#day of classes he felt like he could let some professionalism slide & treat me more in the fashion that he Wants to

[brimstoneandtreacle]

i'm constantly trying to convince myself that he doesn't feel anything towards me (even Friendship feelings) but then i remember things that make me go "there is No fucking way he doesn't feel Something." and then i start trying to convince myself he doesn't again

[jaycewrites-192000]

Growl: Chapter 8

Warnings: None

Tag List: @theravencawsatmidnight @etroman @kaariqueen

Your P.O.V

For once, I was actually looking forwards to going to school. Thanks to Kyotani, I've become steadily more confident in my academic skills. It's not a huge step forwards, but, a step forwards none the less. My grades have been getting better as well, which was just a added bonus to my already great mood. I would have to really consider how I'm going to thank him for all his hard work. Maybe I'll take him out to eat somewhere he likes? Or maybe take him and Killer to a dog park? Or we could go to that new guitar shop that just opened up a well ago, he does play bass after all, maybe he'd want to check out what they had.

"Maybe he can teach me how to play too." I chuckle. Geez, this all was starting  to sound like I wanna ask him out in a date. It's not totally untrue. I would like to ask him out but, there's no way I could actually go through with it. I don't even think he likes me like that. "Man...this sucks. Why can't I just-" My words were cut short when I suddenly bumped into someone. "Oh! I'm sorry!" I quickly apologized. The person I ran into turned to face me, oh....great. "Uh, hey there...you?" I say awkwardly. "You? Really?" The person of, girl, I ran into was an old "enemy" of mine. "I think I've made myself known to you the last time we met." She spat as she placed her hand on her hip.

This was Chiharu Kumiko, also known as, "Oikawa's number one fangirl". She's hated me since the day I became friends with him, always thought we were dating or I had a crush on him. Which was the furthest thing from the true, and yet, she still had it out for me. "Yeah you did. Now if you don't mind, I need to get to class." I say as I try and walk past her. "Sure, "get to class". So you can hoe around with Oikawa-Senpai?" Ignore her, Y/n, ignore her. She's just trying to start a fight, a fight I will finish if she keeps pissing me off. "Bitch I know you hear me!" Kumiko grabs onto my arm and jerks me back. "Let go!" I snap at her, yanking my arm away. The commotion we were causing seem to attract a small group of people. Great, just what I wanted. Kumiko raised her hand to strike me, but before she got the chance, someone grabbed her hand. We both look back at the person who stopped her. "Kyotani?"

"What do you think you're doing?" I could tell Kyotani was furious. His voice was intimidating and his eyes narrowed. I was surprised he wasn't crushing Kumiko's hand right now, he was defiantly holding back. "The hell!? Let go of me you freak!" Kumiko jerks her hand away from Kyotani. Before she left, she turned to me, glaring daggers. "This isn't over, skank." With that, she storms off. I roll my eyes, my attention now back at the crowd, I hid my face in embarrassment. Thanks a lot Kumiko, you attention seeking bitch. "Problem!?" Kyotani snaps at them. The crowd eventually dispersed and continued on their own ways.

"Are you ok? Did she hurt you?" Kyotani asked. I shake my head, a smile retuning to my face. "Thank you Kyotani." I say gratefully. "What's that girl's problem?" He asks. "She has a thing for Oikawa and she thinks I do too."

"Do you?" That question kinda took me by surprise. I didn't know Kyotani would be interested in stuff like that. "No. He's annoying." That made him chuckle. 'Cute...oh right' I suddenly remembered, I still have to thank him. "Um, Kyotani. I wanted to thank you for helping me study. My grades have been getting better because of your help! So, I was thinking...maybe I could take you somewhere as a thank you. If you want to, that is."

"O-oh...sure you can if you want." Kyotani murmurs. "Really? Cool! Let's meet up after school ok?" Kyotani nods, I wave him goodbye before hurrying to class.

Your P.O.V.

I waited at the school gate for Kyotani, and I just could help but smile like an idiot the entire time. How could I not? I sorta, kinda, maybe just asked my crush out on a date, and he said yes! Now I just have to manage not to mess it up. "Just don't act like a creep. Shouldn't be too hard." I say to no one other than myself. "A creep would talk to themselves though, so I should probably stop." I sigh. I might have been ecstatic about Kyotani and I having a day to ourselves, but I was also super nervous. This would be my first "date" with a boy.

What am I suppose to do? What am I suppose to say? Maybe I should have a waited to go home and change, maybe do something with my hair. I shook my head, reminding myself that this is not a date. I'm just thanking him for helping me study. That's all. I can call it a date for when I actually gain the nerve to ask him out. "Hey." I gasp at the sudden voice. I turned to see Kyotani approaching. "Hi." I wave. "You ready to go?" He nods and walks beside me. "Um, so I was thinking." I began. "Maybe we stop by the new music store and then after we can grab a bite to eat? Anywhere you like."

"Sounds good." Kyotani simply says. The two of us made our way into town, talking the whole way to the music store. It looked like one of the newer ones in town, it has that new shine to everything. As we walked inside, I immediately felt out of place. Everyone inside the store was clearly a professional, and I knew absolutely nothing about instruments. But I had to admit, everything in the store looked amazing. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to pick up a music lesson, maybe I'll try the (favorite instrument). "See anything you like?" I asked Kyotani. I could tell he was already invested in the different basses they had. His eyes were glued onto the different colored, slick shinning stringed instruments. "Hmm...I don't really need a new bass. Maybe replace the strings on mine." I walk over to the basses to join him in browsing, when I came across something. Stickers. I pick a few and look them over, there wasn't really any that stuck out in particular, until I found one that couldn't be ignored.

"Oh! Kyotani, look at this!" I showed him a sticker of a Shiba Inu, it was growling and there was some foam in the corners of it's mouth, and a firey background behind the dog, yet it still had that cute appeal to it. I saw Kyotani's eyes light up. "It looks like Killer." He says as I give it to him. "Right? I figured you'd want to put it on your bass." I tell him. He looked over the sticker a few more seconds before nodding. "Yeah. I will." I smile brightly and reach into my school bag. I pulled out my wallet and counted out the right amount to pay for the sticker. "What are you doing?" Kyotani asks. "Buying it. You like it right?"

"I can't let you pay for it." I shake my head. "I don't mind. Besides, I'm treating you today, remember?" I take the sticker and approach the counter. "Just this for today." I tell the cashier man as I slide the money and sticker on the counter. He nods and rings up the sticker before handing it back to me. I turn back to Kyotani and hand him the sticker. "There you go. Now let's go eat, I'm starving." I subconsciously grab his hand and lead him out of the store.

Third P.O.V

Unknowing to Y/n, Kyotani felt his heart flutter and his cheeks warm. He felt like he had made a really good choice befriending her. Kyotani smiled slightly and wrapped his fingers around her hand. "Yeah, me too."

The two teens made their way to a small restaurant, Kyotani had suggested it, told Y/n that it was his favorite place to go. Curious about the place, Y/n was excited to go as well. The waitress lead them to their table and set menus in front of them .They both ordered and and the waitress held up a pen and notepad. "And would the lady and gentleman like the couple's special? 10% off your order and free desert." The waitress asks. 'Wow, that's one hell of a deal.' Y/n thought to herself. "We're not-" She cut Kyotani. "Gonna refuse that! Thank you so much." She clasps her hands together. Kyotani gives her a surprised look. "Lovely! I'll have that right out!" She took the menus and walked away. "....Y/n?"

"I didn't have that much money and it was a good deal, you have to admit...sorry..." Y/n mutters, looking down at the table. "N-no it's fine just...it was shocking." Kyotani says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah..." Y/n clears her throat awkwardly. "I mean, seriously who would willing admit they're in a relationship with me?" Y/n blinks a few times, did she hear him correctly. She looks up across the table at him. "What do you mean?" She asks.

"Well, I don't get asked out a lot, if you can imagine." Y/n leans her head on her hand. "Really? You'd think girls would love a 'bad boy' like you." She giggles. "But really, you're not that bad Kyotani. People just has to get to know you." Kyotani shrugs. "I just didn't mind it as much before..." He trails off. "Before what?" Y/n asks. "Nothing. Forget it."

Y/n raised an eyebrow then leans back in her seat. 'Ever the secretive type.' She thought with a sigh. "Well, I think you're just fine the way you are. If others can't or won't take the time to actually know you, then that's their loss." She tells him. Once again, Kyotani felt his heart skip a beat. This was getting dangerous. Kyotani hadn't felt something like this, he never had crushes before. But this, it felt like more than just a crush. He hated the thought, but he could possibly love Y/n. Why he hated it was simple. Kyotani wasn't just 'not a ladies man', he wasn't a anyone's man. All his life he had better things to focus on, like volleyball, rather than stupid crushes and relationships that wouldn't last more than a year and a half.

So that's why this was so scary. Kyotani really really liked Y/n, but he couldn't stand the thought of giving up something he loved because of his bad habbits. Wether that something was volleyball, or even Y/n. She wasn't to blame. It was him. Kyotani wasn't the best of people. If he hurt her, in anyway, he would never forgive himself. So, it would be best, if Kyotani ignored these new feelings. For the better, for himself, and for Y/n.

The two were walking home together that night. Kyotani made sure Y/n got to her home saefly before saying goodbye. "Thank's for treating me today, even though you didn't have to." Kyotani tells her. "Aw, it was nothing." Y/n waved it off. "That's what senpai's are for right?" She winks. Kyotani gulped and nods his eyes. "Y-yeah. Anyway, see you later. Thanks again." He turned to leave. "Kyotani, hang on!" Kyotani was about to turn around to ask Y/n what she stopped him for, when suddenly she hugged him tightly. Kyotani's face turned a light shade of red as he felt her arms wrap tightly arounf his waist. Slowly, he raised his arms to hug her bag, but before he could she quickly let go and rushed to her door. "Goodnight!" She squeaks out before hurrying inside her home. Kyotani was left there alone, eyes wide with shock. His agaped mouth closed, and his arms dropped to his sides.

"...Damn it."

Previous | Next

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Souls of Mischief || Morgan & Caoimhe

TIMING: the recent past

LOCATION: UMWC

PARTIES: @evebrennan & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Two adjuncts square up against the new dean. Is it really a UMWC faculty meeting if everything goes according to plan?

CONTAINS: N/A

Since the dean of the arts and sciences college had gotten his face eaten and the volmugger dean who unofficially replaced him had been sliced and diced, the faculty meeting had to be postponed until summer. With all the deaths and disappearances from the last year, the faculty was able to squeeze comfortably into one of the small lecture halls from the early days of the school, pre AC. They were twenty minutes in and Morgan’s nose was starting to pick up the sour smell of human sweat filling the room. As she slumped deeper into her chair, she found herself thinking that maybe the volmugger dean hadn’t been so bad after all. At least his meeting probably would have been over by now.

She turned to the woman next to her. “Do you ever wish for a fire scare or a cryptid attack during these, or is that just a me thing?”

Humans were captivating for their creativity, and Caoimhe had never encountered anything as terribly uncreative as a routine meeting. Death by powerpoints, a man droning on about grading rubrics and research coming out of New York City. Somewhere in there was a hopeful message about Summer classes and plans for the Fall, but the man’s tone never changed. She felt liable to crawl out of her own skin should it go on for much longer, shifting restlessly in her seat. Typically, in a room so full, there would always be someone to whom Caoimhe was drawn. It was true, meetings sucked the creativity out of everything.

She was halfway through a list of ways she could get out of it, varying from a simple bathroom excuse to complete university meltdown, when a voice piped up from beside her. Ah, better. “Only every meeting. We could make it happen. Any of the above. I prefer bothering them with increasingly outrageous questions until they give up and let us go, personally.” She wondered how long it would take to get him going. If she could get him to give up before the PowerPoint was done. “Ten bucks says if we team up, we could be out of here before he can bring up the next slide.”

Morgan quirked her eyes with interest. Generally, the most she got out of someone was a little indulgent smile (so funny, Morgan; you and your little quips) or a grimace of agreement, because solidarity was the only thing that made these meetings bearable. No one really talked back, much less turned around and offered something back. Morgan scooted closer to the woman.

“Are you serious? Because I can’t tell if you’re serious, and if you’re not serious, I’m going to be really embarrassed when I ask that guy to explain why he chose the font he did for this thrilling presentation and no one jumps in to one up me.” She sat up a little straighter, tilting her head in a show of false interest at the presentation. “If we do make this work, we should give ourselves something nice. As a treat, you know?”

Oh, there was hope for the meeting yet. Caoimhe sat up, finding a grin that didn’t match the less-than-lively meeting topic in the least. She showed more interest in a matter of moments than she had for the entirety of the meeting up to that point, and she couldn’t even be bothered to care. It was so rare that anyone was willing to play along. Most meetings were spent tapping her toes against carpet, or filling quickly sketched staff lines in the margins of her notes. Some part of her felt she should pay attention, given she was new and working on a good first impression, but the meeting was unbearably boring, and there was someone present who was perfectly willing to cause some trouble.

“I don’t joke around when it comes to...joking around.” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head around a laugh, turning back to the front. Displayed was a slide reading “2021 Changes,” and she was certain they’d been covering changes for at least thirty minutes. Freedom was imminent. “My vote is ice cream.”

Her vote was anything that wasn’t another staff meeting. She raised her hand, “Excuse me, sorry. I just couldn’t help but notice you’re using the Geometric theme by Slides. It’s an excellent choice, very clean. May I ask why Geometric instead of, say, Plum, or Spearmint?”

It took the New Dean several seconds to realize someone else was talking. He blinked behind his tortoiseshell glasses at Caoimhe, then at his presentation, then back again. “This...was recommended to me by my assistant.” He laughed affably. “And if you’ll observe, as we move on to the next section of the faculty code of conduct, the hexagons make for a very convenient grouping of text, so you can differentiate between the point and the rationale…”  He fumbled with his clicker and brought the next slide up.

“Oh, actually, I have a question about that formatting!” Morgan called. “The color contrast you picked is interesting, but I was wondering why you deviated from black and white. And why the font? It’s not so great for those of us in the back or with visual impairments. Which, I dunno, considering our disciplines is probably a lot of us, right?”

A few women sitting nearby sniggered.

“Obviously I can’t speak for anyone else, but everything you’re saying reads like gibberish to me. And I feel like my professional enrichment is being underserved.”

Ah, the next slide. Caoimhe was only allowed a moment of defeat before her partner in crime piped up, and the Dean’s initial laughter faded into a look of disbelief. The energy in the room changed. People were shifting in their chairs, interest piqued. Caoimhe could see a few burying their heads in the crook of their elbow, or covering their laughter with a hand over their mouths. She had a feeling she was going to like UMWC. Not if every meeting derailed so easily, not if she’d always have someone so perfectly willing to try.

“Oh, my deepest apologies.” There was a pause, then, while the Dean twisted the clicker in his hands and considered his next course of action. Caoimhe could see the red creeping into his cheeks, and she might’ve felt bad for him, if she wasn’t enjoying herself so much.

“There’s actually a site to help with contrast, as well as outlines of the best fonts to use in presentations. For example, Garamond fonts look very professional, yet are still easy to read.” Caoimhe grinned,  “I can send an email, even carbon copy your assistant, if you’d like.”

Morgan turned to Caoimhe as if noticing her for the first time. “Oh, my gosh! Could you? That sounds so amazing and helpful. Barbara--” She waved down a woman two rows up. “You had a student who was color-blind and dyslexic last semester, right? Did you ever figure out what the best format and coloring was for him?”

“No, that was me!” Another woman, Stephanie Shannon, called. Stephanie liked to be an authority on things. It made it easier to correct everyone else. And so, when Morgan happened to call the wrong woman, of course she had to be corrected. Stephanie launched into a long anecdote about her student and the research she did, and which websites were not at all helpful, and so on.

The New Dean tapped his microphone. “If we could turn back to business--”

“I believe Doctor Shannon is still speaking,” Morgan said, unable to hide the glee in her voice.

“Thank you, Professor Beck,” Stephanie said, genuinely touched.

Morgan leaned back in her seat and turned to Caoimhe. “So, the real question is whether we want to see if his face is going to get any redder or if we want to pretend to go to the ladies’ room and never come back.”

Chaos ensued and Caoimhe barely managed to conceal a smile behind her hand. The careful structure of the meeting falling to pieces around them was almost enough to make her stay, but it was still a meeting, and she was willing to bet Doctor Shannon had about as much to say as the Dean did. The deed was done. If she stayed in her spot another moment longer, her laughter would give her away.

A quick excuse and she was tumbling into the hallway, the sound of continued arguing cutting off abruptly as the door shut in her wake. The amount of joy she derived from the dean’s expression as she ducked out was near pathological.

“Professor Beck, was it?” Caoimhe had grown well-accustomed to starting over, to finding her footing in new environments. There was always a nook into which she could burrow herself, even if it was a box-strewn hotel room rented by the week. She preferred it when it looked like this. Like university hallways and bookshelves, drifting notes from a piano in a practice room, and sometimes people. They were always the hardest. They had interests, opinions, smiles and laughter of their own. It was easy to leave behind a bookshelf or a piano. It wasn’t always easy to leave behind people, the rare friend. Professor Beck had jumped in with the same glee Caoimhe had, and she already found herself thinking about what it would mean to leave. “I’m stealing you for every meeting. I’m sorry, it’s just the way it’s going to be.”

Morgan followed her new friend out. People seldom questioned women leaving in pairs, and she’d just earned some much needed goodwill. When the doors to the lecture room closed behind her, she finally let herself laugh, more pleased with herself than she’d been in a long time.

“Why yes,” she said, bowing dramatically. “Morgan Beck, at your service. I am great at distractions, petty theft, and driving away unwanted attention. My knowledge of literature isn’t so bad either.” She laughed again and sidled up to the other woman. “I would be honored, thrilled even, to be your partner in crime for the next meeting. But first, I definitely want to know who I have the honor of being in cahoots with, and if I can steal you for my meetings too.” It had been a while since she’d had a reason to feel happy at work. Since she’d had a real friend she could do shallow simple things with. There was no keeping the supernatural from coming to her door no matter where she went, but a moment of good, a little bubble of fun and nothing now and then, could be worth a lot.

“Oh, Morgan!” Caoimhe stood up a little straighter, grinning. “English professor Morgan? Likes the Cranberries Morgan?” She gave her own bow, “It’s Caoimhe, Music professor, new in town. Also great at distractions, and car sing alongs like you wouldn’t believe.” Suddenly, White Crest didn’t feel quite so daunting. It felt just that little bit more like somewhere she could settle, if she ever found herself in a capacity to do so. Perhaps there was something to the fog, to the way it felt disconnected in a way no other town had managed. Perhaps there was something to letting herself have friendships in the in-between.

There was muffled arguing from behind the door, and Caoimhe descended into another laugh, moving further down the hallway. There’d been some mention of a treat in reward of success, and the rapidly derailing meeting behind them was definitely a success. “Now, as much fun as that was, I’ve already enlisted you as my arm wrestling champion, how could I possibly expect even more of you?”

“Yes! That’s me! And you’re Vivaldi and Britney Spears Caoimhe?” Morgan gaped. She followed Caoimhe down the hall, shoes skittering in a cascade of delight as she avoided the oncoming faculty approaching the door. “Oh, you’re amazing! You’re like the first cool person my age here and you actually give a shit about your students and teaching and you sing in the car too? Do you also sing karaoke? I just--feel like you’re one swooping in here and making everything here a whole lot better. Let me get you something, a drink, or lunch or whatever people with sudden free-time do.” She caught up to herself, hearing the echo of her own rambling and her unchecked enthusiasm in the hall. “Or, um, a rain check. Obviously. But, you really do seem great and this place isn’t kind to great people, especially when they’re isolated. And, you know, selfishly, I really do appreciate having a partner in crime. There’s only so much mischief you can get up to when it’s you against the world.”

“Okay, okay correction.” Caoimhe matched the same excited rambling coming from Morgan. She talked with her hands. Her mother would grab them sometimes, pin them to a table and say her name sharp, but with a smile tugging at the edges of her lips. Caoimhe never did make an effort to fix it. “It’s you and me against the world now, so just jot that one down. Or...at the very least boring staff meetings. We can work up to the whole world part, but I’m dedicated.”

She tucked her thumbs into the pockets of her slacks. She liked the sound of Vivaldi and Britney Spears Caoimhe, and cool person, and lunch between classes. Of someone who seemed just as excited to wreak havoc as she was, who cared about her students, who liked karaoke, and oh. That one wouldn’t be the best idea, but the rest! Caoimhe would happily get behind the rest. “Yes to karaoke sometimes, no to the rain check.” She parsed through the onslaught to address one item at a time, quick and with just as much enthusiasm as the questions had been asked. “You seem great, I don’t rain check great. But reverse it, let me get you a drink, or lunch, or something.”

Morgan couldn’t fight the way she brightened up at Caoimhe’s assurances. “Okay! Then--” Shoot. She didn’t eat out anymore. Or enjoy most food. “Coffee? I know it’s hot and terrible outside, but we can get something iced. I know where the best places in town are.” And she could actually taste a quad shot latte. “I’ll let you pay this time, but only because it contractually obligates a second outing when I get to pay. And the sky’s the limit there, because while we adjuncts might get shit for pay, I get some very generous supplemented by my unspeakably wonderful future-wife.” She slipped her hands into her own skirt pockets and elbowed Caoimhe, grinning. “I like the sound of that, though: you and me against the department and really boring faculty meetings. Today the arts college, tomorrow the school, and then who knows?”

[azurevi]

on land where we can touch the moon (2/?)

PART 1 PART 3

A quick note- this is pretty messy. I'm planning as I write, so there'll be information scattered across the words, and it may be overwhelming...kinda. I have added a little note about what happened in this chapter in the end. This series is also up on ao3.

There is, naturally, a reason Azul was stuck with the name 'The Sea Merchant'.

It wasn't a bad name, and there was no hint of degradation in it. It just wasn't particularly suiting. Azul wasn't a merchant. He wasn't even a shopkeeper. He was just invested in a little magic, and this hobby of his got leaked out somehow. 

His magic was certainly something. It's A Deal allowed him to confiscate another person's valued quality in exchange for their wish. Anything could come to life as long as the deal was equal.

Only the drunk and people in desperate need of help ever went to him for help. After Azul had started mastering his magic, he reckoned that it hadn't been used to its full potential. If the person on the other side of the deal failed to meet the requirement, Azul could take even more from them without suffering any loss. 

And so he sugarcoated and exaggerated his words, put up the most professional smile he could manage. For a few weeks all was well. He'd gained himself a melodious voice, splendid flexibility and a ton of unique magics, but nothing great ever lasted. He was soon exposed as a scammer and his notoriety was whispered among the streets, passed on and on until every family warned their kids not to ever run into him. And Azul, with his fame and prosperity wilting under the gossip and points of fingers, was forced into giving up his success.

He had been in hiding ever since.

He could never understand how something as atrocious could happen to him. If it hadn't been for the sneers and isolation in the entirety of his childhood, he wouldn't have grown up hating everything and everyone around him that called him ugly, unwanted, repulsive. It should've justified his desire for revenge.

Instead, God decided that his suffering was not anywhere close to enough and kicked him down the cliff where he was crying for help.

That being said, Azul was grateful to have Jade and Leech sticking around after everything. The two of them were also unpopular among others, so they eventually got close as a tight-knitted trio.

"No you didn't," Jade said firmly. 

"I did, Jade. I did," Azul sighed, "They were dying, Jade, I couldn't just let them die,"

"Well, you should've."

"Don't be so uptight. Azul was doing the right thing, wasn't he?" Floyd winked. "So. Were they good-looking?"

"What?"

"The human. You must've saved them for a reason,"

Azul hated how Floyd's words implied that he would never do good unless there was something in it for him, but one could never lie in the face of truth. 

