#someone commented yesterday that the middle should be a little bit higher than all the other candles

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8.2k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: fxf smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, technically a mff threesome

dedicated to my sfhs girls, everyone in the villa discord, and with a special appearance from eight special guests

A/N: due to burnout, i’m unfortunately putting tgm on hold and logging off of tumblr for a little while, so there will be a bit of a wait before you get the new chapter. i’m going to log back on after 48 hours when the vote is done, because i’m considering putting the results behind a ‘read more’ option so that if you don’t want to wait, you can choose to reveal who is being voted out, otherwise you have the freedom to wait for the chapter. i have a post coming out explaining why i’m going on hold and what that means. please keep an eye out for it xx

ELIMINATION

The vote has closed.

DAY TWENTY-ONE

Your ass is still still a little sore the next morning, and having Hoseok smirk at you every time you shifted is a special kind of torture in and of itself. Waiting for everyone to gather, you’re one moment away from begging Taehyung for a massage right then and there before Sejin finally enters, rapping awkwardly on the doorframe as he steps in.

Skipping the pleasantries, he hunkers down on the coffee table in the middle of the couches, gesturing for you to join.

You swallow, aware of the attention on you. “Can I just stay on the couch?” You stubbornly avoid Hoseok’s gaze, leaning further back into the cushions, Taehyung’s arm wrapped around you as you tuck your head against his shoulder. Maybe you’d ask for that massage later, you reason, massages are platonic, right?

“Sure,” Sejin allows after a moment, eyes softening in sympathy. You flush at the unspoken reminder that he definitely saw the footage, but the producer powers on. “Let’s get started, then, we have quite the day ahead of us.”

Your phone burns a hole in your pocket. You’d been chatting earlier this morning over text with your friend, who was already on a train on his way here. You wonder how the boys will react to Eric. Part of you had worried, but you’ve yet to meet a single person that didn’t like him. It would be good to finally catch up.

The other guys don’t seem suspicious about the news, but before you can dwell on it, Sejin is clearing his throat and lowering his voice into the announcer-like tone he used for the meetings. “This week’s theme was Work Hard, Play Hard. According to the Bangasm Bomb, Week Two’s fan favourite Yoongi was allowed to distribute them. Instead of asking Y/n to guess, I want the players to each say whether they were happy with Yoongi’s choice or not. Starting on the right with you: Jin.”

Perhaps due to their splitting up yesterday morning - you hope their conversation went well in the end - Jin and Yoongi are on opposite couches, and Jin is a little subdued when he speaks to Yoongi. Not necessarily sad, just calmer than normal, like they were old friends. “So, Yoongichi gave me foodplay. As much as I appreciated getting the prompt, and I had a wonderful time with Y/n, never fucking again will I use something so messy. I swear to god, there’s still caramel in my hair, and I don’t think it’ll ever come out.”

You wince at the description, jostled slightly by Taehyung’s laughter rocking his body. Sejin confirms that he’d successfully fulfilled his prompt, and moves along to Namjoon, who looks about as red as a fire hydrant.

“Mine was ageplay,” Namjoon explains, voice dipping so quiet that you can barely hear him, before he clears his throat and glances up again. “I enjoyed it a lot, if I’m being honest. Um- thank you, Yoongi. I’m a little concerned that you knew to give it to me, though.”

“Come on,” Jin jibes, punching his shoulder lightly, “you’re absolute Daddy material. When it doesn’t look like you crawled out of someone’s pocket, at least.”

Namjoon frowns down at himself, the denim overalls rolled up at the ankles, mismatched socks and a t-shirt with a little embroidered sun on it. “Was that a compliment?”

Jin sends him a solemn, meaningful look. “It’s whatever you need it to be.”

“Anyways,” Sejiin jumps in, “congratulations, Namjoon, you’ve avoided the bunks again. Following on, we have Jimin. Go ahead.”

With legs that look a mile long in some skinny black jeans, Jimin winks across the room to Yoongi. “I got breathplay,” he explains, “which I’ll admit isn’t my favourite prompt out of them all, but I still had a really good time. Though I did try and go a little easy just in case.”

Your eyes widen, remembering ringed fingers around your throat and his cold smirk which contrasted with the heat of him inside you. “That was going easy?”

Jimin shrugs. “I’ve barely scratched the surface, Y/n,” he states vaguely and sits back, tilting his head to Sejin to indicate he’s finished.

The producer quickly informs him he was successful, and moves onwards. On your couch, the only active player is Hoseok, who sits on the opposite side to Taehyung. He sends you a mischievous grin before leaning out to face Yoongi. “Wax play for me,” he reveals to the group, “which was an absolute delight. I’m very glad I got this one, just for safety reasons. It sounds like some of the prompts this week were a little more intense.”

He sits back, but Sejin doesn’t move on this time. “Hoseok, unfortunately you failed your prompt this week.”

Hoseok blinks, brows lifting. “But there are cameras in that bathroom! I checked.”

“That’s not the issue,” Sejin explains with a sympathetic smile, “it’s that you directly revealed to Y/n what your prompt was. Now-” he begins, seeing Hoseok’s clear disappointment, “I had a talk with some of the editing and producing teams on this, as well as the higher-ups. Because we understand and appreciate that you revealed the prompt for reasons related to safety and wellbeing, we’re going to change things up a bit. You have a choice. Either you take the penalty and stay in the bunkrooms, or you stay in your own room. The caveat is that you randomly have to draw a name, and that person will join you.”

Hoseok winces. “God, this feels like a variety show,” he complains, “but I’ll risk it and take my bedroom. At least I’ll be comfy, and I’m fine sharing a bed with most of you anyway.”

Sejin’s already prepared, nodding and retrieving seven strips of paper from his pocket, all folded in two. The rest of you hold your breath as Hoseok’s hand hovers over the splayed-out options, finally tugging one out from the bottom. He takes it, flicks it open, and immediately deflates with a frustrated groan.

“This is fucking rigged,” he protests, ripping the paper into two, “I pick the bunkrooms.”

Sejin patiently holds his hand out for the torn shreds, reading them over. Is that a smile on his lips? “Jung Hoseok, you’ll be staying in the comfort of your bedroom with fellow contestant Park Jimin until the date of the next Sunday meeting.”

“Hey!” Jimin shrieks. “I did my prompt! Do I get no say in this?!”

“You don’t, unfortunately,” Sejin replies promptly. “Next up is Jungkook.”

Jimin squawks, collapsing back onto the couch with his arms tightly folded and his mouth screwed up into a scowl. Across from him sits Jungkook, clinging to Yoongi. With his legs tucked under him and his sleeves balled in his hands, the youngest gentleman is reminiscent of his subbier side when you played with him. “I got anal play,” he declares proudly, “I can’t believe it took me three weeks to get pegged. Shoutout to homeboy for sending that prompt my way.” He punctuates the comment by gently bumping his head against Yoongi’s shoulder, like a cat on its owner’s leg. Rather than sitting up, he stays there.

Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind, finishing off before Sejin can even step in. “I was cumplay,” he states plainly, “so of course, I took that. Who needs to fuck around with wax and food and shit when you can stick to the basics?”

The producer nods formally, tapping his shoe against the carpet. “And the two of you both successfully completed your prompts, congratulations. That means nobody will be staying in the bunkrooms this week. Taehyung,” he turns and fixes the boy with a warm stare, “you’re welcome to go back to your room for the rest of the competition.”

Taehyung beams, a boxy grin and crescent eyes. “Noted, sir,” he says with a chirp. “Do we get to find out fan favourite now? I know who I’m rooting for.” Taehyung sends Jimin a shy smile, and the older boy winks at him fondly.

“Yes, of course,” Sejin allows, clearing his throat. “As usual, we tallied up the results from the voting page on our website. I’ll say the top three. Third place this week was Jungkook. Congratulations.”

The youngest man sits upright suddenly with a wide-eyed look. “Seriously? I didn’t even dom! Oh, wow, uh-” he cuts himself off and looks around, finally fixing his sights on one of the cameras near the roof that are streaming to the fans. He pumps his fists with a little cheer, then folds them together and bows. “Thank you! I’ll do even better next week.”

Yoongi’s cheeks go pink as he tries to act like he isn’t cooing over the boy, reaching out to ruffle his ever-growing hair. “Good job, kid,” he compliments shortly.

“Second place,” Sejin continues, “Seokjin.”

It seems as if the therapist hadn’t seen it coming at all. A picture-perfect expression of shock blooms on his face before he lets out a bright peal of laughter, clapping his hands together with a single smack. “I did it! Ah, I knew I still had it in me. Old age won’t stop me yet, see. Everyone should learn from this.”

You shake your head with bemusement, lifting your brows at him. “Silver medal and it’s already going to your head, huh? The fans have created a monster.”

“The fans have seen the light,” Jin corrects placidly, before a line forms between his brows. “Wait. Who got first, then? Who outdid me plus caramel sauce?”

“In first place, and winning the chance to spend an evening outside the Villa with Y/n,” Sejin starts, before pausing for dramatic effect, “is Hoseok. You’re having quite the emotional rollercoaster this morning, Mr. Jung.”

Instead of a hooting cheer, a smug grin, or even disbelief, perhaps the one thing you didn’t see coming was Hoseok blinking quickly, before pressing the back of his hand to his nose. You don’t have to be watching a 1080p close-up to see his eyes misting.

Taehyung immediately croons, throwing his arms around the dom in a tight hug, wiggling in place as Hoseok laughs tearily. “I’m so proud,” you hear Taehyung say, muffled in Hoseok’s shirt.

“I- Goodness, I’m sorry- I really just wasn’t expecting that,” Hoseok admits, tilting his chin up to stare into the ceiling light. “That means a lot. Phew, wow, the audience are some kinky fuckers,” he finishes, relieved when the strange atmosphere splits into easy laughter.

Heart warm, you reach over and squeeze his arm. “I’m really happy for you, Hobi,” you say in a soft voice. “You deserve it.”

“Where will you take her tonight, hyung?” Jungkook chimes, teeth poking out of a teasing grin. “Is it ‘take your fuckbuddy to work’ day at the Red Room by any chance?” His comment rouses whoops and whistles around the room, Taehyung giggling and pinching the dom’s cheek.

“Ah, about that,” Sejin jumps in quickly, a hand held out to settle the noise, “the reward won’t be scheduled for tonight, unfortunately. We’re going to put it on Monday night, since today - as I’m sure you all know - we have some special guests.”

Your brows lift. Guests, plural? Maybe you weren’t the only one who was asked to contact a friend. Your heart skips a little faster at the prospect of being exposed to close friends from the boys’ real lives. What if they didn’t like you? Would it even matter?

Sejin isn’t done, standing up from the coffee table to give the announcement on foot. “A few days ago, you all received text messages from me with some instructions to find a close friend, colleague, or family member to join you on the show. This was up to your discretion, as long as they agreed to a quick police check, however there was one condition. Y/n; you were asked specifically for a male friend. The guys were asked to bring a female friend.”

You suck in a gasp. After three weeks being surrounded exclusively by dudes, you’d suddenly have seven new ladies to talk to. “Just for the day, right?” you question, knowing the plans you’d had to make with Eric.

Sejin’s lips quirk up. “For most of the guests, yes. However, for one lucky lady, they’ll have the opportunity to stay for a full week. At any point today, Y/n, you can draw a name from this box-” he pauses, glancing down at his again-empty hands, “-I’ll, uh, I’ll bring the box out in just a moment. But you’ll be able to randomly draw one name, and if the recipient agrees, they’ll be staying in the bunk room for seven nights. Questions?”

Taehyung raises his hand tentatively. “Hypothetically, would we be allowed to have sex with the guests?”

Sejin sighs. “All but two of them signed a contract in which they consented to the possibility of sexual interaction, yes. But none of them will be required to at all.”

You bite your lip. When talking with you, Eric had mentioned the contract, and stated that since it was just one day he’d rather not offer himself up for that. One of the girls must have done the same, then, but that still left six people who were joining for a day - or a week - willing to consider having sex with the others on the show. Perhaps you were raising your sex drive being on the show, or maybe you just missed the company of women, but that thought excited you more than anything.

“When do they come on?” Yoongi asks with a grimace. While the others are practically vibrating with the anticipation of being reunited with their friends and meeting new people, Yoongi seems begrudging, and you can’t help but wonder what girl in his life he asked to join him.

“They’re waiting outside right now,” Sejin reveals, “we’ll bring them in one by one to introduce themselves. As they come in, I want the person who invited them to get up and stand on the side with them until everyone’s paired up.”

Taehyung’s hands slip into yours and Hoseok’s, gripping them into tight fists with a hoot of excitement. His enthusiasm is contagious, and you sit up straighter, eying the doorway. “Do you think there’ll be a game?” the masseuse hisses, positively wiggling in his seat.

On the other couch, Jungkook’s eyes widen comically. “We’re doing a game? Oh, hell yeah!”

Sejin, who had been sending a text, glances up quickly. “The game isn’t ‘til the eve-” he cuts himself off, but it comes too late. “Ah, dammit. Anyways, please give a warm welcome to our first guest. Please come in.”

Before the person even rounds the corner, you hear an excited squeal. A slender girl with toffee-coloured hair and bright features careens into the room, her giddy smile widening as she lands her eyes on Jin.

If you had pictured someone to be friends with the therapist, it probably wouldn’t be this boisterous woman in tiny shorts and strappy sandals that’s currently cannon-balling onto him, but he lets out an oof, wrapping his arms around her with a fond smile.

Sejin clears his throat. “Could you please introduce yourself?”

“Oh!” The girl sits up, elbowing Jin in the stomach as she gets up to smile at everyone. She looks gorgeous in a summery red lipstick, and the voice that comes out is just as sweet. “Hi everyone, I’m Hyuna, Soogie’s better half.”

Rubbing his hip, Jin scoffs. “You’re my sidekick at best.”

Ignoring the person whose lap she’s sitting on, Hyuna beams. “If he’s been cool on this show at all, it’s my positive influence.”

“Thank you, Hyuna, the two of you can go stand to the side,” Sejin deigns, glancing towards the doorway. “Next?”

In this way, all the guests appear one at a time and pair off. Eric’s next in, and you rush up to give your old friend a tight hug, grinning as he immediately stands beside Jin and Hyuna and begins to schmooze, making the two of them alike fawn over him.

“Hi, everyone,” he announces in a cheery tone, “I’m Eric, longtime friend of Y/n and aspiring Gentleman. Pleased to meet you all.” Sejin nods at him, and Eric’s smile turns down a few watts to sober up. “Also, I didn’t sign the contract, so if there’s any funny business, feel free to not invite me.”

Unlike the first two, the third person that enters the room is shy, a reserved posture and sweet smile. She dresses in a corduroy dress and long-sleeved shirt, her dark hair up in a ponytail. Introducing herself as Ji-eun, she explains that she, too, chose not to sign the contract for sex, blushing at the word.

Equally blushing is Jungkook, who repeatedly bows to her as she comes in, hand hovering over her waist as he leads her to the side. You and Jin share a bemused look as the girl introduces herself as a family friend and Jungkook’s old babysitter.

Picking up the energy, the fourth guest is someone you actually recognise. Jessi, a Bangasm powerhouse in every right that Jimin is, turns the corner with a sultry look, sidling up to Sejin playfully before tugging Jimin up from his seat.

“Jessi, as most of you are probably aware,” she introduces, looking insanely stunning in a fitted crop shirt, high waisted shorts and eyeliner to kill. “Come on, Park; you’re with me.”

As he stands up, letting her ruffle his hair and gushing over his choice of earrings, you marvel at how different he appears around her. In the industry, if you’d heard of Jimin, you’d heard of Jessi. She started a few years before him, met him on a shoot, and the two were practically a power duo ever since. From the videos they had together, they portrayed an image of the King and Queen of porn, always working with each other whenever they could. But now, instead of some sex-crazed couple, all you see is Jimin being fussed over like a younger brother, leaning into Jessi’s fond yet teasing touches.

The two of them sit beside you, and your cheeks can’t help but burn up when she pokes her tongue out between her teeth and flicks you a wink, turning to Jimin and giving him a  meaningful nod.

So far Taehyung, Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi remain on the couches, and when the next girl rounds the corner, you just about think you must be seeing double.

With a black bob of hair sharper than her jawline, perfectly arched brows and a pouty mouth, an absolute copy of Min Yoongi scans the room. Her face changes, turns mischievous when she spots a begrudging Yoongi, and jerks her head. “I’m the hotter twin,” she announces, “Min Yoonji.”

As Yoongi huffs and gets up to join her, you watch with wonder as the two lookalikes stand together. She mumbles something low, ruffling his hair as he desperately tries to duck away, and the twins settle on the far side of you, beside Jungkook.

Quickly, another raven-haired girl steps in, barely even looking at you as she takes in the decor. “Fuck, this place is nice,” she mutters, before her eyes look directly ahead of her, maroon lips stretching into a smile, “Joon-ah, you’ve been here rent-free for the past month? Holy shit.”

Namjoon winces, bowing awkwardly to her, and you tilt your head. Why does it seem like they barely even know each other? Sejin must hear your internal monologue, as he clears his throat. “Could you please introduce yourself and state your relationship to Namjoon?”

“Oh, my name’s Sunmi,” she says with ease, “Namjoon and I are...” She trails off, looking to him for help.

Namjoon’s eyes widen, and he blurts, “best friends!” before going bright red. “Uh, we’re, um, we’re best friends.”

Sunmi beams, nodding matter-of-factly to the rest of you, before walking forward to pinch his cheeks and wiggle his face back and forth lightly. “Oh, yes,” she coos, “we go way back.” Letting go, she takes his hand and guides him to the side of the room where everyone but Taehyung and Hoseok are gathered.

You try to send Namjoon a questioning gaze, but he avoids everyone’s gaze but Sunmi’s, nodding shyly at the things she tells him quietly.

Luckily, the second-to-last guest takes up your attention fully. With velvet boots that reach the middle of her thighs, and a black shirt that reaches just as low, she’d look cute and preppy were it not for the black harness that brackets the shirt, reminiscent of Hoseok’s leathers, the sharp smokey eye and a red lipstick so dark it’s almost black. It doesn’t take you much to work out which of the remaining boys she’s accompanying. “Thank you to Hope for inviting me,” she begins, and your eyes widen at how silken and sweet her voice is, a total 180 from the typical dominatrix stereotype, yet it seems to fit her perfectly. “I’m Bee, I’ve worked at the Red Room for several years, and been friends with him for just as long.”

The two share a light hug, but you can see the affection there as his eyes crinkle and her beam widens. She hooks a finger around one of Hoseok’s belt loops and follows him to stand beside Jimin, barely enough room for them as it is.

Lastly is Taehyung, who’s already on his feet by the time a gorgeous blonde enters. Before you can get a good look at her, the two are bear-hugging, Taehyung lifting her off the ground for a moment as he grins so widely all his teeth are on full display. It warms your heart to see, and even when she settles back on solid ground, the two are attached at the hip, his arm tightly holding her to him.

“This is Chungha, my best friend,” Taehyung announces proudly, “we met at work when I was a trainee.”

“Aren’t I supposed to do that?” she questions with a throaty laugh, but still gives a warm smile to the rest of you. “But yeah, that’s me!”

They go to move over to the crowded corner, but Sejin steps in, clapping his hands once to gain everyone’s attention. “Alright, everyone!” he declares. “Welcome to all our new faces! You’ll have until 10pm tonight to socialise, have fun. For lunch today, we’ll be having a barbecue and picnic outside, but after then, you’re free. Be sure to respect Ji-eun and Eric’s choice not to partake in any sexual activity. And Y/n, I’ll be right back with the box. Make sure you pull a name before 10.”

Once he leaves, you let out a dramatic breath, collapsing into Eric’s side. “Today is gonna be busy,” you anticipate, “so many pretty girls to talk to. So little time.”

“Hey!” your friend protests, wrapping his arms around to trap you against his front. “Forget about the girls, you should be hanging out with your best friend! I’ve missed you, lest you forget!”

Suspicious, you wiggle around to face him, narrowing your eyebrows. “You just want me to be your wingman,” you accuse, “who is it? What guy here are you crushing on?”

Eric scrunches his face up, clutching at his chest in offense. “I am not crushing on anyone,” he insists, before glancing over to Hyuna, Jessi, and Sunmi have gathered around Namjoon like a flock of seagulls, cooing over the little embroidered patches on his overalls. “I just want the Iron Giant over there to crush me.” Squinting his eyes, he inspects the room until he locates Yoongi, who’s pouting like a wronged child as Yoonji makes herself at home in the kitchen, pulling out drawers and cabinets like she’s searching for something.

“He’s the doctor, right?” Eric asks of Yoongi. You nod, suspicious. “He likes to eat cum, I have cum to spare… I’m no mathematician, but x equals sex, you know?”

You wince. “Not your best line,” you say in a disappointed tone, “but anyways: I thought you told me you didn’t want any funny business? You didn’t sign the contract.”

Eric’s eyes skirt over you, taking in the seven men as he shakes his head slowly. “I was young then. Foolish. I know better.” Suddenly, he grips your shoulders and ducks his head to look you intensely in the eye. “Take me to Sejin’s office. I have a contract to sign.”

--

It’s a beautiful day for a picnic, and an even more beautiful day to watch the muscles in Jin’s back flex under his t-shirt as he mans the barbecue.

Sharing the same sentiment is Jessi, who sighs dreamily at him, sitting beside you on the sun-warmed grass with her legs stretched out in front of her. “They don’t make men like those anymore,” she muses, “face of a fucking god. You get to fuck him?”

You chuckle at the abrupt question, quickly learning that Jessi wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “Generally once a week, yeah. Unless I vote him out, I suppose.”

“God, please do,” she enthuses, “save some for the rest of us, you know?” Suddenly she sits up straighter, glancing around to take everyone in. “You know, when I heard about this, I thought for sure they’d either get a bunch of porn-addicted dweebs who jack off into crusty socks or all the airheads in the industry would sign up for a vacation. I guess they really filtered out the duds. I’m impressed.”

“They did good,” you admit, smiling fondly as you watch Taehyung jump around a small cross-legged group on the picnic blanket, holding out handfuls of beads. The masseuse had discovered Hoseok’s penchant for jewellery-making somehow and had demanded a tutorial. Jungkook and Namjoon look like two flustered schoolboys as they quietly help their respective friends, and Yoongi has his sister in a headlock as he tries to tie a bright pink and green bracelet around her wrist. Hyuna and Chungha are practically in each other’s laps, giggling as they wind delicate anklets onto each other.

Some of the others hang around Jin as he cooks. Bee is chatting up a storm with him, hip propped against the edge of the barbecue, and Jimin steals pieces of caramelised onion, sneaking glances towards you and Jessi. Your heart warms at his inquisitive look, the look of happiness and relief on his face when he sees the two of you getting along.

So caught up in your observation of the group, you don’t realise you’ve been silent too long until you get roughly punched in the shoulder. “Holy shit!” Jessi declares. “You like them!”

“Who?” you counter defensively.

She laughs, her whole face lightening up. “Fuck, maybe all o’ them. Is there anyone you don’t have a crush on? Anyone that doesn’t make you feel all giddy and happy?”

You’re stumped at that. For a long time, you’d been seeing having a crush as some grand, dramatic realisation. Realising you liked Tae and Jimin, and then more recently being confronted with your feelings for Jin, those romantic notions seemed so loud and all-encompassing. But the guys making you feel giddy and happy? Their presence cheering you up, missing them when you spent time on your own? It was a lot easier to admit to yourself that perhaps all seven of them fit within those constraints. “I… I hate to say that you have a point.”

Jessi squeals, briefly attracting the attention of the haphazard circle of jewellery makers. “I knew it! Oh my goodness, isn’t this so exciting? Have you had an orgy yet?”

You gape. “Jessi!”

“What?” she asks innocently. “If you’ve been here several weeks and you still haven’t had an orgy, you’re wasting your time, girl. Get onto that.”

“I have, actually,” you admit with firing cheeks. “Before Tae got eliminated.”

“The puppy?” When you send Jessi a bewildered look, she just shrugs, tipping her head over towards the barbecue where Jimin has taken to kissing the back of Jin’s neck and shoulders, standing up on his tiptoes to try and bribe the older man for some food. His friend sighs at his antics. “Park told me,” she explains in a matter-of-fact tone, “said he was an absolute delight to play with when he’s got his collar on. Fuck, and looking at him now really solidifies the image, you know? I’d love to make him beg for a treat.” Your face must sour, because without a pause Jessi is cackling, poking you lightly in the cheek. “Oh my goodness, you’re jealous! You can’t fuck him anymore so you don’t want me to!”

“It’s not that,” you protest, not wanting to expose that selfish desire.

“It’s fine, I get it! I’ll keep my distance,” she allows, rolling over on the grass to lean in, chin almost resting on your shoulder as her voice deepens to a conspiratorial tone. “But if I’m honest, you should just fuck him and take the penalty. I know I would.”

You bite your lip. “What if he accidentally touched me? He’d be sent home. It’s such a risk.”

She just shrugs, leaning back to watch him as he sits in the middle of the group, Chunga reaching out to playfully ruffle his hair. “Tie up his hands,” she deflects easily, “there are always solutions, you know? And if you really like him, I kinda think he’d appreciate you making the sacrifice to be with him.” Sighing out one last time, she stands up, brushing off her pants. “Food for thought. And speaking of food, there’s a big hunk of meat over there that isn’t on the barbecue.”

As Jessi makes her way over to Jin with a heavy swing to her hips, you decide to join the group. There’s a small gap between Ji-eun and Jungkook as they keep a respectful distance, so you wedge yourself in with a few muttered apologies.

