the lower deck battle their pokémon.

The boy’s Pikachu let off multiple electric shocks while the girl’s little Eevee swiftly dodged them. It took one of the shocks head on but seemed to absorb the electrical energy.

Her eyes narrowed, “Very interesting.” She put her glass to her lips again and took another sip, one eyebrow raising high. Without turning she addressed the blue haired man behind her, “Archer. Be sure to keep an eye on these two. I don’t want any trouble making kids to interrupt my work.” She ordered.

“Yes ma’am.” He clicked away on a tablet.

“Oh, and do send a few of the grunts to put them in their place. Or rather… Test them. I need to know if they pose a threat with our plans for Silph Co.” She took another sip of her wine, “Especially the girl, I’ve gotten one too many reports coming in about a young girl messing with the grunts that are out in the field. They may have been lower class grunts, but I need them nonetheless. And they even interrupted my two Grands that were out in the field.”

The man, Archer, lowered his tablet a bit and pushed up his glasses to look at her, “Jesse and James ma’am? They were successful with their mission in the end.”

“But they shouldn’t have had trouble in the first place. They are my oldest and most experienced and I value the work they’ve done for me and this company. If they are reporting on the same person then we must keep a close eye and be rid of pests when necessary.”

“A-Are you sure Gi–”

“Did I stutter?” She swiftly interrupted him. Her head barely turned to glance with her eyes in his direction.

She wasn’t even looking at him and he felt a sweat droplet roll down the side of his head. He swallowed and gave a few small nods, “Yes ma’am.” He quickly turned to walk off.

“Oh and Archer,” She continued to watch the battle below her.

Archer stopped, turned to face her,  and pushed his glasses up once again. He didn’t utter a word.

“I’ve told you about questioning my authority. If you are finding it difficult to remain loyal I will see to it that you are removed permanently from your position and promptly replaced. Are we clear?”

He swallowed again, “Of course ma’am.”

She gave one small wave of her hand and he quickly exited the deck. She took another sip of her wine and gave a small scoff at the trainers below her, “I hope your journeys have been delightful thus far. Because they can only go downhill from here.”

She smiled a wicked smile.

◇◇◇

Xander walked down the docks rubbing the back of his neck and chuckling, “I just can’t seem to get Spark to beat Junipur can I.” he held the poor Pikachu in his other hand.

Silviana walked, holding a smug looking Junipur in her arms, and replied, “She’s just too good, I don’t know what to say. And can you believe that someone had a cute little outfit small enough to fit Junipur? And they just gave it to me.”

Xander smiled, “Well good luck getting it on her, she’s probably going to scratch you a few times because of it,” his watch beeped a few times and he gave an exasperated sigh, “I have to head back home for a short while, Mom is missing me, ha ha.”

Silviana covered her mouth as she chuckled, “Well that gives me some time to catch up to you. And let me know where you are heading after so we can travel together. I have to go to Surge’s gym now. And thanks for the tip about the switches in the,” she shuddered, “garbage cans.” She made a grossed out face and stuck out her tongue.

Xander and Silviana jumped at the sound of the cruise ship leaving the docks. They both gave gasps of awe at its majesty. Junipur’s ears were up and alert at the boat. She gave a long cry as if sending the passengers off with safe travels.

Silviana smiled as she held Junipur in her arms.

After the two saw the boat off with well wishes of their own, they parted their separate directions.

Silviana walked up to the Vermilion City Gym with Junipur. Determined faces on both of them. Walking through the door Silviana felt her hair raise. She looked at Junipur and saw little tiny static sparks running through her fluffed up fur. Silviana giggled to herself but she tried to remain focused.

The gym was just as large as the other two. There were seats at the top for people to view the battles as they occurred, but what immediately caught her eye was the massive electrical gate in the middle of the battlefield.

“Greetings Private!” A loud voice echoed through the large room. A few people clapped and hollered at the voice.

“Um, hi?” Silviana looked to the person that was on the far side of the arena. He was a large, bulky man with a terribly oversized upper torso compared to his lower legs.

“You may address me as Lieutenant Surge and for this one-on-one dog fight you will need to know these rules of engagement…”

Everything that the man was saying was going in one ear and out the other as he spit military jargon at Silviana. Silviana just shook her head as she casually proceeded to the bins with the buttons Xander had told her about.

Ew this is disgusting, who makes this part of a gym challenge?

She flicked the final switch and the electricity quickly flicked out.

Lt. Surge had a somewhat shocked face, “That was in record breaking time private!” He threw out a pokéball, “Now for your real test!” A Magnemite popped out of the ball and floated in the arena.

“Alright,” Slviana breathed, “let’s do this,” she threw out Josee’s pokéball and the little fox-like pokémon appeared on the battlefield.

“Josee give’em all you got!” Silviana cheered on her pokémon.

Josee looked at Surge’s Magnemite and expelled fire. The fire shot out strong about halfway then slowly flickered out until a few embers hit the magnetic pokémon. The Magnemite sparked, mildly annoyed, it threw it’s static electricity at Josee and the poor pokémon felt its body paralyze.

“Oh man, not good,” Silviana quickly withdrew Josee, “Junipur, finish this up!”

Silviana watched Junipur bound into the battle arena. Junipur expertly dodged most of the Magnemite’s attacks and swiftly made her way toward the electric pokémon.

“Take it down Junipur!” Silviana eagerly cheered.

Junipur leapt into the air and the Magnemite barely dodged out of the way, it managed to let off sparks on Junipur as it did. Junipur landed stiffly, Silviana could see small sparks coming off of the Eevee.

Oh c’mon! Gotta shake off the static!

“Junipur again! You can do it!” Junipur seemed to be stuck in place and Silviana held her breath.

The Magnemite floated in a circle around Junipur, slowly getting closer. Junipur flicked her ears back and her tail twitched. As soon as the Magnemite was upon her, Junipur turned and leapt upon the electric pokémon. It tried to float backwards, but Junipur had it pinned to the ground quicker than the static that coursed through her fur.

“Excellent work private!” Lt. Surge withdrew the Magnemite and sent out his Raichu.

Junipur turned with a smug look on it’s face to the Raichu. She took one step and tensed up again as the static took hold of her muscles.

“Shoot. Junipur come here!” Junipur pinned her ears back and faced off against the Raichu.

She didn’t look back when the young girl called. She seemed to be completely focused on the electric pokémon in front of her.

She called again, “Junipur come here! You need to come to me or I’m going to make you go back in your pokéball!” Silviana pulled out Caliouse’s pokéball along with a paralyze heal.

That’s so odd… The only time she’s acted this aggressive was at Spark...

Junipur took one step back, but couldn’t move anymore because of the paralysis. The Raichu’s cheeks sparked and it’s tail lashed from side to side as it waited for Surge’s command. Junipur’s ears flicked back and forth between Silviana and the opposing pokémon. Stiffly she turned and slowly made her way back to Silviana.

Silviana threw Caliouse’s pokéball and the red raptor pokémon popped out. He looked back at Silviana with the same look she saw on the Cruise ship.

“Please Caliouse! You can do this! Don’t be afraid.”

Caliouse didn’t seem to be encouraged by Silviana’s words. He gave a small sigh and looked at the Raichu, the other pokémon began to bounce forward. Caliouse backed up with each advance. He worriedly looked back at Silviana.

Silviana bit her lip thinking, “Please! Fight for yourself! You’re not weak, I know you’re not!”

The Raichu burst forward in a blur, Caliouse panicked and looked around trying to find it before the pokémon appeared next to him and tackled Caliouse to the ground. Caliouse looked up from where he was tackled and was shocked by the Raichu’s thunder attack.

Silviana’s eyes grew wide. She yelled to Caliouse, “And even if you were the weakest I would still believe in you!”

Caliouse got up from the ground, supporting himself with all four claws. He looked to the Raichu with a bit more fire in his eyes. He started to circle the arena, keeping his sharp gaze on the large thunder mouse.

Yes! That’s it!

“Dragon Rage!” Silviana commanded.

Caliouse dropped his head and let off a menacing screech as he charged at the Raichu. The Raichu disappeared in a blur again and Caliouse skidded to a stop. He turned quickly enough to catch the Raichu as it tackled him to the floor once more. Using his powerful back legs, he flung the Raichu toward the wall of the battle arena. It hit the wall and dropped to the floor, it let out a groan but didn’t get up again.

Silviana jumped up and down gleefully. Caliouse slowly got up from the floor and examined himself, with a relieved sigh he walked back over to Silviana. The girl looked curiously at the red pokémon. He had worried eyes and when she bent slightly to pat him, he butted his head against her leg and sat with a flop of his tail.

Silviana was about to comfort her obviously distressed pokémon when loud boot steps and a familiar voice greeted her.

“Excellent work private! You have done a great service with this battle! It takes a strong person to properly influence and inspire their subordinates, you are doing excellent work private.” He handed her the badge for his gym along with a slip of paper.

“What’s this?” Silviana held up the paper.

“It’s my autograph of course! Anyone who manages to beat me gets my autograph!” He let out bellowing laughter.

Silviana rolled her eyes and pulled up one of her eyebrows, “Well thank you, but now we have to actually get going,” she put the paper in her bag and stuck the Thunder Badge on the side along with her other pins, “Lot’s of pokémon to catch for the professor and very little time in the days to catch them.”

She picked up Caliouse who had sunk to her feet and propped his head on her shoulders. From head to tail tip, he was almost as long as she was tall, but his lithe shape was light enough to carry easily. She proceeded out of the gym. Junipur now having been healed of her paralysis, walked alongside Silviana’s feet.

She thought about how difficult that battle was, not just for her, but for Caliouse and Josee specifically. She didn’t understand why Josee’s attacks were so weak. Not to mention what happened with Caliouse and why he’s pouting now.

“Hey Silviana.”

Silviana perked up and looked around to see who called her name. Misty was walking up from behind her with a kind smile on her face.

“Did you just finish your battle with Surge? How was it?”

Silviana gave a small pout and looked at Caliouse, “I got the badge, but there were a few hiccups. We’re going to head to Diglett tunnel now.”

“Oh good! Do you need any help getting there? I know I got lost when I was on my journey.” She laughed at herself.

“No, I’m perfectly capable of doing this all on my own. I don’t need any adults’ help, especially not from a Gym Leader from the League.” Silviana furrowed her brows and looked away.

“Wow. Pretty bold of you to talk that way.”

“I’ve been told it’s bluntness, but curt modesty is something that’s more appropriate a description. I don’t need help from anyone. Especially not anyone from the League. My mother didn’t so I don’t–”

“Hey, wait, what’s your last name?” Misty squinted her eyes.

“R- Ruiz.” Silviana knew exactly where this was going and was taking a tentative step back.

Misty snapped her fingers, “That’s right isn’t your fa–”

“Well it was nice to see you again!”

Silviana turned and said this loud enough to cut Misty off, she quickly walked down the main road of the city. Misty didn’t seem to pursue her, but Silviana didn’t stop until they were out of the city and on Route 11.

Somewhat out of breath, Silviana set Caliouse down before they got into the long grass. The Charmander looked up to her with concern. He looked down at Junipur, the poor Eevee was also out of breath.

Silviana got off the main path and sat down in the grass. She leaned against her bag and waited to catch her breath. Her calves were hurting and her arms probably burned just as much from carrying Caliouse such a long distance. She leaned against her backpack, it propped her up while Caliouse came to rest his chin on Silviana’s thigh and Junipur curled up on the opposite side. Silviana reached behind her and pulled out a water bottle. She took a big drink for herself and gave some to Junipur. Caliouse refused the drink, but continued to look at her with concern.

Silviana furled her eyebrows and put a hand on Caliouse’s head. Caliouse closed his eyes and relished in her touch.

“I just want to know what’s wrong with you. I don’t know if I’ll be able to help you if I can’t figure out what’s wrong.” She sighed.

“Well if you want to know what’s wrong why don’t you just ask him.” A mysterious voice spoke up.

[littlebitoffanfic]