"I just didn't want to let them die. It was their birthday,"

"What does that have to do with everything?" Jade asked. "You went above the water. You saved a human. You were almost caught. You could've died up there, you know. How did you even manage to breathe?"

"I just… did." Azul said, twirling his tentacles in nervousness. Jade was entirely disapproving of his actions, while Floyd on the contrary seemed to be mildly intrigued. 

Everything still felt like a fever dream. All the fireworks and cheering and explosion were still vividly scorched into his mind as if they'd been put on repeat. The splendid colors, light giggles and- 

And those beautiful eyes of yours. The way your hair flowed in the night sky with ease, how you laughed like tomorrow was promised and your life had been planned out before you, a clear and untainted path to success. Azul couldn't decide on whether he was jealous or amazed.

"Well, you better hope they didn't really see you, or that they forgot about it. If the humans come down here to hunt us down-" Jade couldn't even bear to finish the imagination. He simply shook his head in dismay.

"I swear I saw someone! I couldn't have just been washed ashore!"

"Apparently, you were," Jack said, stroding with large steps that had you panting to keep up. "Near-death experiences do things to our mind, your majesty,"

"That may be the case for others, but I'm sure I was conscious," you retorted. "I woke up to a pair of pale, azure eyes, then in a blink they were behind the rock. If it hadn't been for you-"

"I apologize for worrying about you, your majesty."

You bit your tongue. Fighting with Jack always ended with him being passive-aggressive and you stepping back reluctantly. Plus he was as stern as a rock. Almost nothing could move his belief.

Shouting and grunting could be heard from inside the medical room where Ace, Deuce and Grim were being tended to.

Jack flung open the door, and the three stumbled to get into the blankets and put on a excruciated expression.

"I see you're all healed up," Jack said. Ace hummed lowly and slapped his forehead with the back of his hand. 

"I'm at death's door, commander. It pains me to say this, but I might need to take more days off,"

Jack was quiet for a while, and you could almost see a drop of sweat sliding down Ace's forehead.

"And you, Deuce?" Jack challenged.

"I'm traumatized," 

"And Grim?"

You arched your brow, at which he shivered in fear. "I- I'm feeling fine already,"

"So it's just Ace and Deuce, right?" Jack said. Ace and Deuce nodded their heads so hard they could fall off.

"Alright. Your health is of utmost importance to us, so I'll contact the Raven Healer…"

"The what?!" Deuce's voice croaked.

"The Raven Healer. Surely you've heard of him. He's best known for being able to treat any diseases, both mentally and physically,"

You were sure there were sweats rolling down Ace's cheeks now. "But- but doesn't he heal by using bizzare mediciness…?"

"Oh yes. His magic is what makes him such an infallible doctor. You two seem to be in a lot of pain. I'm sure he'll free you of your suffering."

You turned sharply towards the door and stifled a laughter. 

"That's… not very necessary…" Deuce's voice faltered word by word. He was fully aware that he'd already lost. "You know what, commander? I think I can dive back into work right this instant!"

Jack smirked smugly. "Splendid. And you, Ace?"

The two of them stared at each other so intensely there seemed to be sparkles between them. Finally, Ace gave in. "I'll start work tomorrow,"

They didn't even wait for Jack to walk completely out of the door to whine. They looked fully healthy, even more energized than you.

"Anyways, did you find your saviour?"

You sighed. Ace and Deuce were still skeptical about your 'story', which you'd corrected to 'experience', but at least they were open-minded. 

"No clues. I've had guards patrolling about every two hours. Nothing has yet to happen,"

They eyed each other uneasily, then back at you with a worried face. Before they could make assumptions, you defended yourself. "No, I'm not sick. My head's not concussed,"

"Well," Grim scurried to your lap. "Perhaps your saviour doesn't wish to be found?"

That'd be unwanted. You would wish for anything but to create troubles for your lifesaver. Nonetheless, you knew you wouldn't be able to sleep without sending your gratitude. 

Alright, there might be a selfish motif. You were admittedly curious about those light, pensive eyes and silvery, gleaming hair under sunlight. All these unknown were like a gravity pool, pulling you deeper and deeper into the mystery.

"Well, you ought not to lose hope," Ace patted your shoulder casually, like you weren't the princette of the kingdom he was serving for. "Maybe you'll actually run into him. Fate has a weird habit for setting unexpected traps."

It wasn't so much love as a tender curiosity, but the line segregating them was so flimsy that one's got to mix them up at some point.

Azul found himself in such a dilemma. He couldn't decide whether it was attraction or nosiness that he was feeling. Either way, it's got him hooked like a drug. Something beautiful had finally entered his life like light piercing through a thick fog of ink, and it was possessive. Azul had a feeling that it wouldn't go away until it had drained him of his mind.

The door to his room was thrown open and Azul had to hide the peeled petals and green stem in a jumble. He had been chanting 'they love me, they love me not' for the past hour. To his luck, Jade and Leech didn't seem to have noticed his haste expression. They were both panting when they swam inside.

"What's wrong?" Azul's first instinct was that something had gone south.

"There-" Floyd wheezed. "There's a sta-"

"There's a fallen statue in the Coral Maze," Jade finished the sentence. "People are fussing over it,"

"Okay," Azul eased back into his bed. He'd already lost interest at 'Coral Maze'. It was at the centre of where the majority of sea creatures inhabited. Nothing could make him go anywhere near civilization and its hubristic aesthetic again.

Or so he thought.

"No- you don't get it. It's a statue of a human that sank along with wreckages of a big ship, and it's made of gold,"

A statue made of gold.

He recalled it now. It was supposed to be your birthday present. The consternation of what followed the present revelation had been so intense that it'd washed the memory of the statue out.

"We just thought that it could be the statue you mentioned in your story, you know? It looked really grand…" Floyd sighed.

Azul wanted to get up and swim over right there, right then, but he knew he couldn't. What would others say to him the moment they saw the shadows of their tentacles crawling on their pure and oh-so royal ground? What accusations would they throw his way? How many children will be led away from him like he was some man-eating, brutal abomination?

Not to mention the unforgiving rage he'd evoked in trying to scam them in the past. Dishonesty was highly criticised in their high-class society. It was as if they were saints that had never done one thing wrong. Bet they'd never even stayed up past midnight.

"You ought to come take a look!" Floyd suggested. A casual, friendly proposal.

"No," Azul snapped. "No, no. I'm not going there,"

"They're planning to use the gold," Jade said. "You know how they are. They see one thing from the ground and start screeching in pain,"

They were going to use your statue. The statue that was perhaps the only thing that was related to you, the one way to never have to forget about you again in case that you never met again.

And to imagine the effect it'd add to his collections! A big gold statue in the centre of his grotto, accentuated by the sparkling of other jewelries. It'd be complete.

"I'll sit on it," Azul decided. He was not to act rashly, lest he walked one step wrong and brought upon himself misery and misfortune. If he really was to pay a visit, he would act in secret. Perhaps in the veil of the night. 

"Just don't act alone, okay?" Jade said. Azul nodded despite not paying any mind to him.

In the dead of the night Azul decided to sneak out. Alone. It was a mistake, really. Azul couldn't stop thinking about your statue, and by the time he realized how absurd it was, he'd already gone to the Coral Maze.

There was nary a shadow except his own. Still, it was much lighter than where he lived even at night. The distorted image of the moon waved from above as Azul made his way through the many identical corals. Then he finally found your majestic statue standing solemnly in the centre. The only beauty in the water.

It was a sight for sore eyes. White, pure light reflected off the gold and created streams of gleams onto the ground. That someone would ever find it to be disgraceful was incomprehensible to Azul. Something like this deserved to be put on display in the museum for all to see.

There was no radiance on your face and no splendid colors in your eyes. It was merely a fraction of what you were. Nonetheless, it was enough for Azul.

"Who's roaming there?" an alerted voice asked. When Azul turned, he saw a silhouette looming from outside the Coral Maze, holding two anglerfishes in hands and waving them in the water.

Panic was the only thing Azul felt as he hid behind the statue, struggling to keep his tentacles out of sight. The light stayed right in front of him for a while before skimming away.

Azul grabbed the statue and swam, pushing his tentacles through the water as hard as he could. 

"Wait there- oh goodness!" 

There were several voices now, mumbling and inquiring. Then light was casted upon his flitting figure and there were bemused gasps before someone yelled, "Seize him!"

Azul was out of breath. He wished he excelled in fitness but instead he was stuck with incongruous tentacles that would never cooperate at the most needed times.

A hand grasped the end of his tentacle but slipped off. He kept the statue tight in his arms, as if his life depended on it. He could tell that they were near now, and was trying very hard not to imagine the gruesome outcomes.

Someone grabbed his tentacles. He faltered and was pulled back despite protests.

"Keep him in place!" another person yelled as the crowd moved to keep Azul fenced in.

Azul couldn't see anything. Everything was a poor mixture of shadow and distaste and sneers. He was probably going to die right there.

"I can't believe you have the guts to come back, Ashengrotto. After all the things you've done!" someone spoke up.

"Yeah! How shameless of you!”

"And he's stealing our properties now! Imagine how desperate he is,"

"You guys don't even want it!" Azul said.

Some guy lurched forward. Azul cowered backwards.

"It's disgusting, yes, but it's still gold." he said as if it was a completely just thing to do. "It landed on our ground, so it belongs to us. On the contrary, you don't have the rights to lay your filthy hands on it. What more do you want to steal from us?"

"I'm taking this because none of you understand the beauty of it!"

This evoked a negative reaction from the crowd, but words could never be taken back. Azul could feel his heart pounding like a prisoner hellbent on escaping. He had to escape. No more of this degrading gazes. No more of the points of fingers.

"Beauty?" the guy scoffed, and for a moment his face scrunched up and he was ready to spit out rage, but then it softened into a smug smirk. "I guess only ugly understands ugly, huh?"

Azul's head throbbed.

"It doesn't justify your actions, ink-blasting thief. Hand that piece of trash over right- uff!"

He was flung deep into the water until he disappeared into nothing but a black dot. People around Azul immediately made way as they fled in screams and wails. His tentacle was still tingling with the impact, but he couldn't quite feel it. Even if he did, he couldn't care less as he skyrocketed to the surface of the water. He blinked and blinked, but his eyes were still blurred by what would be mixed into the seawater eventually. 

He'd had enough. Heard enough, seen enough. If he'd spent one more second down there he would have suffocated to death.

The familiar freshness of air welcomed him the moment he broke through the water's persistence. The land wasn't far ahead. He swam towards it as if it was his sanctuary. 

There was a man sitting on the rock, face hidden under the hood. Azul considered retreating. He had no idea what would happen to him if he was spotted, but nothing better would happen if he were to go back. So he continued swimming and crawled onto the cool soft sand, only letting his head be seen by the man as he hid behind yet another rock where he placed the much valued statue.

He seemed to be asleep, chest heaving up and down at a steady pace. Just as Azul started sliding out, the man raised his head and looked straight at Azul.

They were a pair of humming, white circles, seemingly void of any sentiments. The man had a mask on that shielded his face except for his tightly shut lips. Two crows were staring right at him with the same uncanny manner.

"You've finally arrived," the man said.

Probably the humans had been searching for him. Azul decided to keep his mouth shut.

"I've been hearing your calls…" he tilted his head. "You can come out. I know what you are,"

Azul still hesitated. But he was much closer to the ocean than to the guy, so he slowly let his tentacles into light.

The man remained calm, not a bit taken back by the revelation.

"Well, I've been hearing your calls…" he resumed.

"I never called out to any humans,"

"Not literally. But you have been calling out a lot," he smiled amiably. "You have to know that it's especially hard for me to hear from creatures undersea, so if your wishes managed to reach me, it means you're pretty desperate,"

"I think you have the wrong person," Azul said and started retreating.

The guy sprang up and his crows curled up together beside him. "Wait- I should introduce myself first. I'm the Raven Healer,"

Azul pondered for a while. "That doesn't explain anything except for the crows,"

"You lots haven't heard of me?" he frowned so deep that his brows and eyes were a cluster. "You guys are really secluded,"

That was when Azul finally realized that he knew about them. About all the lives and creatures that inhabited the deep sea.

"And I mean no harm to your realm. My only target is you," he smiled again, this time at an ominous angle.

"Well, I'm quite famous in this realm. I heal people for a living, whether it be physical or emotional needs. Anything you need, I can grant you,"

That's not very different from Azul's magic. 

"Sometimes, when someone is really desperate for a change, their thoughts can be heard by my crows. And you, Azul Ashengrotto…" his smile dropped a bit and his eyes drooped. "is particularly distressed,"

"Alright. It was nice meeting you," Azul nodded respectfully. The man didn't seem to be harmful. If he fled right now, he could probably throw him off.

The Raven Healer stilled, then burst into piles of blatant laughter. "No, no. I've been looking for you, don't you get it? I'm here to grant your wish!"

I'm here to grant your wish. Like how Azul'd promoted his business as the Sea Merchant.

"I understand that you've been suffering quite a lot, and that you want a change. But nothing ever comes without a cost… I'm sure you can understand,"

The healer stood up, the material of his greatcoat fluttering in the wind. He made his way freely to Azul, who could only freeze up as he inspected the statue with great interest.

"The heir to the throne! I see why you're desperate now. They're a real catch," the healer then looked down at the outstretched tentacles without a word. Azul prayed in his mind that he would turn away from them.

"Well, here are my terms. I will grant you a pair of legs in exchange for your magic,"

Wait, what?

Azul was pretty sure the Raven Healer was just imitating him now. A great figure appearing out of the blue to answer your hopes. The catch was that the figure would always take away your most important thing. It was never a fair deal, Azul was aware.

"I don't think you need my magic," Azul breathed.

"Why, I do!" he exclaimed. "Collecting magic is a splendid hobby of mine! It is because of all these magic that I am such a renowned magician,"

He was obviously lying. His smile couldn't reach his eyes, and the orbs where his eyes were supposed to be were humming like a hazard label.

"I think I'll be just fine," Azul hurriedly brought the statue to his chest and started sliding away.

"...How are you going to survive?"

"What?" Azul swiveled, exhausted.

"Up here. With your…" the healer wiggled his fingers.

"I'll find a way,"

"No you won't," the healer protested. Azul looked up to the sky, took a deep breath and decided to entertain him. 

"Why so?"

"You're gonna cause ruckus. Chaos. People are not especially used to seeing half-man half-octopuses roaming their land," he said honestly. 

Despite knowing all this, Azul still considered his word rude. There was a thin line between blunt and disrespectful, and he'd just crossed it. 

"There won't be anyone dealing with you, will there?"

"...I suppose not-"

"Exactly! I am your only hope!" he exclaimed once again, throwing his hands up in the air like a dramatist. "Unless you want to go back?"

Azul glanced at the serene water. He knew that down there, the mermaids and mermen must be panicking over what'd just happened.

"You can't hold onto that statue forever. If you really wish to stay here-"

"I just came, Mr. Healer. I'm not going to stay,"

"Yet. Come on now," he groaned, as if he was the one exasperated. "I know you want it. You need it. So what are you waiting for? You're never going to see all the beauties in this world in this state!"

He was right. Agonizingly right. He couldn't just walk around as an octopus. It would be like a stain on a quaint painting. Moreover, now that he was here, he couldn't just give up the chance to find you again. It's not like the ocean would welcome him anyways.

As if hearing his thoughts, the Raven Healer reached his hand out, "Deal? Your magic for a pair of legs. It's a fantastic trade if you think about it,"

One second. Two second. Azul didn't wait until the third to act on it. The moment their skin touched, Azul felt a stream of warmth coursing through him, rushing to his throat, where he choked up a luminous blue orb. It was within the healer's fingers within seconds.

"And your legs," he rummaged inside his pocket. There seemed to be numerous tiny objects inside as he dug around. Finally, he pulled up a thumb-size bottle and handed it to Azul.

He downed the slimy liquid inside under the healer's encouraging nods, and almost gagged at the sensation. "Guh! What the hell is-"

His tentacles started glowing a bright yellow, bright enough to attract people in this dead of the night. They started to shrink until they completely disappeared, and a pair of human legs replaced them.

He couldn't believe his eyes as he stretched around and surveyed the changes on his body. It took him quite some time to adjust to it, but he was surprisingly good at it. The fabric of the pants that came with the gift fluttered against his 'flesh' like a mother's caress. He felt normal, for once. Not some ugly monster that preyed on innocent kids. Not a marginalized criminal. Not even a wicked fraud. He was just a human wanting to explore the world.

"Three days," the Raven Healer said.

"What?" Azul was too joyous to pay real mind.

"If you can't find the most beautiful thing after three days, you will dissolve into sea bubbles,"

Azul stilled as he comprehended his words, then he started to chant no in his mind. He'd fallen for his trap.

"You didn't mention it at all!" Azul yelled. "Refund! You're scamming me!"

"The pot's calling the kettle black now. How comical," the healer giggled. Azul's heart dropped to the bottom.

"Consider this your own medicine. It's not like you're completely at loss over here!"

"Wait!" Azul reached out to grasp his fainting figure, which had become an opaque vision. 

"We shall reunite in three days. Until then, enjoy."

All that was left was the crashing of the waves and songs of the crickets. Bathed in the glow of the moon, Azul finally came to the conclusion that he'd fucked up.

Life never stopped to give him a break. There were haste footsteps nearing from behind. Azul instinctively retracted his tentacles, but forgot about their absence and tripped instead.

"Yikes! That was a nasty fall. Are you okay?" 

Looking up, two formally looking men were standing above him, one with crimson hair and another navy. There was a sword attached to each of their sides.

"Yeah. I-I'm fine," Azul cleared his throat and stood up.

"Are you homeless?" The redhead asked and was immediately hit by his companion.

"You can't go around asking people whether they are homeless!" he scolded, then turned to Azul brightly. "You must be in search of shelter! Please follow us!"

"That isn't any better," 

"Shut up," the blue-haired snapped with the same polite smile. "Come on, Mr…?"

"A-Azul. Azul Ashengrotto,"

"Yes, Mr. Ashengrotto. We can't have you catching a cold out here,"

Despite his friendly facade, Azul could see underlying motives lurking beneath. But clueless that he was, he didn't have a choice but to follow suit towards the castle-like building in the far distance.

"Your majesty will be pleased to see you," the redhead murmured, but Azul couldn't quite catch that.

"What was that?" he asked.

"It's nothing," was all that he received. "Just that you'll surely love the place."

Conclusion : Azul had once gone around scamming others with his unique magic but was busted and had been further criticised since. The Raven Healer is obviously Crowley, and his magic will be further explained in next chapter.

[herohotline]

Are you still doing requests? Can I request Aizawa with a goofy hero male s/o trying to make him laugh after a long day of teaching?

A/N: Thank u for this request!! i’ve been looking forward to writing it so much hHjgg. Also, a note: If you want to check if im taking requests, check my blog title. It will say BNHA Imagines ; Requests OPEN/CLOSED in big caps!

Pairing: Aizawa / Male Reader

If one more person told Shouta that teaching a bunch of teenagers was easy, he felt entitled enough to spit in their face. 

Shouta really had nothing to worry about, though- by the time class was over, no one dared walk in his path or look at him wrongly because of the pissed off aura he gave, stomping down the halls with a frown. Technically it’s not professional to act so grumpy, but God, if he had to tear Bakugo away from Izuku one more time he might accidentally choke the kid. 

Typically he rides a train or gets a ride of some sort home, but today Shouta walks. He needs to blow off steam- get this irritation out of his system before he implodes. It’s not a very long walk, around 40 minutes, but the minutes pass by in seconds because suddenly he’s on his doorstep, moving to unlock the door before realizing that it already is.

Shouta groans.

The hero slowly opens the door, walking in with quiet steps. He notices that nothing is out of place so he closes the door, beginning to shuck off his shoes and take off his capture weapon. 

“___?” Shouta calls out into the hall, his socks sliding against the hardwood floors.

“Hey, Shouta!” It’s you- of course it is. “I’m in the living room!”

“What’re you doing here?” 

“Uhh,” when Shouta enters the living area, he sees you with his fat, black cat resting on your lap. He’s purring like an engine- it ticks Shouta off. You’re obviously his favorite. “I wanted to see you. Is that okay? I thought we could, uh-” the longer you look at him, the more understanding your face gets. “Oh, I get it. You’re a little pissy today, aren’t you?” A grin splits on your face. 

“Shut up and get out,” he scowls and turns to go into his bedroom, hearing you laugh from behind him. 

“Come on, let me make you feel better!” You place the cat down on the couch, rushing over to walk behind your boyfriend as he starts to undress. “I could make us some food, put on a dumb movie.” 

Shouta ignores you as you rifle through his drawers, grumbling under his breath. “I have to grade papers.”

“Then I’ll help you do that! Just give me the cheat sheet and I’m ready to mark some good grades.”

“Bad grades,” Your boyfriend corrects you, taking the shirt you picked out of your hands and pulling it over his head. “None of them studied except for the usual ones.”

“Ok, I know this. Momo, Todoroki, Midoriya and… Bakugo?” 

“Got it in one,” he nods and shucks off his pants, grabbing the sweats sitting at the edge of his bed and putting them on. “He’s got a temper like a toddler but he takes his grades seriously, at least.”

You walk up to Shouta, wrapping your arms around from behind him and resting your head on his shoulder. “You have quite a temper, too, y’know.” 

“I don’t.”

“Yeah, sure,” He grumbles as you snicker. Slowly you pull him back with you, waiting until you could feel the bed frame against your heels. 

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you sing-song, “just holding youuu- here we go!” You fall backward on the bed, Shouta falling with you with a surprised yelp. You immediately begin laughing, Shouta squirming in your arms like a cat who doesn’t want to be picked up. You hook a leg around his and quickly roll over, putting yourself on top of him. 

“Get off,” he seethes- you ignore it and admire the red tinting his cheeks. You burst into giggles as you kiss them, your hands twitching at his sides. 

“You’re just mad cause I made you scream like a little girl.” 

“I didn’t do that,” Shouta scowls at you again but he doesn’t stop you as you trail your lips all around his face and neck. 

“You need to relax, Shouta,” you hum. “Take it easy. Those kids tire you out so much I’m afraid you’re gonna be sleepwalking soon, muttering about grades and fighting stances.”

“I’m basically already doing that.”

“So relax!” You tell him again, getting up on your knees and pulling him up with you. “If you come with me on the couch and watch dumb shows, I’ll let you cuddle Baby.” 

“That’s not his name,” Shouta finally cracks a smile. “He likes you more than me, he’ll just hop right over to you.” 

“Oh, just give him some treats and he’ll like you in no time.” You give him a peck on the lips as you crawl off of him, taking his hands to guide him to the living room. “That’s what I did.”

“So you’re the reason my cat is overweight.”

“Guilty as charged- but hey! He likes me more than you!”

“I’m charging you with the bill when he gets diabetes.”

“That’s-” You sputter. “I’m not gonna give him diabetes!”

“We’ll see,” Shouta smiles again and switches places with you, pulling you down on the couch this time on top of him. “Can I cuddle you instead?”

“Oh, you big fat gay man,” You sigh and lean against him with a satisfied smile. “Of course you can.”

“Shut up or I’ll change my mind.”

You snort, patting your thighs and letting Baby situate himself on you. “You’re stuck now. You can either have all of us or none of us, Shouta.” One of his hands unwraps from your waist to pet the top of Baby’s head. 

“You’re holding me hostage.”

“Excuse me- I believe it’s the other way around.”

“I could push you off right now.”

“And hurt Baby?”

“That’s why you’re holding me hostage.”

“Oh, so you’d gladly push me to the ground, but if your cat’s safety is involved all the sudden you have a heart?” You look back at him with a raised brow and he grins.

“Yeah, sounds like it.”

You turn back around, rolling your eyes and grabbing the remote beside you. “Heartless…” You mutter, but you don’t really mean it- not when Shouta’s relaxing against you so much and holding you so close. You notice how he kisses your neck and you sigh. “Do you feel better now?” 