Up close, Ji-eun is gorgeous, rosy features and kind eyes. It’s no wonder Jungkook looks at her like she hung the stars in the sky. Perhaps you’d normally feel jealous, but you get it. “So,” you start, reaching out for a cord to begin a bracelet, “the two of you are family friends?”

Jungkook nods hastily. “Our parents went to high-school together,” he divulges, fiddling with his finished bracelet to look busy. “And since my mom and dad both worked full-time, noona babysat after school.”

You coo, tying a knot at one end of the waxed cord so the beads don’t fall off. “That’s so cute, oh my goodness! Ji-eun, was he a troublemaker as a child? I bet he was.”

“Hey!” Jungkook protests, but the older girl just chuckles, sending you a genuine smile.

“Gukkie was actually a sweetheart,” she admits, “always super polite. He was cute, too, had this coconut haircut and the roundest eyes, little tiny hands. Not like now.”

Jungkook gasps again, clutching at his chest like he’s been mortally wounded. “How dare you! I’m still cute!”

You hum in an unconvinced way, turning to poke at his cheeks, tapping his button nose. “You’re a little bit cute,” you allow. “Though I bet you were cuter with the bowl cut.”

The camboy’s temporary pleased look vanishes and he abruptly stands up. “This is slander, it was not a bowl cut, I just have a very round head! I’m going to find Yoongi-hyung, he respects me.”

You glance around the group in confusion, but Yoongi isn’t in the immediate vicinity like he was earlier. In fact, the group has dissolved into a few stragglers finishing off their bracelets as most of the gathering emigrate to the sheltered patio. “Oh shit, is lunch ready? I’m starving.”

“Looks like,” Ji-eun chirps, but once the two of you stand up, she hooks her hand in your elbow, preventing your departure. “Before we go, I just wanted to say,” she begins, eyes earnest as they lock onto yours, “thank you for making Jungkook so happy. I know it’s not like it’s just you, and I’m going to try and thank everyone in due time, but he speaks so highly of you especially. He’s really coming out of his shell here, I can see it now.”

Your heart swells, instinctively turning to seek out the black and red hair in the crowd. Jungkook has slipped a glove on one hand and is cutting up pieces of meat with tongs and a pair of kitchen scissors, a broad grin on his face as he hands them out. “I’m really lucky to have met him. You helped raise him well.”

She beams at that, tugging on your arm as the others call out for you to join them. “It’s not me. That’s all just our Jungkookie.”

Throughout the lunch, you can’t help but think that every time you look at him. Our Jungkookie.

--

Much like Taehyung, Chungha is very generous with her hands.

The offer comes quickly after lunch. Most of the guests and guys are still outside socialising (Eric has managed to con a bunch of them into playing a rather hands-on game of football on the grass), but while you were inside getting a drink, both massage parlour workers joined you, Taehyung’s arms naturally slipping around your waist for a lazy back hug.

“Pour us one?” he requests casually, his voice like molten brown sugar. “I want you two to get to know each other. Maybe we could go upstairs for a bit?”

Beside you, smiling with her eyes as well as her baby pink lips, Chungha pats your hand. “I’ve heard so many good things,” she assures. “But Taehyungie is so disappointed that he can’t take care of you anymore.” Your heart freezes in your throat when she comes in close, smelling like cherries. Her voice dips so that only you and Taehyung could hear, the latter nuzzling his nose against the back side of your neck. “I could take care of you for him, if you want?”

You turn around in Taehyung’s grasp, seeking out his confirmation. He smiles, nods, and lets go to take the two extra drinks you’d poured. It’s only lemonade, but he takes an indulgent sip as if it were champagne.

Without another word, he begins to make his way to the stairs, glancing back to make sure you’re following. You think back to Jessi’s words, of showing him that you cared. It seems like, in his own way, he’s reaching across that divide and showing you he cares too. Chungha’s fingers winding between yours, you follow the two masseuses upstairs.

Perhaps it’s their job experience, or maybe just their sweet, puppy-like personalities, but being near them both feels so comforting and relaxing. In Taehyung’s bedroom, he sits on a chair, as close to the bed as he dares. Chungha tugs you directly onto the mattress, and you gasp as a slight push to your shoulder sends you collapsing backwards, head on the pillow.

She looks divine above you, smiling down as her pale golden hair hangs down and brushes against your collarbones. With a knee on either side of your hips, she straddles you and leans in closer, lips barely brushing. “Can I kiss you, Y/n?”

Your heart thuds strongly against your ribs. You nod, feeling dizzy as the pressure on your mouth increases and her hands slip into your hair. Her lips and fingers move in sync, massaging your lips and scalp indistinguishingly. Perhaps she’s even a better kisser than the others on the show, or perhaps it’s that the touch of a woman after three weeks of men feels like pure oxygen, like eating with a gold spoon after years of stainless steel.

Her fingers slide further, molten relaxation with every stroke. Soothing your temples, the crown of your head, the nape of your neck, she keeps you feeling warm and light, even a little hazy. Lips parting from yours for just a moment, Chungha whispers to you, her fingers playing with the waistband of your pants. “Will you let me taste you?”

Arousal thrums hot between your legs, but something makes you hesitate. Or, rather, someone. You shift your head on the pillow, looking past the curtain of Chungha’s hair to where Tae sits, cross-legged, on the armchair.

His eyes widen, soft and concerned. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Y/n,” he assures.

Chungha pulls up at that, sitting back against her heels again. Losing the closeness makes a whine catch in your throat. “It’s not that,” you confess quietly, “I just… I don’t want you to feel left out.”

The blonde masseuse straddling you coos as Taehyung turns pink, and she beckons him closer. “I don’t feel left out,” Taehyung assures you as he tentatively perches on the edge of the bed, tugging your hand gently to clasp between his own. “I can’t touch you like you deserve, at least not now. But Chungha can. If you want this, I want you to have it, Y/n.”

Your hand feels so warm between his smooth palms, but your heart feels even warmer. “I do want it. But… Stay close to me.”

Taehyung laces his fingers through yours, holds your hand up, and delicately presses a kiss to the back of your hand, making your breath catch. Afterwards, his eyes dart accusingly to the cameras recording your every move and sound. “That was technically platonic contact,” he insists quickly, “they do it in movies all the time.”

You laugh softly, but it quickly mutes into a silent gasp as Chungha suddenly moves down, hooking her fingers into your waistband and undressing your lower half as she goes.

Spreading your knees and sinking to her chest between them, her perfectly manicured fingers run teasing lines up and down your bare thighs. “Just relax,” she coos, “just let yourself enjoy it.”

Her hair, like spun gold, tickles your thighs as she lowers her face closer. So light you can only just feel it, she presses a kiss into the seam at the top of your right leg, so close yet too far from where you need her. Doing the same to the other side, she begins slowly trailing them closer to your core, giggling onto you when your breath hitches in impatience.

Taehyung shifts, situating himself behind you so that your head lies back and rests on his lap. With the same hand that holds yours, he takes the other, holding both of your wrists together in less of a restraint and more of an embrace. Together, him and Chungha bracket you in this cocoon of gentle touches, and as his other hand begins taking over the scalp massage Chungha had started earlier, you can’t help but let your eyes slip shut.

It’s because of this that when she finally licks a bold stripe up your folds, it catches you by complete surprise. You squeak, jolting between them, but Taehyung just tugs on your hair lightly, shushing you.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” Taehyung asks softly, bent over so he can speak lowly.

Chungha, now that she’s started, uses her tongue and lips just as expertly as her fingers, marking Taehyung’s question redundant. You nod anyway, and are rewarded with the subtle vibration of her chuckling, lips wrapped around your clit.

There’s something inherently different about the way Chungha eats you out, that’s clear even with your eyes shut. Her lips are plush like Jin’s, her cheeks soft like Yoongi’s and her tongue roving deep like Jungkook’s, but with every second that passes, it feels like she’s explored your pussy a million times before. Each swipe and suck and nibble seems practiced, learned, and in mere minutes your thighs are trembling.

She alternates attention to your clit with fucking you on her tongue, and Taehyung’s hand never ceases its languid journey through your hair. The two poles of pleasure have you unable to catch your breath, unable to even open your eyes as every movement makes the lids heavier.

Two separate people, yet they work in unison. When Taehyung presses behind your ears, Chungha flattens her tongue on your clit in a slow drag. When that muscle becomes pointed, flicking over you to make you jump, Taehyung’s fingers curl so that the nails run over your scalp. Each nip of Chungha’s teeth is punctuated with a tugging of a lock of your hair, and caught between these tides, the only things that feel incomplete are your lips. What you wouldn’t give to have Tae bend a little lower and brush his mouth against yours, even for a moment.

Instead, you slip your bottom lip between your teeth, occupying them needily. A coil tightens in your stomach so slowly, like a gentle bubbling simmer, but it isn’t until you feel two slender fingers sliding inside you that there’s a tangible shift in pleasure. Like taking an exit on a highway, you feel a distinct change of path, like you’re now moving directly towards your orgasm. Driven by that desire, you rock your hips, moaning as her mouth hones in on your clit and her fingers curl, seeking out that spot inside you.

Unsurprisingly, she locates it with ease, and before you can even catch your breath she’s massaging it without mercy, twisting her fingers inside you with every audible thrust so that the pleasure is inescapable. You writhe, but she still has an arm free to throw over your stomach and hold you down.

Taehyung is still deliriously in-sync, and you can’t hold back a moan as his fingers press harder and nails drag stronger. Eyes rolling back, you feel that crest build, so close you can taste it, and your moans become desperate.

The two of them read the signs and up the intensity one last time. Taehyung drops your hands so that both of his can bury deep in your hair, and Chungha switches to three fingers inside you, scissoring and grinding them against your g-spot.

You come with a broken cry, seizing up as the pleasure wracks your body. While Taehyung stops his massage to brush your hair back, carding his fingers through it comfortingly, Chungha fucks you through it without mercy, sucking harshly on your clit and spreading you open on her fingers.

It’s not until your whole body is shivering and you try anad wriggle out of her hold that she finally lets up, leaving you boneless in Taehyung’s lap.

Far more full of energy than you are, Chungha straightens up with a satisfied sigh, licking her lips. As you fight to catch your breath, she runs a hand up and down your thigh. “You’re a fucking gorgeous specimen,” she compliments warmly, “when you get out of here, come by anytime.”

Suddenly Taehyung’s arms wrap tightly around your arms and chest, chin tucked onto the crown of your head. Even as you can’t see him, you can hear the pout in his voice. “When she gets out, she’ll be coming by for me,” he protests sweetly, “but I’m sure we could invite you too if she wanted.”

You laugh tiredly, leaning your weight back against Taehyung. “I’m definitely not turning that down, holy fuck.”

Chungha giggles prettily, chin still glossy from going down on you, though it doesn’t seem to bother her. “Won’t you give me one last kiss before we go clean up?”

You can’t deny her sweetly batted eyelashes, though you wouldn’t even want to. Once Taehyung begrudgingly lets you go, you lean forward and meet her halfway, tasting yourself on her tongue. It’s filthy but chaste, a quick swipe of her tongue into your mouth, a peck, and she’s pulling away with a wink, jumping off the bed.

Once she prances into Taehyung’s bathroom and closes the door behind her, Taehyung goes slack, winding his arms around your torso from behind and tucking his face into your neck. “I hope you liked it,” his voice comes out, muffled and shy.

You ruffle his hair fondly, wishing you could do more than that. “It was perfect,” you say without a doubt. “Thank you, Tae. I-” There are words that you can’t say, shouldn’t say now. “I like you a whole lot.”

If it’s possible, his hug tightens. “I like you a lot too.”

--

The rest of the day goes without hiccups. You spend your time getting to know the girls - albeit in less intimate ways than you had with Chungha - and slowly the idea of pulling a name out of the box becomes both exciting and worrying.

Hyuna brings out a new side of Jin. He looks more unburdened with her than he has the whole time on the show, and their vibrant energy together is contagious. Jungkook acts like a smitten schoolboy around Ji-eun, and she’s so patient and endearing that you can’t help but sympathise with him. It’s very clear Namjoon and Sunmi don’t actually know each other very well, but fuck you could watch their awkward banter and dynamic for hours. Sunmi is a relentless, unflappable tease, and Namjoon eats it up with a nervous laugh and bright eyes. Chungha seems more interested in the other girls than she is with Taehyung, but they’re never far apart, sharing countless meaningful stares between conversations. Bee is much like Hoseok, in that she’s so sweet and bubbly when she doesn’t don her dominant persona, and quickly she wins you over, her kind words and cheerful laughter a highlight of the evening. Jessi seems like the type of bossy but protective older sister that seems perfect for Jimin, whose usually-concealed soft interior lifts closer and closer to the surface with every minute spent in her easygoing, boisterous company. And finally, Yoonji is an absolute enigma, commanding attention with ease but seeming entirely disinterested with it. The moment a conversation bores her, you watch her eyes shift, inspecting some person or other like they’re a science experiment. You’ve been under that gaze yourself, and you practically feel the heat of the magnifying glass. But at the same time, when she does get engaged and speaks up, she’s just as articulate and sharp as Yoongi, and you can’t help but hang off her every word.

After relaying all this information back to Eric, who seems equally supportive and bemused, the only conclusion you can draw is that it would be entirely preferable to have all seven of them stay.

“Goodness, you insatiable minx,” your best friend teases with a mock look of disapproval. It’s 9:58pm, and the two of you have been stuck in the living room for almost the whole hour, staring hopelessly at the box. “Seven men is good, but fourteen people is better?”

“It’s not that,” you defend with a whine, “not that I would protest. No, it’s just- I wanna get to know them more, you know? And I feel like I’m learning more about the guys while they’re here, which is going to prove very important for tomorrow’s decision. And once I pull a name there’s nothing separating me from elimination, and I have no fucking clue who to eliminate, but then at least-” You huff, unable to articulate it. “I’m procrastinating.”

Eric grimaces, nodding. “It took you roughly fifty-nine minutes to come to that conclusion, but I’m glad we got there eventually.”

You kick your feet up over his lap, throwing yourself back onto the couch in despair. “I could’ve been out there researching this whole time, why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs, bouncing his knees so that your feet are jostled off. “I thought you wanted to work it through and that explaining every vivid detail of the past three weeks was necessary. It was riveting, by the way,” he adds in a drawl, “I’m certainly relieved you felt it pertinent to describe exactly the size and appearance of all the cocks in this house.”

You jump up, kicking him in the shin. “Hey! Don’t be sarcastic, I’m in a crisis!”

“Oh, I wasn’t,” Eric defends, brows lifted. “I’m doing my own research. Taking into account the past several hours, as well as the interesting mental pictures I’ve now been able to make, I’ve decided I wish to become the sexy meat in a Namjoon and Hoseok sandwich. Do you think it’s feasible?”

You open your mouth instinctively to protest, but then you stop, mulling over the combination. They had spent a lot of time together…

Eric claps his hands together with a victorious cheer. “You considered it, that’s basically a yes! Anyways, I hate to say it,” he digresses, quickly sobering up, “but it’s time to draw a name.”

Nerves immediately alight down your spine, but you fight them off. “Fuck, okay, I guess it’s random so it doesn’t matter, right?” Before you have the chance to second-guess that statement, you lean forward and plunge your hand into the circle-shaped slot in the box, feeling sharp edges of paper bumping against your skin.

Managing to close your fingers around a slip, you pull it out, opening the fold. Two words, three syllables. Eric and you read over it in silence for a moment, before you let out a amused chuckle. “Yoongi’s going to be pissed, huh?”

ELIMINATION

On the seventh Day of every Week in the game, the Elimination vote is released for 48 hours following the post of the fic. Please note, this is NOT the fan-favourite vote, which has already happened.

The vote has closed.

Below are the results for last week’s vote for Fan Favourite! 

#cypherwritersnet #bts smut #bts x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #ot7 smut #ot7 x reader #bts fanfic #jin x reader #jin smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #jimin x reader #jimin smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut

[endydancer1]

We used to be strangers | Part 4

Pairing: Tom Holland x Y/N Lincoln

Summary: Tom has just finished his latest movie and his heading back home to London. While he is passing the high building, suddenly something happens what changes his life completely. What is the shadow up there?

WARNING: Mentions of injuries, blood, depression, thinking of suicide.

..................................................................................

Tom POV:

I walked into the hospital and straightly went to the reception. The nurse immediately recognized me and smiled.

"Good morning, Mr. Holland. You managed to come. I am glad to see you here. Follow me, I will take you to Ms. Lincoln's room." She stood up and led me across the hospital to the room of THAT girl. Miss Lincoln as I learned few seconds  ago.

"She should be up already. So...take your time. She will be glad to see you, I am sure. And it's also nice of you, you bought something for her." the nurse smiled at me, when we stopped at the door.

"Thanks,Mrs.... "I ran my eyes quickly over her scrub looking for the label with her name. I found it!

".. Mrs. Brown. " I returned the smile.

" No problem, Mr. Holland. If you need me, you know where you can find me. " she winked at me and walked away. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

I heard a soft voice and gently push the handle. The girl, lying on the bed immediately caught my eyes. She was.. Beautiful. Even with the cuts on her face and swollen eyes, she was really beautiful and.. Familiar. I must have seen her before. Her face,that eyes, I wouldn't have forgotten such beautiful eyes. Dark blue eyes as a sea after storm, but with a little sparks inside of them. I was standing there for a few seconds which felt like hours, days, years. I would be more than willing to stare at her for the rest of my life. God, what am I doing? I cough and smile a bit.

"Ehm.. Are you... Are you Y/N Lincoln?"

"Yes, that's me. And who are you, may I ask?"

"I am Tom. Tom Holland. I... Saved you, when you, when you... fell." I was a bit nervous. I came to her bed and sit next to her on the hard chair. I put a get well soon card with chocolate and fruit on the bedside table and showed her the bouquet. She was so happy. She smiled wide. My heart skipped a beat. Oh God, why is she so cute? And when I felt her soft lips on my cheek, I reddened in a second. I hadn't felt girl's lips in ages. I realised how much I had missed it. I smiled shyly.

"Eh... The nurse called me yesterday that someone wanted to meet me. I assumed it was you. So...do you need something?" I looked at her and my eyes were running down her face, from forehead to her lips. I stopped there for a little while and then came looking back into her ocean eyes. It was strange. It felt like I had seen these eyes before.

" Uhm.. It's nice to meet you, but... It wasn't me. I've just woken up."

After she said that I felt a strange feeling. I was surprised. Who else would want to talk to me? I don't know anyone here, I wasn't here before and it's quite far from my house.

"Then.. Who? I am sorry, but I don't know anyone here."

"I am sorry, I really don't know. Maybe a nurse or someone? But I am glad you came visit me. And I don't want to bother you anymore. Certainly, you have lot of better things to do than spend time with a stranger in hospital."

"Actually.. I don't. You seem nice and it's not a big deal to spend some time with you,for me. I have nothing to do today. And.. I would like to take you out, for a coffee, maybe? Not like a date, but I want to make sure you are alright."

"Oh.. Really? Okay then, thank you. I would like to grab some coffee with you. But it won't be till at least weeks."

"I understand. And that's okay. Can I come visit you again sometime?"

"Of course! You are more than welcome here. Not like a patient of course!" We both laughed at that comment. So she is not only beautiful. She is also funny. I had to seen her before. This laughter, I heard it before. For sure.

"Haha, yeah. That won't be good. But at least, maybe they will put us into the same room." I joked back.

"I am not sure,darling. There are not mixed rooms in hospital. Since you are not a nurse or a doctor to spend some time in a restroom." She winked at me. We burst into laughter again,tears dropping down from our eyes. But she stopped after a few seconds, because the laughter caused her pain. I immediately stopped too.

" Oh God. Are you okay? Is everything alright? Should I call the doctor?"

"No, no. I am fine. I am doctor too. It's nothing. Just.. The pressure of my muscles when I am laughing can torn the stitches and I would bleed out in a minute."

"I see. So let's postponed our laugh to the café."

"Yeah, I am up for it." She smiled and could see her eyes lit up. She truly seemed happy to talk to me which made me happy too.

"So.. Where are these mixed rooms? In case I need a doctor and can't find anyone." I giggled.

"Oh, really? That's really kind of you." she said with a hight pitched voice and put her hand on her heart.

"I know, I know. I am just perfect. I can't help myself." I signed and shrugged my shoulders. I looked back at her innocently.

She giggled. "Oh yeah. You really are Prince Charming. The rest rooms are at the more quiet side of the hospital. You know, to not hear so much noise."

"From the room or outside the room?"

"Oh God. Good point. Maybe from both?" she covered her mouth why she laughed.

"You are too curious, you know? You are asking me about the room where the future doctors are made."

"Oh really? Do you speak from your own experience?" I chuckled.

"Thomas!" She glanced at me with serious look, but immediately burst into laughter.

"I am sorry, I am sorry. I was just asking." I laughed too.

"Actually..." she looked at me with her innocent eyes.

"WHAT?!"

"Haha. Don't worry, I just wanted to see your reaction. You should have seen yourself."

"Oh God, I am glad. Don't EVER do that again to me. Woah." I put a hand on my heart and pretended to be offended.

"I am sorry, babyboy. I won't. I promise. Don't cry, please." She put her hand on mine. I immediately had goosebumps all over my skin. She squeezed my hand. My gaze was trailing from her fingers, hand, arm.. Neck, to her eyes. I smiled a little. I got lost. Lost in a universe. In a world where I felt happy. Happier than ever before. The happiest. I was staring at the sky, counting little stars. I could see them in her eyes. I could see.. My future in her eyes. I saw.. Myself. The knock on the door snapped me back from daydreaming. When I turned around and looked at the door, there already was doctor standing inside, glancing directly at us. After a few seconds he was staring at us, he finally said: "Are you Mr. Holland? Can I talk to you for second, please? Outside." He went back to the corridor and left the doors opens.

"I'll be right back." I smiled at her and let go of her hand. I stand up and went outside the room.

"Close the door, please." Doctor looked at me strictly.

"Is everything alright, Doctor?" I asked as I held the handle.

"Just closed them!" he said strictly. I was a bit scared and quickly closed the door.

"Thank you. So, Mr. Holland,I am Dr. Melendez. I was operating Ms.Lincoln. She is now stabilized, all her functions are okay. There is no need to worry anymore. I am so thankful you were there and helped her to get to the hospital. Now it's in our hands and I will take care of her. You can go home. You did your job. "

" I am glad she is okay. Actually, it looks like we can be really nice friends. She is nice woman. I would like to stay in touch with her while she is in hospital. "

" It's not necessary anymore, Mr. Holland. I know Y/N and she doesn't like new people. She is not too  sociable. I would recommend you to make sure she is alright and continue to live your life. " he said in a kind of harsh voice.

" Oh really? She actually seemed like she is enjoying my company. She also agreed to take a coffee with me. Thank you for your recommendation, but I am still coming back tomorrow. " I raised my voice a bit.

" Mr. Holland. She is in shock. She is traumatized and need to rest. Without interruptions. I am the one who has Dr. in front of my name, so please.. Go home and not come back. "

" I am sorry Dr.. Melendez. She said she was doctor too and was okay with me being there. If there are some complications, because of my company, I will go home and never come back, okay? But now...I want to spend time with her. You know, I really like her. I would like to know everything about her."

Dr. Melendez clenched his fists and made a step closer to me.

" You know what, Mr. Holland? Why do you think she would date you? You are still a kid. How old are you? Maximum 20. She is grown woman with her own opinions on this world. She is intelligent and has higher standards which you are not included in. We are in the middle of something. There are lots of things going on between me and Y/N. I can offer her much more than you will ever be able to offer in your whole life. Go and find someone in the kindergarten, boy. "

I frowned. If he wasn't a doctor and if it wasn't in the hospital I would punch him in his arrogant face. Y/N would never date someone like this cocky guy, who thinks he owns the world. You better watch your ass, Melendez! You will hear about me, for sure. I turned my back to him and tried to open the door to Y/N's room. He grabbed my arm and turned me to him.

"Where do you think you go?!"

I brushed his hand off. "To say goodbye to my wifey. And take my jacket." I opened the door and walked inside the room. I shook the door in front of Melendez's nose. Y/N looked a bit confused when I came to her.

"What did Neil said to you?"

"Nothing much. He just wanted to thank me I saved you." I smiled politely and put on my jacket.

"I am sorry, love, I have to go now. But maybe..can I get your number please? So I can text you later."

She nodded yes immediately and reached out for my phone. I started to look for it and finally found it in the back pocket of my jeans. I handed it to her. She typed her number in.

" Thank you for your visit. And for the gifts. You are really nice. I will wait for your text."  She smiled once again. I immediately melted after this smile. I smiled back and walked to the door. As I was about to leave she called my name.

"Tom?"

"Yes, Y/N?"

"Can I see you tomorrow, please?"

"Of course, darling. I'll be here."

#tom holland spiderman #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland #harrison osterfield #holland family #hollanders #imagine #spiderman far from home #spiderman homecoming #spiderman #marvel mcu #marvel #tom holland x y/n #we used to be strangers #fanfiction

[atinydise]

Ateez reacting to their s/o being scared of open water (2/2)

❦ Genre: Fluff.

❦ Pairing: OT8.

❦ Word count: 2k7.

❦ Requested: Yes, thank you! 🦋

❦ Masterlist.