Work Place Romance

Fandom: Texas Chainsaw Massacre Characters: Thomas, Luda, others mentioned Relationship: Thomas/reader Request (ish): So I originally started this as a request for a Thomas proposing request and this was the backstory. But I fell in love with the idea and decided to write it as a stand alone. Enjoy. You had heard of the Hewitt’s growing up, but never saw any of them other than Luda Mae, who had given you free lollypops when you came into the small shop she ran when you were a child. But her son, Thomas, was all but a mystery to you. He didn’t go to school like the rest of the children from the town and surrounding areas. He didn’t play out at the parks or in the fields. Occasionally, you would see him at the river, but never playing. He would normally be on the other side of the water, and you would wave happily to him. He’d return with a shy wave then leave to hurry home. But when he got the job at the meat factory, that was when you started to grow close to him. You were in HR, administration and payroll. If there was any office work, it got dumped on your desk with a snide comment to hurry up. When it came time for Thomas to join, he had to come see you so you could speak him through his contract, his hours, wage, holidays and any sickness leave. This hulking great man sat and listened closely to everything you had to say and you were surprised. Most men just rolled their eyes and snapped at you to hurry up, but Thomas listened and responded with nods when appropriate. You were pretty sure it was because you didn’t speak to him like he was dumb or an animal. You didn’t flinch or turn away from him in disgust or even fear. He started to gravitate towards you, making a point to walk by your office every day before he started and when he finished. 9 times out of 10, you would see him and wave good morning or good night to him. Once, he had fallen. It was another employees fault after they didn’t clean up some cattle blood on the floor and Thomas had been carrying some boxes. He slipped, fell, and had to go home. You had been on holiday for a few days, so when you popped into the little shop Luda owned and heard her and Charlie fretting about what they would do without the income for a few weeks, you stormed back to your office. After a 3 hours standoff with the owner and several employee handbooks and contracts being thrown about, he eventually gave you the okay to pay Thomas a sickness wage, plus compensation for his fall. --------flash back ------------ You wrote the cheque and got in your car. Driving up to the house, you saw a man outside leaning over a open car bonnet. “Excuse me? Is Thomas about?” You called, startling him as he hadn’t heard your car approaching over a radio. “Yeah, whos asking?” The man, you were sure his name was Monty, snapped at you. “My names [y/n], im from the factory.” You tell him and immediately see him relax a little. “Heard about you. Wait a minute.” He turned to the house. “LUDA!” You jumped a little as he called out for Luda but she came out fairly quickly, seeming annoyed to be summoned in such a way but immediately smiling when she saw you. “This young lady’s from the factory. Wants to see Thomas.” Monty filled her in. “Of course, hes just in here.” Luda retreats back inside, beckoning you to follow, which you did. Thomas was in the living room, sitting on the couch. You saw him try to move a little but wince in pain. Your heart broke for him. “Thomas, you got a visitor.” Luda called sweetly to her son who she was obviously dotting on. Thomas turned to see you and immediately went to stand, but both you and Luda stopped him by holding out your hands. “No, its fine.” You smiled, touched that he felt the need to stand up when you entered. You walked around to sit in one of the chairs while Luda leaned on the back of the couch.”Im sorry I didn’t come sooner. Im on holiday for another few days and I try to keep my distance from the factory when I can.” Your comment earned a small chuckle form Luda who shook her head. “Its fine, love. But how did you find out?” She asks and Thomas cocked his head to the side, obviously thinking the same thing. You had ran out of the gas station before her and Charlie had realised. “I overheard you in your shop.” You tell her and you see her face drop. Like many around here, money issues was an embarrassing subject and rarely spoke about outside of family. “I went back to the factory and watched the CCTV footage. There was blood on the floor, it should have been cleaned up or a sign put out. So that means it’s the company’s negligence. I had a little… talk with the owner, and hes agreed to give you sick pay along with some compensation for your injury’s.” You leaned forward and held out the envelope which contained the cheque and a small letter listing what was sick pay and what was compensation. Luda leaned forward and looked over Thomas’ shoulder, her mouth dropping open when she saw the figure. “That’s only up until the end of next month. If you need more time, come and see me. I can probably push for 6 months at the most. Im sorry you had to wait so long.” You apologies sincerely. If you had been there, you would have made sure Thomas knew what he was entitled to before he left so his family didn’t have to fret. You were angry that the owner thought he could just take advantaged of his employees this way. “Sweetie, you don’t need to apologies for anything. Thank you.” She quickly walked around the couch and wraps her arms around you. Even though you were still sitting, you couldn’t help but smile and return her hug. When she pulled back, she was smiling. “Will you stay for dinner? Please?” “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude. I know I came a bit unexpectedly.” You wanted to accept her invite but didn’t want to barge in on the family who were obviously so close. “Of course you can stay. We’ll set a place for you.” She smiles widely and hurried off to the kitchen to prepare dinner. “How are you feeling?” you asked Thomas, moving off the single seater to the sofa so you could sit beside him. He shrugged, moving his hand to his shoulder. You could see he was wearing a shirt, but the buttons weren’t fully done up. “Are you bruised?” you asked, and he nods and leans forward. He undoes 2 more buttons of his shirt and pulled it to the side so you could see. you gasp a little as you see the bruised flesh. When he had slipped, he had fallen to the side and his shoulder had taken most of the impact. The back of his shoulder and down was the worse area. It was his left shoulder, so he had a little benefit that it wasn’t his dominate arm but that didn’t make it easier. “Im going out to the city tomorrow. I’ll try get something to ease it. Do you have any pain killers?” You asked him as he covered his shoulder again. Your eyes glanced to the side of his neck. You could just see a small area of flesh which was exposed, showing the damaged skin that covered his face. On his shoulder, you had seen he had small areas that were indented, showing that the skin condition must cover his whole body but his face was the worse. It wasn’t till you were looking at him that you realised he was wearing his normal mask over his lower face. You found it strange that he wore it at home, but didn’t question him on it. Thomas reached to the coffee table beside the couch and showed you a half empty packet of paracetamol. “I’ll try get you something stronger. Paracetamol barely helps with my headaches so I cant see it doing much for your shoulder.” You reach out, stroking his upper arm. You could feel the muscles under his shirt tense a little at your touch. Luda watched silently from the door to the kitchen. She had never seen Thomas so comfortable with a stranger. ‘mind you’, she thought to herself, ‘shes not a stranger. He sees her nearly every day’. ---------------time skip ----------------- You pulled up outside the house in the early evening. The sun was still out but it was warm with a cool breeze. “Back again?” Monty called with a small laughter as he sat on the porch in a rocking chair. “afraid so.” You smiled back and Monty nods to the door. “Just head in. call out though.” He tells you and you thank him before grabbing the bag from your passenger side. You climb the stairs to the front door and nod at Monty as you pass him. “Hello? Its [y/n].” You call as you enter the house. You had left late last night after a loely meal with the family. But you had been up early for the drive into the city. It was about an hour and a half but sometimes the traffic on the way in and out was bad so you wanted to give yourself enough time. Glancing into the living room, you saw Thomas wasn’t on the couch. “Thomas?” you called out, the big house suddenly feeling very empty. That was until Thomas came out from the kitchen. He looked a little surprised but happy to see you once again as you made your way towards him. “I got you some stuff to help with your back.” He guided you to the kitchen and you placed the bag on the table in the centre of the room. “So I got some co-codomol.” You pull out the tablets, placing them down. “I wasn’t sure what sort of cream to get you so I got a few things for you to try. If you just do a little patch test first to make sure you wont react.” You place 4 different pots of cream on the table. You continued to pull out a hot water bottle, and ice pack and a few bars of your favourite chocolate. He picks one bar up, holding it up to you with a quizzical look. “When Im hurt or sick, it’s the only thing that gets me through.” You smile, laughing a little. You then pull out a small piece of paper with your number on it. “If you need anything, just let me know.” He takes the paper from your hand like you were giving him some kind of diamond which would shatter if he mishandled it. He couldn’t help but smile and nod to her in thanks. “[y/n]!” Luda called as she came in the door, Monty having told her you were here. “Will you be staying for dinner?” You couldn’t help but smile a little as you looked at Thomas. He nodded, his eyes begging you to stay as Luda came in the kitchen. “Yes, but you have to come round tomorrow.” You smile and Luda immediately inspects everything you had bought back. --------time skip -------------- You drove along the road, your eyes searching for the big hulking figure. It was going to be his first day back, but Luda had called you and said he had started to walk to work this morning. He had been off for 3 months, giving him enough time to heal, but that didn’t mean he was completely better. You couldn’t have that. So you said you would see if you could pick him up. Sure enough, you saw him walking along side the road. He didn’t normally take the road into work, usually keeping to the safety of the forest route to hid from people. But there had been a small bit of rain and the woods were muddy today. Putting your indicator on, you pulled up beside him. He jumped a little but relaxed when he saw you. “I’ll give you a lift.” You call when he silently questions why you were here. Opening the door, Thomas got into your car without further question. Your ac was nice and cool and the soft music coming from your radio relaxed him as you drove. “I can give you a lift home tonight. The only thing is I finish an hour after you, so you don’t need to wait about if you don’t want to.” You look at Thomas who nods. You weren’t sure if he was accepting the lift or wanted to respond while he thought about it. You didn’t push him. -------------time skip ---------------------------- The factory was now empty, apart from you, one of the managers and Thomas. You always locked up at night, which gave you a little quieter to finish your work in after the rest went home. Thomas had came to your office when he finished and saw in the corner while you worked away, chatting occasionally to him. “Don’t be too late.” The manager called through the door. “Wouldn’t want your husband waiting up for you.” “Haha, very funny.” You rolled your eyes but chuckled. Unlike the others, he wasn’t too bad. You saw Thomas sit up straight, his eyes darting to your left hand. “Im not married, if that’s what your thinking.” You glance up at Thomas as you heard the front door close, leaving just you and him. Thomas’ eyes darted to the door. “it’s a joke. So none of the guys try to hit on me.” You tell him as you stand up to file some stuff away quickly. You had become a much more permanent place in Thomas; life than before. You came and saw him 3 or 4 times a week and he waited anxiously for you. When he and his family went to yours for dinner, he had been all to happy to sit on the couch with yu and watch TV after. You slotted so perfectly into his life, into his heart, than he struggled to believe you were real. you felt the same about the man sitting behind you. He was sweet, and rather gentle despite his abilities. Luda had admitted to you than she could see how her son felt for you. She had told you than he watched for you coming and seemed to sulk when you left. This was enough to give a little more courage than you would normally have. “I think I’ll need to find a husband soon. Some of them are catching on.” You giggled, calling over your shoulder. You heard the chair scrap as Thomas stood up. Glancing over your shoulder, he walked up to you and stood behind you. His eyes were curious, so you decide to try and answer what he might be thinking. ‘why?’. “All the woman in town are married now. Might just need to find myself a husband. Someone big and strong.” You turned to face Thomas, biting down on your lower lip. Thomas towered over you and yet, you didn’t feel intimated. You knew you held the upper hand here and he wouldn’t do anything that would upset you. but you knew he wouldn’t have the strength or confidence, even if you wanted him to. “Hows your shoulder.” You reach up, resting your hand on his left shoulder. You allowed your hand to move in soft, slow circles and Thomas shuddered at the touch. You stepped closer to him, closing the gasp between you as your other hand rested on his chest. Slowly, you wrap your arms around his shoulder, trying to not put too much pressure on his left shoulder. Once your hands were behind his head, you undid the mask which shielded his face. His eyes never left your own as he seemed unable to pull away from your touch. In fact, the only time his eyes darted away was when his mask fell away and you saw his face for the first time. He moved his head to the side, his eyes closing as if he couldn’t bare to see your reaction to his features. That was until he felt a soft palm on his cheek, and you guided him back to look at you. His eyes opened only for a moment to see the love in your eyes and he couldn’t contain himself. leading down quickly, he smashed his lips against your own. It wasn’t the soft and gentle kiss you had been expecting. You had expect to have to incited that as well, keeping it slow and soft. but you certainly weren’t complaining. His lips worked against yours in a desperate and needy way that made your head spin. It wasn’t like any other kiss you had had in your life. you couldn’t help but moan into the kiss which had set your world alight in the space of a few second. A feeling which you could quickly becoming addicted to. His arms locked around you and, before you knew what was happening, you were being lifted up. Thomas carried you to your desk, setting you down without breaking the kiss. you quickly spread your legs so he could step between them. one of your hands buried itself in his thick hair with the other travelled down from his shoulder to his chest to grab onto his tie. You pulled him closer, leaning back so you were lying on the desk, his large frame over you as you gasped for air between kisses. But you both broke apart when the phone started to ring beside you. You quickly grabbed it, knowing that if it were the owner, he would think you had gone home early. Glancing at the clock, it was only 5 minutes before you finished, but he would still yell at you for that. However, when you answered, it was Luda. “Is Thomas still there?” She fretted, obviously expecting him to have been home by now. “Yes, sorry. Im going to give him a lift back. I finish in 5 minutes.” You tell her, hoping she wouldn’t hear how out of breath you were. “oh good. Thank you.” She let out a sigh of relief then giving an apology for phoning you before hanging up. You placed the phone back down, looking up to Thomas was still leaning over you, but had propped himself up on his hands as he stared down at your fear in his eyes. you propped yourself up on your elbows, a soft smile on your lips. Thomas relaxed when he saw your smile. you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his check. He seemed to want to mirror your affection and leaned down, pressing a kiss to your neck. He paused there for a moment, worried he might have overstepped his boundaries, until he heard a soft sigh leave your lips as you leaned against him. The sound of the front door made Thomas jump as he twisted around, leaving you on the desk as he heard jogging footsteps approaching the office. He was prepared to protect you any way he could, until he saw a figure run right past the door. “Left your keys?” you called out into the hallway, making Thomas relax a little. “uh, no?” The voice Ricky called back, but he was lying. You heard him walking back, popping his head into the room and seeing Thomas standing in front of you. You had sat up properly and crossed one leg over the other, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t see what happened. “Work place romance?” He asked, winking at you but you quickly flipped him off. “Remind me, how did you and Pamala get together again?” You asked, innocently. His face fell, remembering that he got her pregnant when she worked here. It was a scandal in the town. “well, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nodded at Thomas and was quickly on his way. Giggling, you hopped off the table and approached Thomas. His hands were balled into fists which quickly loosened when you took his right hand in both of your own. “Would you like a work place romance?” You asked Thomas, looking up at him with doe like eyes. His gaze softened when he met your eyes and immediately nodded. “me too.” You smiled, unable to hide your blushing cheeks. You grabbed your bag and keys and the two of you left the factory, but not before phoning Luda saying you were running slightly late. Although this was a lie, you and Thomas would have to do a little sneaking about at the start. Who knows. Plenty of work lovers turn into the real thing. Although, you were pretty sure it was already real, it would be fun for a while to have a work place romance with your gentle giant.

[merinnan]

Nevermore - Part 10

AO3  |  Nevermore Masterlist

A flash of movement by the door caught Jiang Cheng’s attention as he took his seat, and he looked over to catch a glimpse of what looked to be the ends of long hair and white ribbon disappearing into the corridor. His usual frown deepening, he looked around the lecture hall to see who was skipping out on this lecture. He couldn’t see anyone missing, and a quick headcount confirmed that all of the cadets, both the ones almost through their training and the newer ones who’d arrived recently, were in their seats and paying attention to Nie Huaisang as he gestured at the screen with his fan.

With a shrug, Jiang Cheng sat back in his seat and pulled his phone out. It must have been someone realising they were walking into the wrong room, he figured, pulling up his earlier conversation with Song Zichen to send the man another message.

                                                                                                                           Me

                                                                                      thx for the headsup earlier

                                                                           cadets all here and accounted for

                                                     he can go suck shit if he’s looking for them now

 Zichen

Glad to hear it

But if he’s got it into his head to start that again, he’s probably not going to give up

                                                                                                                           Me

                                                                                            he can go fuck himself

                                                                                                  don’t worry about it

                                                                          me and mianmian have it covered

 Zichen

Xingchen and I will also keep an eye on him when we can

Would you like us to tell Jingyi and Sizhui to do the same?

                                                                                                                            Me

                                                                                                                    fuck no

     jingyi’s reckless enough that he’ll just go challenge him to a fight immediately 

                                                              even though he’s still on fucking crutches

                                                                             tell wen ning if u see him b4 I do

 Zichen

He was here maybe 10 minutes ago with Lan Xichen

We mentioned it to him and told him we’d told you about it

I’ll let him know you’d like him to help us keep an eye on his cousin

He frowned at his phone. He’d forgot that this Lan Xichen guy was supposed to arrive today, and he and Wen Qing hadn’t yet finished narrowing down a list of prospective co-pilots. All of that work on top of one class of cadets coming into the last few months of their training and another class having just begun had him completely busy, so of course now was the time the fucking Wen brothers had to start their bullshit again. They were probably annoyed their jaeger was still out of commission and looking to take it out on their juniors. Jiang Cheng gave a slight grunt of disgust as he shot off a message to Miammian letting her know that he needed to go straight to Wen Qing’s once he was done here, before glancing up at the screen.

The sight that met him was from video footage that was burned into his mind, one of the scenes that replayed in his head when he was trying to sleep, and twisted itself into nightmares. As it had four years ago, and as it had far too many nights since, the kaiju Malerax stood in front of the skyscraper that held the Shanghai offices of Jiang Corporation, reaching up with one clawed hand to rip down the purple steel lotus that was the corporation’s logo on the building that a bare minute before it had smashed that self-same fist through. More bricks and glass showered down to the ground, the building shaking again. Jiang Cheng swallowed, closing his eyes before watching the kaiju use the lotus to hammer at the jaeger trying to stop it.

Watching the place and approximate time of his parents’ deaths hadn’t been what he’d expected from a tactics lecture. He knew his mother was still alive at this point of the battle – according to the timestamps on the video footage and on his phone, this was about the point she sent him the last message he’d ever received from her. Had she already received her fatal injuries by now? That, he didn’t know, but he was sure that she knew she was going to die. He couldn’t imagine her sending the message that she had otherwise. Had his father already been killed at that point? Those were questions he both wished he knew the answer to, and hoped that he never would.

Grateful that whatever reason Nie Huaisang had for showing the cadets this footage as part of the lecture didn’t also require the sound of that battle, he opened his eyes again and looked fixedly down at his phone instead, tapping through random apps without looking at them and ignoring the lecture until the lights coming back on and the sound of movement and quiet chatter signaled that it was over.

“Wanyin?”

He looked up from his phone to see Nie Huaisang had come to stand in front of him, hiding behind his fan like usual. The man looked almost…concerned. Jiang Cheng arched an eyebrow, putting his phone away and standing.

“What, Huaisang? Make it quick, I have work to do.”

“Are you alright?”

Well…that wasn’t what he was expecting. He scowled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Nie Huaisang gave a slow, lazy few waves of the fan, but the sharp look of concern didn’t fade. “Your reaction to some of the footage I showed – I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look actually shaken before. And you’ve never switched off like that when I’m presenting new theories and tactics. You’re usually even more attentive than the cadets.”

“I wasn’t fucking…” he began to snap, then stopped, and just scowled again. “I’m fine. Just had other stuff to deal with today.” He waves a hand at the cadets filing out. “Training this lot, working out Drift matches, new pilots, Wen Xu being a fuckwit as usual, shit like that. Don’t worry about it. Look, if there’s nothing you needed me for, I’m going to be late to meet Wen Qing.”

He wasn’t, but it was a good excuse to get out of there. From the look Nie Huaisang was giving him, the other man had seen right through it, but simply gave him a small smile and a nod.

“Of course – come see me when you have a moment, though.” He glanced at the blank screen over his shoulder. “I have some more theories than what I discussed here.”

“Sure.” He cricked his neck with a loud crack. “Fuck knows when, but I’ll drop by.”