“Maybe,” he mutters, snuggling into your neck and holding you closer. “Thank you.” 

You can’t help the big smile on your face. “Of course, Shouta,” your hand grabs his own that he’s using to pet Baby, lacing your fingers with his. “I love you.”

Your boyfriend hums. “Love you, too.”

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Life of the Party

This is the fluffiest thing I’ve ever written and it still involves a swingers’ party. But seriously, other than the setting, this whole thing is just humor and boy-meets-girl cuteness. 

Pairing: Adam Cole x reader

Word count: 2,117

Content advisory: nothing beyond the setting

“Could you please stop acting so uptight?” Jeanie asks, poking you hard in the ribs. “You said you wanted to try it.”

Yes, you have to admit, you did say that you wanted to try it. Jeanie had been sharing her stories with you and Ellen about going to the swinger parties hosted by a physiotherapist who regularly attended Jeanie’s yoga classes and her husband, and a month ago, she’d finally persuaded Ellen to come along to one. Ellen had been so impressed that she’d talked about it for a week nonstop and you finally had to concede that, yes, you were curious and that you did want to come along the next time there was an opportunity. And you had wanted to come along. You wanted to get into the spirit of liberation and exploration that these nights offered. But here you were, walking into a party with a very select guest list and all you could think of to do was make wisecracks. 

Jeanie and Ellen were both insistent that you keep your mind open, to which you responded that you couldn’t keep your mind and legs open at the same time, which got a chortle but also a withering look from both of them. Your inclination was to separate from the crowd with them and to pass the night making catty comments. They, however, preferred to circulate and see who might be interested and what they might be interested in. Normally, sarcasm and irony were the weapons you used to prevent yourself from feeling vulnerable. But normally, your friends would be right beside you. Tonight, they weren’t so interested in smart remarks and were more interested in seeing what kind of adventure they could find. It was almost like disinterestedly scanning through Tinder and getting frustrated by playing eye contact games with guys in bars wasn’t enough for them anymore. 

It took exactly 38 minutes for you to completely lose your sense of ironic invincibility. You know this because you’ve been able to time it on your phone. In those first minutes, you were joking with Jeanie and Ellen, then they chose to migrate into the crowd and started chatting with a few people. Then you’d just chilled on your own and thought it was funny how everyone else seemed to be trying to hook up with someone. Then it had occurred to you that everyone else was hooking up with someone, almost as if being open about what they wanted was something that wasn’t a source of humiliation for them the way it was for you. Then you’d realized that you were standing by yourself, protected by an impenetrable wall of sarcasm, completely isolated while everyone around you was getting laid. 

You’d sure showed them. You alone had discovered the secret to not having sex at a party the point of which was to make sure that everyone had all the sex they wanted. Lucky for you that the guests were so distracted that it was easy to just steal alcohol from the refrigerator. It was like you were doing the hosts a favor, making sure that the supplies they laid in didn’t go to waste. There were little hors d’oeuvres on trays catered from a company whose treats didn’t come cheap, so you grabbed plate full of those too and retired to the back patio to feel awkward and superior and incredibly envious that there were people who could just approach other human beings and tell them they wanted to have sex with them and get it. 

This goes fine for about fifteen minutes, or two full glasses of wine and about half the plate of exquisite mini pastries and vegetable art, at which point another solitary figure slinks out onto the patio with you. There is immediately a dirigible of silence between you, swollen with mutual desire, the desire to be left alone and to have no one notice you. On the other hand, it is also fueled by the awareness that the two of you are the party’s resident weirdos and that social convention demands that you try to forge some kind of connection so that you can eventually make eye contact and fall in love or something. It’s you who gives in first. 

“Miniature sausage?”

The tumescent blimp of tension between you deflates as the man looks up with a combination of defensiveness and hostility. 

You press the still half-eaten plate towards him. “They ordered these individual mini sausages with gourmet ingredients and everything. There’s like four different kinds and they all look like they’re made by hand. I mean, I can’t imagine they found a machine that could make them this size.”

He’s still giving you a bit of a suspicious look, scanning you for any sign that you’re mocking him but gradually he drags his chair a little closer to observe the food you’re proffering. He snatches up a tiny deconstructed spanakopita-type-thing that crumbles in an avalanche of phyllo crumbs over his dark shirt when he tries to take a bite. 

“Those are a bit tricky,” you commiserate. 

“So, you’re the… official taster?” he kids, obviously trying to project a bit of cool as he brushes himself more or less clean. 

“Sure, we can go with that.” You once again extend the plate to let him try something else and, after allowing his hand to hover a moment, he takes one of the perfect little sausages. 

“Ok,” he says, nodding, “you have a point. These are pretty awesome.”

You resist the urge to say ‘I told you so’ by pushing one of the salmon-lemongrass wraps into your mouth. 

“You prefer fish?” he grins. 

“I just like to eat.”

He laughs a little and, as ridiculously clichéd as it is, you bat your eyelashes because now that you’re able to get a better look at him, you feel your thighs inadvertently press together. He is really good looking. His light brown hair is drawn back into a loose chignon, and he has that perfected, give-a-shit scruff you’ve seen in musicians and you hope to god that he’s not one of those because they’re always such cocky assholes. But what really draws you in are the bright, sparkling, mischievous blue eyes. You can’t stop staring at them and into them, imaging what they’d look like sparked with lust and… you realize it’s been an inappropriately long time since either of you has said anything. 

He takes your last oyster, the bastard, and tips the shell against his mouth, allowing the flesh to slide through his lips and over his tongue that flashes out for just a second to capture the drops of briny liquor. The change in his expression shows that he’s definitely caught you looking in a way that’s entirely appropriate to the party inside. 

“So why aren’t you enjoying the main course?” you ask, trying not to be quite so obvious and hitching your head in the direction of the house. 

“I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing here,” he sighs. “I was with my girlfriend, well, my ex-girlfriend now, for seven years. Two weeks ago I came home from a tour a day early and I run into her with her movers clearing all her stuff out of our condo. Braden’s my nutritionist and told me he and Sheryl were having this party and he thought it might be a good chance for me to shake off some of the… well, you know. Seven years with the same girl and now I’m single.”

Everything after “home from a tour” is a sort of verbal soup to you. A tour. He is a musician. Oh no. 

“What about you?” he asks. “How did you end up on Fuck Island?”

“My friend Jeanie is Sheryl’s yoga instructor,” you squeak, wishing very much to leave it at that. He gives you a pointed stare and a smile that seems to light up the entire yard and so, feeling more than a little self-conscious, you continue, “My husband left me about a year ago and I haven’t been… well, I haven’t dated anyone since then and Jeanie figured that this might be a good opportunity to get back in the saddle.”

He gives you another big smile and you think, or at least hope, that there’s a bit of a flirtatious glint in his eye. “I didn’t know they had a saddle too.”

It’s a silly joke but it does make you laugh and that makes you feel a little less awkward that you basically told a complete stranger that you got your ass dumped and hadn’t had sex since. Still, you’re eager to move on. 

“So you’re a musician?”

“What? Oh, because I was on tour. No, I’m a professional wrestler.”

And that, you think, might be worse than a musician, because it’s sort of like being a jock version of a rock star, right? All of the testosterone and none of the creativity? 

“What do you do?” he asks, pleasantly enough. 

“I’m the curator at the A.E. Backus Gallery.”

His dazzling eyes widen. “Wow…” he stammers, “Art.”

You giggle and pour yourself another glass of wine. “Wow… Wrestling.”

He leans in and takes the bottle from you, gulping directly from it as he leans back into his chair. “I’m not really arty.”

“Not at all?”

“Does videogame art count?”

“It can,” you answer, pushing a note of gentle humor into your voice. 

“Well then I guess I’m a bit of a collector. Maybe you can sell me something.” He hitches his eyebrows a little and it is endearing. 

“I didn’t know wrestling paid so well.”

“It does when you’re as good at it as I am,” he grins, taking another long swig from the wine bottle. 

His arm is slowly moving towards you and you’ve leaned forward so that you’re at once helping to close the distance between you and giving him a nice view of the tops of your breasts, something which does not appear to go unappreciated. Feeling a little cheeky, you take a big drink from your wine glass and allow a drop to fall from your lips. As you were hoping, he reaches over and brushes it away with his thumb. His eyes are definitely more intense, more curious and threaded with a hint of lust and they are every bit as thrilling as you thought they would be. 

“I’m Adam,” he whispers. 

“Eva,” you tell him, and you both laugh a little at that. 

“So I guess we really should be naked.”

“Or if we felt self-conscious, I think that one of the hors d’oeuvres has some minced grape or fig leaves.”

“Are you suggesting that I would be able to cover myself with just a tiny sausage?”

You laugh again and blush because his hand is still resting against your face, stroking your cheek ever so softly. 

His eyes flicker towards the house and he struggles for a minute to form words, his jaw twitching a little with the effort. And as much as you feel yourself growing damp at the idea of being with him, the idea of doing so in a sauna of sex mist is not working for you. 

“I cannot tell you,” he begins finally, waving a hand towards the indoors, “how uncomfortable I am with this whole thing.”

“Oh,” you exhale in sweet relief, “you don’t need to tell me because I just… This is not my scene. No judgment but this just isn’t going to work as a way of getting back out there.”

He gives you a wink. “Eva, would you like to go somewhere and not have sex with me for a bit?”

You look down at what you’re wearing, dismayed. “I’m basically wearing lingerie.”

“You look beautiful.”

“I feel naked.”

“It’s ok,” he assures you. “I know an amazing place to get drive through. You know. If that’s something art gallery girls can get into.”

“I can get into that.”

He stands and offers you his arm, the muscle flexing a little as he helps you up and sending an electric shiver through your core. Toned and firm but not the bulked-up, steroid-ridden balloon you would have imagined all pro wrestlers to possess. You bite your lip and he definitely notices, edging just a little closer to you,

“I really hope no one’s fucking in my car,” he says wistfully. 

“I’m so glad I came here in a cab.”

The two of you share a conspiratorial glance as you pick your way down the driveway and onto the street towards his hopefully unoccupied car. No sex for a bit, you tell yourself, but maybe not too long of a bit.

[sugaabooga]

Chance | 5

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader | Jimin x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, rich!Seokjin, rich!Jimin

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: PG-13, alcohol consumption, alcohol intoxication, societal classes

Synopsis: Seokjin had no problem of getting girls and also had no problem of getting rid of them. One girl after the next. So why was it that you - a middle-class citizen - was an exception? You - a middle-class citizen - made Seokjin question if he really did have it all. But one thing’s for sure. He didn’t have any of your chances.

Clank.

The glass in Seokjin’s hand nearly shatters at the sheer force he slams it down on the bar counter.

Seokjin grunts, sloppily gesturing towards the wide-eyed bartender who stares at him with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry sir,” he says with a gentle voice. “I’m afraid you’ve had too much to drink. Do you have anyone to pick you up or should I call a cab?”

Seokjin whines, laying his head against the counter and wriggling his body as if there was a rat crawling up and down his body.

“Mur,” Seokjin pouts.

“Excuse me?” the bartender leans forward in hopes of hearing some kind of name of number he could call.

Seokjin lifts up his body feeling heavier than usual and props his hand under his chin to look straight at the young man in front of him.

“Jungcoook?” Seokjin squints at the bartender’s name tag, arm sliding from underneath him.

Jungkook smiles good-naturedly, quite nice for a mere bartender who deals with countless drunkards each night.

“That’s me,” he answers. “It’s getting close to the end of my shift and I would like to send you home before I go.”

Seokjin nods heartily at him. “Yur a nice kid.”

Jungkook shrugs, setting aside a glass he just finished wiping dry. “Just doing my job I guess.”

“You see,” Seokjin sighs, eyeing the bottle of whiskey a few inches away from where Jungkook stands. “I can’t call anyone.”

Jungkook nods. “I’ll hail a cab.”

Seokjin merely hums as Jungkook turns around to place the glasses on the shelf behind him. Taking this as a chance, Seokjin uses all the soberness left in him to reach over the counter and grab the whiskey bottle by the neck, hurriedly and sloppily pouring out the alcohol into his empty glass.

“Which area do you- SIR!” Jungkook shrieks mid-question, turning around to see Seokjin hastily gulp down the remains of the drink. Jungkook snatches the glass from his hand in exasperation before Seokjin can tilt his glass again for the last few drops left underneath the ice cubes.

“No cab,” Seokjin mutters as Jungkook merely sighs. Why was this wealthy man, probably mid to late twenties, drowning himself in drinks tonight?

Jungkook bets this guy wouldn’t even have to work part-time jobs like he had to in order to make ends meet. So why was he so miserable?

Seokjin huffs, yanking out his phone and fingers automatically finding a specific name in his contacts.

He rests his head on the counter once again as he strategically places his phone on top of his ear, letting the rings lull him in and out of consciousness.

__

“How’d you even know I was working overtime?” you ask Jimin who lazily spins around in his chair.

“I called Hoseok for a drink but he said he was too tired and mentioned how you were working past working hours,” Jimin recalls. “Again.”

“And you just. . . decided to come?”

Jimin nods. “Of course. Can’t have you suffering alone.”

You blink a few times at the man who appears quite nonchalant about this whole ordeal while you were purely confused at how you were supposed to feel. This wouldn’t be weird if that intimate moment a few days back hadn’t happened.

You were sure his hand lingered longer than usual after he had gently tucked your hair behind your ear and his eyes gazed with a look you’ve never seen before.

You quickly shake the thought out of your head, refusing to mull over that moment more than you needed to. He was merely comforting you as a friend. There was no need to overthink anything. Those things can happen from time to time.

Then the rest of his sentence registers in your head. Once again, the fact that Jimin even calls Hoseok regularly surprises you despite it being widely known in your department how Jimin was probably the only one who free-spiritedly joked around with Hoseok. “You. . . You’re close with Hoseok, right?”

Jimin immediately hums in response, as if he didn’t know how intimidated everyone was of the marketing manager and actively avoided any sort of contact with him.

“I mean. . . he’s only a year older than us,” Jimin states, making you turn to him in shock.

“WHAT!?” you gasp. You had assumed Hoseok was at least four years older than you. Now you realize, he did look quite young, but his workplace habits were of an accomplished forty year old who was ready to retire early.

Jimin giggles at your shock. “Yeah. It’s pretty obvious though. That hyung really is youthful. He’s actually fairly optimistic and a great listener. Which makes him the perfect drinking buddy.”

You roll your eyes at Jimin’s alcohol fanaticism making an appearance. “Well, you do know about his reputation in the office right?”

Jimin stops his swiveling, turning to look at you properly. His gaze switches to a more serious gaze as he lowers his voice. “Cold caller baller?”

You break out into a smile, scrunching your nose in the process at Jimin’s genuine inquiry. “What the hell is that?” you laugh. “I meant how everyone treats him like ‘he who shall not be named’. Everytime someone mentions,” pause “Hoseok,” you whisper, making Jimin scoff. “He randomly appears and scolds the whole team.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Now that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard about.”

You open your mouth to protest but freeze as Jimin shifts closer, his head just a few inches away from yours.

“It’s probably because Hoseok’s the only one in our department who gives a shit about his job,” Jimin smirks, playfully dropping to a low whisper at Hoseok’s name. “That’s why everyone’s scared. They can’t handle his professionalism.”

You gulp, barely noticing the hidden indirect insult Jimin purposely shot at you with the purpose of agitating you, and instead being able to only focus on why he was so close to you and why you felt like you suddenly couldn’t breathe.

Jimin’s smirk slightly drops into a concerned frown when he realizes you aren’t reacting the way he had expected you to react.

“Y/N?”

Bang.

Both of you look up in alarm towards the entrance of the office that leads out to the elevators at the echo of something crashing into the wall.

Jimin stands up from his chair, leaning his body back to look as far as he can out the glass doors.

“Was someone else working overtime?” he asks, earning a shake of your head. Jimin starts heading towards the doors to check out the sound as you click out of your tabs for the night. Everything else that was left on your slides, you could finish up tomorrow morning. Right now, you were quite convinced that you were very exhausted, especially judging from the way you suddenly froze up in close proximity with your long-time best friend whom you had only platonic feelings for.

You let out a long exhale, forcing the thought out of your brain and logging out of your computer then carefully placing the flash drive with all the project details into your bag’s inner pocket. After half-heartedly organizing your desk area and cubicle, you walk towards the exit, heels softly clacking against the tiles as Jimin comes in through the doors peering into a black bag.

“What’s that?” you ask curiously. Jimin looks up and turns back around to head towards the elevators after noticing that you were done for the night.

“I don’t know,” he answers. “It was dropped against the wall which was probably the sound we heard.”

“Is there anything in it?”

Jimin nods, pulling out a bag of chips. “Snacks.”

You can’t help but let your jaw slightly drop at the sight of food after working for hours straight without a proper meal since 2pm.

It was your favorite brand of chips too.

“Gimme,” you pout, making Jimin chuckle.

“I don’t think we should just take it though,” he hesitates. “Isn’t it kind of bad to take something someone else bought? Without permission?”

“But it was literally on the floor,” you reason, not as morally righteous as your friend beside you.

Jimin still debates, fiddling with the handle of the bag. “Hey there’s a lunchbox in here.”

He fishes out the bulgogi meal pack with rice and a few other pre-packaged side dishes. Your eyes widen at the humble meal as if it were a five-star lobster.

“Okay, forget the chips,” you gasp. “We have to eat the lunchbox. If it’s left here uneaten, it’s going to spoil! What a waste that would be!”

Jimin laughs at your logic but still shakes his head. “Let’s just drop this off at the front desk.”

You purse your lips in distaste as the elevator finally dings, indicating its arrival.

Jimin grins, internally cooing at how cute you were.

“Dinner’s on me,” he adds as you begrudgingly press the lobby button.

You whip around to him, instantly perking up with newfound energy. “For real!?”

Jimin is nearly floored by your glistening eyes that were sparkling just because he offered to buy you dinner. He can’t help but match your wide grin as he nods. “Yup. Just name it! Actually, besides the five-star restaurants downtown.”

You snicker as Jimin quickly draws the boundaries to your food choices.

The one time you went out for dinner with him after college graduation, your food suggestion resulted in a $285 check for two steaks and a teeny tiny salad.

Your jaw had dropped all the way down to the floor at the sight of the bill. You tried to split the bill but Jimin had physically pushed you out of the restaurant, insisting to pay for the meal.

Even to this day, you have no idea how Jimin managed to pay the bill as a fellow broke college student who had yet to land a stable income.

“Hm. . . I’m craving donkatsu,” you say, indirectly asking Jimin if he was okay with pork cutlet for dinner.

“Donkatsu!” Jimin exclaims with a wide grin. 

“I take it that you agree?” you say with a scoff at his child-like excitement at the mention of his favorite food and playfully nudge his shoulder when the elevator doors open.

Jimin gulps at your playful grin and your bright eyes peering up at him, making his heart stutter and mind going blank.

Geez. What was wrong with him today? Either you were extra attractive or he was just more whipped than usual.

“Jimin?” you ask confusedly when he remains standing still in the elevator with an indecipherable look.

Jimin’s head jerks up at the sound of his name and he glances around, confused at when the elevator doors had opened and when you had already left his side.

“Park!” you yell, catching Jimin’s attention from his distracted glances around the elevator.

“Yes?” he immediately responds, making you look at him with pure bewilderment.

“You good?”

Jimin breathily laughs making you crack a hesitant smile.

“Yeah I’m-”

“Oh Y/N!” the front desk receptionist on night duty calls. You turn around at the sound of her voice and give her a polite smile, walking towards her desk.

Meanwhile, Jimin hurriedly presses the open door button as the elevator doors start to close and quickly follows after you.

“Hey. . .” you trail off, unable to remember her name.

“Soo-ah,” Jimin smiles at her with a slight jog, catching up to you and saving you from embarrassment.

Soo-ah grins back at the charming man in front of her, not even noticing that you had forgotten her name despite the years both of you worked here.

“Soo-ah,” you repeat with a smile.

“Congratulations, Y/N,” Soo-ah says right off the bat.

Your brows slightly raise in question, exchanging a confused glance with Jimin.

“For… what?” you ask.

Did I get a raise I don’t know about?

Soo-ah slightly tilts her head. “I heard you got scouted by JJ Corps.”

“JJ Corps?” you and Jimin ask simultaneously, eyes widening.

Seokjin’s company?

Our company?

“Yeah. The director himself came and asked which floor you were on,” Soo-ah pauses. “Wait. . . I just realized that it’s past the normal office hours. How did he know you were working overtime?”

Jimin frowns. If it was the director, that would be Seokjin. 

Seokjin came?

“Did you get his name?” Jimin asks the befuddled receptionist before you can open your mouth.

You shoot Jimin a slight glance, noting how Jimin almost seemed agitated. Last time, Jimin had known Seokjin’s name even though you made sure not to tell anyone since Seokjin was such a known public figure. And now, it almost seemed as if Jimin was on the same page as you, suspecting that it was Seokjin who had come over.

“Um. . .” Soo-ah tries to recall, attracting your attention once again and keep in mind to mention it to Jimin later. Her eyes lighting up in remembrance. “Ah! I think it was Kim. . . Seojik? Seonjin?”

“Seok...jin?” you hesitantly suggest. Soo-ah lets out a sound of recognition and nods.

“Ah. Yes, yes. It said Kim Seokjin, Director of JJ Corps on his business card.”

Jimin holds in his questions and scans your reaction. For the first time in your years of friendship, Jimin couldn’t read your face. Your lips were turned into a grim line and your eyes seemed blank, void of any emotion.

You nod with a wry smile, mumbling a thank you and greeting goodnight to Soo-ah and turn around, walking towards the lobby doors.

Jimin stands watching your retreating figure with slight worry and hurriedly snatches out the bag of your favorite chips and hands the rest of the black bag to Soo-ah.

“Oh?” Soo-ah lets out a noise of surprise at the familiar bag. “This was what Mr. Kim was hold-”

Soo-ah stops mid-sentence at the realization that she was alone. A small smile appears as she scoffs in amusement watching Jimin trail after you like a lost puppy with the chips in hand. Jimin playfully, but hesitantly pokes the side of your face with a tiny, shy smile, forcing you to give him your attention. Soo-ah sighs, plopping back down onto her swivel chair once you take the chips with a roll of your eyes. Jimin’s arm hovers over your shoulder as he debates whether to put his arm around you. His fist clenches as he decides against it and Jimin continues walking with his hands behind his back.

Soo-ah sighs with pity at his internal debate that she just witnessed.

“Will she ever notice?” Soo-ah mutters to herself at the unfortunate sight of Jimin quite obviously whipped for a girl who has no idea of his feelings.

__

“Bus is here,” Jimin announces nudging you up off the bus stop bench.

You climb up the steps and fiddle around your bag for your pre-paid bus pass. The bus driver softly sighs as you continue rummaging with a apologetic smile.

“Two please,” Jimin intercepts with his own card from behind you.

Beep.

His chest gently presses against your back, his warmth wrapping around your cold frame draped around with a thin cardigan.

Before you can think anything more of how comforting his warmth felt, your feet jut out, walking towards the two seats on the left side of the bus as the driver continues to drive his nightly route.

“Thanks,” you say as you sit down.

Jimin shakes his head as a sign of no problem. He follows after you, plopping down on the cushiony seat next to you and setting his bag onto his lap.

You try to ignore Jimin’s burning stare at the side of your face by mindlessly scrolling on your phone then give up with a huff once Jimin doesn’t look away for a few good seconds.

“What?” you sigh, turning your head to look at your friend. You instinctively shift backwards once you notice the close proximity.

Jimin silently studies your face for a quick second before offering you a small smile. “Finish the chips already?”

You roll your eyes with a light-hearted scoff. “Yes. I told you. I was hungry. I threw them away while you were looking down the street for the bus.”

Jimin laughs with a nod. “Good job. That was the appetizer.”

You smile to yourself, savoring these small moments with Jimin in your life.