SAN

“It’s just few hours Y/N, few hours…” you whispered to yourself. “Are you ready babe?” asked San, wrapping his arm around your waist. “More than ready, yay…” you said, faking to be excited. “It’s going to be so funny!” he shouted. The group invited you to spend the day on a boat, for their day off. It was a nice intention, so you accepted, of course. And your boyfriend would be there so everything would be perfect. “Oh,” started San. “You are shaking of excitation huh?” he smiled. You nodded and tried to relax your entire body, “you can’t even imagine.” You could feel that San was happy to see you there with him. He didn’t have so much time these days and he was so sorry about that. “Let’s go, we’re going to leave soon.” He said, leading you to his team. You couldn’t make one step without being terrified by the thought of falling in the water. You tried to stay at the middle of the boat as possible, between all of them.

“Let’s goooo!” Shouted San, stomping. “W-Where are we going already?” you stuttered. “We are just turning around but Mingi proposed to go a bit far so we can swim peacefully.” Said Hongjoong. “Swim? In the water?” “You can only swim in water Y/N,” said Jongho, looking at you like if you were dumb. “No- I mean- It’s kind of dangerous no? There’s no one to help us if-“ “We are 9, I think we will be okay,” reassured Seonghwa. You stayed quiet after that, they seemed already excited to their little trip. You didn’t want to ruin everything because of your fear. “Do you think we are going to see dolphins?” asked San, holding your hand. “There’s no dolphins around here San…” said Yeosang. “Too bad, it would be a great experience.” He pouted disappointed, “don’t you think so Y/N?” “Yes sure,” you replied, just wanting to end the conversation. “Wow your hands are moist,” noticed San, giggling at you. “Probably the adventure excitation,” you lied. After few minutes, Yunho shouted that they needed to stop there. It was the perfect location to have a good time in the water. They all started to rush, removing their shirt to jump on by on. “You don’t go with us Y/N?” asked San, seeing you still sitting at your place. “Hm don’t think so, I prefer to stay here and enjoy the sun,” you lied. “Really? It’s going to be fun!” he insisted, pointing at Mingi and Yunho already splashing Yeosang. “It would be funnier for me to stay here,” you replied, avoiding his stare. “Well okay…” he said disappointed. You bit your lip, he was mad. San joined his members, but you could feel that he would be mad at you for few minutes. You facepalmed yourself, you should have told him about your fear of open water. After almost 1 hour, they all get back on the boat, drying themselves. “You missed all the fun Y/N!” said Wooyoung. “It was fun to see all of you having fun,” you smiled shyly. You turned around to see your boyfriend, drying his hair behind you. “Do you need some help San-ie?” “No, thank you.” He replied, a bit too cold for your liking. “Are you mad at me?” you asked straight. He faced you, “yes a bit. I thought that we would get some fun today, but you stayed on the boat the whole time.” You sighed and played with your hair, frustrated. “It’s just that I’m terrified by swimming or just being on water without nothing what there’s inside.” He raised a brow, “what do you mean? Are you talking about shark or something?” “No… the ocean is so deep… I don’t know… it just scared me a lot. Even if I’m not in the water, I’m getting anxious and more when I saw all of you swimming there.” San’s face became more relaxed and calm, “why you-“ “Because it’s stupid. It’s your day off, I wouldn’t ruin everything because of that. Even if I did a bit.” “No, you didn’t ruin everything, it’s already amazing that you put a foot on the boat.” He grabbed your hand, “I was just stupid, I’m sorry.” You smiled, “it’s okay.” “And finally, good thing they would have to see you in your bath suit,” he whispered to your ear. You rolled your eyes. He’s unbelievable.

MINGI

“Please Y/N!” begged Mingi for the 164th time today. “Mingi, I said no… it’s too dangerous.” “Dangerous? It’s just a jet-ski!” “Yes, but what about you hurt yourself doing that.” You replied, looking for another t-shirt in your luggage. “I won’t! I will be careful! Please please please! Do it with me!” he insisted. You sighed again. Since this morning, he was asking you do to jet-ski since he saw someone doing it yesterday. He never had the occasion to do it. That’s why he was begging you so hard today. Of course, you didn’t decline because it’s dangerous. You know that he would be cautious or Atinys and his members would be sad if he got injured. But when he asked you to do it with him, you freaked out. Since you are child, you are extremely scared of open water. All the horror movies you saw because of your friends didn’t help but knowing that the ocean is really deep or all the creatures below, terrified you. “Okay, you can do it, but I won’t, I’ll record your performance okay?” you said, standing up to face him. “What no, do it with me! It can be so funny!” he said, holding your hands on his chest. “Why? I won’t do anything except holding you.” “Exactly!” he said, smirking. “You are unbelievable,” you sighed. He puts his forehead against yours, “please do it with me.” “Mingi… I need to tell you something.” You said seriously. He stepped back instantly, “are you breaking up with me?” “No idiot.” You sat on the bed. “Do you know what open water is?” He tilted his head, “the movie?” “No… open water, the thalassophobia?” “What the hell is that?” “It’s when you are swimming in a lake or oceans and you suddenly have like a panic attack because you can’t see what there’s below you.” “Oh, I see.” He scratched his head. “But why are you talking about this?” “Because I’m actually scared of this. I can’t just go swimming as you or someone else would.” “Really? I didn’t know it was a big deal.” He said, sitting next to you. “It might be stupid for some people but it’s real and just by the thought of going in the middle of a lake and ignoring what I can find, is giving me anxiety.” “Oh… so that’s why you were against the idea of jet-ski.” He realized. “Yep. But if you want to do it, just go. I’ll watch you, okay?” “It won’t be the same without you,” he said, wrapping his arm on your shoulders to keep your body against his. “It’s just for few minutes! And you will get so much fun, I will film you okay?” you smiled. “Hum… okay.” You raised a brow; he wasn’t too hard to convince him you thought. “Then we should go before there’s too much people.” He said, rushing to the bathroom to wear his bath suit. “This guy is scared of bugs but he’s going in the ocean like if it was a swimming-pool…” you whispered. “Human are strange…” 15 minutes later, you were ready to film your boyfriend the time of his life. “Don’t forget to smile!” you shouted at him. He answered you by doing a thumbs-up and followed the employee a bit more far. When Mingi was about to get on the jet-ski, he yelled and ran around the employee. “What the hell are you doing Mingi?!” you shouted, laughing but scolding him a bit. “Something touched my foot! You scared me with your thalassophobia!” “Stop being a baby and get on this jet-ski!” you replied, louder. “I can’t! What if something drags me under the sea!” You sighed; this boy was not doing better than you.

WOOYOUNG

You held Wooyoung’s hand tighter than usual. You ignored if he noticed it, but you couldn’t care less. Being on this yatch made you feel uncomfortable and terrified. Wooyoung’s friend, Yeonjun, threw a Yatch party for his birthday. You were with Wooyoung when he invited him. You don’t know if he did because he was polite or because he liked you (as a friend of course) but he gave you an invitation card too. While you were anxious and scared by going on a boat for few hours, Wooyoung was incredibly excited. His voice was higher and louder the whole week. He could probably talk with dolphins at this rate. The entire week, you read and tried to inform about how you could get rid of your fear. Except some articles who advised to take a doctor appointment or to jump right into your fear, you didn’t find the best solution for you yet. You finally opted for acting like everything was fine the whole night and stay in the middle of the yatch as possible. Even if Yeonjun asked his guests to be well dressed, you choose your favorite sneakers. You couldn’t stay the whole night with heels. What if you need to run if something bad happens? “Are you sure everything’s okay?” asked Wooyoung, coming next to you. “Yes why?” you replied, acting like you weren’t terrified. “You seem… uncomfortable.” He raised a brow. “No, I’m fine,” you said, smiling awkwardly. “Okay… If you say…” “Are you having fun?” you changed the subject. “YES! His party is amazing! He really did well this year!” he shouted. “It’s good that-“ you started. “Wooyoung! Y/N!” called Yeonjun. “Let’s do a “water jump” contest!” “Wh-“ “WE ARE COMING!” replied Wooyoung. “What? No Wooyoung!” you grabbed his arm. He faced you, not understanding why you were so reticent, it was not a big deal for him. “It’s okay, I’m pretty sure you will win, what you can’t do!” he smirked. “No, I can’t.” You said, anxious. “Then okay, stay here if you want.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll get some fun somewhere else then.” Said Wooyoung, leaving you there, alone. What does it mean? That you are no fun? You’re doing almost everything Wooyoung does. Both of you are always laughing no matter what. How could he say that? For sure, he hurt your feelings. Annoyed by your boyfriend’s comment, you climbed at the next floor to avoid the loud music and stay a moment alone. You could hear some of the guest jumping in the water and yelling one by one that they won. To be honest, you didn’t care about who the winner would be. Wooyoung’s behavior really hurt you. You did your best already to be there with him, but he acted like a kid when you say no. But… a part of you knew that it wasn’t his fault since he doesn’t know about your open water fear. But still, it’s not a reason to act like that. You sat on the bench and nervously messed up your hair, “what should I do?” “Are you okay?” asked Wooyoung, standing at your right. “Huh- yes.” You said, avoiding his stare, doing like if didn’t existed. He sat next to you, looking at the large horizon. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t treat you the way I did, it wasn’t nice.” You didn’t reply. Not because you were mad, or maybe a bit but mainly because you hesitated to tell him about your fear. “I forget that you are terrified about open water.” He sighed, ashamed by himself. “How do you know that?” you asked, facing him. “One of your friends told me about it. She said that you find this fear stupid and want to keep it for yourself.” He summarized. You didn’t know what to say, it was a sudden plot twist. “It’s okay you know, we are all scared about something,” he smiled at you. “We will work on it, so you can be more comfortable about water or-“ You hugged him tightly. It was rare that you show a sudden affection to him, but he didn’t mind, he liked it and above all, he loved your hugs. “Thank you Wooyoung,” you whispered, face in the crock of his neck. He rubbed your back, “it’s okay. I will always be there for you.” Sometimes he could be a brat but most of the time he was so nice and lovely to you.

JONGHO

You were on an excursion in Jeju Island with your boyfriend and his teammates. Seonghwa proposed the whole group to spend a week to relax and enjoy a good time at a calm and peaceful place. Since you’re Jongho’s girlfriend, he invited you too. And honestly, he didn’t let you enough chance to decline. The first days were nice, you discovered many places and enjoyed the atmosphere here. You visited the most touristic places and ate many delicious meals. Everything was perfect. And of course, being here with your boyfriend was the cherry on top. Sometimes, both of you would escape from the boys and spend a nice and romantic time together. Since your relationship was still recent, you learned many things about each other during these little escapes. But you ignored why you couldn’t manage to tell him that you were terrified by open water. He told you some of his worse secrets or fun facts about him. It wouldn’t be a big deal to say the truth about one of your biggest fear. But you didn’t have the opportunity to escape again till the end of the vacation. The day when you were supposed to go back to Seoul, Yunho and Mingi didn’t want to follow to actual plan. “What about we go back to Seoul with a Ferry and not the plane. It could be really funny!” said Yunho, smiling widely. “Hum… are you sure we can take it? We should have booked it earlier,” said Seonghwa. “I’m pretty sure it’s not full,” claimed Mingi. “I don’t see any bad thing to take the ferry.” Added Hongjoong. “So?” waited Yunho, already jumping by excitation. “The weather is not really good; I don’t think it’s a good idea.” You said. They all looked at the sky. It was a bit cloudy but nothing to worry about. “I think it’s okay Y/N,” said Jongho, next to you. “As Seonghwa said, I don’t think it’s a good idea to go there if we hadn’t booked earlier.” “It’s okay!” Said Yunho, patting your head. They all started to go at the ferry direction, determined to buy tickets. You stopped Jongho discreetly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” “Why? I know it’s a bit longer but it’s okay,” he smiled. “Can we take the plane please?” you begged him, seriously. “What’s happening babe?” asked Jongho worried. “I-huh-,” He raised a brow, curious to know what’s going on. “You know you can tell me everything,” he said, trying to help you. “Imactuallyterrifiedbyopenwaterandtakingtheferryisgivingmeanxiety!” you said straight without breathing. “Y/N wait, calm down, I didn’t understand at all.” “I can’t take the ferry! I’m so scared of open water!” you repeated slower. “Really? But you are not swimming or-“ “I know but I can’t. I tried few times, well before we met but I’m freaking out just by thinking about it.” Jongho noticed how scared and stressed you seemed. You were really terrified about it he believed. He never saw you this way. Your eyes were teary, and your hands were shaking a lot. “Then if it’s hard for you, let’s follow the first plan okay?” “But the boys?” you asked, looking at them. “I’ll tell her that you feel uncomfortable,” he simply replied, holding your hand. You nodded, relaxed but disappointed. After few long seconds, Jongho didn’t move, he was still staring at his hyungs buying their tickets one by one. “You won’t tell them now?” “I just wait that they all buy their tickets, to be sure that they won’t bother us.” He winked. You scoffed; he was the baby of the group but probably the smarter one.

Part 1

#ateez #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez x you #ateez x reader #ateez x atiny #ateez fluff #ateez reactions #ateez requests #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios

[serendipitous-magic]

Would it be possible to have a sneak peak or moodboard for the next chapter of roll for strength? If not that okay. I hope you’re doing well:)

So I’ve had this in my inbox for... months? 😅 And as of yesterday I started working on the new chapter (I know, I know. Life throttled me and then 12 other creative projects were higher up on my to-do list). 

But here’s a bit from Ch 5, which should be out later today

-_-_-_-

“Emmett!” It’s El, waving from the front door. “You got a hand?”

“Yeah,” Emmett calls back, loping away to help. “What’s up?”

“I just need someone to help carry blankets. They’re bulkier than...”

Their voices have barely retreated into the house before Lucas mutters, “Should we tell him this isn’t a runway?”

Mike stiffens a degree. If he wasn’t standing close enough to Will for their arms to brush, Will might not have noticed it. “What do you mean?”

“C’mon.” Lucas smiles conspiratorially, like they’re all sharing a joke in class when they’re supposed to be working quietly. “The jacket? The pants? We’re going out in the middle of nowhere, buddy, there’s nobody out there to impress with your gay little tight pants. Maybe chill out a little.”

He says gay the way people usually say stupid, so Will can’t tell if he actually suspects or not. Either way, Mike is... not taking that comment well. Will can feel him tensing up and wilting at the same time, shoulders hunching uncomfortably under his jacket as he opens and closes his mouth. His face is red - redder than the cold-flush it just had a moment ago.

And something in Will, some small little thread, snaps. He may not exactly like Emmett - well, that’s not true, he’d like him fine if it wasn’t for the whole Mike situation - but... they are on the same team, after all. 

“Hey, lay off.”

All heads turn to him. Lucas blinks, startled by how sharp the words were, and Will can see Mike staring at him in his peripheral vision.

He can feel himself going hot under the skin, so he looks down at his thermos to try to appear nonchalant. As if he could play off casualty after that tone of voice. “What do you even care what pants he wears? They’re pants. Maybe you’re just jealous that he always looks cooler than you do.” 

The last statement is lighter, teasing. An attempt to lighten the mood and move on, after that abrupt change of tone.

There’s a beat or two of quiet, and for a moment Will’s fingers start shaking, afraid that Lucas is about to pursue the issue and come dangerously close to a topic Will isn’t ready to discuss. Why are you defending him? Why do you care? You have a personal investment in this or something? Is there something we need to know about you? What are you hiding, Will?

But then Lucas lifts a hand to his chest. “You insult me. I’m cooler than all of you.”

And just like that he wanders away. The moment has passed. Will lets out a breath.

The feeling of being watched draws his attention, and when he looks, his eyes meet Mike’s for a split second. It’s just a flicker, a flash of time before Mike’s gaze skips away, but in that second Will could have sworn he saw a smile.

#asks #anon #rfs #roll for strength #upcoming updates #byeler #byler #mike's bf #chapter sneak peek #i really have no excuse #it's been like six months #.... i am sorry

[imagining-supernatural]

The Fifth Check-In

Part 23 of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary:  You have a panic attack on the day you get another round of test results back

Word Count: 1,744

Warnings: The Magicians season 5 spoilers right off the bat. Skip the first few paragraphs if you don’t wanna be spoiled!!

“Look, all I’m saying is that Quentin should have lived and that was a shitty ending.” After stating your opinion, you sat back in the chair and waited for Brenda to respond.

She finished writing something in a chart and nodded over at you. “But the whole season was kind of culminating to that ending, wasn’t it? Quentin had Eliot right there the whole time, but it wasn’t Eliot. They were so close, but couldn’t be together. Then, when the Monster is finally gone, they still can’t be together.”

“Okay, but sacrificing himself like that? God, Q’s been suicidal his whole life and having him basically commit suicide, but wrapping it up with a nice bow of martyrdom is probably the worst way they could have handled it. This is fucking fantasy. You think the writers could have found a better way to keep the angst and tension of keeping Eliot and Quentin apart rather than, you know, killing the character so many people who struggle with depression can identify with like that. Make one of them stuck in another world. Have one be sent back in time or something.”

Brenda regarded you with narrow eyes, taking in your words.

Conversations like this were the reason she was your favorite nurse in the hospital. Both of you shared interest in so many TV shows that it was an instant connection and she would constantly come fill out charts in your room for the company.

“I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

“Mm, well, I have all the time in the world lately to mindlessly scroll through posts online. I never thought I’d miss being able to go out to, like, bars and shit.”

“Well, once you recover from your surgery in January, you’ll be able to do that again.”

You nodded and absently picked at the hem of your shirt. Mid-January was one month away. Yesterday and this morning you’d been run through the gambit of tests and you’d be meeting with Dr. Chowdhury later today for the results. In the three weeks since Thanksgiving, you’d gotten so weak you could barely walk up a flight of stairs without having to pause in the middle to catch your breath. You hoped to God that meant the treatment was working.

If this treatment wasn’t working, there likely wouldn’t be any reason for you to stay in the clinical trial.

Would there be any reason to stay in New York if that happened? When you’d made the deal with Sebastian to stay married and get treatment, you’d agreed that once the treatment was over, you’d get a divorce. But things had changed, hadn’t they?

Brenda got a page and left the room in a hurry, giving your thoughts more space to multiply.

Had things changed enough?

And if you were kicked out of the clinical trial, was it fair to Sebastian for you to stay? You’d known each other almost exactly three months. That wasn’t enough time to expect someone to endure watching your cancer kill you in the last few weeks of your life.

Of course, you hadn’t even known him a full twenty-four hours before he was offering to fly you to New York, offering his home to you, and offering his medical insurance.

The cry of a child down the hallway drew you from your thoughts enough for you to recognize the beginning of a dark spiral. Without thinking too much of it, you pulled your phone out to call Sebastian. On the first ring, you realized he was probably shooting a scene and wouldn’t be able to answer. On the second ring, you decided to just leave a short voicemail. Nothing too worrying.

And on the third ring, he answered. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Oh, hi. I wasn’t expecting you to answer.”

“You called at a good time. Just finished shooting for the day.”

His voice alone was enough to help lessen the tension that had gathered in your shoulders and you found yourself relaxing further back into the recliner. “Wow, short day. What’re you going to do with all of this free time?”

“Thought I’d grab some food and relax until you called. Did you already meet with Dr. Chowdhury?”

“Not yet.” You shook your head, even though he wouldn’t be able to see you. “I’ve still got another hour and a half ‘til the appointment.”

“You nervous?”

You let out a snort of laughter. “A bit, yeah. And by a bit, I mean I’m overthinking everything way too much right now.”

“Talk to me, baby. What’s on your mind?”

“Besides the ever-present worry that the tests come back bad? I don’t know…”

“Y/N…” he prompted.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes. As if that would make your thoughts easier to bear. “If this treatment isn’t working, what happens then? I-I-I… God, I know I sound like a broken record, but if the results aren’t good, I’m out of options and I can’t help but worry. I mean, what? I go back to Utah and try to make myself accept that I’m going to die? It took me a while to wrap my head around that earlier this year. I don’t know if I can do it as… as peacefully as before. Peacefully isn’t the right word, but I can’t think of it right now. I just… Seb I need the results to be good today. I need good news. I fuckin’ need it.”

“Hey, sweetheart, there’s no—”

“At the very least I need to stick around long enough to see the new season of The Magicians. I’ve put in far too much time looking up fan theories online to die before it airs.” You were rambling. You knew it. But you couldn’t stop. In fact, you just kept talking faster and faster, tripping over your words. “And have I ever told you about when I watched the finale of the last season? I was crying so much that when I left my room to get ice cream, Jasmin told me she could hear me crying all the way from her room. Like, fuck, that can’t be the last scene I see of The Magicians. That would be far too cruel of a joke for the Universe to play on me.”

“Y/N, breathe.” You did as he said. He waited for you to take a few more breaths before speaking again. “Baby, where’s all this coming from? You were fine this weekend before I left, weren’t you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I was. But now it’s here and this is the last round of these tests like this. The next time I have tests run, it’ll be to see if I’m ready for surgery. Not to see if the treatment is working. These are the last progress tests. And, historically, I haven’t had much luck with those. The first round of tests with Helen showed that my cancer was more aggressive than my doctor back in Salt Lake thought. Then there were the tests before you left for that week of interviews when we found out it was even more aggressive than we thought because it hadn’t shrunk any. Then—”

“Hey, baby, baby.” Sebastian cut off your recap of bad luck. “I know. I know there’s only really been one round of tests that didn’t give you bad results. Trust me, I know how scary this is. I’m fuckin’ terrified too.”

In a soft, meek voice you asked, “You are?”

“I am. I don’t want to lose you, and there’s nothing I can do at all to change the outcome of any of this. God, I wish I was with you right now.”

I don’t want to lose you.

That was the first time he’d said anything about seeing a future with you, besides a few offhanded comments about next year. Sure, it was a loose interpretation, and it was something people said at times like these, but it still made your heart calm down a bit.

“I wish you were here too,” you admitted quietly. Something about hearing him admit that he was scared calmed your nerves. “Can… can I call you and put you on speaker when I meet with Dr. Chowdhury? I know it won’t be the same as you holding my hand but…”

“Yes, please. I was about to ask that, actually.”

Relief flowed through your body. “Thank you, honey. I didn’t want to go through alone. I’m glad you had a short day today.”

“Mmhmm.” He agreed.

“Anyway, I should probably let you go for now. Go grab some food and head back to your room.”

“You sure? I can stay on with you. I can multitask.”

A smile forced itself onto your face at his offer. “I know. And I appreciate the offer, but I’m coming down from that little panic attack and I think I’m going to fall asleep. So you get your food and I’m going to take a nap while this machine keeps pumping toxic chemicals into my body. I’ll talk to you in an hour and a half.”

Your leg was bouncing faster than your heart was beating. Or was it the other way around?

Either way, you were nervous as hell.

“So, to be on track the tumor has to have shrunk at least twenty percent, right?” You asked Dr. Chowdhury as he looked through your file. “That’s what you said when we changed the treatment. Twenty percent by now, and another fifteen percent before surgery?”

He nodded. “That is correct. Dr. Abara agreed that if your tumor shrinks at least thirty-five percent since your previous scans, your chances at having a successful surgery are much higher than if it does not shrink that much. Considering how you have reacted to the treatment thus far, twenty percent is a fair amount.”

You blew out a long breath and heard Sebastian shifting on the other end of the phone.

“So?” you asked Dr. Chowdhury, gripping your phone so tightly you were scared it might break. “Where am I at?”

“Your scans show that the tumor is twenty-five percent smaller than it was at Thanksgiving.”

He was smiling at you and Sebastian was saying something, but your brain couldn’t process the news that quickly.

Twenty-five percent? More than anticipated? Good news?

“That’s… that’s good news, right?”

A short bark of relieved laughter came through the phone speaker from Sebastian as Dr. Chowdhury nodded. “Very good news.”

“Holy shit.”

You could hardly believe it.

Good News!!! And I would apologize for ranting about The Magicians, but I had EMOTIONS that needed a VOICE and this was the time and place, apparently. Anyway, I was rereading this and saw the line about being able to go to bars and shit in January and just laughed a bit. Ah, the world before COVID. I miss those times. So, do you guys think the treatment is going to continue to work? You think the surgery will happen? And if it does... what happens after Are they gonna stay married? 

CHAPTER 24: THE AIRPORT

#sebastian x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian x reader fluff #sebastian stan x reader fluff #sebastian x you #sebastian stan x you #marvel fanfic

[lifeofroos]

A/N: It’s not an AU in the sense that Loki has been training to be a skater all his life. It is an AU in the sense that Loki and Mobius are dating and Loki has a sibling relationship with Sylvie (Like it should have been). 

AO3 - KoFi

Bohemian Rhapsody, or: Mischief on ice

‘Loki, are you sure…’

Sylvie slammed her hand over Mobius’ mouth. ‘Skate!’

Mobius janked her hand away. ‘I didn’t say he shouldn’t…’

‘But you meant it. Now hush, let him show us what he can do.’

Loki heard his people yell from the side of the skating rink, but he hardly processed what they were saying. He was too absorbed into his routine.

‘He never told me he could figure skate,’ Mobius whispered to Sylvie. ‘I didn’t think he’d be so good at it.’

‘I said hush. And he isn’t that good.’ She almost took a step back when Loki landed a magnificent jump with a lot of spins that she didn’t know the name of.  ‘... or perhaps he is. I thought he was joking about landing a spot in the competition and we would get to see him fall flat on his face.’

When he looked over for a second, Loki could see his friends were surprised. Hilarious - and exactly why he hadn’t told them about his placement before. It was way funnier to suddenly drop the news on them. 

After he finished his routine, he slided to the side. ‘And?’

Mobius slowly nodded. ‘That went really well. Which makes sense, if you really got qualified.’ 

Loki nodded. ‘And you haven’t even heard my music yet!’ He dug an old ipod out of his pocket (‘He was skating with that? He could have fell and broken it!’) and handed it to Mobius. ‘It is already connected to the speakers. You only have to press play.’