“Wanyin…”

He turned and began striding for the door. “See you later, Huaisang.”

~~~

A short while after, sprawled over one of Wen Qing’s sofas with his feet danging over the side (“Boots OFF the sofa, Jiang Cheng! And no, don’t you DARE take them off, I don’t want to smell your stinky feet.”), Jiang Cheng tossed another file onto the table after trying and failing to pay attention to its contents.

“Who was that?” Wen Qing asks, barely looking up from her screen. “And are they a yes or a no?”

“Fucked if I know yet.” He flopped his hand over his eyes. “They could be either, honestly. I’ll know for sure once I can actually see this Lan fight in person instead of just looking at his records and their records.”

“Which you will, but for now can you please make some judgements based on those records of who we should test him with? We can’t just randomly throw cadets at him and see who sticks.”

He lifted his hand and glanced over at her. She glared at him through the blue screen of text and numbers hovering in front of her, before rolling her eyes and picking up her coffee to take a drink. Reaching out, she dragged the record in front of her off of the screen, allowing the next to fill its place.

“How about Xiao Qing?” she suggested.

“No.” There’s no hesitation in his response.

“Oh? We know she’s Drift-compatible with Xiao Xingchen, and his and Lan Xichen’s psych profiles are…”

“No,” he repeats. “She and Xue Yang will make a much stronger team.”

“Xue Yang? And Xiao Qing?”

His lips pull back in a rare grin. “If they don’t fucking kill each other first, yes. Trust me.”

She gave a snort in response, her fingers flicking at the record to close it. “Only because you haven’t been wrong about a match yet.” Another flick, and the screen faded out as she took another sip of her coffee and looked at him. “Okay, spill.”

“…huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me. Something happened. What is it?”

His hand flopped back over his eyes. “Nothing.” Even before the word left his mouth, he knew that Wen Qing wasn’t going to let him get away with just that – she never had, with anything, not even when they were kids. Sure enough, he heard her push her chair back and her footsteps cross the room from her desk to the sofa he was sprawled along. He should have expected the sharp jab of her finger into his shoulder, but he still flinched, dropping his hand down the side of the couch and scowling up at her.

“What was that for?”

“You know what it was for,” she retorted, crossing her arms. His scowl deepened, and she just scowled right back at him. After several long moments of trying to out-scowl each other, Jiang Cheng finally sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

“Huaisang showed a clip of the Malerax fight during the lecture,” he admitted. “The part where the bastard ripped the lotus logo off the Jiang Industries building.”

“Ah.” She uncrossed her arms, and leaned on the back of the sofa. “How did you take it?”

He snorted. “How do you think? I ended up staring at my phone and ignoring everything else. Even Huaisang noticed something was wrong.”

“How are you now?”

He strongly considered saying ‘fine’, then considered what Wen Qing was likely to do to him for outright lying to her about this. He scowled again at the thought, then shrugged.

“It threw me off a bit, but it’s not like I haven’t seen it before. I just wasn’t expecting it. I’ll be fine, I’ve got work to concentrate on, anyway.”

It was, he had to admit, kind of impressive how Wen Qing’s expression could say so much with just a twist of her lips or a raised eyebrow. He raised his hands in front of him.

“Really, Qing-jie,” he assured her quickly, using the name he hadn’t called her by since their school days. “I swear I’m okay. Let’s just get back to this, okay?” He sat up – or, at least, that’s what he tried to do. Partway up, he felt something yank against his hair, pulling him back slightly as he swore. Twisting a little, he found his hair ribbon tangled on one of the sofa buttons, and he took a moment to untangle it so he could actually sit up.

“Why do you have a sofa with those fucking buttons on it anyway?” he said, rubbing his head. He could feel the tangle in his hair caused by the ribbon and the silver lotus hair ornament it was threaded through, and started to tug them out to redo his ponytail.

“Because that’s what my office was furnished with then I got here,” Wen Qing replied. How the hell could she shrug with her voice, he wondered, moments before she slapped his hands out of the way. “You’re making it worse. Let me.”

Her fingers carefully and deftly untangled the lotus from his hair, pulling it and the ribbon free before she swiped her fingers through his hair, rather less gently combing through the tangles.

“Ouch. You’re a cruel woman,” he complained. “Why am I letting you do this to me again?”

“Because you love me,” she shot back.

“Qing-jie?” a third voice broke in. Wen Qing’s fingers stilled in his hair, and she thrust the ribbon and hair ornament into his face.

“A-Ning!” she said, her voice turning much gentler. “And this would be Lan Xichen.”

Jiang Cheng twisted around on the sofa, leaning back slightly to get a look at the man Wen Ning had brought into his sister’s office while they were both distracted. This was the jaeger pilot who was causing him and Wen Qing so much extra work, huh? The one who’d up and left for four years before coming back.

He found himself looking at a tall man, probably around his height, wearing a perfectly in-order PPDC uniform that was…actually really flattering to the muscular build. Long hair framed what was possibly one of the most stunning faces Jiang Cheng had ever seen, and he’d seen a few – his brother had taken a particular delight in showing him every single one he came across once he’d figured out what his type was.

It wasn’t until he hit the floor that Jiang Cheng realised he’d actually fallen off the fucking couch on seeing this man. But even then, the embarrassment was drowned out by a single thought.

Oh no, he’s hot.

[strawberryjeonginnie]

Instagram//Kim Seungmin

Genre: fluff

Additional: college au, instagrammer(?) seungmin, lowkey coffee shop au, gender-neutral reader, oneshot

Word Count: 2,147

Warnings: a lot of blushing and disgusting fluff

Summary: @ ksm_00 has followed you!

A/N: this fic was inspired by instagram by dean. 

Kim Seungmin was quite possibly one of the most attractive boys you had ever laid eyes upon; your local college sweetheart who spent his free time in a quiet corner of a coffee shop with a book in hand and round glasses slowly slipping off his nose. Except, there was something that set him apart from all the other college sweethearts who spent their free time in a corner of a coffee shop — Seungmin was Instagram famous. Sure, Instagram famous does sound a little ridiculous, but he was popular for a good reason. He had the voice of an angel and posted short little covers of songs in between selfies and cute aesthetics. He had gained quite the fan base and even some admirers. You were one of them.

You weren’t typically the type to fawn over anyone, but you couldn’t help yourself. As soon as you laid eyes on his page back in your sophomore year of high school, you had been completely whipped. When you first saw him on your campus your freshman year at your university, you had to do a double take. It felt even weirder when you ended up having classes with him. Now, in your sophomore year in college, you still couldn’t get over seeing him in real life. It was like you were permanently star-struck. What made things worse? You worked at the cafe he frequented. Needless to say — sometimes you got a little distracted on the job.

“Excuse me–“ A shy voice snapped you out of your daze and you quickly turned your attention to the customer in front of you. To your horror, it was Kim Seungmin himself. Of course, he had to catch you spacing off.

“S-sorry! What could I get for you, sir?” You stuttered out, pink dusting your cheeks from embarrassment. “Could I just get a medium iced vanilla coffee?” he asked, fishing out a ten from his back pocket. “Of course! Your total is four fifty.”

He handed you the bill and you quickly made out change and handed it back to him. Smiling, he put it into the tip bucket and shyly looked back up at you before going to find a place to sit while he waited for his drink. Your heart fluttered and you smiled dreamily. Your coworker, Jisung, quirked his eyebrow at you, making you turn and start to make the coffee to hide your red face.

While scooping ice into the plastic cup, you suddenly felt a presence next to you. You jumped, looking up to see who it was. You let out a sigh of relief seeing that it was only Jisung — but you quickly became confused seeing the smug look on his face.

“What?” you questioned, only to be met with him wiggling his eyebrows at you. Suddenly understanding, you became defensive. “No,” you said sternly, turning back to what you were doing.

“Oh come on — it’s so obvious,” he whined. You shook your head. “Keep your voice down, he’ll hear us. Besides, I don’t like him like that,” you whispered, glancing over at Seungmin to make sure he didn’t hear. Thankfully, Seungmin was on his phone, most likely scrolling through Instagram. Jisung smiled wider, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I never said you do. You’re assuming that’s what I meant and that must mean you do like him,” he whispered back, making you groan and go back to making the drink. Finishing up, you turned around and pushed past Jisung. Sucking in a breath, you approached Seungmin.

“Here’s your drink, sir!” You smiled. Seungmin looked up from his phone and gave you one of his dazzling smiles. “Thank you,” he said lightly. You swore there were hearts in your eyes. You nodded and quickly turned back around to keep him from seeing the blush that was making its way to your face. You walked back to the counter, only to be met with a very smug-faced Jisung.

“So you don’t like him, huh?”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, embarrassed that you outed yourself so easily.

“Don’t worry. He seems to like you too.” Jisung nodded his head, gesturing behind you. Glancing in the direction, you awkwardly lock eyes with Seungmin. You snapped your head back to Jisung, who seemed satisfied with whatever work he thought he was doing. 

“He’s been looking at you every chance he's gotten,” Jisung whispered, making you shake your head in disagreement. “He’s probably looking at the menu or something,” you say, trying to come up with some other logical reason. 

“The menu isn’t taped to your name tag, (Y/n),” he laughed out, amused at how persistent you were being. Suddenly, Jisung’s expression changed, signaling that he was struck with an idea. He took a napkin off the counter and pulled a pen out of his apron pocket, quickly scribbling your Instagram handle onto the piece of paper.

“W-What are you doing?” You stuttered out, knowing all too well what he was about to do. “You’ll thank me later.” Jisung smiled, a mischievous tone to his voice. Before you could stop him, Jisung was already standing in front of Seungmin.

“Excuse me, but my coworker over there thinks you’re cute. I’ve noticed you checking them out, so I’ve taken the liberty upon myself to give you their Instagram.”Seungmin’s face flushed pink and you wanted to die where you were standing, you were so embarrassed. Jisung walked back to you with a big smile plastered across his face. 

“You’re welcome!”

--

Finally, your shift had ended and you were home. You flopped down onto your bed, sighing in relief as you felt the pressure of standing all day leave your body. You rolled on to your back, fishing your phone out of your back pocket. Clicking on the power button, you were met with notifications from your social media from throughout the day. You quickly scrolled through, stopping to see who followed you.

Instagram, 11:36 am: @ ksm_00 has started following you!

Your eyes widened and you clicked the notification, making sure that it was really Seungmin and not someone else. Sure enough, it was really him. Throwing your phone down next to you, you grabbed your pillow and screamed into it. Once that little moment was over, you picked your phone back up and quickly texted Jisung a thank you. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you thought about what you should do next. Should you message him? Would that be weird? Sucking in a deep breath, you decided to just go for it. Opening up your DMs, you were surprised to see a message already there.

‘hey, sorry if this is weird, but ive been going to the coffee shop you work at for a while and i think youre really cute’

You kept re-reading the message over and over again. You were convinced you didn’t read right. Once you went over it for the fifth time, you started to freak out. Kim Seungmin — the Kim Seungmin — thought you were cute. Your hands started to shake a little as you typed out your response and you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same way when he messaged you.

‘haha, no, i dont find it weird at all. its kind of cute. if you wanna meet at my work tomorrow at 11 maybe we could talk and get to know each other more? the coffee is on me’

You were thankful that Seungmin seemed to be a quick texter, as it only took him a few moments to respond, saving you the anxiety of waiting for a reply.

‘are you sure i wouldn’t be distracting you from your job?’

‘no no its fine! i actually have tomorrow off but i figured it would be the easiest place to meet’

‘ok! consider it a date ;)’

Key smashing in all caps would be the best way to describe how you felt at that moment. You put a hand on your chest in an attempt to calm your racing heart — but to no avail. Putting up your phone, you worried about tomorrow. What if you fucked up? What if Seungmin was just trying to be nice? What if you were thinking way too much about everything? The last one was 100 percent likely, but you chose to do it anyway.

You couldn’t help worrying, though — you had spent enough time following him and his friends on Instagram. To put it simply; you weren’t like them. They all were the type to constantly look good, have flawless skin, and confidently show off their talents. You, on the other hand, tended to have days where you were imperfect and not as confident. Seeing them perhaps made you feel a little insecure about what you could be worth to Seungmin.

--

The next morning you woke up, dreading your meeting with Seungmin. Groggily, you grabbed your phone and clicked the home button. Rubbing your eyes, you squinted at your screen.

‘10:27 AM’

A jolt of panic struck through you and you shot out of your bed, hurrying to get ready to meet Seungmin. You wanted to look good and your work was about a 15-minute drive from your apartment, leaving you around 15 minutes to get ready so you could be a little early. You ran into your bathroom and quickly brushed your hair and teeth. Rushing into your room, you threw open your closet in hopes to find a decent outfit. Scanning over your clothes, you caught sight of your favorite sweater and sighed in relief, silently thanking your past self for washing clothes.

You arrived at the cafe five minutes before you and Seungmin agreed to meet up and you were glad to see that he wasn’t there yet. You were even more thankful to see Changbin and Minho behind the counter today and not Jisung. You knew he would give you hell at work if he saw you on your date.

“Hey, (Y/n), odd to see you here on your day off. What’s up?” Changbin asked. Hearing your name, Minho perked up from behind the cash register and smiled happily.

“(Y/n)! My favorite co-worker!” He laughed, earning a light punch on the shoulder from Changbin. Suddenly, the door chimed, signaling someone had walked in. Turning around, you saw Seungmin awkwardly standing in the doorway. Seeing you, he walked over and gave you an awkward, lopsided smile, like he was unsure what to do with himself. For the first time, it felt like you were seeing an awkward nineteen-year-old and not some internet celebrity.

The start of the date was tense, to say the least. Since the two of you were the only customers, it felt more open and awkward than you felt like it should.

“I’m sorry if I was too forward yesterday... I’m not really good a flirting.” Seungmin laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck. You cracked a smile and laughed, making Seungmin’s face burn red with embarrassment.

“W-What? Why are you laughing?” He stuttered.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. You’re just being cute.”

Your own words honestly surprised you and you tried to look like you weren’t panicking. Thankfully, Seungmin grinned, bashfully looking down at the cup between his hands. Slowly, the conversation between the two of you started and before you knew it, three hours had passed.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it’s already 2:00!” You and Seungmin walked out of the coffee shop and decided to take a walk together in the park nearby. 

“I know! I really haven’t talked to someone for that long in a while! You’re really fun to talk to,” he said. You blushed, happy that he enjoyed your company.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you quipped. Seungmin laughed and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

The two of you walked peacefully through the park, shoulder-to-shoulder. While you were admiring some of the pretty hydrangeas, you felt a hand brush against your own. Looking over at Seungmin, you saw that he was looking at your hand, his face dusted a light pink. Smiling, you shyly held his hand. The two of you continued walking in comfortable silence, only really speaking when one of you spotted something to point out to the other. About an hour had passed before you decided you needed to get home since you had a class the next day.

“I had a lot of fun today. Could we... could we maybe do it again?” Seungmin asked. There was a nervous twinge to his voice, making you feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“Of course! I had a lot of fun today,” you said. There was a pause and Seungmin looked like he was contemplating something. Taking in a deep breath, he placed a quick kiss on your cheek.

“How about a movie tomorrow after class?”

[crewhonk]

Motel Ballerina

Billy just being an all around soft!boyfriend

AN: not as angsty as you think!

Warnings: One gay slur, swears, ballet punishments

Words: 4,200

When you walked up to Billy in the early hours of the school day and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips before pressing a travel mug of his favorite tea into his hand, he knew you wanted something from him. 