“Are you uh. . . Are you okay?”

You stay silent for a moment before letting out a breathy laughing with a smile, looking up at the back of another passenger’s head. “What do you mean? Of course I’m okay.”

“I’m talking about Seokjin,” Jimin specifies bluntly.

You weren’t quite sure if you were okay. All you could think of were endless questions. Why had he come to your office? Why didn’t he call or text instead? It’s been a full two weeks since you last met up with him about the money envelope.

You look back down at your bag perched on your lap and unknowingly fiddle with the end of your gudetama keychain, a nervous habit of yours.

Jimin feels his own fingers twitch, reaching out towards your fidgety ones before he stops himself.

You had made yourself somewhat clear last time. Jimin felt you draw a certain line. Whether it was fear or genuine dislike, he wasn’t sure, but all he knew was that the two of you had boundaries that he had to keep in order to keep your friendship out of jeopardy.

Jimin sighs, reminding himself that your friendship is more important than his confusing feelings and pulls away his hand.

RRing.

At the sound of the obnoxious rings, you dig into your bag, looking for your phone.

The rings continue, attracting attention from the other passengers on the bus, and it’s only when Jimin feels the glares and hears harsh whispers directed in his direction that he fully turns to you, wondering why you weren’t picking up the call.

You stay still as a statue looking down at your phone. Jimin side-eyes your phone, lips slightly parting in realization once he reads the caller id.

Kim Seokjin.

You stare at your screen, reading the name over and over again, tuning out the rest of the bus who were now thoroughly annoyed.

It is only when the call ends and your family picture pops back up that you let out a shaky breath.

You start to put your phone back in your bag when the rings start again. A series of groans and sighs fill the bus.

Kim Seokjin.

Why was he calling? What else does he have to say?

“Aren’t you going to pick up?”

Your head sharply turns at Jimin’s question.

“What?”

Jimin shrugs, avoiding your eyes. “If you’re debating that much about answering his call, just answer it. If you’re over him, tell him clearly so he knows your definite stance in your relationship.”

You stay silent, pondering for a brief moment and finally get enough courage to swipe your finger across the call button.

“H-Hello?” you answer.

“Good evening,” an unfamiliar voice greets back, making your brows furrow and double-check if this was really Seokjin.

“Uh. . . who is this?” you ask as you see Jimin turning to you from the corner of your eye.

“Ah. Sorry about the inconvenience. This is Jeon Jungkook from Sky Lounge and I am calling from customer Kim Seokjin’s cell phone. Mr. Kim seems severely drunk at the moment and I saw that he called you just a few seconds ago so I figured you were somewhat closely affiliated with him?”

“Oh. . .No. . . Well, used to be, I guess,” you answer with uncertainty at the relation you have with Seokjin.

Have a definite stance in your relationship.

“Ah, well we need-”

“I would like to think I have very little relation to Mr. Kim,” you state. “I hope you can get him home safe. My apologies.”

“Wait Ma’am-”

You quickly tap the red button to end the call and toss your phone into your bag.

“Was that not Seokjin?” Jimin asks confusedly as you let out a long exhale.

You shake your head. “It was. . . but. . .”

He’ll get home safe, right? The Jungkook guy sounded nice over the phone. He’ll hail a cab or something right? But Seokjin seems dead drunk. What if he accidentally sleeps with a girl or gets taken advantage of? He’s currently in a vulnerable state. The bartender also mentioned that Seokjin called himself before he gave a second call. Why would Seokjin call me if he’s drunk? Maybe he wants me specifically to pick him up? Does he have no one else to call? Is that why he had no choice but to call me?

“Was it some manager or something? That rude rich people stu-”

“Sorry Jimin,” you hastily apologize, slamming the red button on the side of the bus, indicating for the bus driver to pull over on the curb. “Let’s get dinner tomorrow. I’ll call you later.”

Jimin sputters as you climb over his legs and speedily shuffle towards the open sliding doors.

“W-Wait. I’ll go with you.”

You hop off the bus, Jimin closely behind you as the bus takes off to leave the both of you in the middle of a random sidewalk near downtown.

“Y/N,” Jimin calls, grabbing hold of your wrist to turn you around and forcing you to stop in the midst of your hurried steps.

You’re slightly out of breath when you respond with a quiet ‘yea?’

“Can you please explain what’s going on?” he asks.

You sigh, tugging Jimin’s arm to walk while you explain. “It was a bartender at Sky Lounge. Apparently, Seokjin’s drunk right now.”

You cared. You still cared about Seokjin. Jimin’s lips turn into a straight line as he tries to ignore the bitter feeling entering him.

“I’m sure he’ll get home safe. The bartender will hail a cab for him or call someone else in his contact list.”

That’s rational. That’s the logical facts.

“I. . . I know,” you reply as Jimin catches up the few steps to walk beside you. “But I have to see for myself to get rid of this worrying feeling. What if something happens to him?”

Jimin suppresses the urge to tell you that there’s little to none possibility that someone as tall and intimidating as Seokjin, under the supervision of bartenders at a top-class bar, falls in danger. 

“Yeah. I get it,” Jimin lies.

He doesn’t get it.

You look at google maps pulled up on your phone that directs you to Sky Lounge, around a two-minute walk from where you currently are. You turn your head to your surroundings, finding something quite familiar about the buildings and restaurants in this specific part of downtown.

“There?” Jimin points towards the fancy looking bar near the end of the street.

The banner read in cursive, dark maroon red and white light, Sky Lounge.

“Yeah. Seems to be the place,” you pause, looking around once more. You recognize this street. “Hey isn’t that the five-star restaurant we ate in last time?”

Jimin follows your gaze to the said restaurant that he had paid for a while back. Jimin grimaces at the memory of his father pestering him if he had a girlfriend after that big gap in his credit card at a hot romantic dating spot.

“Yeah,” Jimin answers. “Sky Lounge is a luxury bar which is why all the five-star restaurants and stores are gathered here.”

“The elite town,” you smack your lips, adjusting your bag and walking down the sidewalk, past the flashy lamps and designer brand stores.

Soon enough, you arrive in front of the bar and with no hesitation, you pull open the glass doors only to get pulled by the doors yourself.

These were a lot heavier than you thought.

Jimin snickers next to you, nudging you aside and pulling the doors open with ease.

“I told you, you need to hit the gym,” Jimin mutters from behind you while you hurry into the bar with a half-hearted thanks, eyes scanning the tables and counters with all types of couples, businessmen, and businesswoman mingling and getting drunk.

You squint under the dim lights and spot a lone, slumped over figure at the counter. A tuft of dark brown hair poked out between the figure’s arms as their legs haphazardly dangled from underneath them. You glance at the coat draped over the man’s chair and you immediately recognize it as one of Seokjin’s designer brand coats that he wore the most often.

By often, you meant once every three months.

You quickly make your way over to Seokjin and try to shake him awake.

“Seokjin?” you clarify, grasping his arm and simultaneously shaking his shoulder.

You hear a series of incoherent grumbles and with a sudden jerk of his head, Seokjin’s eyes meet yours and they seem to bore into your soul.

Seokjin laughs in surprise, a whiff of strong liquor drifting into your nostrils and making you scrunch up your nose.

“Y/N,” Seokjin giggles.

Oh, he was extremelyyy drunk.

“Seokjin,” you sigh. “Why’d you drink so much? No, actually tell me later. Let’s get you home first, alright?”

Seokjin’s bottom lip juts out as he wiggles out of your grasp. “I aM a big kid. NO. Man. I’m a big, caaaaaapable man. You see thiS fACe? Wuuurldwide hannsum.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “Are you now?”

Seokjin nods with a slight laugh.

You slightly pause in your tugging to properly take a look at him.

Despite the fact that he was drinking right now, it seemed that Seokjin still looked as healthy and unaffected as ever. Quite contrary to you whose hair was tied into a messy bun and eyes were slightly swollen every single morning from tearing up or straight up sobbing yourself to sleep.

How was it possible that a dead drunk man could still be so handsome? His reddened cheeks only made his face glow with a child-like innocence and put an odd emphasis to his lack of pores. The dim lighting of the bar only seemed to make his eyes brighter as he sat near the lights on the shelves. His tousled, messy hair only added to his attractiveness as he grumbled under his breath with those pouty pink lips.

“Are you Miss Y/N?”

You’re pulled out of your daze by a familiar voice. Over the counter stood Jungkook, the employee who had called you.

You immediately nod. “Yes. that’s me.”

Jungkook represses the urge to point out how you made it seem like you weren’t ever going to show up in Seokjin’s life again over the phone and instead shoots you a grateful smile. 

“Thank goodness. I’m Jungkook. The employee who called you earlier. My shift is almost over so I was just about to call a cab. Having someone Mr. Kim knows to pick him up is a lot more assuring.”

“Yeah. I got a little worried, so I just decided to come myself,” you say with a small laugh.

A movement from the corner of your eye makes you turn your attention to Seokjin who was attempting to stand up from his stool. As if in slow motion, Seokjin’s foot gets caught on the stool’s footrest, his eyes still closed from intoxication. His heavy form starts to lean towards you and before you know it, he’s full on falling towards your small frame, your helpless arms reaching out in a pointless attempt to brace yourself against a full grown man’s deadweight.

But, the impact of his body never comes.

Jungkook curiously eyes the other man in the picture who holds Seokjin in an awkward hug, shielding him from your body.

You peer up at Jimin who huffs as he waddles Seokjin back down onto the stool. Keeping his arm supporting Seokjin’s back, Jimin turns to Jungkook.

“Did this guy pay?” he asks.

Jungkook nods with widened eyes at what he just witnessed. “Yes. I charged everything to his card just a few minutes ago.”

Jimin nods and grabs Seokjin’s coat, poorly attempting to shove the drunken man’s limp arms through the holes with one arm while holding him up with the other arm.

You quickly intercept and help hold up the coat for Jimin who gives you a brief smile before successfully draping the coat around Seokjin and buttoning it up.

“Hey, can you help him get on my back?” Jimin asks with a non arguable tone.

You push away the habitual need to protest whenever Jimin gets too caring and instead nod with a slight sigh.

Seokjin whines as Jimin adjusts him on his back with a grunt.

“Have a good evening,” Jimin greets Jungkook, you doing the same as you swing Jimin’s bag over your own shoulder and trail after him.

Jungkook gives you a slight bow and quickly wipes down the counter where Seokjin was slobbering over before leaving. He tilts his head as he takes off his apron with genuine amusement at the relationship dynamic between the three of you.

It was quite obvious you had some kind of history with Seokjin judging from the tone of your voice over the call and after, your reaction. Perhaps an ex? Then, Jimin. Where did he fit in the picture?

Jungkook hums with a shake of his head, checking out with a beep of his employee card. If Jimin wasn’t romantically interested in you yet, he sure will be soon as seen from the way he was constantly putting himself between you and Seokjin.

How interesting, Jungkook muses. There would definitely be heartbreak between that trio.

[celestaeil]

When NCT 127 likes you + How would they confess.

Enjoy Reading! :D

TAEIL: 

A rumor was going around the campus that you like Taeil. He would probably be shy and all. Tries to avoid you because he doesnt know what to do if you’re near. and not because he doesnt feel the same way but because he likes you too and the thought of you liking him sparks him in the deepest of his heart. He would feel butterflies in his stomach every time you’re around and wont stop thinking about you.  He’s the type to not tell anyone about his feelings and try to resolve it by himself but his friends can clearly see that Taeil wants you to be his. 

So one time when he and his friends saw you at the cafeteria alone. One of them yelled “Hey Y/N! Taeil likes you too!”. Many people heard it, you felt embarassed so you ran away. Meanwhile, Taeil’s friends pushed him that he should follow you.... and he did. ‘Its the perfect chance’ he thought to himself. 

He saw you at the soccer field sitting on the bench. “Hey. uhm.. sorry for my friend’s behavior.” he then sat beside you. “i-its okay..” you said looking down.

“I kinda wanna tell you something personally.” Taeil chuckled nervously 

“t-tell me what?” 

“I heard the rumor that you like me. I just wanna clear things---” you cut him off. 

“its okay I understand that you dont feel the same way because you’ve been ignoring me.”

“No! its not that..I... I like you too. I just dont have the guts to confess. Im scared you’ll turn me down.” you didnt say anything. You’re shocked because of Taeil’s words. 

“So, now, to be formal...Can I court you, y/n?”  

TAEYONG

Unlike Taeil, he would be shy but only a little. He would smile endlessly even if he’s alone. He’s the type to follow you around (not like a creep tho) because he likes seeing you, your movements makes his heart flutter, your voice makes him melt. He like you because he was amazed how great your mind is and he likes it more when you stand up for yourself. He also tries to impress you with his skills and he observe what you like and what you dont. When you and Taeyong was left to clean the room at the end of the class, he gathered all his courage to confess to you. 

“y/n can I tell you something?” he asked while mopping the floor

“sure, what is it?” you tacked your hair behind your ear and it made him blush so much. 

“y-youre beautiful” 

“Hahaha. Thank you, Taeyong.” you turned your back on him and continued wiping the board. You can feel your cheeks heat up.

“Im being serious, y/n.” he muttered.

“calm down. I believe you.” you said not looking back at him. After taking deep breaths, he finally spoke again. 

“y/n, i like you!” he said catching his breath. You didnt say anything, you’re waiting for his punchline hoping he will say its a joke or something. But he didnt. 

“I like you.....so much. I like everything about you and maybe its weird but I want you to be mine.” 

DOYOUNG

He will tease you and he will try to seduce you more. He wants you to confess first not because of his pride or image but because he doesnt know how to initiate a conversation about it, he doesnt know how to tell you so he does things to make you give in. In that way it will be easier for him. He will treat you your favorites, help you with everything, cheer you up and the such. He will definitely try to pull off a cool man image. 

But as time passes, he find himself doing those things naturally. He realized he needs to do it because he should and he wants to protect you. He doesnt want you to fall for someone else. 

You received a text from Doyoung saying he’s gonna come over your house but he didnt include any reason why. You fixed yourself a bit and wait for him. 

“Yo, what’s up with the rush?” you asked him as soon as you saw him. 

“I like you.” he said, looking at you straight in the eye. 

“what?” 

“I said i like you.” 

“cut the jokes, I know you need something.” you chuckled.

“I said what I said. I cant wait another minute to tell you how I feel. Im worried a day will come that you will slip away from me. So, y/n, will you accept my feelings?” 

JOHNNY

This man is really cool. He acts tough to everyone but his soft side shows up on you. You are his weakness. You make him melt that’s why he likes you. He acts like a big brother to everyone and to you, but in your case, he does it because he really cares for you... a lot and in something more special way. He treasures you like you’re already his. Treats you like his girlfriend but denies when his friends tease him for it. He is the type of guy that even tho he wants to express his emotions he often end up shutting himself. 

It’s weekend and Johnny invited you to go out and get some ice cream. You usually do this so you treat it like a friendly hangout instead of a romantic date. 

“She’ll have cookies and cream.” Johnny told the cashier and winked at you. You often order that flavor so you thought, of course Johnny will know. 

When your orders came, the two of you left the shop and decided to stroll around a park nearby. 

“Hey y/n, what kind of guy do you like?” he asked suddenly. 

“I dont really know but I guess someone thoughtful and smart. How about you?” you laughed trying to avoid his gaze. 

“A girl who likes cookies and cream, and a girl who like thoughtful and smart guys. Just like you, because I love you.” 

YUTA 

He does his best to impress you but sometimes fail to do so but every time that happens you find his reaction cute. His groans, his forced smile, him trying to cool it off like nothing happened. He acts like a crackhead, doing his best to make you laugh every moment because it makes him happy too. He really cares for you even tho you dont notice. Everything about you makes him happy and contented. but the problem is, Yuta is too shy to confess his feelings. He often hide it and he doesnt want to talk about it. He thought, him being secretive will make everything safe. It will keep you by his side. 

“Yuta, are you okay??” you asked when he slipped because of the wet floor. He got himself up immidiately before you could lend a hand

“Of course!” he laughed. 

“Be careful always, Yuta. I cant afford to loose you.” 

“Really? Why?” he asked 

“Of course, because we’re friends.” 

“Not because you like me?” he pouted. 

“Yuta, I like you, okay?” His face lit up the moment you said that. uh-oh that sounded wrong. You held a promise to yourself that you wouldnt admit anything unless he tells you first but here you are.... 

“Y/N likes me!” he shouted

“no! i mean---” he smacked a kiss on your cheeks and ran away before you can continue 

“Nakamoto Yuta!” 

“I like you too, y/n! Sorry for stealing a kiss. Catch me if you want it back!” 

JAEHYUN

He is a professional in keeping secrets. Not admitting anything but he looks at you like you’re the only one in his heart. Many girls fall for him but he choose you. His eyes are focused only to you and it hurts him thinking what if you doesnt feel the same way. He’s a soft and shy guy deep down and he cant take himself to admit his emotions. So, he found a clever way to confess using letters and going undercover as your secret admirer. He kept it that way without you having any clue. 

But you found out his secret when you saw him sliding a letter inside your locker. The one that looks exactly like before. 

“Jaehyun?”

“y-y/n! uhmm...bye!” He was really shocked when you called him and tried to run away but you stopped him. You opened your lockers and saw an envelope. 

“So, it was you, huh?” you grinned while poking his arms.

“Yes...” he looked down. 

“dont read it!” he tries to grab the letter out of your hand

“why not? you gave it to me.” you opened the envelope

“w-wait...Let me just tell you.” he said. His ears are red and his cheeks too. You waited for him to speak

“I dont know how to start this.. but I like you. I have this urge to protect you at all cost. I often find myself drowning in the thoughts of you. Damn, I really like you.” 

WINWIN

Tries to cover himself by acting cool and tough but he really is a soft boy. He’s that type to be too much shy to talk to you alone but when his friends are around he acts confident.  He likes you but is too shy to admit it. Tries to start a conversation but always stutter and end up being awkward. His mind goes blank whenever you speak and when he see you. His eyes will be glued to you and he will be unable to process anything. 

When his squad held a sleepover at Winwin’s house, his friends dared him to confess to you. He said no but later that night, when all of them were asleep...He mumbles to himself and wont stop thinking of you. What If I do it now? he thought. After few moments of planning, he set aside his fear and worry, grabbed his phone and texted you. 

“Hey, Are you still up?” he tapped his fingers due to nervousness. It took you few minutes to reply and Winwin almost lost his senses. 

“Yes. Why, Sicheng?” you replied.

“I want to ask you something.” 

“What is it?”

“If a guy confesses to you, what would be your reaction?”

“It depends. :D Why’d you ask?” 

“Because I like you and I dont want nobody but you.”

JUNGWOO

He is certain of his feelings for you but although he wants to tell you all about it, he doesnt have any idea how. Since he’s also a soft boy, he often stares at you from afar and admire you without getting caught by anybody. He automatically smile when he see you or you talk to him. He’s good at pretending like he’s not going crazy whenever you’re there. Puts up an innocent look every time but hell, he wants to scream how much much he likes you. 

He asked his friend, Lucas for an advice and they came up with a plan to just simply...admit it in front of you.  But the problem is, Jungwoo is still too shy to execute the plans so he asked Lucas to come with him for support just in case he messed up. Jungwoo waited for you outside your campus. He’s definitely nervous but Lucas was their to assure him and calm him down. 

“Y-Y/N!” he called you. You turned and greeted him. 

“I need to tell you something.” Man, he’s breathing heavy. 

“I know this seem fast and sudden but.. I...” He looked at Lucas before continuing. Lucas signaled him a thumbs up. “Go on!” he said. 

“I like you..” he whispered. It was too noisy so you were unable to hear it. 

“Jungwoo can you say it again? I didnt hear you.” 

“I like you!” He winked and covered his face with his hands. He doesnt know why he did that. Adrenaline rush? Maybe. Panic? Maybe. 

He forced a smile before speaking again. “I like you so much and Im 100% sure. The way you move, the way you speak, and when you smile--everything. Are you aware that you make me feel this way?”  

HAECHAN

Unlike the other boys, he’s not afraid to show you how he really feel. He’ll probably serenade you almost every time just so you will be reminded how much he has fallen for you. Every time he see how you adore it when he’s singing makes him want to do it more. He does all that yet he cant bring himself to confirm anything. Haechan cant tell you the exact words so he showed you by actions and because of that, you find it hard to analyze what he wants you to know. 

But Haechan knew that every second he let to pass is more chances of loosing you. 

“y/n, listen to this.” he held on his guitar and played a song. 

“I love you too much, heaven’s my witness and this is a fact..You live in my soul...your heart is my goal.....” he sang swiftly like he’s singing you a lullaby. 

“that was beautiful.” you praised him. 

“Remember the time you told me you like that song from the Book of Life?” he asked and you nodded. 

“You said you will marry someone who can sing that for you.” he added. 

“y-yeah...hahaha. Clever.” you chuckled

“Every word on that song should tell you how I feel. The lyrics says it all.” he said and blushed

“what do you mean?” 

“I love you too much, y/n. I live for your touch. I whisper your name night after night.  Heaven knows i’ve been praying for you. Just to make you my own I will fight.” 

MARK

He would panic every time you’re around. Will cling unto his friends and would hide because he doesnt know how to interact with you. He would be startled when you call him. The two of you never had a long conversation since Mark cant look at you long enough in the eye. Just a simple greeting from you can make him weak. This boy does not react like that on purpose he does it to save himself from spilling everything to you out of a sudden. He plays safe so he wont burst out how much your impact on him is. Besides, he’s a cheesy guy. He doesnt want you to know that cause he’s afraid you’ll be turned off. 

He once flinched when you call him on Cooking class. 

“oh my gosh, y/n, you startled me.” he said panting. 

“bro, I just called you?” 

“what did you call me for?” he said not looking at you.

“Just checking your progress.” you looked at what he’s doing and saw a rose made out of carrots

“Wow. Where did you learn that from?” he did not answer your question and handed it to you. 

“Here...you can have it.” he blushed. 

“Thank you, Mark.” 

“Im giving it to you, the same way Im giving my heart and my everything. Please handle it with care.” 

*****************************

Hi guys, this is my first time posting like this. Sorry for any grammar issues. English isnt my first language so there’s probably many mistakes and redundancy. I hope you enjoy reading this! and let me know if you have requests. :D 

[crimsonbluemoon]

Working For Love: A TerrorMoo Story 10/17

OH MY GOD IF MY COMPUTER DELETES THIS ONE MORE TIME I WILL SCREAM.

Er.... I mean, enjoy this drabble?

Previous Part

Start from the beginning

Brian wasn’t a fan of surprises. 

He liked to be a part of them when the focus was others, but he never enjoyed when the attention was placed on him. Evan always claimed it was a control thing, and that it lead to Brian always taking initiative with his potential partners. He didn’t want to be thrown off his game, whether it was in his professional or romantic life. Brian picked the same times to run classes, looked at his lists a half hour before they were due to start, and never strayed from his guided plans once the class started. It was not only safer for his participants, but it kept the area calm and left Brian little to no chances of being left unsure of what to do next.

Unfortunately, nothing would have prepared him for how he’d felt when seeing Brock cry in the locker room the week before. Tears had looked so out of place filling the brown eyes when he’d stared at Brian, as if hoping Brian could fix all the broken parts inside him. Brian didn’t know what had cut Brock so deep, what had made him tremble under soft touches and feel unworthy of compassion. But it’d been an unpleasant weight in Brian’s chest that had lingered for days after. Brock had to take two days off from the gym because of his foot, but even when he’d come back, a somber aura had settled around his shoulders like a cloak. Brian did he best to cheer him up, and at times he’d catch the glimmer of his normal smile. But Brock still wasn’t fully happy, and it left a bitter taste in Brian’s mouth. 

And then, because the universe felt like he needed another swerve, Craig showed up to his morning yoga class.

“Hey, don’t blame me,” Mini had said when Brian had tossed a glare his way. “Ingrid seduced me with blueberry vodka smoothies; how could I say no?”