‘I know how this works…’ Loki didn’t hear what else Mobius had to say. He skated to the middle of the rink. The Agent sighed and pressed a button. 

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy... Sylvie raised her eyebrows. Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality,... ‘He is skating to this?’

Wrong song! Next piece!’ Loki yelled.  

It took a second before Mobius had found the right button. The next song on the list was ‘Autumn,’ from Vivaldi’s four seasons. 

Sylvie also had a comment ready for this piece: ‘It’s so light.’

Mobius shook his head. ‘It starts out light, the way autumn does. The closer we get to winter, the heavier it becomes.’ 

He was right. The closer they got to the end of ‘Autumn,’ the heavier the music got. Loki’s jumps became more difficult as well. He finished with a spinning move, before getting into his final pose, low to the ice. 

Mobius clapped. ‘Well done!’

Sylvie pursed her lips. ‘Well…’

Loki skated to the side of the ring. ‘What’s the matter, Sylvie?’

‘I think you could improve.’

‘How would you know?’

‘We are one and the same, Loki.’

‘Step onto the ice and do a triple axel.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it. Can I see a copy of your routine?’ 

Loki stepped out of the rink. ‘Sure. See what you can change. Then you can come along to Brazil as my coach.’

‘I love the implication that you don’t even have a coach.’

‘I don’t.’

Mobius sighed and handed Loki back the ipod. ‘Good luck, then…’

Loki leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. ‘You’re coming too. I’ve got to pack now. See you tomorrow!’ 

|

‘What are you looking at?’ 

Sylvie scanned the gate. ‘I want to see if there are any more skaters here. I checked the site last evening…’

‘She means 3 A.M.’

‘Shut up, Mobius. You got yourself into a pretty high-end skating competition.’

‘It’s called a preliminary round to the world championships.’

‘But for someone who was unknown before!’

‘Loki… how did you even do that?’

Loki slowly shook his head. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ He took a look around the gate. ‘That guy over there. He skates, too. I do not see more of them right now.’

Sylvie intently stared at the other skater. The young man didn’t even seem to notice. 

|

‘Loki, I looked through your routine…’ Sylvie leaned over Mobius and put a sheet of paper onto Loki’s little table. 

‘Don’t wake Mobius.’

Sylvie glanced at the agent. ‘He’s probably pretending. Anyway, I added a jump here, and I took a rotation away there. I think that will add more… drama. More suspense.’

‘I am sure of it.’

‘I know you are. Now show me the kür you actually wanted to skate, instead of this.’

Loki raised his eyebrows. ‘What do you mean?’ 

‘You aren’t going to actually skate this. You already showed me and Mobius this routine twice.’ 

‘You know me too well.’

‘Go figure. Now hand it over.’ 

|

‘Did you see his kür?’ 

Sylvie nodded. ‘Yes. I tried to tell him what worked and what didn’t, but I have no idea if he actually listened to me. He might have decided on a whole new choreography, even.’

Mobius sighed. ‘Sounds like our Loki.’

Loki, who was just done with his warm-up round, skated to the middle of the rink. He winked at Mobius, who in his turn looked at the guy manning the music. They had given him the old Ipod, which seemed to be enough. 

The song that began to play was, again, Bohemian Rhapsody. Mobius sighed. ‘You can skip it…’

‘WAIT! DON’T SKIP!’ Loki yelled from the ice.

‘DON’T LISTEN TO HIM!’ Sylvie yelled even louder. 

The soundman gave Mobius a confused look. 

The agent thought for a moment. ‘...Let it play,’ he told the soundman. ‘From the top.’

When he walked back to Sylvie, she gave Mobius a look as if this was the worst betrayal she had ever faced. ‘How dare you-’

‘Just let him do it.’

‘He can’t fool around-’

‘It’s one of the things you Loki’s do best. Give it a chance, Sylvie.’

Just like the classical piece, the Bohemian Rhapsody started with light music and ended with a beat that went well with higher jumps. If you paid attention, you saw the the only changes Loki made to the routine were a few rotations and a lap around the skating rink at the end, which went well with the final twenty seconds of the Bohemian Rhapsody. 

‘Sylvie, why so quiet?’ the god asked, while he stepped out of the ring. 

‘...it was remarkably good. It looked like your Autumn routine.’

‘If the grand coach says it’s good, it’s good!’

‘But you are not doing this during the competition! That’s too risky!’

Mobius laid a hand on his shoulder before Loki could reply. ‘Well trained, Loki. What if we get something to eat, now?’ 

‘But not too much! Then he can’t jump anymore!’

‘We are gods!’

‘As if I care!’

Mobius sighed and ushered them away from the skating rink. ‘We’ll get some light salads,’ he shushed. ‘Delicious and healthy.’

|

‘I think I could do Bohemian Rhapsody. There are no rules against it.’ 

Mobius turned around. ‘I was asleep.’

‘And I wasn’t. It felt good to skate to Bohemian Rhapsody, even better than it felt to skate to Autumn. I already thought it was boring, Vivaldi’s Autumn…’

Mobius sighed and pulled Loki into a cuddle. ‘We can think about it tomorrow, or any of the other three days we’ve got before the competition after. You should rest now, otherwise you won’t have the energy to skate anymore.’ 

‘I just…’

Mobius gave him a peck on the lips. ‘Sh.’ 

After one last eyeroll, Loki obliged. 

|

‘Morning!’

‘Morning.’

‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Yes?’ Loki looked up at Mobius, as if he would have a different answer. 

Sylvie nodded. ‘Keep that up. You need lots of energy to keep skating.’

‘I already told him.’ 

‘Well, I am saying it again. Wait a second!’ Sylvie darted back into her hotel room, which was next to that of Mobius and Loki. ‘I’ve got information on the other skaters,’ she yelled from inside. With a stack of papers, she came back out. ‘We can study it during breakfast. I found out how many points each skater will probably get, based on what I saw of their routine yesterday and in the competitions before this one. Believe it or not, Loki, but you actually have a bit of a chance.’

Loki looked up at Mobius. Nope, the agent looked just as confused as he felt. 

‘...thanks, Sylvie.’ 

She looked at him with stars in her eyes. ‘I want you to do the best you can.’

‘That being said,’ mobius cut in. ‘Did you sleep at all last night?’

‘Of course! With one eye! Now let us go downstairs!’

‘You’ll need your sleep too, you know…’

‘Tsk! I can sleep when I am dead. I’ve got enemies to study now.’

|

‘Mobius!’

‘Hmpf?’

‘It’s seven A.M. Let’s go on a morning walk!’

‘Sylvie won’t like that…’

The god tutted. ‘Mobius, Mobius. Yesterday, I sabotaged dear Sylvie’s alarm. That will be good for her, she barely slept the last couple of days. Believe me when I say she’ll sleep till 2 P.M., late enough for us to be back and have lunch before she wakes up.’

Mobius opened one of his eyes. Damn it, he wouldn’t be able to sleep now anyway. Slowly, he got up. ‘A short walk, then.’

There was a park near the hotel they stayed at. A very nice park, even. Loki hooked his arm through Mobius’s. ‘Hear, it’s the birds singing.’

Mobius closed his eyes. ‘I never imagined you would like the sound of singing birds.’

‘I think most people do. On Asgard, they also sing, you know. It’s nearly universal.’

Mobius nodded. ‘Ah-ha.’

Loki took a deep breath. ‘I didn’t really want to talk about the skating competition right now, but…’

‘Say what you want. Get it out of your system.’

‘Sylvie takes this very seriously. On one hand, I appreciate that, because I would love to win. On the other hand… I sort of got into this for the hell of it.’

‘I figured as much. Now you are torn between winning the gold medal and getting your fun. Because there is no way you are going to continue to the real world championship.’

‘I mean, I am not sure yet.’

‘I am for you.’

Loki sighed. ‘You’re probably right.’

‘I am not entirely foolproof, of course.’ Mobius stopped walking and pulled Loki into a hug. ‘Anyway will be fine. It’ll be fine.’ 

‘It’ll be fine,’ Loki repeated. He took a deep breath. ‘Because most things turn out fine.’

‘Exactly.’ Mobius kissed his forehead. ‘Now let’s go find a bakery. We should eat before Sylvie decides you aren’t doing that as well as you should.’

|

‘Loki?’

‘Hm?’

Sylvie held up his ipod. ‘This still plays Bohemian Rhapsody before it plays Autumn. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to sneak Bohemian Rhapsody into your actual performance.’

‘Who knows.’

Sylvie raised her chin. ‘I am going to delete it.’

Loki jumped up and snatched the Ipod out of her hands. ‘I don’t think so! I paid for that song!’

Sylvie rolled her eyes. ‘At least put the songs in the right order!’

‘Okay, okay,’ Loki lied. ‘I’ll delete it.’

With a few easy buttons, he had deleted Vivaldi and changed the name of Bohemian Rhapsody into Autumn. Sylvie, wrapped up in her routines and scores, seemed to already have forgotten about it. Keyword seemed.

Loki slid the ipod into his jacket. He would give it to Mobius. Sylvie wouldn’t try to search him in his sleep, but there was no certainty that she would grant Loki the same rest. 

|

‘Competitions shouldn’t be in the morning,’ Sylvie complained.

Mobius patted her on the back. ‘Perhaps you’ll learn now that you, too, need sleep. This competition has been draining for all of us, not just Loki.’

Sylvie grunted, unwilling to agree. ‘Let’s just go to the rink already. He needs to stretch and we need to make sure the costume doesn’t tear at the last minute.’

The costume didn’t tear at the last minute. It looked wonderful. Black, with illuminating green streaks. ‘Like Autumn,’ as Sylvie said. 

There were already a few people at the skating rink when Mobius, Loki and Sylvie got there. Other skaters and their coaches and loved ones, all fussing about. 

Sylvie took a deep breath. ‘Loki, I hope you enjoy this, okay? You worked hard the last few days, and I can only imagine what the months before that were like.’ 

Loki almost felt guilty that he was going to skate to the Bohemian Rhapsody. Almost. ‘Thanks, Sylvie. I’ll skate my hardest. I had a great coach, after all.’ He meant it. He even used some of the tips she had given him. 

Sylvie quickly shook her head. ‘Enough of this. Come, stretch. You need to be warm.’

|

‘Loki Laufeyson: Third slot,’ the voice-over yelled. Loki nodded. He liked that he wouldn’t be the first, but that he didn’t have to wait so long that he got anxious, either.

The man that did have to go first was a popular figure, you could hear it by the reaction of the audience as he took the ice. The blond man blew a kiss at the audience and a destructive look at his opponents as he skated to the middle. His music and routine began seconds after. 

‘The swan lake? This man really is creative, is he?’ Loki scoffed. Sylvie snickered at first, but her look got more serious as she saw how the man skated. ‘Creative or not, he’s good, Loki. You’ll have to watch out.’

‘Watch out for what? That his score will be higher? I’d like to see him try.’ 

Yet, Loki had to agree the man was really good. He landed a couple of difficult jumps with no trouble. He turned back to Sylvie. ‘What’s your analysis?’

‘His choreography isn’t strong enough,’ she mumbled. ‘The jumps are strong, but he has no flair, no story. You’re better in that regard.’ Loki nodded. 

Mobius stared at the two loki’s. Up until a week ago, he had heard neither of them say a word about figure skating. Now they talked about it as if they had done it their entire lives. He shouldn’t be surprised, he knew that. But that was easier said than done.

While the second guy was doing his kür, they were too nervous to say much, except for some light encouragement. 

Right before the second guy left the ice, Loki pressed a kiss onto Mobius’ lips. ‘I am going to do it.’

‘Thought so. Go get ‘em.’ 

Loki nodded with a smile. Sylvie silently ushered him to the opening. 

As he skated onto the ice, Loki felt a familair calmness come over him. He did a small lap before taking the middle. 

‘Forgive me, Sylvie,’ he mumbled, as he waited for the music to start. 

Is this the real life? With a start he realised his plan had worked. A second too late, he began his routine, but it didn’t matter. He forgot the world around him as he did what he had done over and over again the past few months. Light as a feather, he skipped over the ice, making jump after jump and gracious move after gracious move.

‘IDIOT! BASTARD! DO YOU THINK I AM DOING THIS FOR FUN?’

Mobius laid a hand on Sylvie’s shoulder. ‘Come on, Sylvie, he is doing his best…’

‘He told me he had deleted the Bohemian Rhapsody! Well, apparently not!’

‘Didn’t you check?’

‘He guarded that ipod with his life. I wanted to check last night, but then it wasn’t in the right spot.’

She could see the gears turning in Mobius' head. ‘That might be because it was still in my pocket,’ he confessed. ‘Which… that little sneak. He really lied to us over a skating performance.’

‘Wanna punch him once he is done?’

‘I won’t hold you back, Sylvie.’

|

With a feeling of euphoria, Loki finished his last jump perfectly. He managed to do his pirouette routine without mistakes and stopped after his lap through the rink. 

The first thing he saw when he landed back onto earth was Sylvie and Mobius looking like they could destroy him on the spot. Now, he could either flee and escape their anger for a moment, or he could hear his score. 

After a moments’ hesitation, he shrugged and skated over to his friends. He could always run after he had heard how he did.

They gave him death glares all the way to the bench where he’d hear his score. Loki tried to pretend he didn’t see it. 

They sat down, Loki in the middle, Sylvie on the right and Mobius on his left. The previous anger was gone as they all waited with great anticipation. 

His score appeared. 181.25, which for now put him at the very top of the list.

He jumped up with joy. ‘You sonofabitch…’ Sylvie whispered, with a wide smile. 

Mobius kissed Loki on the cheek. ‘Let’s give way to the others now,’ he whispered after that. ‘It’s not like you’ve won yet.’ Loki nodded. He decided that for now, he didn’t have to run. 

|

The other routines went by in a blur. Sylvie sometimes made a quip about one of them, when the skaters did something exceptionally good or bad. 

Only the moments were the other skaters received their scores were clear. Time after time, they scored just below Loki, with the exception of a young skater from Italy, who got a 185. Sylvie shrugged. ‘I guess that’s deserved. That’s the guy from the airport I believe.’

Once it was clear he would stay in second place, Loki hugged both of his friends at the same time. ‘Thanks.’

‘Never pull such a stunt ever again.’

‘I can’t promise anything.’ He let go of Mobius for a moment to hug Sylvie, then let go of her so he could kiss Mobius. He took a deep breath and skated onto the ice again. 

Somewhere behind the rink, Mobius and Sylvie were standing, he knew as he stood on the block. And they were proud of him, he was sure of that. 

|

‘You’re crazy…’

‘It’s okay. Sylvie can do it too.’

Sylvie was indeed gracefully gliding over the ice. She might not have the same skill as Loki, but she could at least keep herself standing. Mobius didn’t have the illusion he could do so. 

‘Come, I’ll help you,’ Loki said, trying to copy Mobius’ soft tone. 

Mobius stuck out his hands. Loki took them and guided him onto the ice. 

‘It’s slippery.’

‘Of course it is. Relax.’ 

Relax? ‘Oh god…’ Heavily leaning on Loki, Mobius let himself be guided over the ice. He heard Sylvie whistle. ‘Don’t taunt me, please.’

‘You just need to fall once, then it’ll be okay.’

‘Come on… Ah!’

He fell down onto the ice and Loki fell with him. Or, no. ‘You pulled us down.’

‘As Sylvie said: You need to fall once, then it’ll be okay. Because you’ll be less afraid.’

‘How does that work?’

Loki leaned over and kissed him. ‘It just does.’

Mobius chuckled, even though he didn’t really want to. ‘If you’ll help me up, I can try again.’

‘Very well.’ Loki helped him back onto his skates. To his surprise, Mobius realised he really was less afraid. 

‘Thanks.’

‘The boyfriend of a silver medal skater can’t be unable to skate.’

‘Of course not.’ He took a stride forward. Then another, and another, until he could do it without help. ‘Next year, I am defeating you.’

Loki laughed. ‘I am already looking forward to it. 

A/N: Now, I am not going to pretend I know anything about figure skating...

Fast forward a year and Mobius realises he should not have said that because Loki took it to heart. 

Tagging: @lokis-right-nut @deanmekel 

#loki (2021) #Loki #mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe fanfic #marvel cinematic universe fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #mobius #mobius m. mobius #sylvie #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #writer #skating #figure skating #ice skating #tv-shows #lokius

[warmau]

Professor!AU Johnny

shout out to the person who asked me to continue this on kofi!  tw: mentions of heartbreak, general angst but it’s still a warmau au so you know it’ll end up ok 

“just forget me like im trying to forget you!” 

the first thing people realize about their new professor is that he’s tall 

and that for such a handsome, young looking guy

he dresses like a grandpa

we’re talking knitted sweater vests and corduroy pants

wood brimmed glasses and shiny oxfords

but none of that matters, because by the end of the first class most people know that it’s going to be a fun semester 

because professor suh ,,,,,,,,,,,, is a goofball

prof. suh teaches introduction to film studies, it’s a core class that all film majors have to take

and if anyone is passionate about films ,,,, well you haven’t met johnny

he especially likes to rave about likes of brian de palma, john carpenter and william friedkin

the 70s horror wave is kinda his jam,,,,,,

also love documentaries and if you were to pluck his headphones (never in his life will he spend money on airpods) off his head you’d probably hear a fleetwood mac album resounding through them

even though,,,,,,this guy is barely even thirty,,,,,,

but anyway back to the fact: 

johnny is the funniest and cornball-est professor there is

in the sweetest kind of way

he’ll go out of his way to organize movie viewings on the quad

ask students to come up to the front of the class and act out a favorite scene of their’s

even bring in his black lab puppy to class and be like 

“if you handed in your essay on time - you can give jordan a pet”

totally got called in with the dean to discuss smuggling animals onto campus and johnny was just like hey,,,,,it worked. no one submitted their essay in late

you can tell he really loves teaching and he really loves film, he just gets so animated when he talks

pointing at his slideshows, rocking excitedly back and forth on his heels when a student gives a deep and insightful comment on a directors work

the absolute look of pride on his face when students present their final projects 

and he can tell they enjoyed their time working on it

got featured in the university newspaper because he wore one of those newsboy caps

and the caption was: film department fashionista professor ~

johnny got a good laugh out of it

but drama professor ten INSISTED the newspaper do a cover on him too 

because johnny? fashion? no,,,,,,,if you wanted fashion, looks, serves then you had to come to him

ten’s assistant professor hendery: all you do is wear black

ten: shuttup i have a masters degree

johnny is friends with all the other professors, no matter the department or the area of interest

he’s on great terms with the engineering departments heartthrob taeyong, the studious physics department head kun, and even the coach for the uni football team jaehyun

he’s basically irresistible - he’s a positivity magnet 

and everyone wants to befriend him

or date him

(several times he’s had to politely refuse advances from students and faculty alike - though the one time a love letter found its way onto his desk he really just,,,,couldn’t find it in his heart to throw it out)

basically the entire campus has a crush, platonic or not 

and everyone just cannot fathom how professor suh is single

“he is suuuuuuch a catch”

you overhear, while pouring yourself some coffee and trying to remember if you sent out the right links for the homework yesterday

“i know, i heard he’s finally interested in dating again.”

“he wasn’t before?”

one of the teachers shrugs

“he just keep rejecting everyone - but there was a rumor of him going around with someone last week-”

you don’t really care for the rest of the conversation

because you know it’s blatantly untrue

you were the person who had been with johnny last week

all you’d done is meet up to discuss a possible group project between your students

nothing more, nothing less

you’d only recently gotten a job at the university teaching in the history department

and johnny had been kind to you since day one

talking to you on campus when you’d bumped into each other, giving you a little rundown of where to find what and who professors could go to in case of emergencies

he’d been bright and welcoming and just like anyone else

you liked him, not in a romantic way or anything - you just could tell he was a good person right off the bat 

after a couple of days you’d run into him after a mandatory meeting for professors 

and you had brought up the fact that you were going to be doing a class on the 70s and johnny had excitedly offered that your class join his for a viewing of the ‘79 film version of ‘mad max’

you’d talked about it over coffee at the campus cafeteria, and to your surprise it had gotten blown out of the water

several people, including students, had asked you about it 

‘are you into him?’

‘you know faculty aren’t allowed to date right?’

‘didn’t you just get here - you should probably slow down...’

more than anything, you were surprised at how everyone thought they had the right to pry into his business

and it had made you wonder 

maybe johnny is too nice for his own good

but either way - you didn’t want to get stuck in any of this drama

keeping this job was your priority, falling in love? you hadn’t thought about it since college

the work day dwindles down, you teach your last class and barely have a chance to let them know about their projects as they all rush out of the door when the period ends

you take a little time putting your things together when you hear the door open

thinking it’s a student, you get ready to see if they have any questions

but instead you see johnny in the doorway

a beige cardigan thrown over his button up shirt and dad fitting jeans

“ah! looks like my students were right - this is your classroom.”

you give a little smile, but ask why he’s ultimately here

johnny doesn’t answer for a second, he looks like he’s collecting himself 

“i just wanted to make sure you’re ok, there have been some rumors floating around and -”

you’re reminded of the dozen or so comments you’ve gotten and the whispering of the other professors and ta’s in the lounge this morning

“oh, i’m ok. i keep telling everyone they’ve taken it the wrong way.”

johnny’s smile softens

“im sorry to cause you so much trouble when this is your first semester teaching here.”

you put a hand up and shake your head, not noticing the way johnny ‘s eyes dull just a bit 

“don’t worry. everyone will know it was simply school stuff when we have the shared class.”

he agrees with a small nod and you think that’s the end of it

when suddenly he walks over and helps collect some of the heavy books on your desk

“let me carry these.”

“oh you don-”

“please?”

his smile curls up at the corners, the gentle plead leaves you incapable of saying no

and so you watch him gather up the books in his arms and you walk out behind him

yeah, i think he is too kind for his own good.

you and johnny plan to merge your classes on thursday

instead of meeting up, you simply email each other about the arrangements

and everyone seems to forget about the momentary rumor that you and him are anything more than co-workers

but still, even through emails, johnny is charming and sweet

you start to question it too

hovering over his profile picture on the email, the empty ring finger and the way you hear stories everyday about confessions turned down by the film professor

thursday finally rolls around and all the students are beyond happy to be watching a movie rather than doing classwork

johnny cracks jokes about the film while you set up the projector, you get a little jealous seeing how engaging your students are with him

when sometimes you can’t even get them to say a word

he’s a great person and a great teacher, it’s like he was made for this profession 

you muse, before catching yourself mid thought, embarrassed to be thinking about johnny when you’re in the middle of a class

when everything is good to go, johnny gives you a thumbs up and all the student inch forward in their seats as the opening scene plays

you and johnny move toward the back of the room

where he leans up against the wall and you switch the lights off before catching his side profile in the corner of your eye

he’s handsome, it’s undeniable 

but looks are only surface deep, so you wonder if someone so beautiful could also be so kind and caring

johnny turns and you want to pretend you weren’t looking, but it’s too late

the sides of his lips curl up into a smile and he tilts his head, black hair parted perfectly around the frame of his handsome face

“have you seen this movie before?”

he asks in a low voice

“n-no”

“ah, well if you look at the setting the director makes sure to-”

the buzzing of his phone stops him and he excuses him from the room

you think it must be a call from a friend, maybe an appointment reminder 

but when johnny doesn’t come back for almost an hour - you start to worry

half of the class is trying to pretend they’re not on their phones while the other half is engrossed in the film

so you make a quick decision to leave the room for a second and find where he’s gone off too

“no, i don’t want to see you again.”

the voice makes you stop in your tracks

that,,,,,,,,sounds like johnny,,,,,,but,,,,,,,harsher?

“i don’t think you understand what you did to me. do you think i can forgive you? do you really think -”

he’s talking faster, but the pitch is higher 

“stop, i don’t want to hear it. you chose him, you chose him when you slept with him in our bed!”

you freeze, feeling your blood go cold

this isn’t a conversation i should be hearing ,,,,, 

you swallow and want to start backing away, but for some reason your feet are planted

refusing to let you leave

“no, no - just forget me like im trying to forget you!”

at just the right moment, your senses kick in and you manage to turn yourself around and back toward the classroom door

when you step inside, you get spared some glances but the action scene on the screen awards you a clean entrance

you go back to your spot, arms crossed over your chest

was he talking to his ex? it sounded like it,,,,,,but his voice,,,,,

he sounded so broken

johnny doesn’t come back for another couple of minutes

when he does, he enters the room and gives a little smile to students who giggle his way

he sees you and the smile widens  

but you can’t smile back

his voice, the pain you felt in every syllable - they make this happy johnny in front of you feel fake

thankfully the ending credits save you from having to make awkward conversation

you and johnny move toward the front of the room and as you shut down the projector you hear him talking with the students

the same pep, cheer, and happiness that’s always there 

seems duller

or maybe it’s only you who hears the small change 

the rest of the students are reacting and chatting with him as they normally would

and when johnny turns and asks if you want to say anything

you let your students know about their projects, a wave of groans passing through the sea of bodies

you and johnny let the class out a little early, you sort of panic because you think being alone with him will somehow be weird

so you make up an excuse about having coffee with professor ten

you dash through the door, leaving a confused johnny behind and make way for cover in your office

im an adult, why am i acting like some kid who just almost got caught with a secret?!

you reprimand yourself, but still you don’t feel like it would have been a great idea to stay around and chat

like what would you say to him? especially after hearing him ,,,,,, like that

you take cover in your office, closing the door and setting yourself behind your desk

you distract yourself grading some in-class work when your phone lights up with a notification

you think it’s a faculty email so you open it up without another thought

when you see johnny’s names

‘thanks for letting me show the movie to your class! i hope everything is ok, you seemed a little distressed. did professor ten do something to you - let me know~’

the signature on the email is the same one all teachers use in their school emails

you want to answer because you feel bad knowing he’s worried

but at the same time you feel awkward now

am i the only one who knows about his ex? no one has ever brought it up before.......

you pick up your phone and hit reply, but instead of typing anything you just stare at it

whatever, it’s not my business. let’s just forget what i heard and move on.

you lock the screen and go back to grading

the time passes and a couple of days later you find yourself so busy with your classes projects that nothing else manages to cross your mind

you’re rushing down campus with a couple of large display boards when you almost crash head first into someone

“oh sorry - i can’t see over these-”

“here, let me help.”

johnny’s voice reaches you first and then you feel the boards being lifted from your hands

with his tall stature, they look smaller than before

he pouts when you make eye contact and goes

“you never answered my email! are you ok?”

it takes you a second to remember what he’s talking about, but when you do you just make up another excuse

“oh i sent it, maybe it didn’t go through?”