He graciously accepted the warm mug and the soft kiss and smiled down at you warmly. Long gone were the days when he scowled at everyone who breathed in his direction. Long gone were the days where most people feared him (some people still did but to each their own), and scattered out of his way when he stormed down the halls. Those days had been left behind him in late January— around the same time he joined the local police force and gotten to know you, the chiefs oldest adopted daughter. You knew there was more to hard glares and leather jackets to Billy, hell, look at who your father was. You didn’t hold any of his past mistakes against him, and while he still shook with guilt late in the night, he knew you would always be there to give him a warm hug the following morning. 

You bounced on your toes slightly and his brows furrowed in amusement before he placed a large hand on your shoulder to stop your movements. Still, the sparkle in your eye didn’t leave, and your bottom lip was still caught between your teeth in pure happiness. 

“Isn’t it too early to be so excited, Princess?” He crooned down at you. You shook your head eagerly. 

“So, you know how I’ve been rehearsing for that audition for Swan Lake I had three weeks ago?” You were almost exploding with joy, and if Billy were still the man he was when he met you he would have shoved you into a locker. 

“Mmmhm?” He took a sip out of the warm thermos and flinched at the boiling tea. 

“I got the part, Bill! Oh my god. Rehearsals for the actual show start next week, and Jesus, I think I’m just about ready to explode.” You threw yourself at him then, and he caught you with his free arm. He held you tightly and smiled into your hair. 

“Baby! Holy fuck, that’s amazing! I didn’t know that Hawkins had such a huge thing for dance?” He smiled down at you and peppered your face with small kisses. Any onlooker would have wrinkled their nose in disgust at your unashamed display of affection, but frankly, neither you or Billy cared all that much. 

“That’s the thing,” your voice lost most of its excitement and you refused to meet his gaze. “I’d have to do the next month or so through correspondence and live at a house in Indianapolis. That’s where the ballet is and stuff..” Your voice trailed off, and Billy swore you heard his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach. 

“Excuse me?” He choked out. He had finally managed to convince your father that he was actually a decent guy, and now you wanted to run off and join some fucking circus?

“Bill, I think this’ll be a real good opportunity for me and where I wanna go in life, but I will stay back if you really want you to— your feelings are one of my highest priorities in life and—“ 

“Of course I want you to stay, Y/N.” He saw your shoulders visibly fall, and your eyes become slightly more watery than they were mere seconds ago. “But I want you to go more.” Your eyes shot up to meet his baby blue ones. 

“You dramatic Jerk!” You smiled and punched his shoulder playfully. “Oh my gosh, Bill! We could do a whole road trip into the city and spend a night in a shitty motel on the highway and gosh! It’s gonna be amazing.” You smiled up at him and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in close and sighing happily as he nuzzled himself into the crook of your neck. 

You pulled away once the bell rang and pressed your lips to his in a kiss that he could have imagined happening it was so soft. 

“I’ll see you after class, Bill!” You hugged your books to your chest and spun away from him gracefully. He watched you walk away with a small smile and head tilt. He watched the way the muscles in your legs pushed and pulled, and the way they seemed to make the seam of your dress dance around your mid-thigh. 

He was one lucky man. 

The day you were meant to leave was a cloudy, gloomy day with a chill that seemed to seep into your bones and make you an El shiver against each other as your dad, Jim Hopper placed three plates of Eggos on the cheap plastic table that made up your cozy little dining room. You wrapped one arm around yourself and stabbed your waffles, planning to eat in a rush— Billy would be here any second. 

“Woah, Kid. Don’t choke.” Jim laughed from across the table. You shoveled a mouthful of waffles into your mouth and in response, quickly chewed them and opened your mouth. 

“Bill’s gon’ be here any second, and then we’re hitting the road.” You said around another mouthful of food. El looked over at you with a slightly judgemental look at you and you only winked in response. 

“You do know we’re co-workers now. We are pals.” He responded while pulling the plate away from you so you had a chance to actually chew your food. You snorted into your juice as he said this. 

“Pals. That’s hilarious. I don’t think you’ve ever said that word in your entire life. ‘Pals’ is not something Jim Hopper says.” You reached across the table and shoved a particularly syrupy piece of waffle into your mouth. Just as he was about to respond, someone knocked the secret code solidly on the front door, and El rushed to answer it. Since she had been adopted by Jim, he had allowed her to answer the door when someone was at it, and while it wasn’t true freedom, nothing made her day better than being able to see who was on the other side. 

“Y/N! Your more-than-friend is here!” She called from the living room. Her voice grew louder, and she seemed to be chatting easily with Billy, who appeared around the corner of the hallway holding her hand and allowing himself to be lead to the fourth chair. 

“And that’s how we won the campaign!” She ended her story with a flare of her hands and Billy blinked in confusion. It seemed that El had yet again, finished an entire story in one breath. For someone who truly didn’t speak much, her storytelling ability never ceased to amazing him. You smiled at him around a mouthful of eggos and pushed yourself away from the table, rushing to your room to grab your rucksack and dance bag and returning to the kitchen with slightly less food in your mouth. 

“You ready?” You smiled at the people who had become your family. Billy nodded and finished what he was saying to Jim (“i’ll take good care of her, I promise, Sir.”) and walked around the table to take your heavy bag from your shoulder. You leaned into him in a motion of affection, and as a last minute thought, pressed a kiss to both Jim and El’s heads. 

“Say hi to Joyce for me!” You smiled, walking towards the front door and slipping your doc martins on. 

“Who’re you talkin’ to?” You heard Jim shout gruffly from the kitchen. You could almost picture the light blush on his cheeks and it made you smile softly to yourself. 

“Both of you!”

“Get outta here, Kid!”

“Love you too!”

The ride to Indianapolis was quiet. It was a ride of soft looks and slow smiles and hands on thighs and singing to the quiet radio while the early spring rain beat against the windshield. Billy’s large hand traced patterns on your thigh, and you wished you could commit the weight of his hand to muscle memory. It grounded you in times of change, and you were forever grateful for this new presence in your life. 

When you pulled into the gravel parking lot of the motel just outside of the city, you stepped out of the infamous blue Camaro and took a deep breath of air. This air smelled different than the air of Hawkins. While Hawkins smelled like snow mold and thick trees, the air here smelled like rain-heavy smog and wet concrete, and while the smell wasn’t entirely pleasant to your small town person, it wasn’t entirely disgusting either. The smell of wet concrete meant new beginnings and the thought of those beginnings made you take another large inhale. 

“You good over there or are you just gonna spend tonight breathing all weird,” Billy said, a cigarette hanging from his pouty lips and his arms resting on his Baby. You rolled your eyes and reached into the back seat to grab your overnight bag. 

“I was having a moment, okay?” You glared playfully and he only smirked in response. He waited for you to walk around the car and joined you on the way to the front office, reaching for your hand and intertwining his fingers through yours. The cold metal of his rings sent chills down your spine. 

The check-in was easy, and for five dollars you had a freshly cleaned suite for the night. The room itself was less than impressive— basic wooden moldings on everything, and wallpaper that would be considered tacky in the following decade. The bed seemed clean enough, and you noticed the blankets nor mattress had any noticeable stains. You were stopped from your inspection when you heard a disgusted scoff from behind you. Expecting the worst, you spun around only to be greeted with the sight of Billy scowling at a pamphlet. He held it up as if you could read it from across the room and threw it on the chair beside him in disgust. 

“These rooms are No Smoking. What the hell. First, they make it illegal for you to smoke in restaurants and now hotel rooms? What’s next, dive bars?” He pouted and took his jacket off to throw it on the bed and you smiled at him. You walked over to him and let your hands drift over his chest slowly before coming to rest on the back of his neck. You admired the peach color of his button up shirt that was less than buttoned up, and your fingers traced the Virgin Mary pendant dangling around his neck. 

“Smoking is bad for you, anyways, Bubs.” You looked up at him through your lashes and he only rolled his eyes in response. You felt his hands come to rest on your hips and you sighed happily when he pulled you flush against his person. 

“I thought you said you found it hot.” He mumbled, easily rolling his annoyance off his back. He had the same smirk you saw him flash Karen Wheeler around town, and while you hated his flirty relationship with her, the smirk never failed in making you feel some type of way. 

“Just because I said it doesn’t make it right.” You smirked and ghosted your lips over his collarbone, grinning against his tan skin when you heard him sigh in pleasure. 

“I thought you were always right.” He whispered, not wanting you to scare and pull yourself away from him. You pressed your nose into the soft muscle of his shoulder and nipped the skin lightly, making him shudder. Not wanting to discuss your right-ness any longer you pulled his head closer to you and kissed him roughly. It was a warm and sloppy kiss full of tongue and teeth and giggles and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Your noses bumped every so often, and the pressure of his fingertips digging into your skin made you gasp happily. He began pulling your sweater out of where it was tucked into your high rise jeans, and you raised your arms as he almost ripped it over your head and throwing it somewhere in the room. You heard something wobble and crash to the ground and you giggled against his lips. 

“You’re gonna have to pay for that, y’know.” He made a shushing noise against your lips and pushed you until you fell back onto the bed. The squeaky mattress made a noise of protest, but you could barely hear it over the rushing of blood in your ears. He took his shirt by the nape of the neck and pulled it over his head, mussing his hair in a way that made him look like a shaggy lion. He fell into the space between your open legs and ground his hardening member into your center, making you moan and clutch the soft layer of fat he had on his waist. He placed several open-mouthed kisses over your collar bones, drifting lower between your breasts and beginning to suck at the skin there. You pushed his head away from you and you were met with an almost offended stare. 

“No hickeys.” You pointed a finger in his face and he nipped the pad of it lightly, making you squeak. He whined at your demand and rested his forehead between your breasts in contempt. 

“Did I mention to you that I hate that rule?” He mumbled against you feverish skin, kissing the spot just above your navel. Your scoff turns quickly into moans as his mouth devours your sex, tasting and feeling and kissing and biting just the way you like, the amount you like and you find your hands are twisting hard into his blonde curls. Your grip on his hair makes him growl into your pussy and the vibrations send shockwaves through your very bones and you throw your head into the springy mattress. 

“Fuck, Bill. You’re so good to me, Baby.” You moan and buck your hips into his face. He hums against you and wraps an arm around your waist and presses a hand down on your stomach— simultaneously holding you down and giving you a pressure against your stomach in the best way. 

You feel the spring in your core tighten quickly. The idea of him worshipping your body the way he feels you deserve in a dirty motel room just outside of the city where your future may begin is honestly one of the most erotic scenarios you could have imagined. 

“It’s gonna be this way all night, Baby Girl.” He crooned into your sex and you moan loudly in response. 

The goodbye the following morning was long and sad, and you never thought previously that Billy’s eyes could be bluer than they were every day. The bloodshot capillaries in his eyes as a result of him crying quietly the entire morning made the color in his eyes almost look neon. 

You called him once a day, sometimes twice if you had more spare time than usual, which was highly unlikely due to rehearsal and teaching yourself senior AP English. After one of you late night calls where Billy talked too much about how annoying Max was being, you passed out on the couch and woke up thirty minutes late. Your heart ripped to your stomach, and without even thinking you tore through the house you were staying at looking for all of the dance belongings that you had placed around the warm home. Finding everything was easy, but as anyone knows, public transport is often too unreliable so you find yourself sprinting in your pajamas down Main Street, trying to tie your hair up into a slick bun while dodging traffic like the frog in your little brothers favorite game “Frogger”. 

You arrived at the studio quickly, stripping your clothes as you ran down the long hallway and shoving your feet and body into your tight pink leotard. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You cursed as you shoved your arm through the sleeves. Your bun was flopping ungraciously at the nape of your neck, and you wanted to shrivel into the ground at your instructors withering glare. 

“Sorry I’m late, Miss Kathy.” You mumbled as you dropped to the floor and tied your pointe shoes carefully. You felt Miss Kathy’s burning glare on you as you twisted the ribbon expertly through your fingers and as you stood up, you took another elastic from your wrist and secured you pathetic bun to the back of your head. 

This class was going to be hell on Earth. 

You continued your rehearsal as you normally would while trying to not allow Miss Kathy’s glare to affect your turns and jumps. You were proud of how well you kept up under pressure, and three hours later you and your company were dismissed for lunch. 

“Y/N. Stay behind.” Miss Kathy’s voice was sharp enough to slice your skin, and you sucked in a quick breath at the implications of her demand. You turned and ignored the other girls’ pitying glances as the gracefully jogged out of the studio and into the common room. 

“Do you think this opportunity is a joke?” He harsh voice made you flinch. 

“No, Ma’am.” You mumbled while holding your hands behind your back and looking at the ground. You forced yourself to stand still and resisted the urge to shift weight nervously. 

“Do you not respect my time?”

“Of course I do, Ma’am.”

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, Girl.” Her harsh voice barked at you and your head snapped up to meet her cold grey glare. 

“You will stand on Pointe away from the bar until lunch is over. Your bun is sloppy, and your tardiness in unprofessional. Discipline, girl.” She walked past you and into the hard plastic chair that was shoved into the corner of the room. Your body followed her path and guilt blossomed in your chest. 

“Miss Kathy, lunch is an hour long!” You protested. 

“Did I stutter, Miss Y/L/N?”

“No Ma’am.”

You rode the bus home later that night with your feet pulled up on the chair while you quietly cried at the pain shooting through your body. You had been forced to stay on your toes until the girls had returned. By the time they filed into the room, your once expensive pink satin shoes were soaked through with blood as a result of your nails digging upwards through your toes. Graciously, Miss Kathy had given you a fifteen-minute break to eat and tape your feet to the best of your ability, but you spent it in the bathroom vomiting and crying yourself through the pain. You returned at the end of your break with taped toes, and a perfect bun. 

Now, you rested your head in-between your knees, letting yourself silently cry into the soft fabric of your pants. After you had finished at practice, you sat on one of the worn couches and unraveled the tape which managed your toes together. You grit your teeth when more than one toe had fallen off, and you now felt the bruises of the other ones throbbing painfully in your sneakers. You wanted so desperately to take off your shoes now and throw them across the bus, but there was an old man across the way that was already looking at you with disdain and you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if he saw you completely lose your composure. 

When you got home, you limped your way up to your small guest room and quickly dialed Billy, hoping and praying it was him that would come to the phone and not Neil. 

When he answered, he wasn’t met with your joyous hello, but instead silence that was broken by quiet cries as you tried to slip your socks off your feet without pulling any of the blisters or clotted blood too much. 

“Princess, what’s wrong?” He whispered into the phone. You could almost hear his heart breaking over the line and you sniffed hard, willing yourself to stop crying and leaking snot all over yourself. 

“I can’t fucking do this anymore.” You cried, flopping onto the pillows. “I miss you and I miss Hop and Jane and I even fucking miss Steve. My feet haven’t stopped bleeding since noon, and I’m gonna need new fucking shoes for show time in a week. I can't fucking do this anymore, Billy.” You choked on your sobs, and Billy wanted to reach through the phone and hold you tightly to his chest. Instead, he settled for making quiet crooning and shushing noises in an attempt to calm you down while you clutched a pillow to your chest and felt the iced peas numb the pain in your feet. 

“You got this, My Girl. You are the strongest and most beautiful girl I’ve ever had the blessing to meet, and you can believe me when I say that all this pain will be worth it.” His voice was quiet and comforting, but it didn’t compare to him being there in real life. Fuck, you missed him so much. 

“I love you, William.” You whispered. Your quiet voice and the words they carried made his heart stutter in his chest. You couldn’t see it, but there was a faint blush on his freckled cheeks. He would deny it when Max told her nerd friends the following day. 

“I love you, Y/N”