“Why do you still hang out with them?” Brian asked, Craig pressing his hand to his chest with a dramatic sigh.

“These are my people, Brian. They resonate with my old soul.”

“How are you friends with Brock?”

“You worried your lover boy’s gonna realize our love potential and let me whisk him away?” Craig raised his voice enough to catch some of the ladies' attention in the class, and Brian had to bite back a swear at their curious gazes. He loved his yoga classes, and he didn’t mind being friendly with the vocal older women. But there were times when their forwardness tended to be overwhelming, such as their desire to find him a wife. 

“Ladies, please start your first position. And you-” He pressed his finger into Craig’s chest, pushing him toward the corner of the room. “Don’t start shit.”

“I would never.” Innocence looked wrong on Mini, and the faux blinks of naivety he sent to Brian made his spine tingle in discomfort. His shoulders didn’t relax until Mini plopped himself down onto his mat, sending Wanda a shit-eating grin while sliding into the first pose. 

The class, for the most part, followed the normal routine. It left Brian with the calmness that he attributed to yoga, and his mind drifted back to Brock when moving into his seated position. His eyes stared down at his ankle in silence, remembering how warm Brock’s skin had been under his touch. But the memory, which should have been embarrassing or pleasant, was tinged with sadness at the thought of Brock’s trembles. Brock said he wasn’t okay, but what had made him feel like that? Despite getting to know Brock better with each month that passed, there were still parts of him that were a mystery. He rarely dabbled in the romantic side of Brock’s past, only knowing he was interested in men from mention of ex-boyfriends. Names and time frames were never introduced into the conversations, though Brian hadn’t brought up his own either. Still, to think that Brock had looked so broken because Brian had simply allowed him to be broken-

It made his nails dig into his calves, and he switched the position to keep from punching the mat in frustration. It took time to lower his anger, but he’d captured it back into his chest when finishing the final stretch of the routine. 

“And remember that when you do these moves at home, to have a flat surface to place your mat on. Otherwise, you’re at risk of hurting yourself.” The smile he pushed forward felt more real than it had any right to at the moment. “Any questions before we wrap up?”

“When are you going to ask that young man out?” Velma asked, blue tinged hair a curled mess above hawk-like eyes. Brian caught his jaw before it could fall open, any sense of fatigue from the week vanishing from his sudden spike of adrenaline. One glance around the room proved that Velma wasn’t the only interested participant in the conversation, none of the woman moving from their mats while staring him down. It didn’t take much to realize that the question hadn’t been sporadic, but pre-planned by the group to catch him off guard. 

God, Brian hated surprises. 

“I meant about the poses-” Brian tried to start, but Mini looked far too pleased when he cut in.

“Yeah, Brian, when you gonna make an honest man out of my best friend?” Brian’s eye twitched at the feline grin that tickled the edges of Mini’s lips, bright blue eyes glancing at the attentive women while he counted on his fingers. “They’ve been flirting for months, Brock’s been single well past the allowed time after a terrible break-up, and I think we’ve all discussed enough at our Saturday Smoothie Brunch how their chemistry is simply adorable. The problem is that we all know Brock’s far too shy to ask out Brian, so he’s gotta be the one to put on his big boy pants and do the work.” 

“What a sweet boy, that Brock is.” Ingrid sighed like she wanted to be in her twenties again simply to have a chance at Brock, and Brian wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh to smack his head into the wall. 

“And just a perfect match for our Brian,” Velma added, sending another pointed look toward Brian. 

“Why is this even a topic?” Brian blurted out, wondering when it was that Craig had hi-jacked his yoga class. He really needed to get Tyler to fuck Mini just to keep him out of his hair. The women hadn’t been this riled up since Brian had forgotten to wear boxers when running on the treadmill. 

“Well, isn’t that obvious?” Mini pulled his knees up in front of him to rest his chin on them, rolling his eyes to show how unimpressed he was with Brian’s arched eyebrow. “We want Brock to be happy again. You’re not the only one who cares around him.” 

“What?” Brian blinked, genuinely stunned at the collective nods that the women shared at the answer.

“He’s been so sad lately,” Wanda continued, the hot pink lipstick emphasizing her frown. “Normally, when I see him in the gym, he gives the warmest smile. It reminds me of how my Howie used to look when we were high school sweethearts, so bright and endearing. But this past week, that shine just...hasn’t been there. And we can see how that affects your, which means that both of our favorite boys are sad.” 

“The only time we get Brock to really smile is when you’re in his orbit. Even when I’m showering him with love at the apartment, it just doesn’t get the same reaction that you do.” For the first time since meeting Craig, his voice was lacking the confident bounce that was a staple of his character. The point he was trying to make was serious, and grabbed Brian’s attention. “Brock’s working through some stuff, and I’m going to respect him by not spilling it. But that doesn’t mean he has to be alone while he’s healing. If there was someone who helped the pain, someone who maybe would treat him right, then I’ll do whatever it takes to get that guy off his ass and make a move.” 

“The double dates between you and Tyler would be so cute with Brock and Brian.” Ingrid pinched Craig’s face affectionately, and he laughed through his pinkened cheeks. Brian, dumbfounded at how much energy the group had put into Brock’s happiness, made him sit back on his mat, hands falling limp in his lap. 

“You guys really think Brock would give us a shot?” 

“Honey, that man looks ready to marry you.” Wanda’s eyes held a haze of romance, and Brian felt his smile grow at her confidence in Brock’s feelings for him.

“And that’s before he knows what you’re like between the sheets,” Mini tossed out, snickering when Brian scoffed. 

“Then again, he was there during the treadmill incident; he’s got a very good idea what you’re working with. We all do.” Never too shy to say her peace, Velma gave a pointed glance to Brian’s crotch, the rest of the woman erupting into giggles and whistles. Brian’s shock was loud for a moment, but it fell to the side when he laughed, head shaking at the absurdity of his life. But one thing was sure; they were all right. Brian didn’t need to wait for Brock to be 100% to pursue him. Brock was great now. And if he never got better, Brian would still want him for as long as he could keep him. It was strange to feel so comfortable with his decision that had seemed so impossible an hour ago. 

But life was full of surprises, and not all of them were bad.

Hee hee Mini hanging out with dirty old women is just too funny not to put it. Okay, so! I actually had a ton of fun writing this one, and this little mini story is one of my favs so far. So like, reblog, and let me know what you think! <3

[e1ana]

another... platform... (and also momojirou)

i have twitter now >:D i want to be able to interact more w/ other writers and yall and also share stuff i won’t post on here/ao3 as threads! my user is e1ana_ if you wanna come say hi :)

anyways below is some momojirou i put there recently because i felt weird just advertising my twitter and leaving hehe

“Momo,” Jirou says, one hand cradling her massive stomach and the other loosely holding a few umaibo. “You said you were coming to bed in a few minutes.”

Momo sighs and tucks her pen behind her ear. Work had been crazy today, which meant more reports. Nobody had told her the boring downside of being in the top ten. “Yes, love, I’ll only be a minute. I just have to finish up the paperwork.” 

“Said that twenty minutes ago.” Jirou mumbles and waddles her way back into the bedroom, the crinkling of another umaibo pack trailing behind her.

Jirou had been the one to vote for her being the one to get pregnant. Momo had just broken into the top ten, and her need for an unnaturally high BMI and rapid food consumption might affect the pregnancy. But the consequences of the journey had certainly taken its toll on both women. From rapid mood swings to extended morning sickness, it seemed like these kids really had it out for them.

Still. Neither thinks they would give it up if they could. 

Momo goes back to detailing her patrol, TV humming away in the distance. Taking on a four on one battle in a cramped alley had been exciting, no lie, but coming home to a stack of papers and a cranky wife wasn’t exactly the warm welcome that Momo would’ve liked. Stop that, she chastises herself. She’s ready to pop, and you’ve been away from home for nearly half the day. Of course, she won’t be greeting you at the doorway. The hero sighs and places her writing utensil on her desk. She can deal with this tomorrow - for now, she has a cranky partner to soothe.

She tucks the papers back into their clip and turns on the kettle. A cup of tea before bed had been routine for the past few years and it hadn’t changed with time. That was another thing - going from having one tea guzzler in the house to two had put a massive dent in Momo’s supply. Kyoka claimed that the babies like it and that it's probably good for me - all unbacked statements, but convincing nonetheless. If tea was what Kyoka wanted, it’s what she would get. Momo steeps the extra cup with care, adding the perfect amount of sugar and making sure no extra leaves are floating around.

Momo knocks on the door before pushing it gently open. Kyoka is splayed out on the bed, head propped up on a pillow to look at the TV from over her belly. She peeks over and makes room for Momo upon her entrance. One cup of tea is placed on the table next to her and the other clinks when Momo slides into bed. “I thought you finished Followers already.”

Jirou sips her tea before turning around to face her wife. “I wanted to rewatch it. You were taking so long I nearly got a quarter way through.”

Momo wraps her arms around Jirou and the pregnant woman worms her way into a more comfortable position. “Sorry, my love. You know how long papers can go on.”

Jirou snuggles closer and unwraps another umaibo and bites half of it off. She’s at the part of the show where a famous photographer meets an aspiring actress. She closes her eyes and leans her head against Momo’s chest. Her face is barely above the covers, thick blanket tickling at her bottom lip. Momo’s hand wanders to her stomach, rubbing the taut skin and warming it beneath her palm. Jirou hums and places her hand on top. 

There’s a flutter beneath her skin and Jirou hisses. Someone is deciding to be a little gymnast, it seems. Momo sighs and moves her hand, her aimless rubbing turning into a one-handed massage. “I love getting to feel them move. It’ll be any day now, I swear. How’ve they been treating you?”

“Like hell. One of them - I can’t tell who, but I think it might be Hisami - has been literally jumping on my bladder and doing flips for the past few hours. Little bugger.” She reaches up and cradles Momo’s face in her palm, opening her eyes to meet black. “I can’t believe I’m only a week overdue. It feels like a month, at least.” As if on cue, one of the babies kicks and nails Jirou so hard she swears she feels her rib crack. Momo coos and rubs the sore spot, letting her wife mumble irritated curses into her skin.

“They’ll be out soon. All that waiting, all the struggles, and we’ll get to see their pretty little faces.” She pecks Jirou on the cheek and turns her head into the pillow. She clicks off the TV and helps Jirou settle into her body-sized pillow. “I love you, Kyoka.”

“I love you too. Goodnight.”

***

It happens, ironically, in the middle of a bi-monthly class 1-A reunion. Jirou’s in the middle of a conversation with Kaminari and Mina, the pink girl yammering on about some insane romantic escapade. After graduating from UA, she may as well have been a professional serial romantic alongside being a hero. 

She’d thought that Mina had gesticulated into her cup and spilled water down her leg, but upon further notice (and further sitting in it), the liquid was coming from inside her dress. Kyoka’s breath catches in her throat at a harsh cramp and latches onto Mina’s arm.

“I hate to interrupt your story, Mina, but I think my water just broke.”

Her friend pauses, yellow eyes blinking slowly and processing information. Kaminari, the fucking idiot, takes the information through one ear and out the other. He’s off like a bullet train, wailing about “not being ready to be an uncle.”

“Man, right in the middle of my sentence!” Mina leads her over to sit down at a table. Oh shit, this is really happening. A few minutes give way to another clench in Jirou’s abdomen, solidifying the reality of the moment. She presses both hands to her stomach and breathes in deeply. Oh boy - well, girls. In a matter of hours, she’d likely be holding her children in her arms.

Another contraction hits, sharper and more insistent than the last time. “Momo,” she manages between breaths. “Where’s Momo?”

“Right here.” She slides next to Kyoka, ponytail swinging behind her. “Sorry, I was in the restroom for the big moment. Kaminari’s been very diligent in catching me up, though.” The man in question is heaving his ass off, sweat running down his brow and darkening the pits of his sleeve. He flashes Jirou a thumbs up before going back to his impressive wheezing.

Momo rubs her hand as they sit for the next half hour or so. The contractions aren’t even close to ten minutes apart, so there’s no rush in gathering the bag and designating a driver. Jirou almost wishes there was - though they are far apart, the contractions hurt pretty badly and make her gasp in discomfort. Being the only person not in some stage of panic, Todoroki offers to drive. Kaminari and Midoriya both head back to their house to get the hospital bag. All the while Jirou grips away at her wife’s hand and breathes in the direction of Mina and Shinsou.

“All right. We can go.” Todoroki whirls back around, swiftly walking back to the car with both Momo’s purse and Jirou’s handbag. 

Jirou is shaky as she stands, nails digging into both Momo and Mina’s skin. Neither makes any indication that they’re in pain other than a slight hiss that goes unnoticed. They walk to the car, Jirou wobbling half from the pain and half from her massive stomach. In all honesty, she couldn’t wait to be able to jog for more than three steps or touch her toes again. Even the short distance from the door of the building to the door of the car was practically making her work up a sweat.

She clips the seatbelt herself, shooing away the other people to have a moment of blessed silence in the completely closed car. That peace is dispelled when another wave of pain has her damn near doubling over. “Fuuuuck,” she hisses at nobody in particular. “Fuck.” She says again directed at her belly. A heel rams into her guts like one of the cheeky little ladies had heard her swear at them. “Fuck you. You two better get out fast, I'm already over this.”

Then the car doors are opening and far too many people are piling in. Todoroki takes the driver's seat, Mina the passenger, and Momo the backseat beside Jirou. Momo presses a slow kiss to her forehead and one to her stomach, rubbing her belly in an attempt at consolation. “Soon we’ll get to meet our daughters, Kyoka. You’re so strong. Going to give us two healthy little girls.”

Jirou nods and clenches her teeth tighter. A few more hours of what already felt like hell, but the payoff would be so worth it. She closes her eyes and leans her head back, open window sending hair flying into her sweaty face. She focuses on her pulse, and her breaths, and the grip of Momo’s hand in her own.

The news of the oncoming hero child is leaked fast and at the hands of a bewildered teenager driving by who happened to get a glimpse through the window. Thankfully the group manages to get to the hospital with only a little traffic trouble, meeting up with Kaminari and Midoriya to secure the bag.

Jirou’s gasps and groans escalate in volume, growing into full-on yelps of pain with every contraction as they become more frequent and intense. Momo stays with her the whole time, pushing her hair out of her face and rubbing her arm and whispering words of praise.

God. Kyoka thought she’d known pain, that the contractions were hard, but she hadn’t been mentally prepared for pushing out two entire babies. It had seriously felt like someone was ripping her snatch in half for upwards of six hours. 

But, when all is said and done, and the doctor places Hisami and Anzu on her chest it's so worth it. Jirou cries openly when their warbling cries meet her ears and their little bodies squirm to make themselves more comfortable. After a few minutes when Anzu falls asleep (it had to have been Hisami stomping on her bladder), Momo’s quiet tears join hers when she cradles and rocks the black-haired baby.

“Beautiful,” she whispers, switching Anzu into one arm to grab Jirou’s hand with the other. “Look how beautiful they are.” 

Hisami tosses and turns, trying desperately to break out of the blanket burrito she’s ensnared in. It had to have been her, stamping all over Jirou’s insides like that. She blinks open her eyes slowly, purple meeting purple as she stares at her mother. Jirou laughs and wipes her face. Yeah, pregnancy was hell. But if this is the payoff - if she gets to hold her two beautiful daughters in her arms with her wife by her side - it all was beyond worth it.

[anotheronechicagobog]

I’m Sorry Pt. 2 Matt Casey x Reader

Warnings: angst, mention of death, child neglect, mental illness, low self confidence, daddy issues

by: @anotheronechicagobog

“You have to know why I’m here.”

“To tell me you’ve realised your mistake and broken up with that firefighter.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. You haven’t changed. At all! That stint in prison did nothing!”

“Y/N-”

“No. It is my turn to talk.” Your voice was cold and violent. “I hate myself and it is your fault. I felt abandoned by you and I saw you everyday. Nothing I did was ever good enough, first you put all your energy into Justin, and then Erin. I was the best student in my grade for seven years straight, was that important to you? No. Did it catch your attention? No. I thought there was something wrong with me for my entire life. I broke my own soul trying to impress you. I put myself through hell to try and earn your pride. Late study nights starting years before they should have, I spent so much time with mami trying to imitate her because you loved her so much and I wanted some of that affection to be directed towards me. When she died, I lost the only parent I’d ever had, because you didn’t do jack. The only thing that you contributed to the person I’ve become is making sure that I know that I am worthless. That I am nothing. That I do not deserve love. That the world would be better off without me. That I deserve the excruciating pain that you embroidered into my spirit. When I was 18, I joined the academy. Did you know that? Wait, why am I even bothering asking? Of course you didn’t, when has my life been of any interest to you? I graduated at the top of my class, I broke three records. There were precinct captains fighting over where I’d be assigned. I got assigned to the 17th district. I was asked to take the detective’s exam after six months. I would’ve been the youngest detective in the CPD. But it was during the meeting after I passed the exam, when my captain was telling me how intelligent and adaptable I was, how he was so proud of me, and said that I reminded him of you. I felt like throwing up. All that I could remember were the nights gang leaders would meet in our dining room to “talk business” with you. I remember all the guns, drugs, and money that was stashed in various places around the house. Yeah, that’s right, I knew. I just let it slide when mami was dying. I remembered when you were taking Justin and I home from school and you pulled over to kill someone. I don’t know who they were, but I don’t care that wasn’t nor will it ever be, okay. The fact that I reminded my captain and so many others in the CPD of you made me realize that I needed to get the hell out of there before I became you. I quit on the spot. I left the force that day and never looked back. I joined the military the day after I legally changed my last name, became a medic. I decided to become a doctor to help people, and I didn’t have the money to pay for med school, so the military seemed like the best way to do it. When I was honourably discharged, with numerous awards under my belt, I was a sergeant. But still I’m not proud of my accomplishments, I should be, but I’m not. No, I’m just standing around waiting for the shoe to drop, for everyone around me, including Matt, to realize that I am nothing but the scum on the bottom of their shoes and that I do not deserve anything even remotely simulating happiness. And that is all thanks to you. I love Matt, so much, and I want a future with him so badly, but because of you, all I’m doing is waiting for him to leave. You were a terrible father, and I blame myself for it. I blame myself for all the illegal shit you did, for mami’s death, for Justin’s alcohol and drug problems, for Erin being brought in as my replacement...” Tears had started streaming down you face when you started your rant, but now, when you’d finally voiced out loud your thoughts, you couldn’t hold back your sobs. “I’m sorry.” It was all you could choke out before turning and sprinting to your car.

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

When you made it back to your apartment you were worn out. You just wanted to curl up in your bed let the remainder of your tears free. You’d passed the last stair and were met with the sight of Matt at your door. You could feel the dam you’d managed to patch up in the car threatening to burst again at the sight of him. You sniffled and he turned around at the sound. “Y/N? Are you okay?” It only took a couple of determined strides for him to reach you and put his hands delicately on each side of your face. All that you could think about were your own words, and this time you couldn’t ignore them, bury them deep in the recesses of your mind and hope they never resurface. “What happened? Your shift ended an hour ago, where were you?”

“I-I was w-i-ith my fa-ther... and we- I just- It’s over Matt. I-I’m sor-ry.”

“What? No, Y/N, no. Did your father say something? Did he do something? Did I do something? Y/N, please, don’t do this. Talk to me, what’s going on?”

“It’s over, you didn’t do a-anything wro-ng. I pr-promise. You were ama-zing.” You kissed him on the cheek, your having officially become niagara falls, and ran to your door. You managed to unlock it, get inside, and lock it before Matt could process what was happening. He started banging on your door, calling your name, begging you to open your door, to listen, to talk. You slide down to the floor and let all your tears free, your sobs drowning out Matt’s desperate pleas.

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

“Why did you break up with Matt?” You woke up on the floor, still in your clothes from yesterday with dried up tears on your face. You got up and decided that a shower and some food would make you feel better, in that order. When you were almost finished eating you were interrupted by Erin calling your phone. “Sorry Erin, I’m still waking up, what’s going on?”

“Y/N are you okay? It’s noon, you’re always up at six.”

“It’s what?!” You checked the time and, surely enough, it was noon, give or take a few minutes. “Um, okay, last night was rough, it must’ve messed up my sleep cycle, hell I slept on the floor... Now, what’s going on? How do you know that I broke up with Matt?”

“You slept on the floor? What? I- you know what? We’ll discuss that later. Anyway Matt is here, at the 21st, yelling at Voight in his office for making you break up with him. So, did he?”

“No, he didn’t. He clearly still wanted me to, but I didn’t break up with Matt because he told me to.” Your voice went quiet, remembering last night clearly, unfortunately.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” Your voice was still quiet, hurt. “I think you should come down here.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in ten.”

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You took a deep breath to steady yourself as you walked up to the desk in the 21st. You started to address the woman who’s nametag said Platt “Hi, I’m here to-”

“Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Yes.”

“Go on up.” You heard a buzzing sound and made your way to the door, not at all ready for what you were about to walk into.

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

“FOR THE LAST TIME, WHAT DID YOU SAY TO HER?!”

“I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING!”

“HONESTLY VOIGHT DO YOU EXPECT-”

“He’s telling the truth, Matt.” Everyone turned to you. “Y/N” He choked out, blue eyes pleading and sad. “Matt, let’s do this somewhere else.”

“No. Y/N, what’s going on?”

“I’m not good enough for you, okay? I shouldn’t have let our relationship drag out this long, it was selfish of me.”

“Y/N, what are you talking about? You are more than good enough for me, I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who isn’t you. So please, talk to me, how on earth did you come to that conclusion?”

“It’s just something I’ve always known.”

“No, it’s not.” Your father butted into the conversation. “It’s my fault that she thinks like that, that she believes that about herself. I was a terrible father and Y/N’s paying the price. Y/N, you deserve happiness. You... are better than me at everything, but you don’t have the self-confidence to go along with your achievements and that is my fault. You are an amazing, intelligent young woman and I’m the one who failed, Y/N, not you. My biggest regret is the way I treated you and that I chose not to be a part of your life and accomplishments. I’m really proud of you.”

“Do you really mean it? You can’t joke about something like this, dad.”

“With all of my heart.”

“Y/N, I shouldn’t have interfered with your relationship. You clearly love Lieutenant Casey and he clearly loves you. I was wrong, there’s no excuse for my behaviour. I’m sorry.”

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

You sat across from Matt in the Mills family diner. You were pushing your food around on your plate, the weight of his stare making you nervous to look up. Neither of you had spoken since you agreed to leave the 21st together, you decided to be the one to break the ice. “I’m in love with you and I’ve never faced anything more terrifying in my life.” You heard Matt splutter, spitting his coffee back into his mug. “I’ve never felt like I’ve been worth much and I just, I love you so much, and after the confrontation I had with my father I just realized that I couldn’t wait around for you to leave me.”

“You mean more to me than anyone else has, the past twelve hours have been absolute hell without you. I’m in love with you too. I have to admit, though, what you think of yourself really concerns me. I still love you like crazy, but I think you need some professional help.”

“How could you still love me knowing that I’m a basket case?”

“You’re not a basket case, everyone has their own issues, I guess the difference with mine is that you already knew about them and that I’ve been going to therapy.”

“I’ll... talk to Dr. Charles tomorrow morning.” Matt sighed in relief and the tension washed out of his eyes and shoulders. He reached his hand across the table and held yours tenderly. “I love you so much Y/N.”

[kpop---scenarios]

Because of You

A/N: This was a commissioned request by @making-me-blush! This is the first Part of 3! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Nothing yet. Flirting. Next chapter will be smut thoo.

Flying was one of your favorite things to do. You loved the feeling of being in the air and going to a new place. The fact that you could be in an almost entirely different world within hours had always amazed you. You’d been fascinated with other cultures since you were little, and you had your mind made up since then that you would be a flight attendant.