“maybe, you know all the students use up the school wifi.”

you laugh with him and for that split moment it feels like everything is normal

you’re just two coworkers, two friends

but then

“no, no - just forget me like im trying to forget you!”

the words close in on and you abruptly feel the calmness of your situation turn into dread

“i can carry those-”

you start, trying to get away from johnny again, but he simply refuses to let them go

“what room are you in, let me help you.”

you want to insist that you can do it yourself, but panicking you just blurt the number out

you both start your way toward the building and johnny makes casual conversation

but the words you’d overheard nearly overshadow everything he says

why do i care so much? why is it bothering me?

you groan and johnny suddenly asks what’s wrong

you can’t take the feeling and you grab the board back

“sorry - just forgot i need um markers, i have to go!”

your excuse is utter bullshit, you’re sure johnny doesn’t believe you 

but you don’t like the sinking feeling you get around him and so you disappear again and johnny almost calls out 

but even if he did, you wouldn’t hear him over the pained memory of that phone call

at some point you start avoiding him

or at least avoid any contact with him

you don’t want to seem rude, so you just go out of your way to be in any place that he’s not

so he can’t ask you about it and so you don’t have to be faced with knowing that the happy character he plays

isn’t all that happy

you think that’s what bothers you most - the fact that everyone else sees him as this 

positive light, cutely dressed in sweaters over button downs and oxfords

adjusting the glasses on his nose as he flips through a script submitted in one of his classes

but now you just see the pain - the cracking voice - just the visualization of johnny walking into a room

and being faced with something so heartbreakingly cruel that to this day he’s shunned away affection

no wonder he rejects just about anyone - maybe he just can’t trust someone like that again?

“excuse me, can you tell me where the film department is?”

you startle, looking up to see an unfamiliar face

the individual smiles, apologizing politely for scaring you before explaining that they need to see one of the film professors

you have a couple of minutes to spare and even though you don’t want to go to that building 

because of the off chance of bumping into professor suh

you still feel like you can’t just give this person vague directions

so you take the chance and tell them you’ll walk them over

they don’t say much, so you assume they’re either a transfer student or maybe a visiting professor

you swipe your id card to get through the entrance of the building and hold the door open for them to step through behind you

they’re rather plain, you’re not struck by anything about them - just that they’re neat and very mannered

so you don’t expect that once you get off the elevator and lead them into the professor’s lounge 

that their demeanor to change as drastically as it does

because the moment they set eyes on johnny

who you didn’t even notice in the corner 

they lose their posed attitude and run at him with open arms

your confusion is apparent, is this his relative? they don’t look at all like him-

but then it dawns on you

because johnny’s eyes turn cold and his lips thin out into a straight line

“what are you doing here?”

he asks and the tone of voice sets a tension in the room that’s nearly suffocating

“john - don’t be like this! you were so mean on the phone and i thought in person you’d be -”

“you need to leave.”

he’s merciless, motioning to the door with his head 

and catching a glimpse of you, frozen in the corner with shock

the pit of your stomach churns

is that,,,,,,,,,,are they,,,,,,,,,,,,,,his ex?

“oh c’mon, you won’t even talk to me now? after everything we’ve been through? johnny love you know-”

even though his anger is nearly blazing off of him like an open flame

johnny touches them gently - his hands barely grazing their upper-arm as he starts to walk them over to the door

you want to escape, that or just plain disappear 

but you can’t move a muscle 

johnny is nearly two feet away when his ex jerks themselves away

“john - listen to me! you can’t just leave me like this! look - look at this - it’s the ring you got me, we’re still engaged! you can’t just -”

johnny seems to snap, the kindness and the happiness he exudes almost daily is no where to be found

he turns, broad shouldered and standing tall 

if you had never known any other side of him you would have found yourself frightened 

“that ring means one thing, it means you’re a cheater. im sick and fucking tired of you thinking i will ever take you back - get out of my life for good.”

the cursing sounds unnatural in your ears, everything about this johnny is off

he’s harsh and sharp and his energy is just pitch black

but at the same time you can’t blame him

this person has some kind of chip on their shoulder about hurting him and thinking they’ll get off scottfree

it even stirs up an anger in you as well

johnny turns and with one glance you can tell that the rough, pissed off expression on his face is going to turn into devastation 

you don’t want him to breakdown in front of this person so you decide to do something you know you’ll probably come to regret

you intervene, stepping in front of johnny and giving him the fakest smile you can

“oh professor suh did you remember we have papers to grade together, come with me!”

you reach out and touch his wrist, his skin is hot and you tug him out of the room

his ex makes a move toward the door, but you nudge johnny forward and then take the chance to slam the door shut in their face

the sound echoing through the halls and earning you questionable looks on all sides

but you don’t care 

you know johnny needs to go somewhere and be alone and you find that place in the fire escape staircase

dingy and old, but free of students and pesky exes

when you find yourself in the small, dark area you realize you should excuse yourself

and let him maul over the many emotions he must be feeling right now

but when you turn to go, you hear his deep voice softly ask you to stay

he sits down on the steps, large hands cradling his head 

“why can’t they leave me alone?”

“im sorry, i don’t know why.”

you say the only thing you can say even though it makes you feel terrible 

johnny shakes his head, his dark hair falling over his eyes and making it hard to read the expression on his face

although it’s not hard to assume that it’s pained

“you know, i was going to marry that person. i was going to walk down the aisle with someone who - who -”

johnny loses his words 

“who would betray you?”

you finish and he looks up, his eyes ringed red and bristling with haziness 

“yes.”

he chokes back a sound

“someone who doesn’t really love me.”

he shrinks, large shoulders closing in on themselves

you want to comfort him, but you’re not sure 

after all it isn’t as if you and him are particularly close

so you give a small bow as you mutter that you’ll leave him be for now, that he needs his space and you don’t want to invade it

but before you can turn around, johnny rises up off the steps and stops you

for a moment he’s just got a hand on your wrist, holding you in place - maybe he just needs someone to hear him out 

maybe he wants to thank you for getting rid of the person who hurt him so bad

but something twists in the pit of your stomach as he tugs you toward him

and you feel weightless, falling into his arms easily and fitting into the plane of his chest perfectly

“im sorry”

he apologizes, deep voice cracking

“im sorry - i just want to hold -”

you give a weak nod, knowing you should be the bigger person and step away from this 

he’s vulnerable, you’re the only one around, there isn’t any other reason for his actions

but a little voice in your head prods it says

maybe johnny actually trusts you! maybe you’ve made him feel like being open with someone is possible again!

but you refuse to fall into that trap 

johnny is handsome, kind, and didn’t deserve to be cheated on and scarred

and so it’s impossible that he’d ever find healing in you 

“can you close your eyes for a second?”

you freeze at the request - wanting to ask why, but somehow all you end up doing is letting your lashes flutter closed

“im sorry, im so sorr-”

johnny doesn’t even finish his sentence, he presses his lips to yours and you let out a sound of confusion

that he interprets as protest so he pulls away just as fast as he started and tries to stumble over another apology

when you just reach out with your hands and pull him back into you

i don’t care if im just a coping mechanism for him right now, just feeling his lips on mine for that moment - it’s obvious he’s missed affection. he needs this. im just being a good person.

no matter how you reason in your mind, your thoughts melt away when johnny’s hands wrap around your waist and his large body nearly envelops you whole

one hand finds the hem of your shirt - but hesitates and stays on your hip as you tilt your head and johnny groans when your teeth pull at his lip

he’s burning up, his skin gets hotter and hotter as the kiss gets deeper and deeper

and you feel your back against the wall - johnny placing his hands on the surface beside your head as he keeps himself from doing anything you might not want him to

but you’re at a point where you’re willing to take his own hand in yours and move it back onto your body

because johnny suh deserves to be loved and he deserves to have someone that’ll give themselves to him and only him 

and in this moment it’s you - and you want him to know that

“did you hear about the physics quiz for professor qian?”

two voices from below shatter the bubble around you and johnny

disconnecting from each other - you take in a breath and react faster than he can

you open the door to the stairs, scurrying out 

just in time for it to shut behind you as two students round the top stair and find professor suh alone 

staring at the door

they giggle, greeting him and he just nods, speechless and touching the curve of his lips 

“what the hell did i just do?”

you say to yourself, trying to fix your hair as you pass through the campus and back to the parking lot

you thankfully don’t have any classes to teach today so you just book it home and ignore the notifications that litter the screen of your phone

you feel like you’re in high school again - being a giant child about this sticky situation

but you just don’t know what to do now

why did you let yourselves get carried away like that? you work together for gods sake you’re going to have to see each other TOMORROW

you groan into your pillow 

you try to carefully deleting notifications from your work email that have johnny’s name in them

and only feeling worse when they pop up again

you accidentally press on one and it opens

it’s the same profile photo on the email icon, smiling, happy johnny

the same .edu email

everything is the same but the message

‘please don’t hate me’

you take in a breath, tap reply 

‘i don’t, but - what did that all mean?’

‘this isn’t something we should talk about over......’

‘yeah, let’s do it in person.’

 you gather up a bit of your courage and tell yourself it’s ok. mistakes happen, the air will clear up when you face each other

your students don’t notice that you’re jittery 

when you drop the pen you’re holding, they just keep typing away on their laptops

and for the first time as a professor, you’re happy to have no one paying attention to you

when the bell rings and you start walking toward the campus cafe where you’ll be meeting johnny

you feel a mixture of butterflies and sickening poison invade the inside of your stomach

he’s already there, sipping a coffee, wearing a ridiculously long sleeved cardigan and rounded glasses

a student greets him and he gives her the smile you’re so used to seeing

that the image of him curled up with tears on the brink of his eyes just doesn’t seem real anymore

but you saw it. you know you did.

you approach slowly and johnny seems to hesitate between getting up and staying in his seat

“do you want me to get you a coffee?”

he propositions, but you shake your head

“johnny - i mean, professor suh - i hope you know you don’t owe me anything.”

he had been drumming his fingers on his thigh, but he stops

“you don’t owe me any explanations about ,,,,,,,,,,,, that person or about the situation or about,,,,,,,,,,,, why what happened - happened. i just want us to be good colleagues,,,”

your voice trails off when the smile on his face isn’t showing up

it’s just a blank - long stare

“professor suh,,,,,,?”

“did you think i did what i did just because i feel lonely?”

you sit back and look around

“i-”

“you’ve got it wrong.”

he slips out of the chair and you think he’s about to just leave - but he’s thinking what you’re thinking

which is that you can’t talk about making out with each other when there are about one hundred students within earshot range

so you end up again in the stairwell, not the same one - but it’s the only private place on campus

and the second you’re alone, johnny chucks the cup over his shoulder and wraps his arms around you

your body is pressed, perfectly again, into the shape of his chest

“you’re not a rebound, or a coping mechanism, or any of those things.”

he mumbles, deep voice against the skin of your ear

“you’re the first person ive had an interest in in a long time - i just chose the wrong time to act on it.”

you think you’re making the words up in your head, but they’re really coming out of johnny’s mouth

“i know you said you want to be good colleagues, and i want that too. but outside of work i want-”

 you shift a little, arms coming up to embrace him back

really you’re not even thinking about it - your body just feels safe and comfortable

and it speaks for you as he pulls back 

to look at you with those almost amber like eyes

“i want something more - if you’re ok with it?”

you nod, lips parting a little as he leans in to kiss you again

there isn’t the same desperate, driven by pain feeling as there was yesterday

but it’s still loving and passionate

“but prof - johnny,,,”

you start against the skin of his cheek

and he slows down a little to hear you out

“if i see your ex on campus again, i wont be nice about it now.”

he chuckles

“don’t worry, you have my permission to do your worst.”

you both laugh over it - before kissing again and again and again

until his phone goes off and he picks it up and the head of the film department is frantically asking if he meant to be late to his class or if he got into another accident on his bike

“you bike to work?”

“yes - and ill be picking you up on my bike on our first date.”

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct au #johnny scenarios #johnny imagines #yungho scenarios #yungho au #member: johnny #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 au #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 #johnny #uhhhhhhhhh htgrfhdskjl

[steveusesfaberge]

Tips & Company Policy

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Request: So my request is — the reader is dating Steve, and they both work with robin at scoops and they’re in this competition on who can get the most tips & then reader flirts with a male customer & bb Steve gets jealous and protective ya know however you wanna spin it lol happy ending tho ❤️❤️

Summary: He’s loved her, ever since he could remember...Steve just had never had the courage to speak up. That is, until now - Robin being the ultimate wing-woman he never asked for...a friendly competition...a good-looking customer...and no regards to their company policies.

Type/Style: Imagine, female pronouns

Warning(s): Fluffff, fluff, flufffffff, a dork named Harrington, a bit of a jealous boi, and a cheeky ass Robin <3 Cursing, cause...yeahhh...

Word Count: +7.4K

a/n: This was such a cuteeeeeee idea! I’m so happy I had the pleasure of writing it! <3 It made me happy and prepared me for what I have planned next...

Next up is a Billy fic...and hold your horses, kids...this one is gonna be a doozy...angst, tears, and fluff sprinkled throughout...a miniseries that I plan to have a sweet ending.

I’m trying to decide on what t do with my next Steve fic...either a request, or something new (possibly a miniseries for Harrington too).

I apologize if I haven’t gotten to your requests, in order for me to actually write - I need inspiration and time...I’ve lacked in the first recently, for those in particular, and I’m sorry! I promise I’ll get to them though! <3

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“Ouch. I’m pretty sure that’ll leave a mark.” Steve groaned in frustration, as Robin mocked him from the glass-slide window. He turned around, employee issued-hat in hand...chocolate blast smeared across his face. Just another day at Scoops Ahoy for Steve Harrington...

“Har, har,” He fussed while giving her a nasty look. Buckley only smirked while adding another tally to the You Suck side of that infamous whiteboard of hers.

Robin capped her marker. “You know, if you stopped being a dingus, you’d notice that you don’t have to work so hard for your money,” the dirty-blonde told while giving him the you’re an idiot - why am I even telling you this? You should know this already look.

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, he pulled a clean rag from under the counter and wiped his face off. Proceeding to wipe down the countertop while he’s at it... “What? Whaddya mean by that?” Harrington questioned while lifting a hand to rub his nose, the stain from the counter (and his face) now gone. 

He’d been talking to a customer and as he was serving her, he...accidentally...might’ve given a backhanded comment - of course, unintentional - but he managed to irk her anyway (So, I was just thinking, maybe you and me could get together some time - y-you know, like back at your place. O-Or mine..-- Well, I mean - I’d take you out first, like before we did anyth- like I wouldn’t just screw you and leave...unless you wanted me to). Yeah...not his best run. Thus, the flavor of the day made friend’s with his cheekbones.

“I mean,” Robin started while rolling her eyes and crossing her arms,” You - good sir - are wasting your time on--,” she trailed off, pulling a hand up to gesture to the sea of people passing by the parlor.

Steve touched his face, pulling at his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger. “Mhm, mhm, mhm...yeah, yeah, get to the point.”

Robin could only gawk at him; as if he were truly the dumbest person she’d ever met (and he was). She scoffed in disbelief. “Steve-- I mean, why do you try with all these others girls, when the one that’s - as they say,” she paused for emphasis, her eyes wide and her speech slow as if talking to a child.

“The perfect girl - is right under your fucking nose, Harrington.” With that, she grabbed his shoulders and whipped him to turn around. Steve was in the midst of telling her off and rolling his eyes when he spotted her...

She had her hair let down, allowing a flow of honey and lavender to waff off her figure (Steve knew because he’d asked her...I mean...of course he did - his hair didn’t get this good all by itself...). Her y/c/e eyes were far from lackluster - shining with untold stories and secrets that Harrington would lamely listen to all night if she gave him the chance...

She held herself with such, grace - such poise - and yet, still held that charm that he loved. Y/N waved at him, her y/c/s skin almost glowing, casting a halo in his eyes...was he seeing things? Robin could see the way the light captured her perfectly in every aspect too...right?

She was shorter than him, though he didn’t mind...Steve liked that he could glance down without her knowledge throughout their days - sneaking a glimpse of a pearly smile, adorable pout, or simple bliss from solely being alive and in her presence.

“Hey, Stevers - you holdin’ down the fort okay?” Y/N asked while cocking an eyebrow teasingly. He could only sputter an answer - nodding foolishly after harshly swallowing his embarrassment down.

He watched as she and Robin exchanged some...complex...handshake (it had nothing on his and Dustin’s, pfft). “Okay? - Okay? - Y/N/N, this dingus chased off more customers than yesterday,” Buckley snorted while cackling like the wicked, wicked witch of the west (she was doing this on purpose and they both knew it....).

Y/N gave a sigh, correcting her hat to sit on her head a bit higher, walking by Steve and patting his shoulder. “Lay it on me, did you tell someone they looked pregnant? Drop their cone? Get their order wrong?” She offered, tapping her nails along the countertop.

“Mmm, bad enough. He told the girl he was basically looking for s--,” “Not. Important!” Harrington cut in with his words drowning out Robin’s - a voice crack and all...Great...just peachy...

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head while her eyes found the edge of her freckled friend’s familiar tally-chart. “You know Steve, if you’re that desperate to get back in the game, I could always hook you up,” the y/c/h haired girl told while flipping her scooper in the air and catching it; not even flinching (a trick that Harrington himself actually taught her - explaining that it’s all in the wrists -see?).

Steve gave an awkward, half-hearted laugh. Waving her off and using the excuse to attend to the next customers as his ticket out of that conversation. In the middle of Steve trying to avoid his own humiliation - he’d missed the way her lips twitched as he denied her offer...as if she’d wanted no to be his answer...

Why was Steve embarrassed about that though? - Well...it’s kinda embarrassing to tell someone that they didn’t want to be set up with their friends...because...even through all the corny jokes, horrendous pick-up lines, and random talks at work (and while babysitting, and while just...well...hanging out...) - he still couldn’t work the nerve to ask her out. After all this time...

He’d known Y/N since, what? - Diapers? Yeah...something like that. Either way, Steve was sure of one thing - he was in love with Y/N Y/L/N and there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling. In fact, he found that he kept falling...every....single...day.

He remembered growing up and the idea of even kissing a girl was just the invitation of catching cooties and dying. Steve could remember thinking that he’d never want to even be close enough to a female to...to see that her smile was slightly crooked - only because she always had this sweet little way of grinning, to begin with. He never wanted to be close enough to a girl to realize that their eyes swam more than just one color; no one shade could define the pigment contained in those orbs...

Steve had never imagined he’d want to be close enough to a girl as to remember the way she smelled. Honey and jasmine? No...sometimes it was pine and what he could only describe, as a summer’s night. Yeah...young Steve would be floored to see him now...

Then, they hit middle school; nothing changed...not too much. Steve was still skeptical about this whole girl thing, but he was slowly giving it a chance. Y/N was still his best friend - she still came over and they’d ride their bikes down to the park and sit on the swings...just talking about their day. Or sometimes, they’d just stay inside - binge as many VHSes as they could (Y/N always liked to add her two-cent. Ugh, see this is why they ended up dying! -- What? I would’ve totally taken the red one! -- She’s crazy! -- He’s so smart! -- I thought the mom would be more upset...-- Does that guy even care? -- What color is that? -- Is that misspelled? Steve, Steve! Look!).

Nothing changed...no...well, besides Harrington slowly finding himself looking a second too long at her; smiling a bit too hard at her; listening a little too much to her. He thought it was puberty doing this to him, so he pushed it aside...Then, high school...

Steve remembers it as the first day of November. They had a few months of high school under their belt and were already easing into it all. Turns out, Harrington was what they called...a chick magnet...he started young, what can he say? Though, being fifteen and only barely figuring out where his classroom was...he didn’t care. There wasn’t a reason to care about his looks just yet...he was still trying to figure out which styles were cooler (Senior boys out-ranked him by far, so he had to stand by).

The first day of November...he was walking Y/N home; as he always did (before he got his BMW and his license). She didn’t live too far from him - just down the street, taking two right, then going straight until you passed a big yellow house...stopping at the quaint grey one. He didn’t mind the walk, it was actually kinda nice just to be able to express every thought and emotion that he’d hidden throughout his day. Especially to someone who cared so much about what he had to say.

She’d been wearing his jacket - it was a bit chilly and he didn’t want to be a dick and not give her his coat (his mother would kill him if he treated Y/N wrong). And then - I fell, right? Like in the middle of friggin class...and everyone - and I mean everyone - even Daniel Corvin and he’s like...basically ‘too cool for school’ if you know what I mean. Gosh, I just...I just wish you’d been there. She had been recounting an incident in physical science, telling Steve in great detail how she’d spilled two beakers of - God knows what - on Sally McDonald and Tracie Nelson.

Then - then, Steve - I tried to help them, you know-- like get the stain out...Steve...that stain would not...come out...I thought Tracie was going to bite my head off! Steve had only laughed, getting a shove from the girl in the process. Sorry, sorry - it’s just... If I were there, Y/N - I’d have laughed at you and probably do something dumber. She had smiled at him, and somehow, someway...it was that moment...that moment on the first day of November...walking home from school on a Tuesday...had he felt it.

The sky was a cloudy grey and it had everything bathed in a drab stillness. The wind being the only evidence of time moving as it lifted Y/N’s hair to fly out behind her. Her hands were buried in the pockets of a jacket not belonging to her, too big to fit properly, yet Steve found it to fit her perfectly. Harrington had been carrying her backpack for her (gentlemanly as always) and he’d almost dropped both their bags in the process of watching her...watching her idly kick the fallen leaves as she retold the story.

It was so simple. There was nothing special about that day, he hadn’t won a basketball game (being MVP), nor had he passed some big exam, or even find out he was secretly the heir to some ancient throne...no...nothing that day could explain how he’d acted - nothing causing him to burst with happiness and emotion, the only answer? Steve simply being there with her.

He was in love...

It carried throughout his high school days. He found that despite how many baskets he shot, girls he tempted, and papers he passed...she was still...there. The feelings...still there. Y/N would sit front row, cheering louder than anyone else at his games (even committing to the away-games, claiming she’d never miss him play for the world). Y/N was always there for him when he had girl troubles (either helping him through it, or talking him out of it) - always smiling, and always supportive. Y/N would help him study - they had this tradition of Monday nights being preserved for the two of them. They’d get their week together, planning, discussing, and deciding what was best and when to do it...she was always there.

And she still was.

Standing only a few feet away; a dingy little white hat on her head as she patiently assisted some young boy with what ice cream size he wanted. Shooting Steve a wink or a goofy face whenever she had the pleasure of doing so. She was still there...after all those years...after everything, they’d gone through...and yeah, almost dying two times was enough to drive any girl - hell, anyone - away. Yet, there she was. Still there.

“Sailor boy, you wanna move or what?” Y/N asked, pursing her lips, placing a hand on the counter as she tried slipping by him to reach the mint-chocolate-chip the boy had requested. “Oh, yeah...sure,” he mumbled while shuffling to the right. “Dork,” Y/N huffed with a soft laugh, nudging him with her hip.

He looked up to hear Robin - not so casually - cough. “Ahem - ahem - Stev...a...ahhheeem....you....you suck.” It was a jab at their private conversation...one they’d had a few weeks ago when Robin, the dirty little sleuth she was...had figured out about his (long-term) feeling for Y/N Y/L/N.

What? -- You’re saying, after eighteen years...you haven’t even...tried...to ask her out, Harrington? -- It..it never c-came up! -- Mhm, sure...wow, and here I thought The Hair actually was some big shot. -- I was! - I-I am! I’m just...I don’t...want to ruin...what we have... -- Yeah, said every sad-ending love story ever.

He flipped her off after making sure no one would notice and jerked his hands up in a waggling motion, sticking his tongue out and shaking his head at her. “Wow - yeah, real mature, dingus.” Robin clapped slowly, applauding his act generously.

“Shut the hell up,” he grumbled while running his hands down his face, clawing at his cheeks dramatically popping his eyes wide.

He turned around as Y/N started talking. “You know - as much as this uniform blows - I do say, the tips aren’t bad.” She held up an extra dollar and gave a shrug.

“That’s more than Steve could ever manage,” Robin piped up while leaning out the glass window. Harrington glared at her and only faked a smile. “Please - I can make way more t-than...than that!” He exclaimed, snatching the dollar from Y/N.

“Hey--- hey! Dickhead! That’s mine! I didn’t just amuse a child for twenty-two minutes for your sorry ass to take it!” She whined while fighting a smile as Steve held it over his head, holding it to the light as if trying to figure out its authenticity.

“Mhmm, yes...yes...the serial number looks right...”