Billy Hargrove would never be caught dead at a ballet show. Boys who went to ballet shows were fags, but he’d be damned if he let his best girl down. He clutched the bouquet of Gerber Daisies (you thought roses were tacky) in his clammy palm and wiped the other one on the grey suit he borrowed from Steve. He glanced in the glass of the trophy case and made sure his newly cut hair was in place. 

Soon, the doors opened, and he walked through the heavy oak doors to find the seat that was on his ticket. It was in the balcony— he couldn’t afford floor seats, but he found that throughout the show it was nice to see all of the dancers without needing to move his head, and he enjoyed being able to see all of the lights.

There was nothing enjoyed more than seeing you walk over the stage on the very tips of your toes and into the arms of the guy you were to dance with. He didn’t feel any jealousy when you leaped into the arms of your several partners because he knew that you were dancing for him tonight. The energy you brought to the stage throughout the acts made his eyes water in a way he didn’t understand. He didn’t understand the plot of the play, he didn’t understand why there was a demon, he didn’t understand why you were dressed as a swan, but he understood that every move you made was your soul projecting itself into physical form. 

Or some shit like that. 

He waited for half an hour at the backstage doors, and when you finally walked out sans makeup and hair hanging loosely down your shoulders, he immediately walked up behind you. 

“Excuse me, can I get a picture? Your dance was one of the hottest things I’ve seen in a hot minute.” He said nervously. You spun around in initial fright and you took a second to recognize Billy without his mullet. You squealed happily when you realized who it was and you jumped into his arms.  He spun you around and you threw your head back in laughter. He swore you were the most beautiful thing in the entire world. 

“Holy shit, Bill! I didn’t know you were comin’!” Your voice was slurred with exhaustion and happiness and you kissed him hard on the mouth. His warm and wet lips tasted like home and you hummed happily when he hugged you closer to his hard body. 

“You are the most beautiful thing in the entire world, Y/N/N!” He crowed into the sky and ignoring the looks of passerby’s. “One day I’m gonna marry you, and we’ll drive our kids to dance practice and they’re gonna take after their momma.” His smile was wide, and his teeth shone under the streetlights. 

Your eyes welled up with tears of joy at his words, and you kissed him once more. “I fucking love you, Bill.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him. The rough denim of his jacket brushed against your cheek as you leaned further into him. 

“I like the hair, by the way.”

“How much?” He smiled down at you and winked. 

“Take me to a motel and I’ll show ya.”

[force-formed-archived-blog]

100 Days of Headcanons

Day 24 - Illness

TW: eating disorder

She doesn’t have things in her pantry, or her fridge, other than alcohol, a canned soup that must’ve been there for ages now, and some rice. There’s no point, she doesn’t have people over as much, and when she does, it’s always better to order out. And when she’s alone, she doesn’t eat.

She doesn’t eat in her house, or the station, or the street, or anywhere. It’s just something that doesn’t happen anymore, not until her body screams, begs, pleads for it. And then she’ll indulge, a skim portion of whatever, usually greasy or sugary, something that will keep her body deceived, until next time. And she’ll go back to coffee, and alcohol, and cigarettes, and work. She was actually not sure which was the distraction anymore, if food over work, or work over food.

It all started because of work, innocently enough, like most of the horrible habits she sported now. Too much work, so little time, and so she started cutting things out of her life. Friends, sleep, family, fun, love, food. And it remained like that. Somethings returned to her from time to time, like people, because they insisted enough, to be let in again. But food is not that strong, it’s even weaker than sleep, and she slept so little too.

When she was a rookie, a beat cop, an officer, her mother forced her to eat, to take the time and have something in the break room, or go out and eat with some co-workers. When she was a Detective, most nights she found herself going to a bar or another, and sharing some fries or whatever, over the almost mandatory drinks. But when she reached Chief, well- everything became harder. After all, who could order the Chief around?

She was alone now, no mother to push her, no nearby family to worry for her, phone calls and letters could only do so much, after all, and then Tenzin left. And that was probably the last little push she needed to let herself forget about food, and about herself. Her officers tried, worried over her working tirelessly, and brought her stuff; and she smiled, and thanked them, or barked something about how she didn’t need anything at them, or just plain ignored the take out bag on her desk, until its smell was too much, and she took it out, giving it to the first person she saw living poorly on the streets. They needed it more.

There were catches to this, of course there were, life was never as easy as one would like it to be. If she visited the palace, she had to eat, if she was invited to a gala, she had to pretend, if she was asked, she had to lie. Some places were better than others, it had taken her some time, but she had learned to play the game properly now. Things like “I ate on the way here”, “I’m feeling a little sick today”, “I have plans for dinner already”, left her lips so easily now. Pushing food around her plate, making small talk, distracting people, until everyone stopped eating and she could leave the table, she was an expert in that. Wasn’t that awful? Wasn’t she so disgusting? She thought she was.

Her father was a weak point of hers, of course. If he invited her to lunch, she knew she would have to eat, and she felt sick until the moment came, her stomach clenching, and throat closing, and bile rising to her mouth. And she would read the menu three or four times, trying to decide what would be the lesser evil, what she could stomach more easily, what she would feel less grossed out by, the smallest portion on the place. And even then, she would try to avoid having to finish it, claiming whatever stupid excuse she could come up with. But her father would stare at her, worry on the wrinkles by his golden eyes, pleading eyes, for her to eat, to be okay, to be healthy.

But that was the thing, she felt healthy, enough. She ordered food at home sometimes. Usually noodles, and dumplings, that were always her favourites, Water Tribe food, that reminded her of Katara, Fire Nation cuisine, spicy, filled with flavour, tasting like home. And she held the chopsticks in her hand, until her fingers started shaking, with want, with guilt, with fear, with self hatred. It was so very wrong. She was wrong, all over. Why couldn’t she enjoy it? She wanted it so much, her mouth watered, but her eyes also watered, filled with tears, blurring her view, and her chest felt tight, and she heaved, and sobbed, over a stupid take out cardbox. Healthy, what a joke.

And she glares at the food, from a barstool on her kitchen counter, entertaining a glass of whisky, doing this insane dancing around of the thing, a repulsive seduction, a loathsome acceptance of her own desire for food. And she ate, a bite, two, and gagged, and cursed, digging her fingernails on her arms, tears falling freely down her cheeks now, the chopsticks pressed hard in her hand, until she broke them, until she bled, and choked on her own heavy breathing, the room closing in on her.

She took a shower then, hitting at the wall, scalding her skin with the water, scrubbing the intoxicating smell of the food off of her, insulting every piece of herself she could think of. Because she wasn’t even a whole person anymore, she was bits and pieces, scattered around close enough that she appeared whole on the outside, but separated just enough, so that she could not make out the figure of what she once was. Why? What happened? And how? And how to fix it? And her?

There had been times, lowest points in her life, if there was even such thing as lower anymore, where she had found herself kneeling over her toilet, emptying the contents of her stomach, until there were only heaves left, and bile, and blood, and tears. And hate. Hate because why, how, could she lose control of herself like that? If she ate, she had to at least keep it in, take responsibility of her actions, abide by the commitment she had chosen to make. That was what was wrong everywhere, lack of commitment, and she didn’t feel like making any, anymore. She was tired of things not leaving her, work, words, thoughts, feelings, everything forever embedded in her. And food was just like that, it didn’t leave you. But you could make it leave, unlike other things, other people.

Galas, social compromises, outings, those were the worst combinations for her. Because people always expected her to eat, to converse, to be normal, contented, amicable, and she could not. Not anymore. And she could hardly even listen, to people saying all sorts of moronic stuff, too absorbed in their own minuscule world that they failed to see around themselves, obtuse people who had no care for anyone but themselves, and their conceited ideas. And so she ate, to keep her mouth shut, to keep their mouths shut, their voices muted over the thoughts that ran inside her head. Telling her how gross she was being, how disgusting, she should stop, she should not eat anymore, she should throw up. She should. She would. It was okay if she chose to, right? Her body, her choice. She was choosing this.

So she excused herself, and went to the farthest bathroom, to the last stall, and kneeled. There was a process to it, were she changed her breathing on the way there, starting the heaves voluntarily, pressing on her stomach ever so slightly, tying her hair back, and having the utmost care not to splatter on her outfit. Of course there were easier foods to get out, and some that hurt like a bitch, but she had also learned that, and how to fix it, make it easier for her. And if she couldn’t, if she failed, and her throat ended up raw, and she had the iron tang of her own blood on her lips, well, it had been her choice. And she’ll live with it.

She always lived with it. With everything. Nothing ever left her. Not even the food she so carefully avoided, or that she so methodically threw up. It lingered in her head, a gruesome reminder that she had failed yet again. That she could not control a single thing in her life, she could kid herself, bend rock, and metal, and her officer’s wills, but for what? At what cost? What was the point of it, when the important things, the important people, escaped her grasp, like sand escaping between her fingers, as she watched, teary-eyed, and pressed the button of the toilet, letting it all go away.

[iamcmims]

Women Of Letters — Multifandom (Four)

MASTER POST

Co-writer: @stormysymphony

As usual, Amelia was in the training room; this place is the only location where she felt useful since the Black Mask kidnaped Emma. However, it came to a point where training was enough; she will not save her best friend if she stayed in there, confined, locking herself up out of the whole world. It was time for Aurea to step up, so she pushed Amelia down, stood up, took a shower, changed her clothes into the ones she uses on the field and goes to the main room of the bunker.

Barry turned around and saw Amelia walk into the room already suited up. "Hey, Amelia." Amelia gives Barry and short nod, formal and effective. Barry looks at Cisco, giving him the cue to update Amelia. "We found the frequency of the data." Amelia does not move, waiting for more information. Caitlin frowns, "but if we do not have the location of the source then—," Cisco turns his chair and fixes his partner, "Yes, except if we use the frequency and search through Central City with it." It was Amelia's turn to be confused, "So, it means using the frequency to track it?" Cisco nods, "Each data has its proper frequency, so if we use it to track the data, then we will find him."

Amelia nods, and drops the formal behavior, "Thank for your help. This case is not easy, and it is highly dangerous, and—" The alarm of the bunker goes off, cutting Amelia in the middle of her phrase. Caitlin looks at the computer and sees that some camera went off. "Someone entered the bunker." Amelia knew who it was, and this predicted nothing reassuring. In a fraction of a second, Barry came back with his suit on, Oliver's arrows and bow, and Amelia's sword.

Through the speakers, someone started to speak, "well, well, well. It looks like everyone is here." Amelia puts on her mask, "put all of them in a safe place, now." Orders Aurea. Barry tried to contradict the order given, but Aurea's hard look made him stop, "My scientific team and yours does not know how to fight. Get them to a safe place, right now." Barry nods and uses his speed to put everyone in a secured location. Aurea looks at Oliver, "Hide somewhere, cover me if he has someone with him, we need to have a surprise effect on him." Oliver agrees and hides upstairs where Barry, Caitlin, and Cisco were, having a view on the main room, where Aurea was.

Aurea stayed at the place, waiting for the Black Mask to appear, which seemed like hours to her. When he finally appeared in front of her, without his mask on, the realization hit her.

"Now, Aurea, do you know who am I?", "Where is Lux?", "Well, I thought you might have found where I was hiding so before coming here, I have hidden her somewhere else.", "Why are you doing this?", "I told you, you have something I need.", "What is it? Tell me, and I will give it to you.", "Still willing to give up everything for each other, I see.", "What do you want?", "The dagger.", "Listen, big guy; you have to be more specific.", "The dagger. The only dagger that has what I want." Aurea searched her memories when she knew which dagger he was talking about; her eyes widen in shock.

"You want one of the powers of God. Why? Why would you want it?", "I want the powers of the evil dopplegänger of Eve.", "You need the spell for your plan to work out.", "I know. Frankly, I was not surprised when I searched your files and did not find any spell. You are smart, always being careful. So then, I guess, what if the only place where the spell is, is the Women of Letters' mind? Am I right?", "Is this the reason why you took Lux? Why didn't you just take me?", "Black and blue, blue and black, what is the difference? It would have worked the same. Now, to help you decide if you should give me the spell or not, know that if you kill me, a bomb linked to my heart will explode whenever my heart stops, and if you do not give me the spell, and the dagger, I will push one red button." He shows a bracelet on his wrist with a red button on it, proving his words to Aurea.", "You sick bastard, you are doing all of this just for powers?", "Not just for powers, the powers of the Mother of all Evil."

Barry, Caitlin, Cisco, and Oliver were listening to what Black Mask and Aurea were saying. Caitlin was typing something on her tablet. She looks at Barry and nods for him to follow her. "What is it?" Caitlin looks at her tablet then back at Barry. "I found what he is talking about.", Oliver looks behind him then back at Caitlin, "What is it?", "So, for the world to work, there is this balance, the good and the bad, the yin and the yang. If we go from this, you need to know that each of us got a dopplegänger, not only on other earths, but also on this planet, and just, in the cosmic. Are you still following?" The three men nod. "He talked about Eve, like Adam and Eve. The Mother of everything. Not only humans got dopplegängers, but every creature does, so it makes sense that Eve does. Eve's dopplegänger is as powerful as the original Eve; she is the Mother of all Evil. During Aurea and Lux's research, they found an artifact — a dagger." Cisco frowns, "The dagger that Black Mask mentioned?" Caitlin nods, "the dagger in question can kill both of the Eve and lock their powers in the artifact; it is said that this dagger is one of the powers of God." Caitlin catches the confused looks on the men faces. "The powers of God are artifacts that he made himself out of his powers, for each creature he made, for the humans to be able to kill them if they ever intended to destroy our world. This dagger is one of them. However, to be able to lock the powers of the both Eves, there was a spell, but there is also a spell to unlock them. The thing is if you unlock one power you unlock the other." Barry takes a deep breath, "Why does black mask need it?", "If he indeed when through the girls' researches, he knows that only a vessel of a wicked soul can receive the powers of evil Eve, like only a pure soul can receive the powers of the first Eve. He knows that he can control evil Eve's powers. If he does, though, as he is already a supernatural creature, half DNA, and half DATA, we will not be able to defeat him, he will be invincible." Oliver looks at Caitlin, "What if we use the dagger against him? Aren't the powers of both Eve their essence?", "Yes, but unfortunately, if the spell to get the powers of the evil Eve is cast, the dagger will disintegrate itself from the strength of the spell and Eves' powers."

Water was running somewhere near, drops falling from a pipe above Lux's head. The room in which Lux was locked didn't look like a room where water should be leaking from the pipe she was cuffed too. She was very thankful for all the times Aurea had forced her to train. Especially for the escape training. She took all her strength together and swung forward, pain coursing through her arms, a screeching noise indicating the pipe had moved. One more time and the metal clappered on the ground.

"Fucking hell that seemed easier in my memories..." Her hands were still cuffed together, but at least she could move properly this time. She neared the door. Locked. Bringing up her strength one more time she kicked the door in. She stepped out, trying to think where she could hide from Black Mask. Only one answer seemed wise: the bunker. However, before that, she had to figure where she was. Oddly enough, there were no guards around. Lux could not help but felt quite upset. That asshole did not think she was enough a menace to guard her. Of course, Aurea was the more efficient agent and certainly the better-trained one. Nonetheless, she would show him what to expect from her too, stepping out of the warehouse she started her way in the direction where the bunker should be.

Some disgusting noises came up from behind her, ever so slowly she turned around. Two of those horrible virus infected mutants were staring at her. She took a step backward, then another and another. The things moved closer towards her. She turned and ran.