Nobody thought you would do it. Nobody thought that you would stick it out. You had a habit of quitting things when they were hard, you would admit it. However, you wouldn’t quit this. This was something you’d wanted for years and no matter how hard it was you were going to succeed.

And you did. And you fucking loved it. You loved meeting new people from all over the world. You loved helping them, putting a smile on their face and easing their worries when things in the sky got rocky.

You also didn’t mind seeing all the fine men that boarded your plane. You were very much single, it’s not like you had never dated – you did. They just never stuck. There was always something that was a deal breaker that came to light a few months of being together and you were tired of it. Looking instead had it’s benefits, you got to appreciate and use your imagination later. Your imagination never left you unsatisfied.

Today you were heading to L.A from Hong Kong – a 14 hour flight a head of you. As the passengers were boarding, you were kneeling down trying to shove as many cans of pop into the cart as you could so you didn’t have to fill it up again, when one rolled out from the compartment, stopping against someone’s shoe. Turning your head, you notice a very attractive man bending over to pick it up, his bicep flexing as he has the can in his grip.

As he stands up, your eyes follow him up to his face where you could have honestly just jumped him in front of everyone. This man had the face of an angel. You didn’t know how anyone could look at him and not die from it. He slowly walks towards you, kneeling in front of you and hands you the can.

“Here you go" he says, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“T-thank you" you stutter, your eyes still wide and staring at him.

He gives you a small wink before standing up to take his seat. Right in the front in first class. How are you going to make it 14 hours with this god like creature staring at you?

**

A few hours had slowly gone by and you have tried to do your absolute best to keep yourself distracted and focused on work, instead of that beautiful man. Every time you walk by his row, you face your head the other way to avoid eye contact with him. You’re not sure how it happened but he’s affected you and that rarely happens.

You can hear him let out a small chuckle, as if he knows your purposely ignoring him.

“Excuse me, miss?” you hear. It’s him. You let out an internal sigh before turning to face him.

“Yes sir? How may I help you?” you ask with your best professional smile.

“May I have another drink?” he asks, with a small smirk. He knows he’s got you fucked up, he knows.

Clenching your jaw, you give him a small nod and head to the front to get him another drink.

**

The moment the plane touches the asphalt, you can feel your nerves slowly fading away. Never in your years if being a flight attendant have you ever been this shitty and distracted on a flight. You didn’t know who this man was, and you wanted to know, but you knew you couldn’t.

You could tell just by looking at him he was a little more than a few years younger than you. Not that there was anything wrong with being with someone younger, but you’d gone down that road before and it never ended well, for anyone.

This trip exhausted you. You wanted nothing more than to have something to eat and go the fuck to sleep. You were spending a few days in L.A this time and luckily for you, your hotel was connected to the airport. You slowly strolled your way through the airport, thinking of what you wanted to eat when a nice red and white light up sign caught your eye. The Cove flashed in front of your face. You peaked in, noticing it was rather empty, you decided to go for it. You needed something now.

The waitress sat you at a small table for two, taking away any extra cutlery and glasses. You ordered their largest glass of wine before opening the menu. A few minutes later she places your wine in front of you and asks you if you’re ready to order, which you’re not and you tell her.

Your eyes are so focused on the menu, your mind being so indecisive, you didn’t notice someone being seated in front of you, a few tables away. You’d finally decided on a pasta dish, and looked up to find the waitress.

Instead of finding her eyes, your met with a pair of familiar eyes. Ones from the plane. The man smirks as he sees your face change from shocked to confused to subtly licking your lips.

The waitress approaches your table, you tell her what you want but your eyes never leave the face of the man who is looking right back at you.

Bashfully, you lower your eyes, feeling like you stared for too long. Yet you peak up again , unable to look away for very long. Within seconds and his eyes are locked on you. Taking your bottom lip into your mouth, you give it a small bite before releasing it.

The next few minutes are spent with intense eye contact which is broken when your pasta is placed in front of you. You’re not even hungry for food anymore. You’d much rather have his cock in your mouth instead.

You clench your pussy in an attempt to relieve the throbbing that is happening. Trying to push the thought of his hands allover your dark, smooth skin, leaving no area left untouched. You’re trying not to think about the way his mouth would feel sucking on your nipples, moving down your stomach and in-between your thick thighs. You let out a small moan.

You shake your head, shaking out all the thoughts that made you actually, physically moan in the restaurant. You open your eyes and look at the man who is staring at you with one eyebrow arched. Your cheeks flush and burn, you feel a little embarrassed. You don’t know this man. You’ve said maybe two words to him, that’s not enough to be day dreaming about him fucking the life out of you.

You wonder if his cock is large.

No. Stop.

Quickly you pick up your fork, spinning some noodles around it before very slowly putting it in your mouth. Your eyes still on him, and his on you. He licks his lips as you suck the noodles from the fork, clearly teasing him.

For someone who wasn’t hungry for food, you’d finished every last bite and barely realized it. You were so captivated by him that it felt like everything else in the world was passing in fast motion while the two of you were in slow motion.

You break contact with him, standing up to leave and pay for your meal. You can’t be around him, or you might end up doing something you shouldn’t be doing. You don’t feel like going to jail for sucking a cock in public.

Looking over your shoulder, you get one more look before walking out of the restaurant and heading to your room.

**

A few hours later you wake up, its still dark. Looking over at the clock, you groan thinking about how late it still is and how much more sleep you could get, yet your body feels rested.

You know there’s not much you can do at 2am, well not much that you actually would like to do. While thinking, your mind wanders to the man who has invaded your brain. You wonder what he’s doing, if he’s thinking of you, like you are.

You get up, sliding your feet into the slippers you set beside your bed and picking up the robe you tossed over the back of the chair.

Grabbing your key, you head down to the stairwell, hoping that maybe using the stairs will tire you out enough while you head down a few floors to the vending machine.

Your mind wonders as you skip down the stairs, your hand sliding down the railing. Your eyes are open but your mind is elsewhere, until you slam into a hard chest.

Your eyes wide, you begin apologizing profusely.

“It’s fine.” The man chuckles. “please don’t worry about it"

You look up at the face of the man talking, and because the universe seems to hate you, it’s the man from the plane and the restaurant and your panties are wet, again.

“Alright, well sorry again" you day before moving around him to now run down the rest of the stairs.

“Where are you going?” he asks, spinning around to face you.

“For a walk” you say.

“Why don’t you walk me to your room?" he asks with a smile. “Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about me fucking you for the last almost 24 hours” he says, checking his watch. “I heard your moan" he whispers.

You stand there with your mouth hanging open. You’d had one night stands before. Meeting someone in a club and taking them home. But this felt oddly different, more intimate.

But you were here for it.

“Right this way" you say with a smile, moving past him to walk back up the stairs. Once the two of you were in the hallway, you could feel him closely behind you.

Standing in front of your door, his chest is pressed against you, along with his very hard erection.

You shake as you finally unlock the door, opening it wide and walking in.

He closes the door behind him, you walking forward before turning to face him.

“You’ve been fucking teasing me all day" he growls, taking a step closer to you.

“Me? I would never” you smirk, taking a step back from him.

“Oh I think you would" he says taking off his shirt, revealing his very toned stomach.

You let out a small moan at the sight of him.

“You’re a goddess and deserve to be treated as such" he says.

“How can you know what I deserve? You don’t even know my name. You know nothing about me" you say.

“I know your name, y/n" he smiles. “You had a name tag on the plane. I may not know anything about you, yet – but I know how to treat a goddess.” He pauses.

You don’t say anything.

“Let me show you" he growls before walking towards you, crashing his lips onto yours.

[energonalucard]

(Story) Anger Management

Is this another cross post from my AO3?! Why, yes! It is one indeed! But this one is older and ha a lot more going for it all around the plot section. Because it’s based on actual plot and is just one thing I really want to explore, in a kind of way. Basically Madic from the Soldine and Orangeman series, but when he was first imprisoned. Yes, I know, he probably ran out of the chemicals that made him go Mad in the first place when sitting in the cell and started to gain a bit of his senses over time. This, is a small bit of that in my eyes.

another story that was partially inspired back in the day by @girzapata6​ and my Psych professor, mostly on our Sociopath unit. :D

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Relationships:

Demoman & Medic (Team Fortress 2)

Orangeman & Madic (Freak Fortress 2)

Characters:

Demoman (Team Fortress 2)

Orangeman (Team Fortress 2)

Medic (Team Fortress 2)

Madic (Team Fortress 2)

HECU (GMod)

Soldier (Team Fortress 2)

Soldine (Team Fortress 2)

Additional Tags:

Prison

Anger Management

Anger

Therapy

Depression

Starvation

TF2 Freaks

Regret

Angst with a Happy Ending

Heavy Angst

Alcohol

Sensory Deprivation

Anxiety

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ Summary:

In Evo City's HECU base, Freaks that harm the city are housed here upon capture. One such catch is Madic, an ex-medic who murders based upon his unpredictable bursts of anger.

And now he's hit rock bottom, refusing food and barely drinking water. Orangeman watches mournfully--as an old teammate of Madic's--as he shrivels away in Anger Management.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Notes:

This is set after "Soldine vs. Madic" but before "Enemies of Old" and "Operation: HECU Correctional Facility".

So, yeah. Check them out to understand this story first! Or don't... But I recommend it! :)

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Anticipation. Adrenaline. And, anxiety. Worry. Nervousness. Unease. Pity. This place. Anger. Madic looked down at his a gloved hands with deep thought. He flexed his fingers as he waited for his counselor to arrive to work, finding his fingers stiff from gripping the arm of the chair too long. He looked around the bright lit room and noticed some materials his counselor must have left behind in his haste to get home before their show came on last night. Madic tried not to think about it. Tried not to think of anything from the outside world he once thought trivial, and now would crave simply for stimulus. Madic tapped his chairs arms in anticipation as time crawled around him like a Spy lying in wait. He couldn't tell what day it was anymore, and he could barely tell if it the sun was out anymore from being locked in a cell for so long. He used to be able to tell when night fell and when the sun rose by the changing of the guards in his cell block. But when two guards started complaining about the numbers of hours they worked and how many of them died in a month, the shifts became erratic along with the people who'd visit him. Some guards were nicer than others, like Ruben and his long talks about the outside world... even if it was mostly the rising political party HECU didn't want to see in power. Some guards were neutral, doing their job and leaving when they were supposed to and ignoring Madic and the drunk Demo freak that always blubbered in the cell across from him. And some guards caused Madic to spring in his cell like an enraged monster in how bad they treated him, usually causing a team of guards to come in and tase him if he didn't settle down. Madic was sure the only reason he could understand English anymore is because of these guards and his counselor, and he hated and feared the fact he couldn't seem to muster his own conversations anymore in German. Maybe his brain was simply fried from all the chemical abuse he performed on himself, maybe his brain saw his native German as a hindrance to his situation and simply hid it away. He gripped his chair harder, feeling uneasy and nervous in the large monitoring room that served as his chamber for anger management. He jumped out of his thoughts, and his skin, when the giant metal door that separated him from the human staff opened up. A person, clumsy and in the ugliest winter sweater Madic has seen to date, stumbled in with a cloth bag and the biggest smile they could muster. "Sorry, sorry!" They said and slipped on one of their loafers that had got caught in the door, dancing to put their shoe back on. After they entered, two guards came in after the counselor, making the rooms calm demeanor turn serious when they stood at either side of the door, guns at the ready in their hands. Madic had long gotten used to the procedure and shifted in his seat as the counselor settled in their seat across from him. The bag hit the floor and Madic cast a glance at it. The cloth bag was large and brimming with tools to help him in whatever therapy method they had today. On top was a stack of ink blot papers and a unmarked leather bound book Medic couldn’t make out very well. A diary, perhaps? He glanced back at his partner, and his face shifting in annoyance. "What took you so long?" Madic hissed, glaring at the person as they digged in their bag. "Your usually more professional." "Sorry, I just had the longest night." They said cheerily, pulling out a clipboard and a green pencil. "That show I was talking about, remember? The power went out at my house and I went to a friends not too far away to watch it, and I fell asleep on their couch by accident..." They trailed off to laugh and Madic felt his lip twitch downwards. He was never in a good mood, he was the Madic for a reason. His blood pressure shot up at random intervals just by looking around and being able to think about stuff. It wasn’t that he hated certain things, but it was just in his nature to find find the bad in everything. That fueled the fire of his already existing emotions and personality and caused him extreme amounts of rage. Or so his counselor says. They said a lot of things to him and sometimes about him while he’s in the same room. It’s taxing not to rip them to shreds for it.

The counselor jotted down something after his response to their story and Madic heart jumped in their chest. Wait, they were already starting this? Okay, they were getting down to business today.

The person's smile wavered a bit and put the clipboard and pencil down, the pencil laying strategically over whatever they had written on the bold black line. Now that got Madic paranoid, had they made that up to test him? It wouldn’t be the first time HECU played him, and certainly was not the last, but Madic hated it when they tricked him or ran experiments on his well-being. That’s what this person was here for, after all, so why ruin it by causing distrust between the doctor and the patient. Or so they say, Madic had no idea if this person was even a real doctor and not a random friendly guy off the street they just employed to fool him...

His body must have given away some signals at his heightened state of tension, for the counselor raised both hands gently onto the table to show they weren’t going to do anything. “Woah! I’m simply recording the time, I swear.”

Madic flexed his hands on the arms of the chair, feeling stupid and flustered from his accusation. The counselor lifted up the pencil and, indeed, it showed a time and date on it. Madic's face flushed even harder, his eyes looking at the table in dismay.

The counselor didn’t let him stew for long as they smiled sheepishly at him. “It’s my fault, sorry. I forgot your paranoia, my friend.”

“We’re not friends.” The ex-doctor sneered and straightened himself in his seat. He didn’t like being patronized, sure he had anger issues or whatever, but that gave nobody the right to just pity him. He was capable of amazing feats.

“I see.” The counselor said and pulled their gloves off slowly. “And I assume you are not referring to me as a doctor either, still…?”

“You are correct.” Madic said and kneaded his nails into the seat’s arm. Of course he wouldn’t, because this man was no actual doctor.

“All right then, let’s get started, then.” The gloves went into the bag and out came the images of his previous crime scenes. He could tell by the label on the folder that read "Madic" and a list of numbers. Oh god dammit.

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Orangeman watched with his cup of coffee as Madic rolled his eyes at the images and therapist in front of him. He watched as the Freak, strapped to the chair from his feet to his arms, slowly watched as the man flipped through the pages and tried to get a response out of his patient. Orangeman knew these tactics, it was a remorse tactic to see if the Freak was sentient and capable of changing, and Madic was proving himself uncooperative by staring right through the images he was show. The giant metal room he was in was being monitored by six scientists and seven guards, including the ones inside the room, and he was still being recalcitrant.

Orangeman drank a bit of his coffee-Scrumpy concoction and watched as the Freak made a very pissed off face at a certain picture, turning away. The monitored conversation picked up the ex-doctor saying that wasn’t anything he’d done, and processed to not look at the picture until another one covered it up. The therapist jotted something down and continued on from there, sliding pictures into view to get a reaction. Orangeman’s coffee-alcohol mixture tasted bitter in his own mouth as the Freak looked pissed again and said that was not his doing again.

Bloody hell, what were they showing him? And what was this kind of exercise?

A scientist to his right twisted a nob and the demolitions expert heard the sound of a machine beeping in rapid bursts and papers rustling. He followed the noise, and found a heart monitor off to the side with Madic’s prisoner number and class type on it, beeping faster than usual with the scientist writing something down as they watched it. A small machine under it was writing lines after lines on a piece of paper and had the same colored wires as the ones leading into the wall and into the girdle around the Madic’s abdomen and arm strap.

A polygraph, what the hell? He heard of interrogations going like this, but what were they even doing with this information? Madic was in here for anger management, why was he hooked up to a polygraph? He’s both glad and upset he wasn’t a scientist to get to understand what they were doing to the Freak.

He watched on, sipping his drink, as Madic was questioned and shown images for some reason. The mercenary either answered with a humm, grunt, or a declaration that it was not him who did that. It almost reminded Orangeman of those tests in the optometrist when they ask which on of the two lenses you can see better out of, but far more scary and surreal.

Once the final picture came up, the therapists hesitating with this one, Madic’s eyes roamed the page like a man who recognized something in the picture but couldn’t place his finger on it. He stared through this picture like he did with the many others and Orangemen was almost keen on leaving the man to do his therapy before the ex-doctor grunted in his throat, almost like a wounded animal and tried to shift away.

Over the monitor, he heard, “I’ve never heard that before.”

“Shut up.” Was all that answered them.

The therapist turned the picture around and looked at it themselves, ignoring what Madic had just told them. “What’s wrong with this picture? Is it… the bodies? As a doctor, I don’t think you’d be squeamish, maybe it’s something else…”

“You know damn well what’s the problem.” The Freak hissed and pulled at the restrains on the chair, making it whine in protest. All the machines inside the room with Orangeman started to beep louder and faster, the scientist scrambling. “Tell me, what is that photo? Why are you showing me these? I don’t know anything… I’ve been stuck here for god knows how long.”

Orangeman saw the guards in the room train their guns on the Freaks body, their laser sights putting a small red dot between the Freaks eyes to scare him. Orangeman knew they wouldn’t, they hadn't actually needed to kill a Freak in so long and he’d be damned to find out if Madic can regenerate, much less die . There was no way they’d shot him without repercussions.

The monitor spoke up again. “You don’t remember these places? These people?”

Madic scoffed again. “If your going to tell me I did every single one of these, I don’t want to hear it. I am not going to apologize and I am not going to tell you how I feel, I am not telling you anything. I’ve had enough of this pseudo-science experiment and…”

“This was a baby Madic.” The therapist said, looking at one of the photos in the pile before showing it, Madic sliding as far away from it now as he can. “On one of your rampages…”

Orangeman wanted to spit out his coffee and run. He was half-scared they were going to show him a picture like they were showing Madic, and was about to run away from it. Orangeman saw a lot of things dealing with Freaks in Evo City, having a large population of humans in such a small area meant you were bound to see something new everyday if a Freak came along. But Orangeman had never been on one of those missions to send help to those in a crisis, he was sent with Soldine to deal with the monster ruining lives. He’s never actually seen much of dead children and babies, and would like to keep it that way.

How could Madic do such a thing? Orangeman all of a sudden didn’t know what he was feeling. It was a swarm of discernible emotions, and he felt a little woozy just standing there. Should he appeal to have Madic removed from therapy and into confinement? He felt that was too rash, Madic was clearly recoiling from the photos but...

A small gag of disgust sounded across the monitor. “Stop, I know what it is.” Madic barked, slipping back like a kicked dog baring its fangs. “Your chalk out lines and the clothing gave that away…”

“We have the photos of the family, here” The therapist pulled out two more and Madic looked less startled by these, but with no less revolution. “These are the…”

The therapist was cut off by Madic who was speaking softer now, “The parents, yes. I can tell.”

“Yes?” The therapist said, and shuffled the pictures around so Madic could see them all. “These are all taken from crime scenes off the mountain you lived on. I’m sorry I had to show you these, really. I never want to do this to any of my patients, it's a travesty and a low blow.”

“But it's your job. And their monitoring me.” Madic said and looked away. His eyes trained on the guards who had seemingly backed up back into their places at the door. “And your still not a doctor.”

The room was silent, all but a fan was quiet and still, and finally, the therapist sighed. Through the monitor, Orangeman heard the therapists sigh and put all the papers into a cream colored folder before pulling out a book with stickers hanging out of it as bookmarks. “Alright. We’ll continue as usual from here.”

“As normal as me wearing a girdle and wires?” Madic asked and let his back slump, he must be trying to mess with the readings to be cheeky, lowering the tension.

“As normal as always.” The therapist said and opened up the book with a loud pop of the cover.

Orangeman saw the two begin to do something in the book and Madic listen as the therapist droned on. The Freak was a sight to just stare at sometimes; graying skin and mysterious darker grey patches over veins you can see through his light colored skin, irises almost a pale and dull blue that seemed to disappear into a sickly green-white when he went berserk, his eyes were bloodshot around the rims, and his teeth are pasty white and felt like you were watching a horror movie villain with their stainless teeth. Does this man look like he could kill a helpless family? Yes.But does Orangeman know enough about this man now to feel remorse, pity, and reluctance to give up his treatment. Maybe.

It was hard to tell. He wasn’t drunk enough yet to deal with most of his problems and his job right now. His coffee had cooled off a while ago, so he chugged it and the alcoholic contents down before it got cold.

Shit, it wasn’t enough. He felt seemingly still conscious enough to feel his growing panic grow even more. His thoughts were a bit jumbled but it wasn’t enough to deal with this kind of nonsense. He sat down on a swivel chair a scientist had evacuated earlier and pulled out an emergency flask of vodka. This was going to be a hard day to deal with.

He barely had a second to take a drink before the familiar silhouette of Soldine and a HECU officer stepped into the room. This wasn’t good. Orangeman let the liquid he had in his mouth slid down his throat swiftly as he looked up at the two, making eye contact with the correctional Officer alone as Soldine refused to shift his gaze from the door that Madic was housed behind.

“Mornin’, ye two.” Demoman waved and gave them a suspicious eyeing. “Wha’ brings ye down here while therapy’s happenin’?”

The correctional Officer let Orangeman stand up before addressing him firmly, and stiffly. “We’re here for the Madic, we’re taking him to the medical wing as per ordered by the Chief Medical Officer. I was hoping we’d find you before you were… intoxicated, to help us escort him.” The man ruffled his tie like it was some symbol to scare Orangeman into submission. Like hell it did.

“I’m fine, I can do meh job jus’ fine.” Orangeman said and stood next to the RED cyborg that was staring forward. “No need to run me away.”

The Officer didn’t seem convinced but allowed Soldine to address the operative in his metallic voice. “The Freak known as Madic has severely lost weight and is slowly dropping in performance. His recovery is to be halted this evening after the scientists have monitored how his lack of proper nutrients is effecting his body…”

Orangeman listed as Soldine started to list off what they were measuring for and felt his singular eye widen in shock. The bloody man was starving himself? Why? The Madic never seemed like a self-punishing type with all his fits of rage he’s had in his cell after a few rowdy guards made him go berserk. Orangeman went numb again, unable to process what he was hearing for a second before slowly growing more pity and sorrow for his ex-teammate. Oh bloody hell.

“... blood pressure, heart health, durability, arousal…” Soldine continued on, but stopped as Orangeman started to let random blubbering out when he said the last word.

The Officer wasn’t having it today. “It means attentiveness, don’t be unprofessional.”

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Madic looked at his hands in the binds of the chair and let the situations he had been in throughout his life, swallowing a bit of spit his mouth caused when he thought of a few things that started to make him angry. His counselor slowly let out their own breath and took a deep breath again across from him, teaching Madic how to control his breathing if he ever felt angry. Madic knew the biological factors getting angry made a person do; intense breathing, adrenaline, slowing of the non-fight or flight response systems, incoherent thought processes, and more; but he’d never been… in control long enough to not cause harm. Hell, most of the time, he fueled the anger subconsciously to make himself angry and to feel the power…

But still, to make something subconscious you had to have made yourself start doing it consciously and willingly. Madic didn’t know how to process that exactly, as he couldn’t remember being voluntarily angry, just angry in the end.

He took a deep breath as he felt stressed and his blood pressure picked up, only soothing himself enough to remember what his counselor told him. Don’t think about what has brought you down… it's already done, and you can’t undo it. Just think of his eventual freedom, his eventual recover…

He took a deep breath once again, holding it a second as his mind raced again but with images of… just anything really. Things that didn’t mess with his current state. Solitary in the barn of Harvest in Fall with all of its crisp smells, the freedom of walking the streets again with no fear, a bed…

He just relaxed, holding his breath a bit longer...