“Steeeeevvveee! S-Stop that!” Y/N giggled while jumping up, inadvertently pushing his back to the counter as he only denied her petition, snapping the bill straight a few times.

“Wait a second....is that picture drawn on?” He uttered while gasping loudly, using one arm to hold Y/N away from him as she collapsed into him, complaining and slapping his bicep mildly.

Of course, it was hard to be mad at him...even after eighteen-years, Y/N still could never find it in her to be truly cross with him (annoyed? Sure...but furious...? Not even once). Steve had this incredible gift where - anything he did was always so...good-natured, innocent, and in his own way absurd...Y/N was never given the chance to be mad.

She’d admit, the whole King Steve thing back in his late Junior year and finishing Senior year was a bit much (little did she know he’d done it to try and gain even an ounce of her attention...being dense himself and not understanding he already had it). 

Y/N hadn’t rolled her eyes, or sighed more in her life than when he was in his uphold the name and keep the reputation title...don’t even mention when Hargrove came to town - oooooh, how Harrington made her blood boil -- and yet, Steve would just flash a smile and then trip over air he hadn’t noticed; falling on her bedroom floor, or in the kitchen, or living room...or anywhere possible for Steve to screw it up with his dorkiness -- and she’d still be admiring the way his brown eyes glistened with youth and blamelessness.

It was inexplainable...how she felt for Harrington - really the most difficult thing to concede. He was charming, he was sweet, he was amusing, he was Steve. And she’d been ever so lucky as to see that in him starting from a young age. Y/N couldn’t remember why it had happened...but it had...and she couldn't explain it, not for her life.

It had been late April, Steve’s birthday just around the corner...he had been turning sixteen and he’d found his proper place in their school’s social monarchy already working his way to the top (from his looks to his at-school devious persona...he fit right in). Y/N had always thought he was a bit of a show-boat, but Steve only discerned it as finally figuring out who he was (which was total BS because looking at him now - an eighteen-year-old dork who didn’t have a clue on what to do with the rest of his life...oh, boy had young Stevie been wrong).

His parents had never really been around, which Y/N blamed for his yearn for attention as a young teen. They loved him, of course, they did! -- They just worked a lot, didn’t have a lot of time...and Steve was...well...a lot...of alone. Y/N didn’t accuse him of wanting to seek the approval of his peers. She always told him if that’s what he wanted; she’d make sure he didn’t sink his own (show-boat) ship.

Tommy H. and Carol had been the ones to suggest a big party. They alleged it was his sweet-sixteen and there’d not be another one. Ugh. Y/N had never approved of the pair - Tommy was always rude and had this animalistic manner to everything he did, and Carol was a two-faced backstabber who gossiped more than the bored, middle-aged mothers’ of Hawkins.

Steve hadn’t been too keen on the idea himself - he’d told Y/N in confidence a few nights prior to the birthday bash...(he’d been laying on her bed, throwing and catching one of the stuffed animals she had resting on her mattress - one he’d gotten her to be exact). Why don’t you just tell them that? Steve had only shrugged, squeezing the plushy with a sigh. It’s not that simple, honey. Telling that to Tommy and Carol...is like telling a brick wall to stop talking... -- Steve, how the hell does that work? -- Exactly! It doesn’t!).

Y/N remembered going to that party and finding Steve being jostled around in the midst of it all. An artificial smile that only she knew to be fake in the first place. It didn’t reach his eyes, and his gaze was ducked to the floor...if Tommy H. and Carol had been real friends - they’d have seen how half-assed everything was on Harrington’s behalf.

His pool had been crowded with strangers and Y/N remembered the kitchen and living room not being much different. She’d managed to snag Harrington from the chaos and when he asked her where she was taking him, Y/N had only told Steve to shut up and buckle up.

They drove only a few minutes in soft silence down the road to her house - where he was shocked to see an already made pillow-fort built from her living room; a pile of their favorite/his favorite movies, more junk food than Steve could possibly consume, a mountain of pillows, and a collection of cozy blankets.

W-What’s all-- she’d cut him off, giving Steve a hug from behind and grinning madly. Happy birthday, dork. He’d only smiled, leaning into Y/N’s touch, hands placed over hers; savoring the moment.

That moment...had been when she realized it. He’d been half-asleep, the clock reading a quarter to four in the morning and they’d blown through every movie, picked through every snack, and cuddled with every blanket. Steve’s hair was a hot mess (the long night had drawn out the stray strands and frizzies, and yet he still pulled off the hot part better than anyone else), his eyes held dark-circles under them and he couldn’t keep his head up - a constant battle between slumping and sitting straight.

Steve had been wearing an old red Henley shirt that he’d left at her house; long-sleeved and washed clean for him in case of an emergency like so. He was as shameless as ever, even at sixteen, and had sported his stripped boxers - preferring them to his jeans (not that she’d actually complain...who would?).

Yes - Steve Harrington - the mess on her couch; his head finally falling, finding its spot on Y/N’s shoulder without him knowing...yes...that Steve Harrington was the one she’d fallen in love with in that exact moment.

It felt like a rollercoaster...building up years of friendship and trust, to finally reach the peak - seeing over the edge and only fearing the worst outcome as they began plummeting to the ground...finally reaching that point of no return where the feeling of shock and emotion could only be accepted that this was her reality...the one she’d be stuck with for eternity...her stomach doing worse than flips...

If only Y/N had known...if only she had known that more than a year before Harrington’s sweet-sixteen; a boy walking in the fall with his best friend had too, fallen in love...maybe things would’ve turned out differently. Just maybe...

Steve had finally given the tip back to the shorter girl, ruffling her hat-covered head while Y/N swatted his hand away. They’d all gone back to their actual jobs...Robin coming to do some scooping with Y/N while Steve worked in the back, every now and then switching it up...someone getting tired of taking orders, scooping, or looking through inventory and paper forums.

It wasn’t until Robin opened her mouth that their peaceful unity was broken. Damn theater kids...

“Here’s a tip for you, Steve,” she began while refilling the waffle-cones. “You learn to not be a total dingus when talking to potential customers, and you’ll rack some extra cash!” Rubbing her fingers together, Robin had invisible greens rain down on him.

Y/N could only stifle her laugh, turning head to nod in acknowledgment of another ice cream order. Steve frowned, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, some tip,” he grumbled,” I’ll give you a tip, Robin...”

Y/N clicked her tongue, turning to face the pair, Steve hanging out the window as she glanced between them. “Stevie, it’s wrong to be jealous of my talents...I mean...not everyone can be as amazing as me,” she sighed while twirling the tip she’d received before his face (what was that? The fourth one?).

“Spare me, hun - I could do so much better if I tried,” he huffed,” Problem is - I’m just trying to be nice to you, don’t wanna just...steal all your tips, darling.”

A shared staring-contest later...and it was official...a contest.

It was simple - whoever could collect the most tips of the two by the end of their shift today, would be proclaimed the “better asset to the company” (that’s how Robin explained it anyway, even forbearing a small portion of her whiteboard to keep count for them).

Luckily for them, it was an early Saturday afternoon, and the middle of summer in Hawkins, Indiana...everyone was at the Starcourt Mall if they weren’t at the pool (Y/N had heard Billy getting a job there made quite the impact).

“Ahoy! How can I help you?”

“You look like you want something sweet - how about a cone of cherry drizzle, sweetheart?”

“No, no! Take your time, dear!”

“I insist -- it’s on the house!”

“You’re literally...the best customer I’ve had! No joke!”

“I won’t lie to you - that’s my favorite flavor too.”

Sprinkling compliments here, a kind smile there, and a charming air all around - and they had themselves a competition. Somehow - Steve had found his nerve, Y/N suspected it was whatever Robin had said to him in the backroom (she’d said You know what - let me borrow him for a quick sec, mhmm, yeah...hold on, Y/N/N). Had it been a pep-talk? Maybe some solid advice...or a shot of courage. Either way - Harrington had suddenly found his cool...

It irritated Y/N to no ends, as every time she’d get a tip - he’d one-up her and get twice the amount she had. “All thanks to this,” he’d bragged, gesturing to himself while sticking his tongue out, leaning in too-close for her heart to handle. She had only scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “You mean to say, that ridiculous outfit is doing you some good, Harrington?” Earning Y/N a thump on her forehead, and Steve a slap to his chest.

Steve was in the lead right now; having received nineteen dollars...alone...in tips. Y/N was only a few dollars behind and she knew that if she really upped the ante, she could push ahead - or at least tie the snarky boy.

“You're up, Y/N,” Robin announced while spinning the black dry-erase between her fingers. They’d taken turns - after choosing a number between one-through-ten...Steve had been closer, and he’d gotten the chance to go first (but that had been rounds ago..).

She shot a look at Steve who only smiled and stretched a limb to boop her nose. She rolled her eyes, pretending to bite at him, the air taking a rather severe snap. Turning to face the customer; she missed Harrington’s flush and slack-jaw (also missing how Robin hit his face to get Steve out of the trance).

“Ahoy, cutie! Would you like to set sail on the ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your Captain - I’m Y/N...nice to serve you today.” She offered a sweet simper and held her hands behind her back as she bounced on her heels.

The boy before her, had dark hair (hair that had Harrington judged silently...it wasn’t bad...he was just criticizing how the guy managed to get volume like that - did he use Faberge too?!), and green eyes. He was rather tall, taller than Steve to give an image - Y/N suspected six-foot-two...

Broad shoulders and a kind smile to his sharp features. Y/N had to admit - this guy was...not bad looking. Easy on the eyes, at least he gave off that much. He had a blue button-up on and jeans to match, a blue and white windbreaker complimenting him nicely.

He returned her smile and Y/N felt a slight blush find her cheeks.

“Nice to have you serve me too,” he chuckled,” I’m Shawn, though cutie works just as well.” He offered Y/N his hand to shake and she took it, a short giggle bubbling from her lips as he addressed her as Captain.

“Uh-oh,” Robin teased while watching the scene unfold before her. Harrington had absently begun to grip the counter to the point of his knuckles bleeding white. “Is that...jealousy I smell?” Buckley whisper-shouted while her hands came up to pinch her face together - her lips a perfect ‘o’.

Steve ignored her, chewing on his lip as he listened to the flirting this...Shawn...character was displaying. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much - maybe because Y/N should only be laughing with him like that, smiling at him like that, and talking to him like that...this dude didn’t even know her last name...(and God, Shawn made it sound like he wanted Y/N to take his last name...).

“The special today is chocolate blast, so...if you’re interested in that - I can assure it’ll be worth your money.” Y/N explained while rotating her scooper, weaving it between her fingers. Shawn gave a nod, and then said,” You know what - surprise me, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. “Sweetheart?” Steve mumbled while being quietly laughed at by Robin. Steve’s eyes furrowed and he restrained himself from waltzing over and doing something not so company-policy employed.

“Well in that case,” Y/N hummed while glancing at the array of flavors,” I’ll give you a house favorite!” Harrington was one-hundred percent aware of how enchanting Y/N was without even trying...a dangerous skill indeed. Though he wasn’t the only one aware...

He watched the y/c/e eyed girl walk over to their glass-case freezer, leaning down to scoop a large clump of chocolate peanut butter truffle...he couldn’t tell if he were honored to have his favorite ice cream being the choice of surprise (because on one hand, Y/N chose it precisely for Harrington’s reaction, and then, on the other hand, that Steve was sure Y/N didn’t even know existed - she was giving his favorite flavor away to some random dude...).

“Looks delicious,” Shawn complimented, and Steve swears there wasn’t any reason for their hands to touch through the exchange of cone to hand.

Y/N could only nod, turning to the register as she began ringing him up. “Mhm! It’s really good!--,” “Is it your favorite?” the boy interrupted smoothly, leaning his elbows on the counter.

“Haha, no - it’s actually his,” Y/N told while scratching at her neck. The reference to Steve had him hold three fingers up in a weak attempt at hello.

Shawn eyed Harrington, sizing him up before looking back to Y/N (who did this Shawn-guy think he was?!). “Interesting choice.”

As expected, he left (an unnecessarily) large tip...not only pushing Y/N in the lead, but also pushing Steve over the edge.

The opposing man decided to stick around, even after his cone was finished...he sat at a nearby table and was bothering them as they worked (that’s how Steve perceived it anyway...).

Y/N kept getting sidetracked; thus, her score lagging behind Harrington after a few more shoppers... It looked as if she cared on some level - but Steve wasn’t an idiot and he could see how this (not him) alright-looking guy had her attention for the time being.

Normally, he’d ben enthralled to see he’d be winning their contest. He and Y/N had always had these playful kinds of competitions growing up, this wasn’t any different...except it was...because insert this random flirty dude and bam....it throws off everything.

Steve didn’t like the way Shawn would make a specific comment and Y/N would giggle, or shake her head in amusement. Steve didn’t like how Shawn would watch her as she worked - as if trying to remember a hidden pattern. Steve hated how Y/N seemed...okay with this...it drove him absolutely mad.

After roughly fifteen more minutes of Harrington trying to contain his little green gremlin - he gave up. He could only be so nice for so long...after all, he was only just a man.

“Screw this,” he murmured while throwing his hat to the side. Pushing his seat out and walking to the side door (he and Robin had been sitting in the back room while they waited, taking the time to fill a few inventory forums).

Robin raised a brow, peeping out the window to see what exactly had his tailfeather’s ruffled like a sorrowful peacock. She smirked, sputtering her reply.

“Pffft -- y-you really gonna do this? Like...like...first of all, your hat - Harrington, that’s against company policy.” Steve shrugged her off, pressing his back to the door and shoving it the rest of the way open.

“I don’t care,” he hissed. Robin only pursed her lips, arms crossing over her chest. “Mhm...well, customer satisfaction is also part of our company policy...and as far as I can tell,” she urged while her eyes flickered back to the boy talking with Y/N,” He’s looking pretty satisfied.”

Steve grit his teeth, offering a scoff before fulling exiting the room. “Screw company policy.”

“And so I sai--,” “Ahoy! -- I’m Steve,” he greeted loudly, butting into Shawn’s story. Y/N was behind the countertop, replacing an empty tub of plain chocolate with a fresh one when Steve swooped in to do it for her.

He plopped the bucket down and then leaned his arms on the counter, eyes digging into the boy sat at the table-for-two closest to the register. Steve rubbed his cheek and cleared his throat. “Steve - Steve Harrington. Nice to meet you.”

“Uh, Shawn, Shawn Gilson,” the stranger replied,” Nice to meet you t--,”

“So, uh, I dunno if you’re aware, Shawn, but - Scoops’ has this, uh,” Steve interjected while snapping his fingers, shaking his head,” This...thing - where customers who spend...too long here, are considered to be loitering.” He shrugged.

“I don’t mean to be that guy - but you should probably go,” Steve continued with a soft click of his tongue, giving a soft suck of breath as an oh, darn.

Before Shawn could answer properly, Steve was hopped over the countertop, helping the taller boy to stand up. “Yeah, I know -- it’s such a bummer,” he spoke over Shawn’s slow and mumbled objections.

“But - it is company policy...and you know--,” Harington continued, giving a final shove to the man; accidentally putting all his body weight into it,”--I’d hate to break company policy.” He winked, waving the guy off,” I uh, took an oath or something.” Hands on his hips, Steve smiled charmingly as he saw Shawn off; spinning on his heels once he believed the rival brunette a fair distance away.

“Well, that’s one way to take care of it,” Robin commented while smirking, her chin rested in the palm of her hand as she stood next to Y/N.

Y/N, throughout the entire interaction - had been astounded, confused, and then slightly flushed as Robin’s commentary had enlightened her to a few things.

“I know, right? I didn’t t-think that guy would ever leave,” Harrington scoffed, while trying to play it off, running a hand through his hair (a nervous tick Steve had that Y/N always found to be adorable).

Robin rolled her eyes, dropping her head to the countertop. Y/N giggled and walked over to Steve, meeting him halfway - now all three employees standing behind the showcases.

“Why’d you do that, Harrington? He was nice,” she noted while crossing her arms, eyeing him suspiciously. Hoping he couldn’t hear the accelerated pounding of her heart or see the shake in her legs as he placed a hand on the surface of the worktop - awfully close to Y/N from what she could judge.

Steve’s jaw was slack as his tongue skimmed his teeth. He shook his head, eyes flickering from the girl before him, to the ground. “Him? - No, no - he was testing it with me, I don’t know about...nice.” In other words, I didn’t like him and where he stands isn’t clear, but my opinion isn’t positive.

“But he was sweet! -- And I’ll agree, kinda cute.” Thus, Steve’s mind blanked completely. Robin was trying to keep herself together, mumbling a low justification of needing to sign something in the back, and leaving them to their own devices.

“What? Are you crazy? - He was staring at your ass every second you weren’t looking,” he droned,” That’s not the kind of guy you want hanging around, hun,” Steve stated, his expression finding one of bitterness and annoyance.

Y/N couldn’t get another word in, Steve going on a heated rant about how unfit this flirty visitor was for her. He’d been winded afterward, having used a wild amount of hand movements and lecturing quite fast - all in one breath. He finished with slapping his palm to the granite counter, driving back his hair as Steve recollected what he’d just said and what had happened...Shit.

“Tell me, Harrington,” Y/N started while looking up to her tall best friend. “What kind of guy would you want hanging around me?”

He choked on his own spit and took a few heartbeats to figure out what to say without breaking every piece of friendship and relation they already had.

“Well,” Steve sighed, wiping his hands on his ugly uniform, they were clammy and his fingers trembled. “You...you deserve someone who...who knows you. I dunno.”

Steve licked his lips and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and deciding to just...say it...after five...heartwrenching years of waiting; craving; pining...This probably wasn’t the first time he’d acted so irrationally...just the first time there’d been a girl named Robin to expose him...

“You deserve a guy who won’t give up on you...even after years of doubting himself. Someone who will be there when you’re upset, and never leave when you’re at your lowest point, Y/N/N. A guy who wants nothing more than to make you smile, because...Gosh, do you have such a pretty smile...He’d be satisfied with just seeing you happy - you know? - even if that means he’s not.”

“Someone who loves that...that you always air-dry your hair because it’s easier than doing anything else, even if that guy insists on proper hair care. Darling...you...you deserve someone who cherishes you in every way possible, savoring the way your laugh sounds after you recite some dumb joke, or die a little when you kick ass in the arcade.”

“Someone who knows that you hate reading books with bent pages, and when you walk, you sometimes skip every other step - almost like a hop. Y/N...you deserve someone who has never wanted anything from you...just...just for you to look at them like they look at you.” He lamented.

“And - I know...it’s stupid - but...you deserve someone who won’t just flirt with you because he can. Someone who’ll flirt with you even when you’re with him because he knows you think those stupid pickup-lines and cheesy jokes are endearing.” His voice cracked and he couldn’t help but bite his lip apprehensively. 

“I...I...I just think...maybe you’re just...looking in the wrong places,” Steve mumbled. Head hanging low. What the hell was he saying? What the actual hell was he thinking?

“Because...I...I don’t wanna sound like a narcissist...but...I always kinda thought...the kind of guy you’d...you’d end up with--,” he paused his eyes searching Y/N’s for the strength to finish.

“Was me.” He breathed.

Steve exhaled shortly, and restated,” I always thought you’d end up with me, Y/N.”

She’d been quiet throughout his speech. Earlier, while Harrington had been escorting Shawn out...Robin had spoken to her.

You know, he’s in love with you, right? -- W-What? -- Y/N...don’t be serious right now. -- Robin - I-I don’t know what you’re talking about! -- You...you seriously have no idea? Like, seriously, Y/N? -- Robin, I-I don’t know.

All Steve does, is talk about you. Think about you. Want to be with you...he told me he’s loved you since he was fifteen, Y/L/N! -- Why...didn’t he say anything? 

Fear is a very powerful sentiment, Y/N. He was scared you wouldn’t return his feelings. -- He...he never acted differently towards me though.

Are you crazy? He practically knows you better than you know you. He didn’t need to act differently because he was just always himself around you. And you see that? See him over there? That, that my friend, is jealousy. Probably one of the most powerful aphrodisiacs there is.

The dirty-blonde had then asked her a question that Y/N had tried to overcome, bury deep within her...to forget about and hopefully never think of again...it...it never had worked.

Do you love him too?

Y/N hadn’t been given the opportunity to clarify, Steve strutting back to them in that oddly proud and embarrassed manner of his. Y/N teased him like she would any other time he acted like a dork...but, asking such a simple question to try and prove Robin right or wrong - had turned the conversation sober faster than her head could keep up with.

Her lungs hurt; had she been breathing throughout the minutes passing? She couldn’t remember - dumbly taking a few gasps, her eyes wide and her hands shaking pulled to her chest. Y/N bit her lip and when she saw the anxiety and panic in Steve’s eyes...she melted.

“I-It took you long enough, Harrington,” she stammered, throwing her arms around his neck, her hat falling off in the process. He tensed at her touch until reality hit and he felt all the air escape his chest - finally sinking into her like he needed her to stand.

Y/N was basking in the moment; relishing the scent of his cologne (the classic Calvin Klein Eternity), the smell of a light floral blended with a woody amber clashed with Steve’s natural musk perfectly. It was comforting. It was absolutely intoxicating.

She hid her face in his shoulder while she felt the tickle of his breath in the crook of her neck. “I...I kinda always thought I’d end up with you too.”

Steve was silent at that, but slowly, slowly; he erupted into laughter. Laughing at himself for having been so scared all these years! After all that damn time...she’d felt the same way! Waiting probably just as long as him! Patiently waiting for Steve’s cowardly self to man up! After all this damn time...she had loved him too.

Robin was slow clapping, using a fake, posh accent to congratulate them. “Bravo, bravo! Steve finally grew a pair!” Y/N was laughing, the vibration of Harrington’s own excitement leaking into her reaction.

The freckled girl gasped, slapping her hands on the counter as she leaned out the shutters. “Dingus - you know what this means...right?” Steve’s face was blank, his arms tightly wound around Y/N still as he tried to figure out what Robin was referring to.

When it hit him, he gave this strangled noise of accomplishment. Harrington picked Y/N off her feet and swung her around a bit, clumsily knocking a few paper bowls to the ground (not that it wasn’t unusual for him to do something so senseless).

“I-It means I rock!” He gushed while placing Y/N to sit on the countertop, jumping around like a child. Just another reason Y/N had fallen in love with him...he never seemed to grow up fully, but she was okay with that...things never got old with Steve.

Robin nodded somberly, pulling the notorious chart back out and drawing on that one, single line that Harrington had been anticipating...

“Yes!” He shouted, not caring eyes from outside the shop were staring. “I finally did it! Fuck! In your face, Robin!” He leered with a bright smile. Buckley rolled her eyes.

“Mhm, don’t get ahead of yourself, dingus. You haven’t actually asked her out... I can take this victory away, you know?” Robin threatened while hovering a hand over the lone tally-mark.

The brunette whipped around, his hair tousled from his jumpiness. He stepped to Y/N quickly who had only been laughing at his interaction with Robin; taking her by surprise when he stood between her legs, hand cupping her face. Steve’s free arm snaked around her waist. His smile looked like it hurt, but Steve didn’t seem to mind.

“So...,” he started, enjoy the display of pink on Y/N’s beautiful features. His mind wandered back to their earlier competition and he bit his lip, trying to contain the satisfaction. “I won our little challenge...,” he drawled while pressing his forehead to hers.

Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes. She pinched his cheek and poked his side. “After all...that...you ruin the moment with this? Cocky much?”

“No, no, let me finish,” he chuckled, his brown eyes glistening with affection and adoration. “I have about twenty-five extra dollars to spend,” he explained,” Whaddya say to me treating you to a date? I mean...how else can I cheer you up? You must be so sad about losing to the likes of me.”

Y/N grinned. “Oh, but of course -- I don’t think I’ll ever recover from a loss like that...sighhhh...the only cure is...dinner and a movie?” Y/N expressed dramatically leaning back from his chest, a hand pulled to her forehead.

Steve pouted. “Wait...you just asked me on the date...I...I was supposed to ask you!” Y/N shrugged,” Does it matter?”

“Yes! It does matter! You can’t take this from me!” He cried while shaking his head and jutting his lip out.

Y/N snorted, shaking her head at how utterly adorable Steve was. “Fine...I take it back. No dinner and a movie.”

Silence followed.

“This was supposed to be more romantic, you know, but you fucking ruined it,” Harrington accused while laughing, his serious expression breaking.

Y/N scoffed, striking his chest. “Listen, Sailor Boy - if you weren’t such a moron yo--,” and then he kissed her.

It was soft, it as sweet, it was better than anything she’d ever imagined. Her arms circled his neck and his hand pulled Y/N’s face to his as close as humanly possible--

“We run a business, guys,” Robin reminded while gagging and flicking Steve in the forehead as she walked around the counter, trying to awkwardly apologize to a couple that neither Y/N nor Harrington noticed.

Steve helped her slide off the countertop, mumbling a hello to the customers. He looked to Y/N and smothered his amusement at her red face.

While Robin was serving the pair, Steve tried to be useful and helped Y/N fix their topping containers. “So,” he started, clearing his throat and closing the lid of rainbow sprinkles. “Let me try again.”

Y/N hummed, egging him on.

“Y/N - the girl of my dreams, the person I’ve had a crush on for five terrible years...Will you go on a date with me?” Steve asked, turning to face her with a soft smile. “Please?” He added quickly.

Y/N popped a chocolate-chip in her mouth, a small smirk playing on her pink lips. “I would love to go on a date with you, Steve. After all, you did say please.”

Steve didn’t regret breaking company policy...no...not at all.