"I do not have the dagger." Black Mask laughed. "Yes, you do. Wherever the both of you goes, you take the powers with you. I can feel it, it is here, close." Aurea takes a step back, enough to give away where the dagger was. Black Mask smirks, "you silly girl, you keep the dagger with you." Aurea takes out her sword, Black Mask frowns. "You will have to kill me before I give you the dagger." Aurea attacks Black Mask, at the first swing she hurts him, creating a deep wound on his leg. Aurea was not moving too much from her original place, protecting The Dagger that was inside the wall. "I will not have any problem killing you, Amelia." Aurea is taken aback when he pronounced her name. "I do know your name. You could have saved him!" Black Mask takes a step towards Aurea and aims his sword at her; she put her sword in front of her just before Black Mask's sword attained her face. "I have no idea whom you are talking about!", "My son! You did not save my son." They both stop fighting. "What?", "You decided to save Lux instead of my son, and now he is buried underground, rotting like his life never mattered, never happened.", "You want the dagger to have enough power to bring him back.", "You are smart. I give you that. You created me, if you had saved my son, we would not be fighting right now. I would not have infected your friend with the virus. She would not be dying."

[mirkwoodshewolf]

You break her heart, I break you; Rocket raccoon x teen reader

Well this came from one of my first requesters here on Tumblr lannalequeen who wanted a Rocket Raccoon x teen reader so just imagine between 12-14 years old since that’s what she wanted and I really didn’t specify the age. I hope you all like it even though it’s short and I really hope I made you proud lannalequeen and I apologize in advance if it sucks. Anyways I hope you guys enjoy this.

Warnings: mentions of heartbreak, violence (revenge), and swearing but other than that nothing else. And if any of you guys have the following names of the people I use as the bullies I apologize in advance those were just names that came at the top of my head, just replace them with names of people you don’t like in their places.

______________________________________________________

I don’t even know why I went there to begin with. I thought they were nice enough to invite me to this party but in the end it was all a cruel joke to them. Especially since the guy I liked was involved with it, in fact he was the ring leader along with his real girlfriend.

I came back to the Milano dripping wet in stuff I don’t even wanna talk about and ran to my room to hopefully get the smell off of me because right now I smell like I just came out of an Abilisk’s stomach, in fact I think that’s where they got it from.  As I turned on the shower and got in it, I collapsed to my knees and just wept hysterically as I allowed the hot water to drench me. 

After I was done, I just sat in my room when I heard a knock at my door.

“I don’t wanna talk about it”.

“C’mon kid, you and I both know that ain’t true. Now come on open up, I’d rather not try to break in and you know I can”. Rocket’s voice came from the other side of my door.  I stood up and opened my door and there stood Rocket and Groot.  

“I’m not in the mood for any smart comments right now”.

“And I won’t give yah any, just tell me what happen to yah at that party?” I allowed them in and they both sat on either side of me and I explained everything to them.

Just last week I was asked out by this guy I had a small infatuation with had asked me to go out with him to this party that was happening. Of course me being me and feeling like this was a dream come true, I said yes and for the whole week I spent working on my outfit hand-making it for hours and hours on end till it was perfect.

FF to tonight when I went to the place where the party was at, as I enter at first people are welcoming of me and I was dancing and drinking some punch when out of nowhere I get dumped with the red thick goop and everyone began to laugh and point their fingers at me.  

It was then revealed that the guy I liked had announced me as ‘The Party Joke’ and then this beautiful blonde came up to him and kissed his neck and clung onto him like vultures to a carcass and then I decided to just bail out because I didn’t want them seeing my tears.

After the story was done, Groot held out his hand and grew a beautiful flower for me and picked it off of him and held it out to me looking at me with sympathetic eyes.  I took the flower from him as Rocket said.

“Those shoobies don’t even know who they’re messin with, had you told them who you were, those assholes be runnin scared” stated Rocket.

“Please Rocket I—I’m not in the mood, in fact—I just wanna be left alone”. I stood up and went over to my hammock and just laid on it turning my back on them covering myself with a blanket over my entire body.  It was then I heard them walk out and shut my door behind them leaving me alone to wallow in my own stupidity. 

As Rocket and Groot stood outside my room, Rocket grinned maliciously and snickered.

“Oh those punks will wish they hadn’t been born, come on Groot I’ve got a plan”. It was then Rocket and Groot left the Milano and headed towards the party. 

The group of teens were still partying inside when suddenly the power was cut off which made everyone complain and curse out loudly.

“What the hell is going on Colin?” one of his friends exclaimed.

“How should I know?” Colin sneered.

“Colin, I’m scared” his girlfriend Stacey whined out as she cuddled into his shoulder.

“Alright let’s all head outside, maybe the fuse blew out or something”.  Soon the teenagers all piled out and Colin went to the fuse box located in the backyard and used the flashlight on his phone to see what was going on.  He took notice of some wires that looked to be cut off and he said, “Damn rodents!”  Suddenly a rustling noise echoed through the night. “What was that?” asked Colin.

“It sounded like a bush rustling, you said sometimes raccoon get in your backyard right?” said Colin’s friend Andrew.

“Yeah, get me my gun” said Colin.  It was then Andrew went to the shed and handed Colin his handgun.  Colin headed towards a bush by the fence surrounding his backyard.  He cocked the gun when suddenly a raccoon came out from the bush.  “There, see told yah its nothing but a disgusting rodent”. As Colin turned away, the raccoon said.

“Takes one to know one”.  It was then everyone froze.

“It—it talked!” exclaimed Stacey.

“No it didn’t Stace! Alright then,” Colin knelt down in front of the raccoon and mocked out “Say ‘Colin’. ‘Co-Lin’”.

“Loser. Loser!” Colin’s jaw dropped and the gun dropped from his hands.

“Holy sh—”

“Yeah, yeah now that we’ve established that let’s get down to business,” suddenly Colin was grabbed by the throat by a branched hand and Rocket now came out from the bush back in his blue jump-suit and he proclaimed to every one of the teenagers.  “Now let’s make something clear! The girl you all humiliated is OUR friend! You humiliate her, you humiliate us. You insult her in anyway, you’re insulting us. You break her heart, you break ours or more ACCURATELY. We. BREAK. YOU!”

The teenagers soon all started running and screaming trying to get away but Rocket pulled out a remote and pushed a side button which caused half the teens to shoot up into the air with blue light exploding as they were shot up in the air.  Rocket then pushed another button which shot out millions and millions of darts at the rest of the teens who let out screams before collapsing to the ground paralyzed.

Rocket turned to Groot and nodded telling him to let the boy go, Colin just stared in shock and horror at the sight of people lying on the floor or being repeatedly dropped up and down.  He took off running and that’s when Rocket took out his big gun stating,

“I live for the simple things, like how much this is gonna hurt”. His gun extended outwards and just like when he first met Quill, he fired out an electric body ball that attached to Colin’s back and sent high voltage throughout his body until he collapsed to the ground and wriggled like the snake that he was.  “Yeah, writhe little man”.

“I am Groot”.

“Oh (y/n) would’ve been happy to see this, and the rest of these losers will be fine, give them several hours and they’ll wake up. Now let’s bail before we’re caught”.  They then took their leave and Rocket began to immediately prepare the Milano for departure.

As the Milano flies away from Earth, I come on deck and I said to Rocket.

“Hey Rocket, I just got a news flash on how Colin’s party was attacked by something, you didn’t have anything to do with it did you?”

“Now why would I do a thing like that kid?” He said as he continued to pilot the ship.  I smiled softly and ruffled the top of his head and said.

“Thank you Rocket”. I then kissed his cheek before going to Groot and kissed my hand before placing it on his cheek saying, “You too Groot”.  I then left the deck and headed back to my room.

“Yeah we did good bud” stated Rocket smugly.

“I am Groot”.

“Your damn right we will. We’ll do whatever it takes to make sure no one breaks her heart again”. 

[zibizuba]

People Who Quit Their Jobs in the Best Way Possible

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An inventory of a few of the most memorable methods staff have ever stop their jobs. Have you ever ever spent a nasty day at work fantasizing of all of the intelligent, confrontational, and basic methods to say “take this job and shove it?” Have you ever ever daydreamed in regards to the look in your boss’s face if solely you would ship the quitting speech of your desires? Nicely get able to reside vicariously by a gaggle of oldsters who really did what most disgruntled employees solely dream of. Whether or not they spelled it out in an incendiary public announcement or employed a full band to accompany their speech, every of those staff reached their breaking level and embraced it. We’ve acquired resignation letters written on muffins, farewells constructed into video games, and even musical performances by people who stated farewell with aptitude. Not each ex-employee you’ll see right here was so well mannered nevertheless, so beware the occasional F-bomb or bare goodbye as you wade by these outstanding examples of bridge-burning.

Residing as much as Inconsistency

Although their identify’s been redacted, this nameless worker lives on as a hero to disgruntled staff in all places. After receiving what they felt was unfair suggestions, this particular person determined to offer their boss just a little suggestions of their very own.

The postscript is particularly priceless, as the remainder of the letter’s subtext lastly simply turns into textual content.

When is a BRB Signal Not a BRB Signal?

As you may see from the signal they left behind, this was not the day to mess with this worker. Sadly, the corners their boss tried to chop don’t seem to have been value it. Let this be a lesson to frugal enterprise homeowners in all places.

This Tech Man Confirmed His Bosses the Error of Their Methods

Although unidentified, the tech man who created this error message will likely go down in historical past for his epic resignation. After lastly determined he’d had sufficient, the witty internet designer put his abilities to good use, even giving his employers a tongue in cheek second likelihood with a “renegotiate” button.

Actually the Sweetest Resignation Letter Ever

Chris Holmes could have written the tastiest resignation letter of all time when he stop his job as a border agent at Stansted Airport to pursue his dream job of proudly owning a bakery. The aspiring baker delivered the tasteful and attractive deal with to administration, who then fairly probably turned the one bosses on the earth to answer a resignation letter by consuming it.

Behold! Karma at Its Best

Generally a boss who abuses their energy really will get what’s coming to them. The three staff who wrote this had sufficient and determined to offer karma just a little shove in the precise course, apparently closing up store in the course of the day.

Declaring Independence from Taco Bell

Former Taco Bell Shift Chief Adam was upset to study that, regardless of working for 22 days straight, his request for break day on the 4th of July had been denied. Decided to have a good time America’s independence with some fireworks of his personal, nevertheless, he channeled his frustration into this public declaration worthy of historical past.

Punctuality: Not Simply For Staff Anymore

As you may see from the word displayed on the shop’s entrance door, Joe had merely had sufficient of following guidelines that the boss didn’t suppose went each methods. The “Assist Needed” signal provides some good context.

Better of all, Joe’s rapidly written word was the reward that stored on giving: the later the boss was, the extra individuals discovered precisely why the doorways had been locked.

The Chipotle Revolt

In September of 2014, the employees of a Pennsylvania Chipotle was pushed to the purpose of revolt by what they known as a “borderline sweatshop” surroundings. The staff later cited circumstances that included 11-hour shifts with no breaks or alternatives to eat lunch or dinner.

Chipotle responded by sending a company supervisor to speak to the vexed crew about precisely what had gone flawed on the location.

The Icing on the Cake

If it’s going to be profane, it would as properly be scrumptious. It appears this disgruntled Baskin-Robbins worker had iced their final cake. Whereas the execution could not have been tactful, it’s a must to admit, it’s uncommon to see an expletive-laden resignation that can be a tasty dessert.

You Can Change Your Personal Indicators From Now On

Just like the Taco Bell resignation, however even a bit extra indignant, this employee felt the necessity to not solely declare their bitterness by the enterprise’s light-up signal, but additionally caught the shock just a little bit additional by telling his boss to put in writing his personal rattling indicators.

A Prehistoric Goodbye

Generally the easiest way to stop a job you hate is by giving your former employers a parting reward alongside together with your resignation letter. This worker determined his farewell reward could be a drawing of a dinosaur, which additionally acted as his two weeks discover.

A Playable Resignation Letter

When developer Jarrad Farbs determined to stop his job at a serious Australian online game firm to pursue impartial growth full time, he discovered an lovely solution to break the information to his co-workers. Fairly than a chilly resignation letter, he developed a brief Mario Brothers Flash sport which broke the information alongside Mario’s journey.

At its conclusion, the sport learn, “You gave me a paycheck, an unbelievable venture, and a world-class crew to study from. However my princess is in one other citadel.”

A Goldman Sachs Government Stop with the World’s Most Public Resignation Letter

In March of 2012, Goldman Sachs Worker Greg Smith not solely knowledgeable his bosses he’d be resigning, he shared the information with the world. In a New York Times Op-Ed, Smith revealed his disgust with the corporate for creating an surroundings that put revenue above individuals, even their very own prospects. Goldman Sachs CEO Lloyd Blankfein and COO Gary Cohn responded with an internal memo which was eventually printed in WSJ‘s “Deal Journal.”

An Ode to Borders Books

You understand all these offended stuff you suppose at work however by no means say? Nicely, when the workers of 1 Borders location discovered that the shop would quickly be closing, they figured they could as properly earn their unemployment. They concocted and posted “Ode to a E-book Retailer Loss of life,” an indignant record of complaints about prospects that just about instantly turned a want success basic for pissed off retail staff the world over.

To the Excessive Seas!

This resignation email is fairly commonplace to start with, that’s, till it takes a fast left flip when the worker broadcasts he’s determined to satisfy his desires of being a excessive seas pirate, and that he can be accepting purposes for his First Mate quickly. Confused? A bit bit. However nonetheless very a lot impressed.

A Poetic Twitter Farewell

Jonathan Schwartz, the previous CEO of Solar Microsystems, determined to announce his departure from the company in a really public and poetic method, by not solely resigning on Twitter, but additionally by doing it with a haiku. Nothing flawed with including a contact of sarcastic class once in a while.

Learn My Cheez Whiz

Fed up together with his place as a clerk at a Seattle grocery retailer, an unnamed worker reportedly confirmed up on the scene someday to drunkenly announce his resignation. Apparently he was in no state to really kind up his resignation letter, so he proceeded to do the subsequent smartest thing and write out “I stop” on a retailer window utilizing Cheez Whiz.

Greatest Driveway Chalk Ever

This message left scrawled on someone’s driveway was written by a landscaper who had grown just a little bored with cleansing up their weeds.

The Rooster King Takes What’s His

When this Florida Burger King worker stop his job, he took extra than simply his closing paycheck. The person, who’s Twitter deal with is @zealot, additionally took every last chicken nugget the fast food joint had within the freezer. He tweeted an image of his loot with the caption, “TODAY WAS MY LAST DAY WORKING AT BURGER KING SO I TOOK ALL OF THEIR NUGGETS, F*** IT.” Followers dubbed him the Rooster King, and helped the tweet go viral (it has since been eliminated). Right here’s hoping he acquired to maintain these nuggets.

Using a Rainbow Vaccum Outta There

Tom “T-Bone” Amellino left his job in essentially the most optimistic method potential – by using out on a rainbow taking pictures vacuum. Scent ‘ya later dead-end job, I’ll see you on the finish of the rainbow!

Concerning the creator: Viral Luck

Inform us one thing about your self.

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[dreamscript]

Spiders

There’s a spider in the room.

You’re scared, Minhyuk’s terrified, and Hyunwoo’s tired.

“You know, I’m starting to think that the only reason you guys are friends with me is so that I can kill the spiders.”

fill for this request

3.2k words, comedy, minhyuk + reader + hyunwoo, college au

Hyunwoo is dreaming. 

He prances about in a sparkling, sunshine-filled world, with all-you-can-eat buffets prepared by top-notch chefs, expansive gyms, nicely toned arms, screaming marmot noises, comf--

Wait.

He pauses in his enjoyment of the dreamworld and listens intently to the harsh, guttural, grating sounds. Screaming marmot noises.

No, no. The noises--oh. That’s his phone.

Letting out a groan, he reaches over for the obnoxiously screaming device. He curses himself for forgetting to turn his ringer off, and then curses Minhyuk for setting his default ringtone to screaming marmots. He’d forgotten to never trust the kid with his phone.