And the air was scared out of his lungs as the door behind the counselor screeched open like an eerie horror movie door. The two soldiers stood at full attention and the newcomers all filed into the room by the doorframe. First came in a correctional Officer in his grey bulletproof vest and multi-purpose belt for handling Freaks, looking as bit of a mood ruiner as ever. Next came Soldine, the cyborg making the most annoying robotic noise as he moved with his shorter legs, much to Madic’s discomfort. Orangeman was next, the Scot wearing not his normal jumpsuit and armor but a two piece tracksuit and a simple bulletproof vest, suggesting he wasn’t on duty just yet.

The room was quiet all except for Madic’s rustling in his chair as the Officer looked at his counselor. It was awkward even after the officer began to speak, making the room more tense.

“We have already discussed why I’m here, counselor, and we’ll be taking your charge now.” The Officer said and the two soldier’s at the door marched on over to Madic, being rough as they undid the restraints around his body and chest.

The counselor, much to Madic’s current chagrin, simply put everything away and looked at Madic with the most regretful blank stare he had ever seen. This situation was not helping his rising blood pressure, and he felt light headed as well as they cuffed his wrists together and hefted him up onto his own two feet. He could stand under his own weight, but the blood rushing in his ears told him he was luck these men were basically dragging him by now.

“May I appeal to follow?” The counselor asked the Officer quietly as Madic was escorted out.

“You may.” The Officer stated and waited to leave the room until Soldine and Orangeman made meat shields in front of him to follow the escorted Freak. “But do not interfere.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.” The counselor sneered. “Sir.”

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“My, my.” The CMO sang, clicking their tongue on the roof of their mouth as a reflex. “What  have you done to your body this time, mein freund .”

Madic didn’t even glance at the doctor, because he couldn’t. His body was laid flat on his back and his limbs were spread out across the bed he was strapped down upon. Sure, the restraints weren’t made of metal and holding each limb like he was some criminal and were actually made of a hard rubber that simply held him at his waist and ankles to avoid him getting up, but it still felt weird. He had one of the rubber straps on his forehead and had let it stay there in place even if the CMO in the room didn’t care if he took it off. He just let it be for the sake of reason to just stare, and breath.

“I can understand the melanin drop in your pigmentation, as you’ve been locked inside for over two months. But I’m surprised at how you managed to change your tyrosinase enzymes in your eyes, very creative. Not only that, but whatever is swimming in your veins is very fascinating, if only I could get you to share your secrets…” The doctor continued, talking to the air wistfully. At least this guy can learn to take a hint after a while of bugging him and only getting his request denied. “I haven’t seen you personally since you got tazed two weeks into your stay, so I’m very glad to get to see you again… just not under these circumstances.”

Madic looked around the bright light above him and let his eyes adjust as the doctor bent down above him, his familiar looking face almost uncanny to his own. Madic will never fully understand, ever, how so many people in the same profession… ex-profession as him and look the same as him. But, that’s just one of those mysteries he’ll try to dig up when he’s…

… Free. He’ll never be free, that’s the problem. It was hopeless to think like he was, it was…

He took a deep breath… and closed his eyes. Calm. He felt the rising pits of anger at his circumstance and let his breath go. He continued to this as he waited for it all to be over.

“I mean; your underweight and your water intake is below average, your obviously skipping meals or eating only wheat products, your stomach lining is normal but on the verge of shrinking…” The doctor said, accent thickening as he went. “I can’t believe they allowed you to get this bad. It’s not much: losing twelve pounds in a month, but 8 pounds is the most I will accept as healthy and you were the weight healthy for your age. But I’m sure we both know we can get you back in proper order in no time… but there is the lingering possibility of this happening again.”

“No, we’re slowly working on his mental health,” Madic heard his counselor near the edge of the room, and he was glad to hear a voice on his side for a change. “I just… didn’t spot the signs he wasn’t eating properly.”

“Of course you didn’t, its not your job to weigh him.” The Officer said in the corner of the room as well. “That’s our scientists job before your allowed to see him.”

“Yes,” the doctor agreed suspiciously, “the scientist who directly report to you everyday. If I didn’t need this job, I’d insinuate something, sir.”

“Its best you don’t.” The Officer said, toneless.

“Yes sir.” The doctor agreed dismissively and started to scribble something down on a clipboard.

Just. Breath.

A soft beeping noise filled the room, and only Madic seemed jostled by the sudden noise. He opened his eyes and looked at the group of four people in the corner, the Officer rolling his sleeve over top of a watch he was done reading. Soldine's shoulders straightened and Orangeman never stopped staring at him, his therapist was glaring at the man in a uniform but in the back of the group.

"Team of zombies, spotted in the third back alley, Waails’ Street, off Evo City's underbelly." He sighed, obviously not amused he has to put off something as simple as Madic's predicament for later. "Soldine, Orangeman. We're rolling out from the garage in an hour. Get ready."

"Yes sir." Soldine saluted and started to follow him out the door, escorting his counselor out as well.

The doctor beside Madic was gone as well it seemed, he knew the Chief Medical Officer was a slick and sly army medic, but it was fine with the Freak. He looked about the room freely, but his head still restrained by the rubber strap and making his neck put in work.

This is fine.

What wasn't fine, was Orangeman just staring at him from the corner of the room like he had nowhere to be but here. He had a job to do and -- obviously -- the ex-medic wasn't really apart of that. He shifted on the bed and worked out his stiff arms. Why did the CMO have to be so through...?

Probably because he worked with dangerous Freaks for a living -- the supernatural or metahuman beings that can do amazing feats -- and has patched up more humans then Madic's hit his head on the bars of his cell since arrival.

Now your using your head! He heard his imaginary counselor say in his head and felt amused that now the strange person had shown kindness to him and stuck up for him, that gained the not-doctor a place in his mental psyche.

See, your capable of--

"I know the food ain't great, and I know its depressin' here, mate," The man in orange finally spoke, "but ye can't just not eat."

"Why? You offering to be my meal again?" Madic smiled and remembered their fight in Madic's old lab atop the mountain nearby. It had been fun, seeing a Demoman running around his base as prey instead of... of...

Families. Teenagers camping. Men practising mountainclimbing as a hobby.

Shit...

"No, far from it, lad." The man in orange had his face scrunched up in disgust at the idea if going through that again. "Jus'... Ye had a problem mate, ye caused a problem an' now ye have to fix it..."

"Fix?" Madic hissed. This hunter had no idea what he was saying, obviously. "I don't have to fix anything; as you can tell from my file I left no one alive that I've meet except you and that cyborg. So, I don't think I can fix anything here."

The silence that followed after the Demoman in his track suit pulled a flask was pounding in Madic's ears. His ear's were ringing again, and he took deep breaths as he watched the Demoman swig whatever he had in his backup flask. Madic's mouth watered a bit at the memory of the beverages he used to not savor with a Spy who had offered it from so many years ago. He nearly regretted it when he found himself watching the Demoman pull the flask down to glance at him, being caught staring.

"Ay, want so?" Orangeman offered but shook it a bit to measure what he hadn't drunk. "Almost gone, could use a new brand anyway. Smirnoff isn't mah thin'."

At the mention of the name, Madic perked up. "How are you still standing after that drink?"

"Lad, if I can drink five bottles ah whiskey before passing out then vodka ain't gonna do me in with this little flask." Orangeman said, slightly prideful at that.

"I don't believe you." Madic said in full belief that he was right. "Probably not even vodka."

"Offer still stands." And he shook his flask to symbolise he wasn't lying.

Madic looked around for the CMO and finds no one. The man was probably trying to worm his way into the mission roster to get a sight of the zombies running around in Evo City. He couldn't blame the man if he was, he had once been the same way before he learned he had enjoyed healing more then hurting.

How that changed.

"Fine. What do I have to lose?" Madic said calmly, but felt jittery from all the nerves he had. Vodka. An outside world pleasure was being offered to him. To hell if it was a trick, he literally had nothing to lose. If he can have his head blown off, then poisoned vodka won't have any lasting effect.

"Alrighty then." The demolition expert said and walked over to Madic, seeing the twitching of the ex-medic from this luxury.

Orangeman hated this places treatment of the Freaks. Yes, they were super powered and dangerous when not kept safely contained, but they were still needing of basic rights. Somewhere along the way, someone in the seat of command had allowed Madic to spiral into despair and not eat. And they should know to, since they have to come by and take his ration plate from Madic and someone had bound to notice.

But no. Nobody had told anyone. His counselor didn't even know what he had been going through. And the CMO had done all the connecting he needed to feel even more weary of all this prison stuff. Sure, Madic needed the therapy and they were capable of giving it to him before they let him loss again, but it needs to be done ethnically.

And Madic needs to survive this place, first and foremost. It was unlikely the HECU would change simply for one Freak already making progress towards freedom.

As Orangeman put the flask close to the restrained Freak, he barely tipped it before making a humming noise in his throat. The Madic looked at him with disdain; he probably thought Orangeman was about to use his vulnerability against him or do something else Spy would do in this situation. Orangeman tried not to get offended, because Madic has been through some devious things while in HECU.

He looked at the Freak, mind already made up long ago at what he wanted. "I'll let ye drink..." He said sweetly, shaking the bottle gently. "If ye eat everythin' they give yah from now on, and take better care of yahself. This prison is only temporary, and I see the change in ye. For better."

Madic blinked. That was unexpected. His facial features warped into an expression of sheepish discomfort. The idea wasn't unpleasant, and the thought of the liquid fire before him made him crave some food so long ago by Engineer that he felt his stomach growl heavily. Maybe he might just be fine...

Maybe he wouldn't. He didn't know how long he'd felt that hollow and aching feeling in his chest, but all he knew was every thought of who he killed or families he ruined made him gag at food, push away water, and chase away sleep to wallow in his cell till Ruben the security guard was on shift or he meet with his counselor. Was he going to be fine?

"Alright." Madic conceded. Unsure on the inside as he answered, "I accept."

"I'll take yer word on it, mate. Ye get all the rest of mah flask before I leave for the mission." Orangeman said, forcing a smile on his face. "Cheers!"

As he tilted the rim onto the Madic's lips, the vodka trickling down as slowly as the Demo can allow it to not choke the Freak and not stop pouring. The guy had to be years out of practise of handling alcohol, so Orangeman tried to be as generous as he could.

"Chug! Chug!" He said, slightly elated at the scrunched up face of the ex-medic trying to drink it all without coughing. "Ye can do it."

And with a harsh flick of his wrist, the bottle was turned so all that was left in the bottle could no longer hide and slid into the Madic's mouth. As soon as the drops stopped, Madic turned his head to the side and coughed.

"My head..." The Madic coughed lighter now. "Is laying down. You could have drowned me!"

"Sorry!" The Demo said sheepishly, but with no regret as the Freak's face flushed from the alcohol. The flush was a familiar pink against the pale grey skin, almost making him look familiar in complexion. "At least it was vodka, right?"

"Go fight your..." Madic let out a small cough to clear his throat this time. "Zombies, Cyclops."

"Yer very welcome." Orangeman jokingly mocked and put his flask away for refilling in a bit. He turned on his heels with a small wave as his departure to the strapped in Freak.

There was no telling if Madic would listen to his request, or honor his promise from here. Orangeman just had to hold hope for the man.

Yes, man. He made up his mind about the ex-doctor now, and he wasn't drunk yet. He was going to do great things, he just needed to give the man something to hope for.

Even for the simple things. Even if its slowly.

[softstraykidsimagines]

Newcomer love

Summary: As a trainee, you work hard everyday to improve every aspect of your performance, even you’re treated like an outcast. Early on, you meet an idol assigned to teaching you to sharpen your dance technique. But he sees you differently to everyone else.

Requested: yes

Pairing: Hyunjin X Reader

Genre : angst, fluff, trainee AU

Word count: 4.0k 

A/N: This was super fun! I always enjoy a Trainee AU, it gives me a chance to appreciate how hard trainees work day by day. I hope you enjoy it!

MASTERLIST

Hyujin’s POV

“Hello, sir”. I greeted my manager as I entered his office. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, Hyunjin”, he said quickly. “I’ll make this brief, I don’t want to keep you”. 

I nodded, stopping myself from asking impatiently what was going on. I don’t have all day, I need to practise!

“Recently we got a new group of trainees”, my manager said. “And though they have a promising future, they need a form of inspiration”. I swallowed, suddenly dreading what was coming next. “I want you to visit the trainees during their dance practise hours every few days to teach them some extra techniques. I want you to do this for a few months”.

My stomach leapt uncomfortably. “A few months?”, I asked incredulously. This would take up so much time in my day, and I was having enough trouble fitting everything in my schedule as it is! 

My manager nodded. “I know it’ll be difficult at first. But these trainees look up to you, and this is something important”. His tone told me he’d made up his mind and he wasn’t going to change it. I clenched my jaw and nodded again. “Alright, you can go”. He dismissed me and I quickly turned to leave. This is probably the worst thing to happen to me in weeks, I thought wretchedly.

++++++++++

Y/N’s POV

You stretched forward again, feeling your muscles protest. It was hard work being a trainee, and the packed schedule made sure you were tired within a few days of work. Being the newest out of the other trainees, you were farther behind than anyone else, and you felt a solid mental barrier between you and your comrads. You were the outcast, the odd one out. You hoped this feeling wouldn’t last too long.

As everyone finished warming up, one of your seniors walked in and called for attention. “For the next few months”, he said strictly, “one of our idols is going to train you on dance technique. Treat him with full respect, for he’s taking a lot of time out of his schedule just for you”. His eyes burned into yours. 

You gulped. An actual idol? Someone famous is going to teach us to dance? You felt your stomach twist uncomfortably. You were barely ready to start dance practise, let alone with a professional performer. You were going to make a fool of yourself, you were sure. 

After your senior left, chatter rose in the crowd of trainees. 

“I wonder who it is?”

“Maybe someone from Got7?”

“Or even from a girl group!”

“I bet it’ll be a lead dancer of a group”.

“Oh, I hope it’s someone from Stray Kids!”

You stayed away from the babbling bunch, too nervous to talk. Anyone from any group is bad, you thought awfully. These next months are going to be Hell.

Suddenly, the noise died in an instant. You attempted to look over the heads of the trainees to see who had just entered the room, but their face was obscured as they walked to the front of the class.

Finally, they stopped and everyone bowed deeply. Your heart leapt into your throat when you saw who it was. 

Hwang Hyunjin, visual and lead dancer of Stray Kids, was looking directly at you. You had a moment of confusion. Why’s he looking at me like that? Then realised with horror that you had been the only person to not bow and greet him. You quickly stooped, glaring at the floor in pure dread. “Hello, it’s an honour to meet you”, you said so quietly, that if the room had not been hanging in a suffocating silence, no one would’ve heard you. 

Hyunjin gave you one more piercing look before addressing the rest of the class. “It’s nice to me all of you”, he said politely. You heard a peculiar undertone in his voice. He’s lying, you thought. He doesn’t want to be here right now. But you kept your mouth tight shut as he continued. “I’m afraid I’m not too sure how to go about these lessons, so I’ll start off simple. What was the last part of a cover you all learned?” 

A chorus of voices sounded in unison. “You are by Got7 sunbaemin”. 

Hyunjin nodded. “And has anyone not learned that dance yet?”

Feeling nauseated, you raised your hand, completely alone. As Hyunjin gave you a questioning look, you explained quietly: “I arrived only a few days ago. I came after everyone learned the choreography”. You wished you could melt into a puddle and be forgotten. Great first impression, y/n! Real inspiring! 

You nearly missed Hyunjin’s voice as he called some instructions. “Those who know the choreography can practise and I’ll come over at some point to check your detail. Right now I’ll teach the dance to those who don’t know it”. Your insides writhed. He’s teaching me the dance. Just me. You regretted ever thinking of becoming a trainee for JYP.

As Hyunjin walked over to you, you bowed again. “I’m so sorry for coming off as rude”, you said, trying to keep an even voice. “I haven’t gotten completely used to how everything runs here”. You felt lame giving these dumb reasons for being purely disrespectful, but you wanted to at least try to justify your actions. 

“Hey, don’t worry about it”, came Hyunjin’s voice, soft and kind, the complete opposite of what you’d heard just before. You looked up in surprise to see him staring at you reassuringly. Though there was still a hint of irritation, you felt that the kindness he was showing was genuine. “I know what it’s like being the new kid”, he continued. “It sucks for a long time. But I promise it gets better”. He smiled at you, and suddenly your fear and stress washed away. It was as if he had healing powers just by looking at someone. 

Then he straightened up. “Now, seeing as you haven’t learned the dance, I’m gonna try to teach you at a pretty fast pace, but just say if you can’t keep up, alright?” You couldn’t even find your own voice, so you just nodded, showing a renewed impatience to learn.

For an hour, both of you went through the steps for the ‘You Are’ chorus. You picked the steps up quickly, surprising yourself and Hyunjin, who would watch as you reproduced the steps in near perfection with bright eyes. As you kept practising, you felt pride surge through you, making you feel as if you could dance all day and night. 

After a while, Hyunjin left you to practise while he checked on the other trainees. He’d stop by most and watch as they went through the choreography, pointing out where they needed to change an arm position, or if they weren't showing enough detail. You became even happier as you noticed how much he had to correct the others, while he’d hardly given you any negative feedback. You grinned, truly enjoying yourself for the first time since you started training with JYP.

“I hope you’re not getting too comfortable”, came a snooty voice behind you. You turned to see Yujin, a fellow trainee, looking at you with a sour expression.

You snorted. “It hasn’t even been a week since I’ve been here, and you’re already trying to start trouble for me? Don’t waste your time”.

She huffed and gave you a pitiful look. “He’s not showing favoritism, you know. He’s just teaching you overtime because you’re not good enough to learn with us”. 

You tried not to laugh. “Where’s the logic in that? I know I haven’t learned the dance, and I know he’s not showing favoritism at all. I just want to progress like you”. 

“Hey, what’s going on here?” Hyunjin walked over, looking curiously from Yujin to me. 

You exaggerated a light tone. “We were just discussing the choreography! Yujin was telling me that she thinks she’s got the best technique out of everyone, and she wanted to show me”. 

Yujin gave me a scalding look, but Hyunjin didn’t seem to notice as he spoke. “Well, how about I be the judge of that. Show me what you’ve got, Yujin”. He said the sentence testily, like a personal challenge. Yujin forced a smile that didn’t stretch to her eyes and prepared to go through the dance.

As the choreography progressed, you noticed how her movements became jerky, and how she seemed to be tightening up her shoulders. She was adding moves that didn’t exist in the original dance, and she seemed to slide them in to make up for spaces of time where she’d danced too quickly. Before she’d even finished, Hyunjin stopped her. 

“You can’t freestyle parts of a dance”, he told her strictly. “When you’re in a group, you all need to be in sync. On time, doing the same exact moves. One step out of line, and the entire crowd notices”. 

Yujin pouted, twisting her face. “I wasn’t adding any moves to the dance. This is the original choreography”. 

“Are you trying to tell me that I don’t know my own seniors’ dance?”, Hyunjin demanded, his voice suddenly becoming dark and threatening. Youjin’s eyes widened, and before she could even begin to form a sentence he continued. “Then you’re not only taking me for a fool, you’re also taking me for a fake”. He approached her, and she didn't move. She just looked down, cowering. “Learn a bit of respect for your seniors, then come back to practise”, Hyunjin snarled. “Otherwise, I don’t want to see you in this class again”.

Yujin nodded in silence, and quickly turned to leave the room, walking briskly out of the doorway. Hyunjin turned back to you with an apologetic look in his eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t want to lose my temper on my first day teaching. I’ve made a poor impression”. He sounded lost and discouraged. You had to stop yourself from hugging him. Instead, you just walked to stand next to him, and spoke quietly. 

“You have to be a bit harsh”, you said, feeling slightly awkward about comforting an idol. “That’s the best way we learn. You learned like that too, didn’t you? We need to learn quickly what your world is like”. 

Hyunjin looked at you, surprised by your words. “Thank you”, he whispered genuinely. You smiled back at him. 

Maybe these training sessions won’t be so bad after all... 

++++++++++

Hyunjin’s POV 

“Please, sir”, I insisted, pacing in front of my manager. “Y/n has a real talent, and training with everyone else is a waste! They could progress so much quicker if they had private lessons”. 

It had already been a month since I’d started the nearly-daily lessons with the trainees, though to me, it felt like less. Y/n had shocked me time and time again with the speed at which they picked up choreographies. They were too good to stay with the other trainees. If they had private sessions, and practised their singing and rapping a little more, they could debut in the next year! 

“I told you, Hyunjin”, snapped my manager, becoming impatient, “We don’t have the staff to teach y/n by themselves. They’ll have to wait a while before they can have their own lessons”. 

My blood boiled. This wasn’t what y/n deserved! They worked their ass off every day, and always with the same hope and passion. I wasn’t going to give up on them. Before I could stop myself, I blurted out the only thought in my head. “Let me teach them”. 

My manager stared at me, shocked. He’d known when he got me to work with trainees that I wouldn’t like it. Now hearing me ask to take even more time out of my schedule for one specific person was a little too much to process. “Hyunjin... you’d have to take another two hours out of each day for it”. 

“I don’t care”, I said firmly. “Y/n needs to progress, and if no one’s going to help, then I’ll do it”. 

After more insistence, my manager finally gave up, unable to make me change my mind. It was only after I left his office that I realised what I was doing. This is going to be tricky. 

++++++++++

Y/n’s POV

You smacked your head against the table, after failing to hit your high note after half-an-hour’s trying. What you really wanted to do was dance. Learn new choreographies, sharpen my technique, see Hyunjin again... You shook your head. I’m getting way too distracted. You started singing again when you heard a knock on the door.  You got up quickly and checked who was waiting outside. You jumped in surprise to see... “Hyunjin?”

He smiled awkwardly at you. “Sorry to interrupt your practise”. His face had gone red.

“Umm, it’s nothing, really”, you reassured him quickly. “I need a break, anyway”. He smiled again, though the colour in his face still hadn’t faded. “Did you want something?”, you pushed. 

“Oh, uhh yeah! I have some good news”. You raised your eyebrows questioningly. “Because you learn dances so much quicker than the other trainees, I felt like it was a shame to leave you in those sessions. So... I’ve managed to organise new private dance sessions for you”. 

You stared at him. “Really? Are you serious?” He nodded. You tried to conceal the excited tone in your voice as you asked: “I thought there weren’t enough teachers for that. They kept declining me when I asked for more lessons”. 

Again, Hyunjin nodded. “That’s because there isn’t..... I’m going to be the one teaching you”. 

This time your mouth fell open. “But.... your schedule.... do you even have time for me?” You knew how busy idols were, and you also knew that Stray Kids were preparing for their next comeback, which meant that Hyunjin would be working harder than ever, not including when he did lessons with you. “Are you okay with this?”

“Of course I am”, he chuckled. “I’m the one who insisted on it”. He suddenly went an even darker shade of scarlet. “I mean... I know how great you are at dancing and I wanted to help out.... and I do have some free time so....” He didn’t continue, he just stared at you helplessly. 

You grinned widely at him. “Thank you. Thank you so so much!!!” You jumped up and down excitedly. “When do we start? Tomorrow?” He just nodded and you jumped around again. “Perfect! I’ll see you tomorrow! Sorry I really need to practise now...”

Hyunjin nodded silently again, still as red as a rose, and walked off, looking shaken SH00KETH. You closed the door silently and slid down it to sit on the floor, giggling insanely. 

++++++++++

A few more weeks had passed since you’d started your private sessions with Hyunjin. You both had the time of your lives for two hours every day as you learned new dance moves or practised old. He even started showing you a few parts of Stray Kids’ upcoming title track, eagerly telling you everything he could about the song. 

But as time went on, you noticed that his steps became heavier, or he lost energy quicker. He started getting puffy eyes, dark shadows protruding on an ever-growing sunken face. He seemed to nod off in the seconds of silence between you, and he became snippy and impatient, scolding you more and more often for putting a foot wrong, or not being perfectly on the tempo.

One day, he seemed to have reached his limit. 