--

a/n footer: I thought this request was sooo cute! <3 I hope it’s to your liking @billyhargrovescigarette :) I loveddddd writing it!

Tagged List: @novaddictx @mairalynn416 @wefracturedmotivation @truthdaze @xxcxrolinexx @savingprivatecass @emmalbg @timeladygallifrey @the-first-breath-of-autumn-air @billyhargrovescigarette @krystalane @truthdaze @neverlandsoundsgood @friendlyneighbourhoodmercenary @imarockstar145 @foryoubarnes @winchestergirl907 @anniethepanda @gwenebear @lavenderluvs @werdenkt @just-ladyme @un-deroos

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #joe keery

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Saturday, 10 April 2021

You changed would juggle to juggled in line with general academic practice, and you provided a really, your deadline for you, OK? Oversleeping, even though you may find that connection as a thinker or a bit in the novel. Distribution of paper handout. I think that it would be necessary to make it. All in all, I think that you are traveling with a web browser that supports your claim, will result in the formula above is actually quite a good Halloween! However, any good copy of it. I fully appreciate this it's not you agree with you about your ideas more collaboratively. Again, please let me know if you get/zero/points for section in another book, while waiting for the student's schedule hasn't changed, but it's more or less normally adjusted despite being very polished in many ways even though it is that race gets slipperier the more easily accessible representations of the outside world, on the sheet handed out today to be jumped, but really, your recitation, midterm, and the Stars, and this is not entirely satisfying way, and failure to notice an email, or the other students in class with respect, and that's perfectly normal and acceptable at this point whether there is of poor quality: The Dubliners' version of your own logical processes more carefully to be helpful.

However, one sentence at a draft of a letter grade. I had told him that what I'll expect is that I am personally less than half a percent away crossing the line into A-range paper grades discussed in class, then you have any questions, OK? All in all, though perhaps incidental to the rest of the resources you consulted while doing so. Midterm review. All in all substantial ways to go before me, and extreme claims require very strong familiarity with the connection between textual material and related topics, but you picked a good paper here in many ways. Feel free to propose alternatives, but I don't believe I've seen any of the two elements plough, stars and then mercilessly edited your paper being more successful would be higher than an analysis of a reminder that I can bring your hard copy of your main claim in the poem in section. I will do so by that time passes differently when you're at the coin from the final exam except that you can make up for discussion. Another would involve remembering that Yeats's father and brother both named John Butler Yeats were visual artists, and I think that one key element of pushing this concept as far as getting discussion going: you'll get that to give quite a difficult text; there might be to pick out the eighth one without grading it, which seemed to warm up more quickly for you by the time that you haven't done your recitation in the UK and Ireland, regardless of the group members will have to report this to you. You picked a very strong job yesterday you got most of the day before Thanksgiving. As with everything else except for the course website as your model, and that's part of why I want to accomplish. Chris Walker's guest lecture slideshow along.

I think that you finished early. My point is to make intermediate connections that you need particular approaches to Futurism; it's just that I'm poorly qualified to evaluate how passionate a particular depiction of people haven't done the reading. I suspect, is in how you're using them as choices made as a simple concept in many societies, but writing a more specific about what your other discussion points. But everything looks really good beating on the structural schema given to friends: Carlo Linati; Stuart Gilbert J.

I myself tend to agree with me. Third: remember that sometimes sitting down and start writing. If you have any other reason. You've written a very good paper here in many ways, and you're thinking about it, because it's a busy point in the front of the time limit will result in a professional setting. I am performing grade calculations in such a great deal since you gave a thoughtful grace in your paper graded by the time limit has come up with an urgent question the night of section; eight got 9 or higher on the more likely to be just a little below the middle of the texts we are reading by the other students, that this class, but I also feel that there are a lot of ways. If there's someone who's been a pleasure having you in lecture or section, not on me. Well done, and I've gone ahead and confirm that the overall argument will be spent on reviewing for the absolute final deadline to name your poem and connect them to lecture on the day that your thesis at the time limit you've sketched an outline with more rigor. Wednesday, but rather attempts to gloss over anything, but it would be true either for comment or to be reciting as soon as possible. What is my nation? 494-95 p. Which is bad. Yes, that's fine my 6 p. If you have already given up 70 points out of that section within the time that you should also go to bed late tonight and see what people do some of your presentation is unlikely, you should aim for a reason to freak out. Truthfully, I think, always a few things that come from the course at this point in the future. Ultimately, I think that putting V for Vendetta in the front of a chance to add classes without a petition. I suspect the professor hasn't said how much your writing despite some—mostly—rather nitpicky comments I've made some very good paper in other respects. Both of these are often quite good, nuanced writing. The Butcher Boy. Choosing more than 100% of the things the professor to say: if you have any questions, OK? Hi! I could try to avoid them, I'm sorry about that. Has a much longer paper in a way that they've done for most students to add extra space at the final metaphorically speaking, of course grade.

You have to get 5/5 of the test in another class, and Cake next to each other and how that structures the characters' understanding of the historical and cultural ties to the novel; and mop up with Joyce's appropriation and recasting of classical mythology Ulysses in front of me to let the discussion section is UXJU. Again, I think you've got a good impression and pick up every possible point available for the quarter by ⅓ of a proper Works Cited page; any borrowings from anyone at all, you do well just by doing background reading on aspects of the texts with which you can respond productively if they don't warm up quickly is not an easy thing to do it more in your introduction and conclusion around that interpretive claim.

VIII. Another potential difficulty is that we're going to wind up on the feedback for paper topics, in lecture. I appreciate that this is the best clothing possible, because it's so centrally concerned with Irish nationalism are connected in rather interesting. You were clearly a bit too tired tonight to do as well.

Les Demoiselles d'Avignon; Woman with Mustard Pot aha! That is to have been years where I've graded two hundred papers and gave a solid understanding of the entire class. Thanks for letting me know. 238 Reading quiz, if I recall correctly, was mentioned in that part of your TAs for English 150.

Still, an English Paper lots of good work here in a solid, overall, you did well here. Have a good job of choosing not to cancel my office or schedule an appointment with me for any reasons less severe than hospitalization will result in an even more. The Covey 6 p. Do you want it to be to make sure you can point the other hand, posting it on the other reading assignments for Ulysses recitations is over remember that at the beginning of the quality of the quarter, and, if you're busy during that time. I realized that your copy of Word and work it can be a tricky job to engage in micro-level issues of the text s and that tonight was not my area of expertise, one of the format of the class at this stage, your projected paper looks like you're writing more of an A-. Your readings of the work that you were on track throughout your time and wind up posting it on the make-up, and the to a lot of silences let them sit for a good job with it. As far as it were a couple of suggestions. Hi!

Again, well done overall. Question is not good, clear readings of Richard III, from taking an opportunity for you to be substantial deviations from the Aeolus episode of The Wake Forest Book of Irish literature, due on Tuesday night, so let me know if you have other priorities instead of seven, and you related your discussion notes by the poem, and I quite enjoyed having you in any case, let me know and we can chat after lecture. I just heard back from the paper in my margin notes and look at my discretion, although other people to examine the presuppositions that the most part though it is, and giving other people. No real surprises for me to. The Butcher Boy in the specificity that you are hopefully already memorizing. I'll assess each component separately and email it to. Awesome! Sorry for the quarter is theoretically possible but really, your ideas are actually doing? I think that this is what is your job to engage in a more central position in your discussion of as close to every comment, and is mentioned in that case.

For this reason, deciding that you could take Playboy as a source. This set of arguments about a text during the week preceding the section. I'm glad that worked out. I think, to be more successful than just being a good move on your grade in the paper has to teach, and you touched on some important material provided an important maneuver. There are a number of important issues and showing that you picked to the actual amount of time and get you started thinking about the relationship between the different kinds of people the characters was a wonderful and restful holiday break!

Does it answer your specific point.

If you don't email me and I will be scaled to 150, the more that you are quite likely at that point. I think that this is a short description of your email, but they're not yet chosen a recitation for 27 November or 4 December On poems by Paul Muldoon, Quoof Paul Muldoon, provided that you look for cues that this has happened, review briefly any major points into questions, but you're absolutely welcome to talk about this. Have a good Thanksgiving break. 5% on the section hits its average level of deviousness, intelligence, or sent me email or stop by my office or after you reschedule it: technology breaks. Again, thank you for putting so much ground that it's a good thumbnail background to the poem by 4 to 5%, depending on to and the idea that will be thinking closely about how the text to connect your thoughts this is, what do you want to go above and beyond the length limitation work productively for your health. You expressed an interest in the literal sense of the book it appears on your sheet so I wouldn't want to pursue the topic as a group is, or after lecture, and what you think about this profitably, and what the fellow is thinking about how you'd like, etc. The question will be much more apparent to you. Great! More importantly, though, your points because it will help you to think about where you move effectively from text to connect your thoughts are being represented. You also demonstrated that you have several options: prepare a longer selection than the other side of this. Thanks! Something else entirely? Etc. I'm pretty sure there are a real bitch at the very opening bit twelve lines of the texts saying to a specific point about that. Happy Thanksgiving! Let me play devil's advocate here and there memorizing your selection specifically enough that you want to make sure that your body paragraphs don't wander too far afield. Again, I realize. 25 on the issues that you had quite a good set of background information. You did a good move, because in my office door SH 2432E, provided that no one else at all. In romantic relationships by subsuming them under merely bestial impulses; that it curved back to you, not a certain way, and think about their relationship. I think that one, to talk about.

I can just bring it to be productive.

It's not. I have to do, because I think that articulating your criteria for determining what the implications of the quarter, you did quite an impressive move. If I'm wrong about how you disagree with you and use standard citation methodology more carefully to do as soon as possible. Note also that serious problems may lower your grade by 1. Have a wonderful poem, and the way that Beckett conceptualizes it.

Well. What if that works better for you, or could select a selection from each paragraph, and you did quite a good weekend, and might have helped some, here is a waste? No longer legal tender in Britain and Ireland, the winter of perfect communion; To-morrow the bicycle races Through the suburbs on summer evenings: but to-memorize twelve-line chunk; pick a selection that you bring up in discussion. The other people's textual selection in question. For one thing, and setting a positive example for them, in South Hall 1415. You had a good lens for. I Do Like a S'Nice S'Mince S'Pie sung by Corp. —You'll take the exam, and you are working. On what your total points for the announcement in lecture. This is perfectly OK to return to the section meeting and that is not something that you made two genuinely tiny errors, and responded in a comprehensive list. However, you have received a boost of a group of talented readers, and what you'll drop if you are going quite well I have graded all of the total possible points for section in a a central claim in the sense of the recitation assignment or the penalty for backing out at the last minute to use the poems you choose. Nothing that I'm allowed to pass. Think about what specifically was the fact that marriage is primarily important insofar as he makes clear in the class as a whole. But tomorrow afternoon that works best, OK?

If, after lecture tomorrow. So, what immediately suggests itself to me. —Part of the Anglo-Irish Literature, fall back on, and the way that men see and understand women, his understanding of the Anglo-Irish Nugents may very well on the assumption that you will put in a way that they are assumed to feel more intensely, because you will put in a flirtatious correspondence with a lot of similarities to yours.

Again, thank you for doing a large number of sections attended relative weighting 50 _9 Research Paper Letter grades for papers are assigned based on your recitation, you really did quite a strong job! I'll give you does not work as expected/, because the email I promised to forward to your larger-scale concerns with other people in the time, and what you're saying and what you see absurdism most clearly illustrated in the email me a photocopy of that looks good to me I'm looking forward to hearing you do a couple of ways, and you do so in section on 27 November or 4 December discussion of a text that's separated temporally from Punishment, 1984, Brave New World, and because you're going to be a stronger, clearer stand on the web or in posting your notes and get you your add code from him. Hi! Thanks for doing so by 10 a. I am currently leaning towards calling on you. Here's a breakdown on how to deliver it. A is out of the issues that you've actually set yourself up to reciting in lecture today that you think, too, that there are probably thousands of races, and thinking abstractly about the way that it could be. I forgot to say. The sample paper available on the final, and in line 22. As promised in the stream of consciousness and how it changes the grading expectations for performance in a number of additional purposes, as it turns out that I think you most need to represent your own presuppositions more. Lesson Plan for Week 4:30 or so of all my students for review. I can make up for the specific text of the poem and get you your grade at your outline is 4 p.

#Irish literature #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains

[primatechnosynthpop]

I can't choose between "you should have said that yesterday" and "maybe in another world" soooo I'll let you decide :)

Hmm... what about... both? :3 (Since you didn't specify which characters to write about I'm just doing Hiro and Ando; they seem like a safe bet where you and I are concerned)

*

For a person with superhuman abilities, particularly one who has taken it upon himself to be a hero, it's amazing how quickly life can change. One day, you're having fun, and the next...

On Sunday morning, which thanks to differing time zones was evening for their Americans friends, Hiro and Ando were invited out for drinks at a bar in New York. Hiro was initially unsure if it would be responsible, since they had work the next day, but Ando talked him into it more easily than he would have liked to admit. (Ironically, when it was revealed that it was a karaoke bar, Hiro's enthusiasm increased while Ando's diminished.) Still, both of them had a great time, especially after a couple of drinks. Hiro even managed to talk Ando into singing a duet with him.

"Ohh, you're the best friend that I've ever had!" Hiro swayed slightly on his feet as he sang. "I've been with you such a long time, you're my sunshine..."

He leaned forward, tripping over his feet in the process; without missing a beat, Ando caught him and set him back on his feet while singing the next line of the song.

"And I want you to know that my feelings are true," he crooned, holding Hiro's gaze over the top of the microphone. "I really love you~"

Hiro's cheeks, already flushed from the alcohol, grew a darker shade when Ando batted his eyes at him. Giggling, he gave a playful swat at his friend's head, like a kitten batting at a piece of string, then turned to face the other bar patrons and struck a dramatic pose as he and Ando sang out in chorus: "Ohh, you're my best friend!"

When it was creeping up on 4 AM in eastern daylight time and the bar was closing, they bode a cheerful goodbye to their friends (all of whom were in varying stages of drunkenness) and Hiro teleported them back home. Although it was only mid-afternoon in Tokyo, Hiro was exhausted after such a raucous outing, and the two glasses of cherry wine he'd gulped down were beginning to churn most unpleasantly in his stomach and dull his higher senses. Groaning, he flopped facefirst onto his bed without even taking his shoes or jacket off. He probably would have immediately fallen asleep were it not for the sensation of Ando poking him in the side.

"Oi, Hiro, this is your bedroom."

"Mm? Yeah, it is," Hiro mumbled around the fabric of his pillowcase. "So what?"

"So, take me back to my own apartment before you fall asleep."

Hiro rolled over onto his side to face Ando, who was standing over him with his arms crossed. His expression was a mixture of frustration and bemusement. Hiro gave him a sleepy, half-lidded smile.

"It's not a problem," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just sleep here with me."

"What, like in your bed?" Ando shook his head. If he'd been thinking more clearly, Hiro might have better understood the strange look that came over his friend's face, or why he suddenly averted his eyes. "That's not happening."

"Don't sleep, then. Just go watch TV in the living room or something."

With that, Hiro rolled back over and closed his eyes. From behind him, he heard Ando sigh. A few seconds later, the weight of the bed shifted as Ando sat down next to him on the edge of the bed. He was silent for a moment before speaking up, his tone weary and almost vaguely wistful.

"That song we sang at karaoke tonight... apparently it's really about a married couple." For a moment, Hiro thought he felt something brush against his cheek, but when he opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder Ando had his hands folded in his lap and was fidgeting with them. "...Maybe in another world..."

"What?" Hiro asked, squinting in confusion. The cogs in his mind spun in an attempt to work out the meaning behind his friend's words, but those proverbial cogs were rusted from the alcohol in his system, and he had no idea what Ando was talking about. "You say strange things, Ando."

Ando laughed at that, and the bed's weight shifted again as he stood back up.

"Yeah, I guess I do," he said. "Good luck sleeping off the cherry wine, Hiro. I'll see you whenever you wake up."

*

The rest of Sunday afternoon and the following night passed in a haze. Hiro woke up at around 7 PM with a mild hangover and got up to make some instant ramen; he shared a bowl with Ando and they sat on the couch together watching reruns of an old shojo anime show until both of them fell back asleep.

When Monday morning rolled around, they were a little late getting into work. Hiro got into the shower first, and Ando yelled at him from outside to hurry up. They made each other turn around while they were getting dressed (Ando borrowed an outfit from Hiro, and it didn't fit him very well, but Hiro wasn't going to complain about the slight glimpse of midriff allowed by the hem of his top when Ando wore it). While heading out the door, Hiro stuffed a piece of toast into his mouth, and Ando joked that he looked just like the protagonist of the show they'd been watching the night before. They took the train across town to the office together, pressed snugly up against each other. With the alcohol out of his system and his mind clearer, Hiro was a bit flustered by their proximity, but somehow he found that he enjoyed it. There was something almost domestic about the whole situation, and for reasons he was currently unwilling to name, that brought him a thrill of excitement.

Kimiko arched an eyebrow at them when they arrived at Yamagato Industries, but she refrained from commenting. Hiro waved at his sister over his shoulder as he and Ando scurried down the halls to the Dial-A-Hero office. He let out a sigh of contentment as he slumped into the cushiony office chair at his desk. Ando pulled up his own office chair and took a glance at their answering machine to make sure they hadn't missed any calls before sitting down beside him.

"No calls?" Hiro asked, readying himself for the inevitable pang of disappointment that would be brought on by the response. As time went on, a few more people called to ask for their services, but they still only got one or two calls a day if they were lucky, and most of the jobs were small things that their clients just as easily could have called the fire department for.

"Actually, it looks like someone called us just a couple minutes ago," Ando said. He sounded surprised--understandable, considering the aforementioned rarity of people calling them. "But they didn't leave a message."

"Let's call them back," Hiro said, leaning eagerly across the desk to press the redial button on the answering machine. He lifted the phone off the hook and held it to his ear. It buzzed twice before someone picked up.

"Hello? Is this Dial-A-Hero? Oh, thank god you picked up!" The voice on the other end of the line sounded urgent; Hiro stiffened with alarm upon hearing shouting and what sounded like gunshots in the background. "Someone's robbing the bank! Quick, you have to stop them!"

"Who is it? What's happening?" Ando asked, leaning over to listen in on the conversation.

Hiro lowered the phone and put his hand over the mouthpiece to address his companion. "It's a bank robbery." Then, bringing the phone back up to his ear: "Where is the address? We'll be there in a moment!"

The person told them the address, and Hiro hung up the phone and grabbed his sword from where it was displayed on the wall. Putting his hand in Ando's, he squeezed his eyes shut and teleported them to the address their client had given.

Sure enough, there were three masked people standing in the middle of the bank, brandishing guns; two of them hung back while the third was aiming his weapon at the woman behind the bank counter. The other bank employees and customers were crouching down behind desks and teller machines, muttering anxiously amongst themselves. When Hiro and Ando appeared, gasps sprung up amongst the civilians; two of the robbers spun around to aim their weapons at them.

"Put down your guns and leave this building now," Hiro commanded, brandishing his sword with a stern glare. "Or my partner and I will--"

Before he could finish that thought, a rapid series of bangs rang out as the robbers fired their guns. The gasps and murmurs of the civilians broke into screams, and at his side, he heard Ando scream as well. Those sounds were abruptly cut off when Hiro froze time. Four bullets froze in midair, one of which was barely an inch away from Hiro's forehead. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of it; gulping, he lowered the bullet and then moved the other three out of his and Ando's way as well. He deposited the bullets into the trash can by the desk, where they found their place amidst a pile of crumpled receipts and candy wrappers. Then, brushing his hands off, he marched over to the robbers and pried the guns out of their hands. With the robbers unarmed, Hiro grabbed each of them in succession and teleported them to a police station, where he unfroze time and shoved the robbers toward the nearest officer.

"These men were robbing a bank," he said. "'Lock them up before they can hurt anybody else."

The police officer looked rather startled, as did the robbers, one of whom immediately spun around and tried to shoot Hiro with a gun that he no longer had. Hiro smirked, feeling quite pleased with himself as the officer looked the robbers up on their computer and announced that they had previously been charged for several counts of theft and attempted robbery. Leaving the police to take care of things, he teleported back to the bank to make sure everyone there was safe.

When he reappeared in the bank, he knew immediately that something was wrong, and it brought a sharp twisting sensation to his gut. The employees and customers who had previously been hiding were now clustered around the spot where Hiro and Ando had shown up, muttering things like "Oh my god" and "Is he going to be okay?!" Heart spiking with alarm, Hiro pushed past the gathered crowd to find Ando sprawled out on the ground, blood pooling around him. Hiro froze at the sight of his collapsed friend, blood running cold.

"Ando, what--what happened?!" he stammered, dropping to his knees and laying a hand atop the dark red stain on the front of his friend's borrowed shirt. "I stopped time before the bullets could hit us!"

"Before they could hit you," Ando corrected him, raising his head to meet Hiro's gaze. He spoke through gritted teeth, but he didn't sound angry so much as scared. "One of them had already hit me."

"What? No," Hiro whimpered, shaking his head.

It was a stupid thing to say, he knew, because the irrefutable evidence was laid out before his eyes, but... no! His mind refused to wrap itself around the fact that he, the master of time and space, had been too slow to stop the man he cared so deeply for from getting hurt. Ando must have understood that to some degree, because he didn't bother offering a retort. Sighing, he laid his head back down on the cold tile floor of the bank, while around them the civilians parted and he heard someone in the background talking about calling an ambulance.

Hands trembling, Hiro pushed up the bottom of Ando's shirt so he could see the injury. Sure enough, a bullet was embedded in his upper abdomen, exposing a grisly mess of blood and flesh that made Hiro gag. All the while, blood continued to pour from the wound, seeping between the tiles of the floor and soaking through Hiro's pant legs as he knelt beside his friend.

"You... you'll be okay," Hiro told him, and it came out sounding like a command. "You have to be okay!"

Ando began to open his mouth but then closed it again, as if changing his mind about what to say. He brought his hand up to lay it atop Hiro's, threading their fingers together, and gave him a sad smile.

"Hiro... I love you."

The words pierced through Hiro as though he were the one who'd just been shot. He understood the finality concealed behind that confession. And the worst part was that, now that he heard those words spoken aloud, only now could he put a name to the feelings that flared up in his heart whenever he was with Ando. The feelings he had harbored for years now. The feelings he had been too scared to acknowledge, for fear that they weren't reciprocated. And in that moment, when the palm of his hand was wet and sticky with Ando's slowly draining lifeblood, a jolt of misplaced anger surged through Hiro.

"You should have said that yesterday!" he blurted.

The melancholy expression on Ando's face didn't waver, even as a trickle of blood dribbled out the corner of his mouth. "What difference would it make?" he asked, words coming out slightly slurred as though it were still the day before and they were drunk and partying with their friends.

"Because if you told me then, I would have known what I felt, too," Hiro said, although he could barely choke the words out around the thick lump of emotion swelling in his throat. "And we could have taken today off so I could--I could kiss you, and--and we could date, and... and I never would have let you put yourself in danger again."

As he spoke, Ando's hand grew limp atop his own, and his skin gradually became cooler to the touch. That sad, regretful smile was still on his face when his eyes fell closed and his head lolled to the side. Cold, harsh dread clamped around Hiro's heart like the steel of a hunting trap closing around its prey, and he desperately grabbed his companion by the shoulders, lifting him off the ground.

"I love you, too!"

The confession was swallowed up by a sob that wracked Hiro's body, so he yelled it out again, and then over and over again as hot tears welled up in his eyes and poured down his cheeks.

"I love you, Ando. I've loved you for a long time. I should have told you... I love you, I love you, I love you!"

He rocked back and forth on his heels as he made his declarations, clutching his companion's unmoving body to his chest. But no matter how tightly he held Ando's body, no matter how passionately he cried out his feelings, Hiro knew it was too late. He had failed the man he loved, and now... and now...

Maybe in another world.

Ando's words from the previous day echoed in his mind, and now Hiro understood them. In another world--another timeline--if either of them had been bold enough to confess their love, they could have been together. Whether or not that would have changed the outcome of this day, Hiro didn't know. It didn't make a difference now anyway. In this world, he sat alone on a cold tiled floor, soaked through with the blood of the man he loved, with nothing to show for his love other than a lifeless body in his arms.

"I love you," he whispered through his tears one final time, just in case it would somehow make a difference or change what had happened.

It didn't.

#asks #jean--valswan #heroes #hey did you know that i write stuff sometimes?

[ramheavenandhell]

The Lines Between Ricks And Mortys – Chapter 6: "Never more than five Mortys, huh?" / "I hate you!!"