Hyunwoo doesn’t even bother looking at the caller ID--whoever it is, whatever the hell they want, none of it matters. The only thing that really counts, he has decided, is his much-needed sleep. He’s got an 8 AM class tomorrow that he’s been dreading, but he’s gotta go because he’s already behind as is. And everyone knows that if you’re behind, you are behind. He’s still trying, though. Especially since he’s already paying thousands to attend the university, and he’d be damned if he failed one of his core classes.

“What.” His voice comes out as a deep, menacing rumble. The person’s got precisely 0.3 seconds to answer before he--

“HYUNWOO!”

He instinctively flinches. Faintly, he feels--hears?--his ears ringing. Hyunwoo doesn’t even need to think to know the person is Minhyuk, who seems more than ready to die a painful, torturous death. Tomorrow. After he goes back to sleep. And goes to class.

“The fuck you want?” he hisses into the receiver. Out of the corner of his eye, he notes that it is currently 3:17 A.M. Fucking fantastic.

“YOU HAVE TO CO--AH!” There’s static as Minhyuk yelps and loses hold of the phone, letting it slip from his grasp and fall--somewhere. Hyunwoo grunts and feels his eyelids fluttering shut, finger moving to jab satisfactorily at the red “end call” button--

“SHIT--H-Hyunwoo!” His eyes immediately widen upon hearing your voice. “Y-You gotta get here right now!” In the background, he can hear another strangled cry from Minhyuk. You curse under your breath. More static.

“What’s wrong? Where are you?” Hyunwoo immediately sits up in his bed, eyes frantically darting around the darkened room, attempting to locate his clothes, his shoes, maybe a can of pepper spray...

“Wow, okay, I see how it is!” Minhyuk’s whining, slightly panicked voice comes back. “You curse me out when I call you, but as soon as ________ takes over the phone, you immediately start paying attention!”

Okay, so Minhyuk’s got a point there. But that’s only because Hyunwoo’s so used to his panicked voice that he’s become completely desensitized, whereas with you...he doesn’t really hear you in such a state of panic very often. Only on certain occasions…Wait.

“What’s. The. Problem.” Hyunwoo grits his teeth. He swears to god that if this is yet another substance-induced incident, or a horrendous prank of sorts, he is going to fucking kill--

“We’re in Minhyuk’s room right now! And, uh,” you let out a loud squeal. “There’s--” Hyunwoo snarls in annoyance, irritated when the answer he’s been waiting so impatiently for is obfuscated by loud static.

“There’s a fucking what?”

“There’s a spider!”

Hyunwoo sighs and flops back down on his bed. Ah yes, of course. He should know this by now: of the few times he’s heard you so panicked, once (and the most recent) was a prank. All the other four times were about spiders and other related miniature-sized threats (whereas for Minhyuk, his calls tend to be a hysterical mixture of both, with great frequency).

Sometimes, he wonders why he even bothers. Seriously, it’s two against one. Against a small, measly spider. You’ve all been through so many more life threatening situations, and yet, it’s always the damned arachnid that--

“Hyunwoo? Hello?” Your voice breaks through his thoughts, now with an edge of hysteria.

--sends you two into a practical fit of hysteria. He hears you call for him again, and in the background comes Minhyuk’s famed shriek of terror. And then your loud cursing and screaming. He can already imagine the scene in his head, in which--

“HYUNWOO! HELLO? ARE YOU--SHIT GODFUCK MINHYUK IT’S COMING--”

--Minhyuk is clutching his pillow with sheer desperation, almost as if begging the cushion to vanquish the eight-legged threat in his room, while you curse and screech in fear, movements frantic and jerky as you attempt to meld into the wall, or some other surface.

Ah yes. He grins, almost sadistically. He sees it perfectly now, an entertaining display of sheer terror over a spider. A common, probably non-venomous creature, just trying to live its simple life... He’s pretty sure you two will be fine. In fact, maybe just this once he won’t cater to your needs; the both of you have to learn to survive without him, after all.

He closes his eyes and wishes for the sweet embrace of slumber...

“HYUNWOO!”

...or maybe not. Your desperate yell jerks him back, and he feels that annoying voice tugging at the back of his mind, that thing he so-calls his moral conscience.

Would he be okay leaving his friends alone in a room with their greatest fear?

Probably.

He hears more cursing and then some straight up begging. He’s pretty sure that in a few more seconds, tears would be involved as well.

Okay, so maybe not so much. Damn himself and his morals. He grunts and sits back up on his bed, now sufficiently woken up.

“HYUN--”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there ASAP. Hang tight, don’t die, and if it comes down to it, sacrifice Minhyuk and make a mad dash for it when the enemy is distrac--”

“Hey! I heard that--”

Hyunwoo chuckles as he slips on his shoes, pausing for a moment to get Minhyuk’s room key from its spot next to yours. The keys had been given to him after one too many incidents--or “near death experiences,” as Minhyuk calls them--in which he’d arrived to exterminate a spider (or some other unfortunate pest), only to find the door locked and the petrified victim cowering in some far end of the room, unable to move to open the door.

“--fight me you hunky ass muscle brain--”

Hyunwoo smoothly ends the call and steps out of his room, breaking into a jog.

//

“Okay, Minhyuk, he’s coming, so until he arrives, we’ll just have to barricade ourselves and keep an eye on the threat. Minhyuk?” You look over at the slightly-dazed, still-fuming boy next to you. You elbow him and he yelps.

“Yeah?”

“Eyes on the target.”

“Right--shit, yeah.”

You turn back to fix your gaze back on the current issue at hand: the brown, miniscule, skittering dot that threatens your very existence. Minhyuk tenses beside you as it wanders aimlessly in his room, nearing the bed. The silent standoff between the both of you and the spider continues until the arachnid suddenly seems to find a direction and purpose.

It turns towards the bed.

And it leaps in that very direction with an alarmingly fast pace.

You let out a shriek--or is it Minhyuk?--as you watch it come closer and closer, almost seeing it hiss between its tiny little fangs--

Bam.

Like a super hero from a kid’s comic, Hyunwoo bursts into the room just as the spider closes the distance and very nearly gets a double kill.

With one fell swoop, he kills the spider, reaching over to pinch its body into a tissue. You exhale, letting go of the breath you’d been holding, as Hyunwoo disappears into the bathroom to flush the body down the toilet.

“Th-Thanks,” you call after him. Minhyuk makes a noise in agreement. You hear the toilet flush, the sink go off. Then silence. Hyunwoo pads out.

“You know,” he says, “I’m starting to think that the only reason you guys are friends with me is so that I can kill the spiders.”

“Oh come on,” Minhyuk protests. “We invite you to hangouts and places that are spider-free too!”

You slap his shoulder and Hyunwoo laughs.

“Anyways, before I go, what are you guys doing up this late? On a weekday?”

“Studying,” you reply. Minhyuk grumbles.

“Last-minute cramming,” you amend. Hyunwoo looks skeptical. Minhyuk looks guilty.

“Okay, fine, watching Stranger Things. Happy?”

“Quite, actually. It’s a good show,” Hyunwoo says. And then he leaves, though not without running into the door. Twice. You wince and feel vaguely bad for forcing him out here. It’s still 3 AM, after all.

//

“Happy now?” you ask over your styrofoam cup.

“Hardly,” Hyunwoo replies smoothly. “But I really wasn’t expecting much. Free coffee is still free coffee. And I’m too tired and depressed to care as much about quality.”

“So I take it you’re failing that class pretty badly?” Minhyuk asks casually. Hyunwoo makes a grim expression and nods. He then looks down at the black liquid in his own styrofoam cup. All he sees is his own tired, deadbeat reflection, though slightly distorted and at a terrible angle. He grimaces and picks it up, throwing it down his throat all the same. Maybe the caffeine will give him a heart-attack, or something, and he’ll finally feel the sweet release of death.

Ahem.

Anyways.

Joking suicidal thoughts aside, there is currently yet another cup of relatively disgusting, hot coffee being waved directly in front of his face in a dangerously haphazard manner. As much as he contemplates the void, he’d really rather not have it end now, and especially not with a cup of cheap cafeteria coffee to the face.

(On second thought, that probably wouldn’t be enough to kill him. Maybe blind him, permanently disfigure him. The point still stands, though. He refuses to lose to coffee.)

“Hyunwoo? Hello?” You continue to wave your coffee in front of his face.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.” Before you can accidentally spill the thing into his eyes, he gently pushes your hand away. You set the cup down on the table.

“Sorry. But yeah, thanks for helping us out a few days ago. At 3 AM. And sorry for interrupting your much-needed sleep. You’ll pull through in your class. I think.” You give him a reassuring smile that really isn’t that reassuring. He smiles back because he’s going to fail and knows that everyone knows he will.

He clears his throat, setting the now-empty cup back onto the table. “Anyways, in regards to that spider incident, I have something to tell you guys.”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to be out for the weekend, so if you guys have any incidents…”

“Oh.” You turn to look at Minhyuk. He stares back at you. Hyunwoo wonders if you guys somehow have telepathic abilities. He actually wouldn’t be very surprised at all, really. In fact, he’s actually kind of jealous. They’d be nice, especially if he’s in a pinch and needs help from a friend on a test for a certain class…

“So, uh, where are you going to be?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, funeral,” Hyunwoo replies. “But I was going to say, if you guys are worried about more spiders appearing--especially with the weather getting warmer and all--I could actually stay back.”

“Why?” Minhyuk looks both alarmed and relieved. ��Wait, what? I mean, I know that we’re best friends and everything but this is a funeral--”

“For my uncle,” Hyunwoo interrupts. “Racist misogynist extraordinaire. Or so I’ve heard. Never really met him, though if what my mother tells me about him is true, I can understand why. He also had some sort of cerebral injury later in his life and let’s just say...his already pretty loose filter became very much nonexistent.”

“Ah,” you say, relaxing back into your seat. “Well in that case I don’t feel all that bad about asking you to stay.”

“Neither do I,” Hyunwoo replies. “Honestly, my family is only going to collect some old items of ours that somehow wound up in his possession.”

“Oh. Well, in that case, I think you should still go.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah,” Minhyuk says. “Go and get your stuff, man. What if someone steals what’s rightfully yours because you aren’t there?”

“I mean…”

“If you really want to stay, then stay. I mean, I still feel kind of bad for asking you to stay. Plus, I don’t think there will be that many spiders...hopefully,” you add on.

Hyunwoo studies the two of you carefully. Maybe he should go. He’d heard that there was apparently some painting there that belonged to his father, and he’d been meaning to see it.

“Um, okay then.”

//

The first day without Hyunwoo...is just like any other day, except without the reassurance, at the back of your mind, that if any sort of eight-legged threat were to appear, he would also appear to save you.

But it’s okay, because on most days you don’t need to rely on him for such things. You and Minhyuk pass it by as normal, binge-watching more shows and getting started on Black Mirror. The episode ends, fading into the usual “next episode” screen on Netflix.

You stretch, letting out a satisfied groan escape your mouth. “‘Mkinda thirsty,” you mumble. Minhyuk grunts. Turning your head about, you look around for your mug; you’re pretty sure you left it somewhere nearby…

There it is. You spot it sitting on your desk, a few feet away from where you and Minhyuk are currently squished on the bed (seriously--you should get a couch). Except...you’re quick to spot something else next to it, too.

Something small.

And tiny.

With many appendages.

“M-M-Minhyuk,” you start, slapping him on the shoulder multiple times.

“Hm?” He sounds half-asleep.

The thing twitches. And moves. Shit. “Th-There’s a s-spider.”

Almost immediately, Minhyuk tenses. He shifts on the bed. “W-Where?”

With a shaking finger, you point at the dot of brown on the other side of the room, skittering about without a clear sense of aim or direction on the desk.

He makes a terrified squeaking noise, hands desperately grabbing at you before he manages to lock you in a death embrace. You hug him back just as desperately, fearing for you damned life.

As it inches towards your direction and nears the bed closer and closer, you can’t help but think one thing:

“Maybe,” you whisper, terrified, “we should’ve told Hyunwoo to stay...”

“I-I think that’d be nice and all but...we’ll hopefully be fine without him...” Slowly, he unravels his arms.

“But he’s literally the only one who can face those--those things!”

“No. No, he’s not.”

“Wh--” It’s then that you notice that Minhyuk’s rolled up an old magazine of yours, clutching it tightly in his sweaty hand. “Wait, are you really…?”

He nods. You’re unsure about what to feel: on one hand, you’re filled with desperate hope, praying to the deities that Minhyuk will be successful in his dangerous mission and exterminates the threat--but on the other hand, the very threat is the bane of both of your existences.

With what seems to be incredible courage, Minhyuk unfolds his trembling legs, letting his feet make cold contact with the ground. You inhale sharply as he cautiously inches towards the spider, which skitters precariously towards the edge of the desk.

One step.

Minhyuk seems too big for the room, all of a sudden. With just one, fear-filled step, he’s already covered a third of the distance between him and the desk. That has the spider.

Two steps.

He’s taken two steps from the bed, the sanctuary, the haven of safety, venturing deeper into enemy territory. Bravely, he raises his glossy paper weapon.

“Minhyuk…”

Three steps.

His strides may have gotten smaller, but he’s still close, much too close. If the spider could jump--can they jump?--it would easily land on his forearm, and from there sink its tiny little (most likely) venomous fangs into the flesh, pierce his fair, perfect, flawless and pure skin, and stare up at his crumbling, dying form with all eight of its beady little eyes--

There’s a loud thwack and you suddenly jolt, eyes widening with fear as you expect to see his dead body on the ground--

“Y-You’re alive.”

Minhyuk stands panting before your desk, hand firmly pressing the magazine to the desk.

“Y-Yeah.” He says it as if he’s surprised he’s alive too.

Carefully, Minhyuk lifts up the magazine, inspecting it carefully. You can’t see the look on his face, but he makes a satisfied noise.

“I--I killed it.” He turns to look at you now, and his face is the epitome of elation. “I-I did it. I killed the spider--” Minhyuk continues to babble happily as you straighten up on the bed and beam widely at him.

“Really? Are you sure it’s dead? Rip off the page of the mag that it’s smashed on--yeah. Careful--yeah, okay, go and flush that down the toilet. I don’t care if it clogs, because I am not taking any risks--”

He jibbers excitedly as he prances out of the room.

//

“Man, so is this how Hyunwoo feels whenever he kills a spider?” Minhyuk asks dreamily. “It feels so great. No wonder he does it for us so often.”

You nod in agreement. “That explains why he was so reluctant to leave us alone.” You look at him, leaning against your now spider-free desk. “Where’d you get all that courage from, anyway?”

He shrugs and attempts to act casual and “oh-so-manly” about it. “Geh, who knows. Probably was just some fight-or-flight instinct, but I chose fight.”

“Right, okay,” you giggle. He grins at you, still perched on the bed, half-covered in sheets. He’s feeling a bit too awkward to admit it just yet, but it was also in part because there was this sudden, surging notion to protect you. And himself. And the rest of humanity, probably, from the accursed spider.

“Wow, I feel so great, like I could lift entire buildings and--”

“Minhyuk?” He starts at the slightly panicked look on your face.

“Yeah?”

“There’s another one.” With a slightly trembling hand, you point at the ground to the left of him… And holyshityou’rerightshitshitshit--

There’s a loud squeak of protest as both you and Minhyuk immediately dive for the bed. He ends up crushing half of your body with his weight and you’re left wheezing and gasping for multiple reasons.

“H-HYUNWOO!”

//

In a large, relatively crowded room filled with people swathed in black, Hyunwoo sneezes.

Reaching for his handkerchief, he wipes his nose and glances around at those around him, people who seem oblivious to his sneeze. They continue to stare at the casket with mixed expressions of sadness, sorrow, joy, and satisfaction.

Everything about the funeral is plain, utterly plain. Not a single flower is in sight. Or pepper shaker. Or cat, or dog, or any kind of fur-shedding animal, for that matter.

He shrugs and does away with the handkerchief. Maybe someone was thinking of him.

a/n: i know, i know. i pick on poor minhyuk way too much. first its the werepotato incident, and now im making him suffer with spiders.

lol this fic is so random and strangely incomplete

inspired by a whole plethora of naruto fanfiction ive been reading tbh

additionally here is a yt link to screaming marmots.

[shatteredmirrors-and-lace23]

First Lines

Tagged by @laudanumcafe​ and @im-back-with-the-madness​

Rules: List the first lines of your 20 stories. See if there are any patterns. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

Note: Oh jesus help me.... These aren’t in any particular order, But I think I’m just gonna do 16? (sorry!)

In the Breaking:

It’s been three weeks. Three weeks, 67 failed phone calls, 75 un-replied texts, and 23 unanswered voicemails…they hadn’t talked for over three weeks… not since Patrick walked in of him. It was the longest they’ve gone without a single word to each other, sure there were other times where they had not physically see or heard each other’s voices for months on end, but there was always some form of communication: an email, a text, a late night phone call or hilarious picture messages they would send each other. But this…this was different. It was deafening, it was heartbreaking, and Pete knew it was all his fault. 

Come and Save Me (From Myself): “Why do you have to go so far away…”