As you went through your most recently learned choreography, you tripped over your own feet and crashed to the ground with a yelp. As you sat up, making sure you hadn’t hurt yourself, Hyunjin strode over to you. 

“What the Hell was that?”, he demanded, grabbing your arm and hoisting you up. “That looked pathetic. Learn to keep your balance before starting the dance”. 

You couldn’t help it. You felt your words swell in you uncontrollably, and you blurted: “I just fell over! Don’t get so angry for something so dumb!” 

You immediately regretted saying anything. Hyunjin’s eyes lit up in anger, and he shook you harshly, still clinging painfully onto your arm. “I’m trying to help you”, he growled. “I’m taking precious time out of my day just for you! And for what? To have you fall over your own feet and take it out on me!!!” 

You took a step back as he raised his voice dangerously. “This isn’t the Hyunjin I met during that first class over two months ago!”, you yelled angrily. “That Hyunjin would’ve asked if I was okay, and he would’ve given actual advice instead of wasting his breath on scolding me!” You knew you shouldn’t be shouting at him. He was your senior, and you knew deep down he was just frustrated and tired. But you’d had enough of his awful comments whenever you messed up even a little bit. You also had a limit.

Hyunjin shoved you away violently. “If you miss being in those classes so much, stop wasting my time and go back to practising with the other pathetic trainees!” He hit a nerve. He called you pathetic. He’d told you once that he thought you were different from the other trainees, special. Now he was taking those words back. 

You fought back tears as you straightened up. “Fine”, you said calmly. “And you can go back to preparing for your comeback. That’s more important anyway”. 

He seemed to wake up from a dream. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. All he could do was mouth ‘wait’ as you turned on your heel and walked out the door into the hallway.

You found some washrooms and splashed water on your face, grateful for the freezing cold feeling that seeped through your skin. In the silence of the room, you could get your thoughts in order. 

He hadn’t meant it, you knew that. You also knew that he’d seemed to regret saying those things when you left. You felt tired, weighed down. All you wanted to do was sleep. So imagine how he must feel, came a voice in your head. You felt guilt run through you. You had no place to judge him for feeling frustrated. He was exhausting himself at your expense, and you couldn’t even hold your tongue when he lost his temper. 

You made your mind up quickly. You ran back to the practise room, praying that he was still there. I have to apologise... 

As you ran into the room, you saw Hyunjin in the corner of the room, curled up and lying on his side. As you approached him slowly, you noticed that his eyes were closed and his breaths were long and deep. He’s asleep. You approached him even more and saw with a start that there were tear marks running down his cheeks. Your heart wrenched as you realised just how tired he must be. He needs to rest more. You checked your watch; another hour-and-a-half until your session was technically over. You grabbed your jumper from your bag and draped it carefully over Hyunjin’s huddled body, watching as he stirred only slightly, then sighed and settled down again. 

For over an hour, you sat next to him, waiting for him to wake up naturally, but he never did. As the scheduled end of your lesson approached, you decided to wake him up, knowing how awful he’d feel if he missed whatever he had next.

You touched his shoulder lightly, calling his name as gently as you could. “Hyunjin, you need to get up...” 

He slowly sat up, looking groggy, and stared at you through half-open eyes. “What are you doing here”, he asked in a low, raspy voice. 

“I’m waking you up to tell you that our session is nearly over”, you said simply. “I didn’t want to wake you up before, you needed the nap”. 

He seemed more awake now, and he kept staring at you as he asked: “What I meant was, why are you still willing to be in the same room as me?” 

You swallowed, your heart in your throat. “Because I know that I can’t possibly understand how tired you must feel”, you said, your voice wavering. “And that it’s difficult to be patient with someone when you’re constantly having to deal with them. I’m sorry I shouted at you, it was wrong”. 

He shook his head slowly. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you either. I don’t have a right to be that awful to a trainee, no matter how annoying they get”. You chuckled slightly and he smiled too. “Do you forgive me?”

“Do you forgive me?”, you countered carefully.

“Yes”. 

“Then the feeling’s mutual”, you said, relieved.

You helped Hyunjin to stand, and he groaned. “I’m gonna have to live through another two hours of rapping with Chan Hyung breathing down my neck”. You thought he was joking, but quickly realised this wasn’t a good thing. 

You coughed. “Hey. Maybe while you’re preparing for the comeback, I just stick with the other trainees, and you’ll have more time for your own practise”. 

He raised his eyebrows incredulously at you. “But.... what about your own practise?” 

“Your health is way more important than these lessons”, you insisted. “You’re turning into a zombie with such a packed schedule. No offence”, you added quickly as he gave you a frown. “Just... concentrate on your own problems for now. We can start the sessions up again after you’ve finished promotions”.

Hyunjin thought for a moment, then finally agreed. You both gathered your things and said tentative goodbyes, Hyunjin sprinting away to not be late for his next practise session.

For the next month-and-a-half, you participated in the common training sessions with the other trainees. It was growing pain having to deal with snide comments from Yujin and your other comrads, who had started lashing out even more for the private dance sessions you’d been getting. But you endured it, checking Stray Kids’s schedule everyday, and smiling to yourself as you saw how well their promotions were going.

As Stray Kids’ promotions came to an end, you began wondering when Hyunjin would come to announce the start of your private sessions again. A few days passed as you waited impatiently, not wanting to go to him and bother him, but feeling an inkling fear that he’d stopped wanting to teach you.

Then, week after promotions had ended, you heard a gentle knock on your door. You leapt up and practically flew to your door, flinging it open to see him standing there. “Hey”, you breathed, pure joy rushing through your veins.

He smiled warmly back at you. “Hey”. Neither of you said anything for a few seconds, just staring at each other in happiness. Then Hyunjin cleared his throat. “Uhh... I came to tell you that our regular sessions are gonna start up again, starting tomorrow”.

You beamed at him. “I can’t wait”, you told him sincerely.

He nodded and looked at the floor, suddenly seeming very interested in his shoes. “There’s something else I wanted to say...” You waited patiently for him to speak again. “During promotions, I realised how much of a jerk I had been to you’.

You tried to cut in. “It’s not your fault! You were exhausted. Anyone would get a little grouchy from being so busy”. But he shook his head, still focusing on the floor.

“It still wasn’t an excuse to be so mean. I hope you know that I didn’t mean to hurt you”.

“I know”, you whispered.

“I’d never want to hurt you on purpose”. Hyunjin shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “I also realised how much I missed seeing you after so long”. You waited with baited breath as he continued. “I really like seeing you.... I mean I don’t like not seeing you... or--” He sighed in frustration.

“Hyunjin”, you said gently. And as he looked up, with a great leap from your heart, you stepped forward and kissed him.

soft GIF of sleeping Hyunjin because it’s SOFT SLEEPING HYUNJIN

[crazedlunatic]

Blaine Gets Into College

“I’m not going to be nothing.” Blaine said to himself as he sat in the corner booth at a restaurant in downtown Westerville waiting for his parents and grandmother to meet him. It wasn’t like he wanted to meet them or anything, but they knew it would be time for him to get his acceptance letters back from colleges and therefore they wanted to meet to ‘discuss his options.’ Which probably meant that his grandmother was forcing them to financially support him—something that he absolutely detested, but how else would he… well… survive? It wasn’t like he could as Kurt’s parents to support him or anything. He was pretty sure Kurt’s dad didn’t even like like him yet.

Blaine looked down at the three acceptance letters he had brought with him—Duke, UC Santa Barbara, and UCLA. Those were the three schools that wanted to recruit him for soccer and they would therefore be giving him a scholarship if he accepted. He got into two more colleges—OSU and UK, but he didn’t plan to tell his parents that. At least not yet.

The best three soccer schools wanted him. It was everything his father had wanted from him since he turned seven and started playing soccer. Wanted from was more accurate than for because Blaine was pretty sure his dad just wanted in on the money he could possibly make if he went professional.

I still wish you’d let me meet them. You’ve met Dad and Carole. How is that fair? :)

Blaine looked down at the text and shook his head, smiling. Kurt knew things weren’t… normal in Blaine’s home life. They didn’t go into a whole lot of details because Blaine wasn’t comfortable enough to tell too much yet, but he knew that Kurt was really just trying to cheer him up. Kurt probably knew more than he let on. After all, he would always be stressed before and after visits. That always resulted in Kurt trying to cheer him up or distract him—something he appreciated more than Kurt would ever be able to understand. At least he had Kurt to complain to about it now.

Maybe next time you can come. It’ll be a party, Blaine typed back. He knew Kurt would never meet his dad but he wasn’t going to come out and say that. Kurt would surely take it the wrong way.

I don’t think we have the same idea of what a party is, Blaine. But if it ends in more drunk cuddling, I might not argue too much.

“It is incredibly rude to have your phone out on the table in a restaurant, Blaine. What do they teach you at Dalton?”

Blaine slid his phone into his pocket as his grandmother took a seat across from him. “Sorry, grandmother.”

“Your parents will be here shortly. Your father got a little held up at work.” She said, looking around the restaurant. “Did they not even bring you water?”

“I didn’t want anything to drink until I ordered.” Blaine mumbled.

“Talk clearly. You’re not some public school child.”

“I went to public school until ninth grade.”

“Don’t backtalk me. What has gotten into you? A boy gets to the age where he can apply to college and all of a sudden he thinks he can sass his grandmother?”

“Surely Blaine isn’t sassing anybody.”

Blaine stiffened as his father sat directly across from him. He’d really hoped his mother would sit by him… until he remembered otherwise he’d be looking directly at his father.

“How’s that boy?” His mother asked, sliding into the booth next to him and pulling a hair off of his blazer. “Doesn’t he look so adorable in his blazer, Barbra?”

Blaine shrugged his shoulder in an attempt to make her stop. “It’s fine, mom.”

“Clearly your etiquette classes did not pay off.” His grandmother remarked as the waiter came up and took their order.

“A lot of things didn’t.” His father muttered, looking Blaine in the eyes.

“How is that boy?” His mother repeated and Blaine resisted the urge to cringe.

“What boy?” Blaine asked distractedly, looking around the restaurant confused.

“I heard him on the other side of the phone the other day, Blaine. Don’t treat me like I’m dumb. You have a friend that is a boy.” His mother said slowly.

“I have many friends that are boys.” Blaine said. “I go to an all boys school.”

“Honestly. We can handle it. We handled you coming out, didn’t we?” Blaine’s grandmother asked.

Oh, yeah. You sure did.

“What’s his name?”

Blaine looked out the window, praying that the waiter would come with their drinks a little faster. He needed something to distract himself since he clearly wasn’t going to be able to have his phone out. His phone was the only thing that made lunches with his mother bearable and now he didn’t even have that to save him.

“Your mother asked you a question, Blaine.” His father said, voice low.

“Christopher.” Blaine lied. “His name is Christopher.”

“I’ve always thought that was a hideous name.” Blaine’s mother said, scrunching her nose up. “Christopher?”

“What ethnicity is he?” His grandmother asked.

“Does it matter?” Blaine asked before he could stop himself.

“Of course it matters.” His father said through clenched teeth.

“He’s Hispanic. Christopher is his middle name. His first name is Jose.”

His grandmother dropped her purse on the floor. “Honestly, Blaine?”

Blaine shrugged one shoulder, looking up and taking his drink from the waiter when she arrived.

“I still say we should have gone to the country club.” Blaine’s mother sighed.

“It would have been too far of a drive for Blaine. Gas isn’t cheap these days and I’m the one that has to pay his gas because Dalton won’t let their damn students have jobs.” Blaine’s father scoffed. “If I had it my way, he’d be working and paying off part of his tuition bill.”

There goes them paying for tuition for OSU or UK, Blaine thought to himself. He felt a tingle of sadness and guilt. There goes being within driving distance of Kurt.

“Are you really dating a Mexican?” His grandmother asked.

“I think they prefer to be called Hispanic, mother.”

“I’m actually dating a leprechaun.” Blaine shrugged.

“I’m asking you a serious question.” His father growled.

“I’m not dating anybody.” Blaine blurted, sitting up much straighter. “The guy on the phone was one of the Warblers.”

He momentarily closed his eyes. Please don’t ask me anything else…

“You sure do talk to someone on the phone a lot after school. Who is it?”

“My therapist.”

All three of them fell silent after that, not speaking until several minutes after their food arrived. They’d never asked how therapy was going. Not in public to avoid being overheard and not in private because they didn’t care.

“So,” His grandmother finally said. “When are you going to let us in on the big news?”

Now if it’ll get me out of here, Blaine thought. But he didn’t say that. Instead¸ he said, “Whenever.”

“Now we just want you to know that everything will be covered. I will cover food, gas, and school expenses while you’re up there and your parents will pay for a nice apartment and will completely furnish it and pay for all of your bills.” His grandmother prattled. “If no scholarship is involved, your parents have agreed to pay that as well.”

“If?” Blaine prompted. It wasn’t going to be that easy. No way. It wasn’t how his family worked.

“If you keep your private life private.” His father cut in. “I don’t want a bunch of pictures of you shacking up with boys ending up in the wrong hands. Your grandmother and I have careers to keep up and if you go wild, we’re going to cut you off entirely.”

“So can I act gay or can I just not let you find out?” Blaine asked, voice sweet.

Why did I just say that?

He really was back talking too much. Clearly Kurt was rubbing off on him.

“Are you wanting an argument or are you just stupid?” His father asked, glaring at him.

Blaine pushed the envelope toward his father, mainly just to shut him up.

His dad set his plate aside and opened Duke’s first—his father’s first choice, as it had been since he was 9 and his coach said he showed “great promise.”

“Accepted.” His father said out loud about five seconds later.

Blaine sat very still, waiting. What would happen?

“Accepted on a full scholarship!” His grandmother cried, looking over her son’s shoulder. “Oh, Blaine! I knew you could do it! He’s always practiced so hard!”

Blaine’s eyebrow shot up. He hadn’t expected a reaction from her. The again, money. What else would get a reaction from this woman?

“Do you see that, Mark?”

“Good. Maybe he can go to Duke, get his act together, find a nice girl, have a good career, and pretend to be normal.” His father said, tossing the letter onto the table.

Blaine stood, yanking the letter up and grabbing the others as well before anyone could grab them. “I don’t know why I came.”

“Not so fast. We’re not done discussing this. You need financial support.” His grandmother said, pointing to the seat. “Sit.”

Blaine stared at the three of them, weighing his options. Money for college and life or no money for college and life. Of course, of course, freaking money was going to win out. He hated money.

“Financial support will be given to you, as I explained, but there are some… conditions. Now I know that you wouldn’t want to do anything to jeopardize my chances of winning in office.” His grandmother said as he slowly and regretfully took a seat. “We want to make sure proper precautions are taken to… to ensure my slot.”

Blaine resisted the urge to take a roll his eyes.

“You are not to post pictures of you and other boys acting… homosexual online.” His father interrupted. “You are not to post anything about your boyfriend online. You are not to do anything that would raise flags that the grandson of Barbra Anderson is gay. Am I clear?”

Blaine looked down at his phone, uploading a picture of he and Kurt as his Facebook display picture. His profile was completely unsearchable so it wasn’t that big of a deal, but it still gave him the lightest bit of satisfaction. “Crystal clear, father. Is that it?”

“Don’t go getting drunk and acting like a fool. You have a name to uphold. If you get arrested, I will not be bailing you out again.”

“The longer I’m in jail, the more likely people are to make a connection.” Blaine commented. “That would be pretty unfortunate, wouldn’t it?”

His father stood, walked around the table, and grabbed his arm roughly. “I’m not playing, Blaine Wyatt Anderson. Just because you are almost 18 does not give you the right to act how you choose.”

“Actually when I’m 18, it does give me the right. By law.” Blaine said, eyes on his father’s hand. Five… four… three…

“Let go of him, Mark. This is ridiculous.” His grandmother hissed. “Someone could see.”

“Someone could see? That’s more important than what he did?” Blaine scoffed, standing when his father let go of him. “I’m leaving.”

“Here’s some lunch money, dear.” His mother said, shoving four one hundred dollar bills into his hand.

“Lunch money or hush money? Forget it.” Blaine pocketed the money, grabbed his jacket, and stormed out of the restaurant.

Are you free yet?

Blaine looked at his text, feeling his face light up in a smile at Kurt’s words. Just broke away. Am I driving to Lima or are we meeting half way?

You’ve driven all the way the last five times. I’m at Dalton in the senior commons with your friends. Hurry back. Wes is getting restless and that always results in awkward sexuality questions.

I am so sorry. I’ll be ten minutes tops.

:)

At least Blaine had Kurt and his friends.

[universalfanfic]

This is IT. This is all I’m writing! Don’t even @ me. 

I also did 15 minutes of research before I decided I didn’t care. So if you’re a former president’s child, I’m sorry. 

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. They’re ideas intrinsic to American values and way of life. 

From children we’re taught there’s freedom of choice and freedom in future. We look out to the stretching wilderness spanning the country and see challenge. See a facet of ourselves. 

From sea to sea there’s wood and desert and farm and city. Opportunity and loss, friend and stranger. There’s room to be reckless and pockets to play it safe. We thirst from a young age for that freedom, that potential. We reach short arms and stubby fingers out and out, towards the promises of our parents, desperate to grasp some of it for ourselves. We reach and strive, until we’re capable of grabbing a bit of it. We hold it close to our hearts. Fiercely defend our fair share.

Freedom. Choice. Self.

And then your mom and step-dad tell you that you have to move back in with them.

[]

“Are you kidding me?”

Sutton glared at her parents and let the scathing look slide over to the two hulking men in the corner of the room.

“You know we aren’t, Sutton,” her mother said.

Her mother stood primly next to her husband, the newly elected President of the United States, and smoothed out the skirt suit she’d adopted ever since Howard plunged completely into running campaign races. Sutton felt like she was at a board meeting.

There was a long-suffering sigh faintly hidden behind her words and Sutton didn’t think it was earned. She wasn’t the one making ridiculous demands.

“With Howard in office we’re all in the spotlight.” Her mother continued. “And with the political climate like it is, we can’t take risks-“

“I’m not part of this,” Sutton insisted. “I’m not even Howard’s biological kid! If anyone needs a bodyguard it’s Tyrese, not me.”

“We’re a family,” Howard cut in, calm and unfazed, as usual. “Which means you could still be a target for people. I’m afraid this isn’t a negotiable issue.”

Sutton stood from her chair and paced a few steps around the office.

“No, don’t you use your politician voice on me. I’m not doing this. I’m not derailing my life. You’re trying to demand I not only get daily surveillance, but move? Into the White House?”

“There’s already been one threatening altercation.” Howard fiddled with his cufflink, a sure sign he was getting irked. “And taxpayers shouldn’t have to cover for additional expenses when-“

“They’ll make me more of a target for people by drawing attention than I would by myself. Look at them!”

They were towering men, especially compared to Sutton’s small frame, and dressed sharply, with tight haircuts that screamed security detail. At the moment, they were doing a decent job of pretending not to be privy to the argument, but Sutton could still make out a thin frown on the blond one’s face.

“I’m a grown woman,” she continued to argue. “What happened to my agency, huh? Besides, you know I don’t do much. Nothing crazy. Consider their well being for a second.” She gestured to the men. “Are you going to subject them to my mundane routine? Don’t do that them.”

Her mother rolled her eyes and Sutton thought she heard one of the men stifle a cough. Howard shot her a look and ran a hand over his hair.

“Sutton,” he said. His tone was sharp and all traces of the placating politician was gone. “Not only am I responsible for caring for this entire country, but I’m also responsible for caring for our family. Both physically and emotionally. If something happened to you because you’re being stubborn, I’d have a whole ‘lotta mess on my hands. You’re moving in and getting the bodyguards. End of story.”

“This is Mr. James Barnes and Mr. Steven Rogers,” her mother said, waving a hand in introduction. “I suggest you get accustomed to them.”

[]

Sutton stomped out of the office without looking behind her to see if she were being followed. She already knew she was. Two large shadows were cast in front of her, dwarfing her own, and she clenched a fist hidden in the pocket of her coat. A petulant attitude, perhaps, but her parents were treating her like a child again anyway.

Like a child who needed babysitters to make sure they stayed out of trouble.

She scoffed under her breath.

A potential target.

As if. She had coworkers who probably didn’t know her name and the last time a guy had come up to chat with her he’d been asking for directions, not her number. The idea that she’d ever attract the attention of a terrorist was laughable.

What would her coworkers say when the office had to be cleared by two dudes who looked like posh hitmen? What would her friends think when she showed up to dinner and a movie looking like she’d picked up two uptight gym buddies?

“I hope you didn’t sign up for excitement,” she tossed over her shoulder, “because you’re going to be bored out of your minds.”

Both of their faces were stoic and unfazed. They were probably bored already.

“Avoiding excitement is generally the goal, miss.”

Sutton quirked a brow at the brunette one, James, and tipped her head.

“Get ready for some gold stars, then.”

If they found her annoying or amusing, she couldn’t tell. They reminded her of those British guards tourists liked to try and pester. Expressionless. Robotic.

Wonderful. They were going to have lots of fun.

[]

She hadn’t even joined in on the campaign when Howard had been traveling from state to state. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t want anything to do with politics, yet here she was being dragged into it.

Maybe she could’ve really put her foot down. Said, No. But then she’d be daily haunted by how much extra she was costing the country by being selfish. That, and her mother would most likely take care to remind her of it.

Do you remember how Howard is striving to lessen the burden on middle class taxpayers? It’s a shame we can’t help with that.

All of her things were packed and moved into the White House by the next day. Sutton hardly got to label any of the boxes, and she wondered how much they were going to shove into storage as a swarm of workers left with all of her stuff.  

She stood on the curb of her old apartment complex and tapped a foot in irritation as she watched the u-haul disappear into traffic. Her two new shadows were lurking behind her yet again.

Sutton tugged on the sleeve of her jacket, adjusted her purse, and still refused to look behind her. It wasn’t their fault they were assigned to her. It wasn’t their fault she was in this situation. But she still held on to the flimsy fantasy that if she didn’t look they’d just sort of… disappear.

“Are you ready to go, Ms. Regan?”

Taking a steadying breath, Sutton slowly let her head turn over her shoulder as she finally faced her new reality. Steve pulled a set of keys from his pocket and began heading for a black SUV parked on the curb. James followed him and opened the back door, holding it open and staring at her expectantly. Sutton pursed her lips.

“So do I not get to drive anymore either?”

James only tilted his head further towards the car, expression unchanging. Sutton rolled her head over her neck and pressed her lips into a thin smile.

“Alright then.”

He shut the door for her and moved to the passenger’s seat. Steve already had the car started and waited until they’d both buckled before pulling out onto the road.

A thick silence settled over the car as they drove. Sutton tapped her fingers on her knee and stared out the window. Her security didn’t appear to be bothered by the lack of conversation. But then, they hadn’t looked bothered by anything so far. It was probably part of the job qualifications.

“So, is this one of those things where I try talking to you two only to get the silent treatment because professionalism?”

“You can talk all you like, Ms. Regan,” said James. Sutton rolled her eyes.

“You can call me Sutton, you know. I’m not the one who’s taking office.”

James glanced back briefly, once again belying no specific emotion.

“Of course, Ms. Regan.”

Sutton narrowed her eyes and let out a breathy huff. She could almost swear there was an amused lilt in his voice. Almost.

“Fine, Mr. Barnes. So lovely to chat with you.” Her gaze slid over to the driver’s seat and she fought back a smile as she stared at the back of Steve’s head.

“You too, Mr. Rogers. How’s the neighborhood?”

Steve glanced back at her through the rearview mirror. It wasn’t quite scathing, but he certainly didn’t look like he was faking being unamused.

“The grounds around the White House are secure,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll be able to settle in quite well.”

Her brows actually shot up at that. Wow. Low blow.

“Oh, I can tell we’re gonna be great friends.”

She gave them a saccharine smile and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

Maybe if they’d been more agreeable, she would’ve invited them to run errands with her that evening.

Too bad.