“U.C. is only about an hour, maybe hour and a half away, dude!” Pete laughed as he packed up some of his clothes into a suitcase, haphazardly tossing a few random items into it as he went.Patrick rolled his eyes and sighed sadly, the 14 year old looking over his best friend excitedly rummage through his closet from where he was perched on the 18 year old’s desk. “I know, but still,” he mumbles, his eyes hiding under the bill of his trucker hat.

Pete stopped and looked over his shoulder at his best friend, screw the age difference, Patrick had always been there for him. “Hey, its not like I’m leaving the state, man,” Pete reassured with a smile, standing from his spot and walking over to the teenager. “Besides, I’ll visit on weekends when he don’t have games, and maybe I’ll kidnap you so you can chill out with me on campus.” He pulled on the bill of Patrick’s hat, pushing it up to expose bold frames and green, blue multicolor eyes that have always captivated Pete.

Heartbeat:

Patrick leaned back heavily in the passenger side of the car watch the lights flicker by, each one burning out like a match as they flew down the highway just as  another lit up the road and vanished in a blink of an eye. The rhythm of the passing lights, the soft orange glow in the never-ending pitch black of night, enough to want to lull the singer to sleep, but the gentle hand on his thigh was warm and kept him awake.

The Price I Pay: He knows he shouldn’t be back there, back in the dressing rooms amidst the frills, shimmer, and lace, perfume burning his lungs, as the lights of the vanities hurt his eyes. As he walks through the crowed area, he catches several glances, each with pity in their eyes, boring holes into his skin with each second he’s in the room. He ignores them, adjusting his vest as he makes his way to the private dressing rooms, which were only reserved for the “Prized Dolls” as Mr. Morris, the establishment’s owner and manager (and disgusting excusing for a human being, but Pete knows better than to be vocal about his opinions) calls them.

How to Save a Life:

“Are you okay?” Patrick tensed as the question reached his ears, his back to Pete. Casually swiping the incoming text away, he simply looked over his shoulder at the dark- haired man standing in the doorway of their kitchen.

“Of course I’m okay,” Patrick stated, the words sounding too harsh, even to his own ears.“Why wouldn’t I be?” He sounded matter-of-fact, but it was laced with annoyance and he didn’t know why he was being so defensive with Pete, of all people. Maybe it was because he was about to start a 36 hour shift at the hospital, and he just wasn’t up to it today…or maybe it was because he had just gotten a text from his new co-worker before Pete had spoken up. “Come over to my place after your shift, we can have some drinks…and chill ;)”  The text in and of itself was flirty, and Patrick knew that the person who sent it had other definition for chill….

“And you know you want to say yes,” the sinister voice in his head hissed teasingly, mocking him.

All That Glitters: Hailing from a prestigious clan in Chicago, Pete was every bit as rash, dangerous, and protective as any typical person of dragon lineage could get. Patrick learned that early on, practically from the moment they first met with Pete had been standing on his front porch blowing smoke into the wind as Joe introduced them.

And Patrick was quick to learn that if Pete was anything like his lineage, he was fucking stubborn as hell, whether it be lyrics to song, his seat in the van, or even constant cuddles against Patrick’s will, despite the numerous thinly veiled threats and seething looks.

Hot to the Touch (Worried on the Inside):

It’s not the first time one of the kids has had a fever.

Bronx always broke out into fevers when he was an infant, and even through his toddler years, but as he grew older, they were few and far in between, often going unnoticed considering how active the blonde little boy was. (Patrick would be the first to scoff, like father, like son.)

Saint was a pretty healthy baby, too. He only had less than a handful of fevers, again, each going unnoticed, and when they tried to get the little boy to take medication, he would simply pout and turn his head at the pink liquid in the spoon, or crawl away as fast as his chubby little arms and legs could take him.

By Carousel Lights:

“Melancholy does fair well against your scheme, such a sad shade does not suit the rogue on your cheeks nor the jolly yellow of your wardrobe.”

He looks up into the tree, leaves dancing in the wind as he catches sight of a familiar  blue-green knitted hat with pointy ears, a painted feline-like smile with jagged teeth, and sweater faux paws hanging over her wrists. Her legs swing giddily in the air as she sits on a branch peering down at him with such rapt content and mischievous wonder. The Mystical being was the last creature he wished to see on a day such as this. Yet he, bright and warm as the colors of his clothes, felt blue and cold like the dead winter’s lows.

Kitty Chester was a most unwelcome sight, indeed

Treat You Better (Than He Can):

Pete knew his place in the student hierarchy.

Pete was the ‘King of Emo’, and with the title, he had the appearance to do it –dark, flat ironed hair, skin-tight girl jeans that others could barely breathe in, dark shirts and band tees, as well as his precious hoodie and studded belts. His fingernails painted every so often with artfully chipped black nail polish (or black permanent marker if he was lazy, which was most days), and his eyes lined a deep shade of black.

Completed Puzzle:

Pete’s thumb hovers over the post button, and for the first time, in a really long time, he actually has to think about posting this for the world to see, which normally wouldn’t be that hard, but considering how ‘big’ this was…well, he wasn’t sure if he was ready yet. Hell, hecould barely wrap his head around it.

He sighs softly and his places his phone down, scrubbing his hands down his face, in a desperate need to shave, but fuck it, they just finished a tour he’s allowed to avoid the razor for a little bit. His eyes flick over to a familiar figure sleeping curled up on the couch, laptop forgotten and two dogs curled with her, a puffball of a Pomeranian sleeping on her side, and a white husky puppy keeping guard on the floor.

More Than Music:

Patrick watched from the wings of the stage as Pete threw himself around the stage with his bass, lost in the music and that stupid grin that he loved so much etched onto his face, jumping his way back to one of the microphones to sing back up for the chorus.

The blonde singer simply smiled brightly, unconsciously bringing the slightly too long sleeves of Pete’s bomber jacket that he was wearing, closer to himself, mouthing the words to the song and swaying along to the heavy rhythm pulsing through the floor.

(Coffee Beans and Vinyl Records Series!)

Today You’re Barista Is:

It started off innocently enough, an idea to make the customers feel more welcomed, as Brendon explained, taking turns between the four of them when it came to the “Today your Barista Is:” sign in front, between the cash register and the espresso machine. It worked out pretty well for the first three months, many of their customers enjoying the personal touches, everyday a bit of trivia about that day’s main barista displayed and their drink recommendation.

That was until Gerard and Hayley got a hold of his board before he knew Brendon had switched shifts with him. When Patrick had gotten the text from Brendon for the switch, he didn’t mind, but when he entered their quaint little coffee shop, he stopped and stared at the blackboard sitting in front of the register, Gerard and Hayley snickering behind the counter.  On the black board, a signature Hayley William’s stick-figure image of Patrick, decked out in glasses and a fedora, underneath the painted “Today Your Barista Is:” and beside the stick figure, additional writing in Gerard’s chalkboard lettering:

1. Hella fucking gay (and flippin’ cute).

2. Desperately single ;)

Then under the “For Your Drink Today, I Recommend:”

You give me your number.

He Always Stops for the Coffee( and the guy who makes it):

Being a CEO of a relatively small, yet highly successful record label wasn’t really all it cracked up to be, but that might be the shit load of paperwork, the endless boring meetings with pushy, snobbed nosed executives, and the high amounts of stress and endless nights of sleep talking.

But Pete loved it.

Jitters( And I Swear It’s Not the Espresso):

Five in the afternoon was their usual after-work rush, and usually, rush times make the day go so much faster. College kids were pouring in from after class rush, and business men stopped by for their after work fix, and this isn’t even the busiest they get, not until the 8pm rush, when students are in desperate need of their caffeine to help get them through homework and study sessions, and couples, along with their regulars come in for some late night coffee.

That all being said, the shop is actually full and they’re keeping a steady flow of customers going and coming- lattes are being made, Brendon’s cupcakes and cookies are flying from the display case. The chairs and tables are being taken up and crowd is lively, chatter filling the warm walls as the smell of coffee drifts in the air. But, for some reason, the clock can’t seem to go any faster, and Patrick is getting antsy.

Coffee For Closers (Truths over Mochas):

“We should do something.”

“What, exactly, do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know dude! Something, if we don’t, he’ll lose his mind!”

Open Mic and Caffeine Nights

Gala Macchiato :

It’s fucking cold, which, okay, Pete admits, it’s the beginning of November, hence autumn, but still, it’s cold. And it sucks.

But fuck it, he wants to get coffee before his meeting, and he wants to see a his boyfriend.

***

Tag! You’re it!

@immoral-crow @shark-myths @a-smile-like-that @travtrick @saverockandsoulpvnk @thepetetoherpatrick @personalized-radio

(I feel horrible because off the top of my head, there are the only writers I know on Tumblr, please don’t hate me)

[zibizuba]

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An inventory of a few of the most memorable methods staff have ever stop their jobs. Have you ever ever spent a nasty day at work fantasizing of all of the intelligent, confrontational, and basic methods to say “take this job and shove it?” Have you ever ever daydreamed in regards to the look in your boss’s face if solely you would ship the quitting speech of your desires? Nicely get able to reside vicariously by a gaggle of oldsters who really did what most disgruntled employees solely dream of. Whether or not they spelled it out in an incendiary public announcement or employed a full band to accompany their speech, every of those staff reached their breaking level and embraced it. We’ve acquired resignation letters written on muffins, farewells constructed into video games, and even musical performances by people who stated farewell with aptitude. Not each ex-employee you’ll see right here was so well mannered nevertheless, so beware the occasional F-bomb or bare goodbye as you wade by these outstanding examples of bridge-burning.

Residing as much as Inconsistency

Although their identify’s been redacted, this nameless worker lives on as a hero to disgruntled staff in all places. After receiving what they felt was unfair suggestions, this particular person determined to offer their boss just a little suggestions of their very own.

The postscript is particularly priceless, as the remainder of the letter’s subtext lastly simply turns into textual content.

When is a BRB Signal Not a BRB Signal?

As you may see from the signal they left behind, this was not the day to mess with this worker. Sadly, the corners their boss tried to chop don’t seem to have been value it. Let this be a lesson to frugal enterprise homeowners in all places.

This Tech Man Confirmed His Bosses the Error of Their Methods

Although unidentified, the tech man who created this error message will likely go down in historical past for his epic resignation. After lastly determined he’d had sufficient, the witty internet designer put his abilities to good use, even giving his employers a tongue in cheek second likelihood with a “renegotiate” button.

Actually the Sweetest Resignation Letter Ever

Chris Holmes could have written the tastiest resignation letter of all time when he stop his job as a border agent at Stansted Airport to pursue his dream job of proudly owning a bakery. The aspiring baker delivered the tasteful and attractive deal with to administration, who then fairly probably turned the one bosses on the earth to answer a resignation letter by consuming it.

Behold! Karma at Its Best

Generally a boss who abuses their energy really will get what’s coming to them. The three staff who wrote this had sufficient and determined to offer karma just a little shove in the precise course, apparently closing up store in the course of the day.

Declaring Independence from Taco Bell

Former Taco Bell Shift Chief Adam was upset to study that, regardless of working for 22 days straight, his request for break day on the 4th of July had been denied. Decided to have a good time America’s independence with some fireworks of his personal, nevertheless, he channeled his frustration into this public declaration worthy of historical past.

Punctuality: Not Simply For Staff Anymore

As you may see from the word displayed on the shop’s entrance door, Joe had merely had sufficient of following guidelines that the boss didn’t suppose went each methods. The “Assist Needed” signal provides some good context.

Better of all, Joe’s rapidly written word was the reward that stored on giving: the later the boss was, the extra individuals discovered precisely why the doorways had been locked.

The Chipotle Revolt

In September of 2014, the employees of a Pennsylvania Chipotle was pushed to the purpose of revolt by what they known as a “borderline sweatshop” surroundings. The staff later cited circumstances that included 11-hour shifts with no breaks or alternatives to eat lunch or dinner.

Chipotle responded by sending a company supervisor to speak to the vexed crew about precisely what had gone flawed on the location.

The Icing on the Cake

If it’s going to be profane, it would as properly be scrumptious. It appears this disgruntled Baskin-Robbins worker had iced their final cake. Whereas the execution could not have been tactful, it’s a must to admit, it’s uncommon to see an expletive-laden resignation that can be a tasty dessert.

You Can Change Your Personal Indicators From Now On

Just like the Taco Bell resignation, however even a bit extra indignant, this employee felt the necessity to not solely declare their bitterness by the enterprise’s light-up signal, but additionally caught the shock just a little bit additional by telling his boss to put in writing his personal rattling indicators.

A Prehistoric Goodbye

Generally the easiest way to stop a job you hate is by giving your former employers a parting reward alongside together with your resignation letter. This worker determined his farewell reward could be a drawing of a dinosaur, which additionally acted as his two weeks discover.

A Playable Resignation Letter

When developer Jarrad Farbs determined to stop his job at a serious Australian online game firm to pursue impartial growth full time, he discovered an lovely solution to break the information to his co-workers. Fairly than a chilly resignation letter, he developed a brief Mario Brothers Flash sport which broke the information alongside Mario’s journey.

At its conclusion, the sport learn, “You gave me a paycheck, an unbelievable venture, and a world-class crew to study from. However my princess is in one other citadel.”

A Goldman Sachs Government Stop with the World’s Most Public Resignation Letter

In March of 2012, Goldman Sachs Worker Greg Smith not solely knowledgeable his bosses he’d be resigning, he shared the information with the world. In a New York Times Op-Ed, Smith revealed his disgust with the corporate for creating an surroundings that put revenue above individuals, even their very own prospects. Goldman Sachs CEO Lloyd Blankfein and COO Gary Cohn responded with an internal memo which was eventually printed in WSJ‘s “Deal Journal.”

An Ode to Borders Books

You understand all these offended stuff you suppose at work however by no means say? Nicely, when the workers of 1 Borders location discovered that the shop would quickly be closing, they figured they could as properly earn their unemployment. They concocted and posted “Ode to a E-book Retailer Loss of life,” an indignant record of complaints about prospects that just about instantly turned a want success basic for pissed off retail staff the world over.

To the Excessive Seas!

This resignation email is fairly commonplace to start with, that’s, till it takes a fast left flip when the worker broadcasts he’s determined to satisfy his desires of being a excessive seas pirate, and that he can be accepting purposes for his First Mate quickly. Confused? A bit bit. However nonetheless very a lot impressed.

A Poetic Twitter Farewell

Jonathan Schwartz, the previous CEO of Solar Microsystems, determined to announce his departure from the company in a really public and poetic method, by not solely resigning on Twitter, but additionally by doing it with a haiku. Nothing flawed with including a contact of sarcastic class once in a while.

Learn My Cheez Whiz

Fed up together with his place as a clerk at a Seattle grocery retailer, an unnamed worker reportedly confirmed up on the scene someday to drunkenly announce his resignation. Apparently he was in no state to really kind up his resignation letter, so he proceeded to do the subsequent smartest thing and write out “I stop” on a retailer window utilizing Cheez Whiz.

Greatest Driveway Chalk Ever

This message left scrawled on someone’s driveway was written by a landscaper who had grown just a little bored with cleansing up their weeds.

The Rooster King Takes What’s His

When this Florida Burger King worker stop his job, he took extra than simply his closing paycheck. The person, who’s Twitter deal with is @zealot, additionally took every last chicken nugget the fast food joint had within the freezer. He tweeted an image of his loot with the caption, “TODAY WAS MY LAST DAY WORKING AT BURGER KING SO I TOOK ALL OF THEIR NUGGETS, F*** IT.” Followers dubbed him the Rooster King, and helped the tweet go viral (it has since been eliminated). Right here’s hoping he acquired to maintain these nuggets.

Using a Rainbow Vaccum Outta There

Tom “T-Bone” Amellino left his job in essentially the most optimistic method potential – by using out on a rainbow taking pictures vacuum. Scent ‘ya later dead-end job, I’ll see you on the finish of the rainbow!

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