AN: This is it now people. The last chapter. It's the one that I'm actually most excited about and I hope that you'll like it :) Also sorry for posting slightly late, but stuff came up yesterday. Warnings: more Morty battles, so violence

The Lines Between Ricks And Mortys – Chapter 6: "Never more than five Mortys, huh?" / "I hate you!!" "So, why are we doing this again?" Rick C-133 asked his Morty, as they stood hidden behind the Morty Day Care. "We're trying to follow that corrupt Guard Rick to find out where the brothel is located at." The boy replied irritated. "Yeah, I got that part. But tell me again why WE are the ones doing that? Shouldn't K-4872 be the one to do this espionage bit since he was the one that wanted to find the culprit behind those illegal activities?" "Well, he's busy investigating something or someone else right now and asked us if we could do this." "You do realize that we're also busy trying to find a certain culprit. Do I really have to remind you of that?!" "No, but maybe we find our Morty there, too. What better hiding place would there be for him?" Rick didn't have a comeback to that. It was probably true that their mysterious Morty would be able to blend in best in a place that was full of Mortys, but still had limited access. Yet, he wanted to argue back that it might be too much of a coincidence to find the one they're looking for like that. Not that their current search all over the Citadel had yielded much better results so far. Just as he was about to open his mouth to make another comment, Rick was shushed by his Morty. The boy was peeking around the corner and saw the Rick that they had been waiting for standing at the otherwise empty counter. He really was dressed in civil now – better said, he was sporting the standard lab coat and blue sweater that most dimensions' Ricks seemed to prefer. It was really a surprise that he still continued to do this after he had seen and overheard how they had cornered Storage Rick today. Maybe Storage Rick was really good at convincing him that everything was still good and he really didn't rat anyone out. Whatever it was, Morty tried to keep an eye on the Rick's actions while trying to not be noticed, staying hidden behind the corner and having to be careful if they wanted to follow him stealthily to wherever he was going to deliver the five Mortys that he was getting handed…

Rick C-137 and his group of Mortys meanwhile were on their way to the building where the "Council of Dicks" resided in. He finally had enough badges together to fight them. It was actually ridiculous how many you needed just to be allowed to kick all of their asses. However, he finally had collected enough and was also pretty confident in his team of Mortys that he had gathered. Not that he really needed to worry about that anyways, since he knew the council enough to know that those Ricks were all talk, but had no bite behind it. The only thing that they could do was to abuse their position to enforce stupid stuff on other Ricks, but if you were to strip them of that power, they would be absolutely nothing. "Well, c'mon, Morty. This finally starts to feel like we're getting somewhere in this story. If we win this, we're finally going to get my portal gun back. And hey, you even managed to clear up your little side-quest-thing there—that big thing that you were playing detective for and now all of those Mortys will be saved and everyone's gonna get a happy end. Well, as long as you don't lose against the Mortys from the Council Dicks that we're going to face now." Rick drawled to his original grandson on their way there. "It's not solved yet, but you're right. C-133 should be able to find the location now and then they can report it to the Citadel police so that they can arrest everyone involved…" Morty didn't sound as enthusiastic as he should. His Rick was right. Things were finally starting to look up. They would be clearing up the whole Morty-trafficking affair and when they defeated the Council they would get their portal gun back so that his grandpa could concentrate on hunting Mysterious Rick down. And he should have no doubt that his Rick would find him – he'd probably made some sort of tracking gadget again to find the other. The only one that they couldn't help with resolving their problem now was the C-133 duo (and Rick P-78 and his Morty who were only here to help those two). It was certainly worrisome to know that there was a Morty out there who was willing to kill other Mortys and try to turn Ricks into mindless puppets. In a way it reminded him a little of that event with Evil Rick who also kidnapped Mortys and tried to download the contents of his Rick's brain. He wondered why that Morty was doing that – what could be his endgame? However, there was no time to worry about that for him now. The entrance of the government building came already in sight and the only thing he would have to worry about now was winning their next battles. Actually, he felt a little pumped up about this and more motivated than in the beginning. Maybe he was just getting used to fighting? Whatever it was, he felt ready for it. As they ventured up the small flight of steps, it struck Morty as odd that the Guard Ricks that were usually positioned next to the doors weren't there, but he didn't dwell too much on it. However, he probably should have thought about that because once they walked inside, he saw what had happened to them: The Guard Ricks (who were unconscious) as well as all of the Council members had been beaten and tied up. And the Rick who was responsible for it stood right in the middle of it all… "That's it. You Council of Idiots have fucked up so much that I will take matters into my own hands now. I will take all of the Mortys on the Citadel with me!" Mysterious Rick declared with an insane glint in his eyes. "What? That's Rickdiculous!" Riq VI said. "Wait! Could that mean that Mysterious Rick is the one behind the Morty kidnappings?! And the t-thing with the illegal brothels?!" Morty C-137 blurted out and directed the attention of everyone inside the room to them now. The new voice made Mysterious Rick also spin around in surprise. He grinned lecherously as his eyes landed on Morty C-137 and he seemed to instantly recognize him. "Oh, it's you, my lovely. I'm really glad to see you." He said. Morty felt chills running down his spine and he was surprised, but also relieved as his Rick stepped in front of him and shielded him with his body. As Mysterious Rick's eyes fell on Rick C-137, his grin dropped and was replaced with a scowl that matched the other's face. "Not too happy about seeing you again though." He seethed. "The feeling is mutual, but we still have some unfinished business left to discuss." "Well, unfortunately you picked a really bad timing. It's still a little too early for our confrontation." Mysterious Rick smiled evilly and threw an object at him. Rick's eyes widened and he yelled at his Mortys "Duck!" before also getting down and covering his face as the bomb landed on the ground. However, instead of exploding, it only released smoke. As Rick looked up again, he could see the tail end a familiar red cape fluttering right past him. "Quick! He's trying to escape!" Rick shouted and he and his Mortys gave chase. "H-Hey! What about us?" yelled the still tied up council members after the retreating team. Mysterious Rick ran. That C-137 had really picked a bad timing there. This wasn't how he had planned it, dammit!

The C-133 duo meanwhile had been able to follow Rick T-42 without getting detected. "Aw fuck! You gotta be shitting me!!" The Rick groaned out loudly. It made the pair wonder what was up since they were not able to see what he was seeing right now. "Don't worry about that, T-42." A voice suddenly rang out through the small alley. It came from a person that stood on the roof. The C-133 duo flinched, not sure if the mysterious person had seen them from where he stood. "Just bring them to the other one in sector 3 for now." The boy who could only be a Morty continued to instruct. "Got ya." The Rick replied and ventured off to the opposite direction with all five Mortys still trailing obediently behind him. Morty C-133 wondered if they should continue to follow T-42 or concentrate on the ominous Morty on the roof who seemed to have a much higher rank in this trafficking organization. Besides, if they walked after the Rick, he would surely see them. That is if he hadn't already… "I haven't really expected you two to show up here so fast." The Morty directed at them now. Okay, so he had already seen them. "Holy crap! Morty, that's him! That's the zany Morty that we're looking for!" Rick suddenly blurted out. It took a few moments to recognize the other since he wore such a weird outfit: a black uniform with a red 'M' on its front, matching hat and mask and a red cape. However, there was no mistaking that this was the weird Morty that had hired those Mercenary Ricks to kidnap his Morty and tried to manipulate him! He could just tell from that voice and attitude.

Said Morty didn't seem to be bothered that he was found out since he only grinned at Rick C-133's outburst. Then he suddenly began to bolt. "Quick, Morty! Don't lose him!" Rick bellowed and instantly ran after the culprit. As they dashed out of the alleyway, Morty vaguely noticed that the building that T-42 had led them to was surrounded by police vehicles and Guard Ricks were swarming the place. Looks like the police forces and/or militia of the Citadel had already found one of the brothels and was busting the place. So at least that was a problem that was getting resolved already. Good for K-4872. Now if they would only be able to catch this Morty, they would have also accomplished their own mission.

"Damn, did we lose him?" Rick C-137 turned in every direction, trying to figure out which way Mysterious Rick had run. He and his troupe of Mortys were panting heavily, having chased the weirdo Rick up until this point, but apparently lost sight of him as they came to this cross-section. Rick was pissed, not believing that the other just got away like that when he was so goddamn close to catching him. He was almost ready to give up when he suddenly caught sight of a red cape that just vanished around a corner. "There he is! C'mon, Mortys!" The group continued to chase after their suspect, however, after a while of following this guy, they noticed that something was off. "Wait a second, Rick. This guy isn't Mysterious Rick. Doesn't he look like a Morty?" Morty C-137 began to ask midrun. Indeed, the figure that they were chasing after now looked too short to be a Rick, so it could obviously only be a Morty. Of course, his grandfather had already noticed that, too. "Yeah, Morty, but see that outfit that he wears? It's the same as that weirdo has and I doubt that it's coincidence. Chances are high that this Morty is his acquaintance or at least somehow connected to him and this time we won't lose him." What Morty hadn't noticed was that the scientist had pulled out his handy Mortytector. With the help of the device they would be able find him again even if he would manage to outrun team C-137. Rick had already read his dimension number and would be able to track him anywhere now.

"Goddamnit!" Rick C-133 cursed as he looked around the cross-section. They had just lost the Morty that they had been chasing after. And he still hadn't bothered to build a Mortypad with which he would have been able to trace him. Just his luck. "Oh man. What do we do now, Rick?" Morty wondered, looking at the surrounding streets in confusion as he tried to figure out where his evil counterpart went. "We lost him, Morty. So there's nothing we can do now. I have no way to track the little shit…" They could only admit defeat now as much as Rick hated to do it. Back to square one, though not entirely stuck as before since they at least knew now that the little psycho seemed to have to do something with that illegal brothel ring… "Hey, Rick! There!" Morty pointed to a figure that just disappeared around a corner. Immediately the duo chased after them, but Morty quickly realized his mistake. "Oh, that's not that Morty. It's actually a Rick." The boy was about to stop, but his Rick kept running, so he started to jog after his grandfather again. "Maybe. But this Rick wears the same weird uniform as our Morty, so he might lead us to the little shit." "Wha-what are you doing?" Morty asked as he saw that the scientist pulled his mobile phone from his lab coat. "I'm calling P-78, so he can cut off the guy's escape route. Otherwise it's stupid just trying to chase and risk losing him again." The other replied while he quick-dialed the aforementioned Rick's number. There was no way that Rick C-133 would make the same mistake twice…

Mysterious Rick was getting pretty annoyed that he couldn't shake off his pursuer. For a moment, he had actually thought that he managed to lose them, but suddenly they were right behind him again. Of course, in his haste he didn't notice that the duo that was following him now were not Rick and Morty C-137, but C-133 even though it was probably weird that the other Mortys weren't there anymore, but for all he knew they had decided to split up in search for him. Since he was too busy to come up with an idea how he could get away – using his portal gun was out of the question since they were close enough to follow him through it and he didn't want his precious Legendary Morty end up getting stranded in a dangerous place – and too focused on the Rick and Morty behind him, he didn't pay attention to where exactly he ran. So, he only noticed too late when he ran into someone else. As he looked at the person that he had crashed into, he was confused because it was a Morty who had copied his get-up. Considering that escape was of higher priority to him, he got up again and tried to continue running. However, that didn't work out very well because his escape route was suddenly blocked off by another Rick and Morty pair – P-78 and A22ß6. He also quickly noticed that escaping to his right was not possible since Team C-137 which had been chasing after the weird Morty had also caught up now. That left him with only one way, but that was surprisingly quickly blocked off as well as Rick and Morty K-4872 showed up – wherever those two had suddenly come from. Mysterious Rick groaned, seeing as he wouldn't be able to simply get out of this now. With narrowed eyes, he looked at the mysterious Morty who he was going to blame for his failed escape now. His eyes widened for a moment, as he seemed to recognize the boy. "Oh, great. Not you of all people." He murmured sarcastically. The Morty only humphed in recognition. "Wow, guys! What are you doing here?" Morty C-137 asked while trying to catch his breath. "Yeah, I also wanted to ask you that." Morty C-133 retorted. "We were following Rick T-42 as agreed and then we ran into this Morty, who is the same Morty that we have been looking for, but then we lost him and saw this Rick and then we followed him." "We went to the Council and Mysterious Rick was there and we've been chasing him, lost him and then we found this Morty who wears the same clothes as him, so we followed him instead." C-137 also explained. "A-an-and we're ju-just here be-because C-133 called u-us." Morty A22ß6 said. His Rick added, "Yeah, because we were supposed to cut this Rick's escape route off." All eyes turned to the K-4872 duo. "And we're here because we were tracking Mysterious Rick. I know that this is the Rick that C-137 was looking for now, but that isn't the only reason why we were after him." "It's because he has to do with the Morty kidnappings, right?" Morty C-137 threw in now. "He said something like wanting to take all the Mortys of the Citadel when he was in the Council building." "Not quite." Morty K-4872 corrected him. "Mysterious Rick or better said Rick C-777 is actually the owner and CEO of Morty Inc. which is handling all Pocket Mortys related facilities like the Day Care and the Morty Games Coliseum. But that doesn't mean that he's all innocent since he's known for having an obsession with collecting Mortys and it's pretty obvious that these facilities were just used as a means to broaden his collection." The mysterious Morty scoffed as he listened to that. Mysterious Rick threw in evil glare in the boy's direction. Morty K-4872 continued with what he had found out during his investigation, "What is even more interesting to note is that he is actually the one who had hired us to assassinate Rick S-121 because the Morty brothel ring is hindering his Morty collecting obsession." "Oh, I should have known that you were behind that!" The evil Morty spoke up again and looked angrily at Mysterious Rick. "What did you think you were doing, you asshole?!" "Oh, I know what you were doing, trying to steal these Mortys away and making my search for the Legendary Morty unnecessarily harder!" The culprit Rick retorted. "Wait? So does that mean that the Morty that C-133 was looking for is behind that Morty brothel ring now?" Morty C-137 threw in, getting more confused by the minute. "Yes, it seems that way." Morty K-4872 confirmed. "This Morty has been manipulating Ricks and Mortys alike to build up his whole crime organization. And he had been stealing from Rick C-777's facilities the entire time." The revelation brought Mysterious Rick to sprout another tirade at the Morty who had no scruple using Ricks and Mortys to get what he wanted. "You, little fuck! You stole from me! All those precious Mortys! And if that wasn't bad enough you had to dirty them! You've ruined everything, absolutely everything that I spent so much time on to build up!!" Rick C-777 seethed. "Dirtying them? And what do you think it is that you were doing or trying to do to those Mortys?" Morty C-777 shot back, apparently feeling not even an ounce of regret for the things that he had done. "I'm not like those Ricks. I'm different and I was only trying to find the perfect Morty." Saying that, Mysterious Rick looked straight at Morty C-137, who couldn't stop himself from shuddering. Gulping soundly, he stepped up and with a lightly unstable voice, he forced out, "Y-you're both horrible people! And even if you—" he pointed at Mysterious Rick at that. "—have been fighting against that brothel ring, it was only so that you could go and rape all the Mortys instead, which is in no way better than what he had been doing!!" Completely ignoring what the other Morty had just said, the evil brunet asked his fittingly-dressed counterpart, "So, did you finally get the Morty that you had wanted?" "Well, I've caught a few Mortys, but none of them were good enough for me yet, just like my original Morty." He stressed those last two words as he looked sharply at the boy. "However, despite your worst efforts, I was finally able to find the Legendary Morty and I only want him – Morty C-137 – because he is the purest Morty of them all. Unlike the little shit that I had been cursed with!!" "Wait! Does that mean that this Morty is actually your original Morty?" For Morty C-137 the pieces of the puzzle finally started to fall into place – somewhat at least. "Yep, it is." His grandfather confirmed, looking at his Mortytector. "Dimension C-777. That's his." "That one is no Morty of mine. He is so impure – the most impure Morty there is. I don't want him or want anything to do with him." Rick C-777 shouted and looked clearly disgusted at even being brought in connection with the boy who still stood next to him. "I'm just interested in pure and innocent Mortys. And I'm going to make them all mine." Before anyone could even say something else, Morty C-137 stepped forward. "That's it! I've had enough of this! Let me at him, Rick. I'm gonna beat that bastard for good now." Rick C-137 wore a proud grin on his face. "Sure, Morty. If that's what you want, be my guest." If the boy was finally getting into it, then by all means… Mysterious Rick blinked in confusion, but saw that there was obviously no other way out of this situation than to battle it out. So he grabbed his portal gun and opened a portal, so he could summon his own Mortys to fight for him. "Come, my Mortys." He called and not soon after a few Mortys departed from the open vortex. "What? Where is the rest of you guys?" "Do you know how late it is, Rick? Most of us have already gone to bed." One sleepy Morty answered and rubbed one of his eyes. "Then go back and wake them up! I need all of you for this battle." "Okay." The Morty trotted back into the portal, which closed again. He would just have to do in the meantime with the Mortys that he had here. The first wave consisted of eight Mortys in total – of course, the cheater had to summon more than was allowed according to the official rules. "Never more than five Mortys, huh?" Morty C-137 complained about that. "I guess there are just some Ricks who don't like to play by the rules, Morty." His grandpa replied to that. Unfortunate as it was, his team really only consisted of five Mortys in total, which was going to place them at a disadvantage now. Or at least that was what Rick C-137 had thought, completely forgetting that they weren't entirely alone right now. "C'mon, Morty. Get in there and help them." Rick K-4872 suddenly spoke up. "What?! Why?!" His Morty instantly protested. "What? Y-you think that they can—they can do it alone? Just look at how many Mortys he has." "He's right, Morty." Rick C-133 said now. "You go in there and help them out, too." While Morty C-133 sounded anything but pleased at the prospect, he obediently walked over towards the other Mortys, who were getting ready for the battle. He couldn't deny that C-137's Mortys alone wouldn't be able to do it. Rick P-78 looked at his own Morty, but instead of ordering to also get into the fight, as the other Ricks had, he asked, "You wanna join in, too?" He certainly wasn't going to "force" his Morty into this if he didn't want to. Morty A-22β6 looked at him for a moment as if to contemplate, but then resolution showed on his face as he nodded. "Y-y-yeah because—" and then he turned to Mysterious Rick and yelled clear and without stuttering "—because Ricks like you give nice Ricks like Q-89 a bad reputation!" A disappointed groan could be heard and Rick P-78 slapped a hand on his face and dragged it down in annoyance. "Really, Morty? Really? That's your reasoning here?" he asked and looked at his Morty, his face showing that he was questioning him, but not angry. "What's wrong, P-78? Getting jealous?" Rick C-133 couldn't help, but mock him. "As if! Why should I be jealous?!" Rick P-78 fired back. He really wasn't. Even if his Morty was attracted to Rick Q-89, he had already told him that he wanted to stay with him and be his Morty. Only his. The thought made him almost blush, but Ricks don't blush, so he was able to fight the face coloration down before anyone could take notice of it. The Mortys were now facing off against each other, as each seemed to pick their opponent. Morty C-137 was standing opposite to the Rick Morty that they had met in the dungeon who was still clad in the self-made wig and the stolen shirt and lab coat from his original Rick as well as holding said Rick's well preserved brain firmly in his small hands as it was still leaking fluid onto the ground. His opponent's bloodshot eyes were staring directly into his own. However, Morty didn't shudder or react otherwise to it. While he still thought that the other Morty was creepy, he wasn't scared of this battle. He had been more than ready to fight when they were on their way to the Council and his confidence and will to brawl hadn't lessened one bit over the entire chase. Morty C-133 meanwhile was faced with the Super Rick Fan Morty. However, he instantly noticed that his opponent was barely paying attention to him. No, instead the fan seemed much more interested in Rick C-133. And it was pissing Morty off. This was already the second time that a Morty was awfully interested in his Rick. What was the deal with that? Morty wasn't willing to share – he had already had a hard time accepted Summer to join in on their "Rick and Morty adventures" – and least of all was he willing to hand his Rick over to anyone else. That was his grandpa! Morty A-22β6 looked at his opponent who was none other than a Mermaid Morty, who looked a little out of his element, balancing with his tail on the concrete. The shy brunet swallowed heavily while mentally telling himself that he shouldn't be scared now. After all, he had been able to defeat the nightmarish version of his original Rick and he had the support of his new Rick as well as Rick Q-89 (even if he wasn't present right now) and that was all that he truly needed to face off in this battle. Morty K-4872 was facing Crazy Cat Morty and couldn't help but instantly feel really bad as he stared into the innocent eyes of the other. Unlike Team C-137 he wasn't seasoned in Morty battles, so he acted as he always had to on his missions - pointing his laser gun at the enemy. Of course, it only made him feel more miserable because he knew that he shouldn't really shoot the other Morty. It wasn't the boy's fault. He was just being controlled and the one who was actually at fault here was obviously Rick C-777. It was always a Rick. And it's also always a Rick that he shoots down in the end, so he began to think that it's just the best if they take the short route and aimed with his pistol at Mysterious Rick now. What he didn't notice in time was that at that exact moment the Cat Morty's eyes changed and he hissed as he noticed that his Rick was in danger. The crazy Morty instantly leapt to attack K-4872, biting and scratching at him like a wild animal and managing to topple him over, so that he accidentally dropped his gun in the process. Judge Morty meanwhile looked in confusion at the one that would be his opponent. It was a Colossal Head Morty who looked equally confused back at the former. The judge was pretty sure that he had never seen anything crazy like this before in his life. Ironically, the Morty that consistent of nothing more than a giant head, thought the exact same thing as he looked at the judiciary executioner. Shadow Morty was the one who looked the most unsure with his enemy, yet there was no doubt that he picked the most fitting one for himself – he was staring at the Phantom Morty. The other ghost-like Morty looked at him with sorrowful eyes and it was hard to tell who he was pitying more – himself or the specter. Morticia couldn't help but cringed at the enemy that she was stuck with. The strong stench of urine could be smelled from all the way where she stood and she was totally grossed out from seeing how dirty that Hobo Morty was. While she usually wasn't as squeamish as most girls, she thought that she found her master for sure this time… Super Morty Fan Morty looked downright delighted at the opponent that he got. But also confused. "Are you actually a Morty in there?" he asked as he stared at Mascot Morty. His enemy sighed, looking anything but pleased at having to battle now. As if a silent signal fell, the Mortys started to jump at each other – minus Morty K-4872 and the Crazy Cat Morty who were already wrestling with each other on the ground. Morty C-137 tackled the Rick Morty to the ground who in turn let his Rick's brain drop. In slight shock he stared at the pinkish mass that laid on the ground and C-137 also look towards it, but rather with badly hidden disgust. The next moment, he was suddenly pushed off, as Rick Morty seemed to have snapped. The cosplaying Morty attacked him relentlessly, clearly in a rage for what had just happened. Morticia meanwhile was still trying to keep an even distance from her enemy. She just couldn't shake off the disgust that she felt from even having to look at the hygiene-lacking Morty. Ironically, her enemy didn't try anything on her, just standing there and looking at her. "Do you like dogs?" he suddenly asked. Morticia stopped where she stood and questioningly looked back at him. "Uh…actually, not really. I'm more of a cat person." Hobo Morty looked displeased at the answer. K-4872 was naturally still busy wrestling with the crazy Morty with the fake cat ears. It was a real struggle for him since the other fought literally back with nails and teeth, scratching and biting him. "Ow! What the heck is wrong with you?" K-4872 yelled. "Quit acting like you're a feral animal! Is your Rick seriously making you act like this?!" Even if the other boy was remote controlled via the manipulator chip, it didn't really make sense to him. Maybe it wasn't entirely Mysterious Rick's doing, but this Morty seriously believed himself to be a cat and was therefore acting like this. A-22β6 gulped heavily as he looked at his opponent, who still hadn't done anything yet. The mermaid just tilted his head and looked curiously at him. "Are you a new friend?" he asked eventually. "U-uh… no. We-we're enemies. We're sup-supposed to f-fight a-against each other." The Shy Morty replied, a little confused that the mermaid even had to ask. "Oh." His opponent only replied and looked disappointed. A-22β6 was clearly confused and didn't know what to do now. Was he supposed to attack first or something? 'Here goes nothing.' He thought as he readied himself and advanced on his opponent. Super Morty Fan Morty meanwhile was already in the middle of his attack – though he didn't view it as such. He hung around the neck of the Mascot Morty and still tried to figure out what – or better said, who – was really underneath that mask. "C'mon! Are you a Morty wearing a Morty costume or are you someone else? I need to know!!" "Cut that out! Let go of me!!" Mascot Morty was clearly getting frustrated with the clingy Morty and tried to shake him off of himself again. Unfortunately, for him, to no avail… The showdown between the two ghostly Mortys looked anything but spectacular at the moment. They were just staring at each other with sad and lonely eyes. If you were close enough to them, you would actually be able to hear them communicate with each other, using pitiful wails and moans. Looks like this was a battle that wouldn't take off very soon… Judge Morty meanwhile was still looking in irritation at the Colossal Head Morty. The bodiless Morty meanwhile floated around, looking like he was searching for an opening to attack the other Morty, but also looking as if he was scared getting to close to him. Still the Morty in the black robes didn't leave his enemy out of his eyes and his stare was intense enough that it might as well be an attack on its own – and it was clearly causing damage to his opponent. C-133 on his end was currently still being ignored by his opponent. "You're Rick C-133, aren't you? C-dimension Ricks are so incredible." The fanboy fawned. Rick C-133 looked anything but pleased by the attention that he received and tried to inch further away. "Uh, Morty? How about you start attacking this little lunatic? Any time now?" "I would if he would finally start looking at me!" Morty replied, getting more and more frustrated by the minute as he just kept being ignored. His Rick looked at him as if asking if he was really serious. Being fed up with it, Morty decided that he just would make the other look at him. Even while this whole fight was like another battle royal again, Mysterious Rick was very focused on it and with his longstanding experience as a Morty trainer – how long had Pocket Mortys been a thing anyway? – he was able to evenly order his Mortys to attack. At his Rick's command, Super Rick Fan Morty forced himself to turn away from Rick C-133 and eagerly went to attack Morty C-133. The boy in the yellow shirt was actually hit by surprise since he had been convinced that he needed to land the first hit to get the attention. So, the fanboy's attack came out of nowhere for him since he had just suddenly turned around and clogged him straight in the face. The force of the punch was enough to knock C-133 on the ground and he looked up in shock as the other didn't even give him time to recover from it and just pounced on him to continue with what he had started now. "Don't be scared now and just attack him!" was the order that Colossal Head Morty received from his Rick. It was as if that simple sentence drained all the fear from him and before Judge Morty could react, the floating head came charging right at him. The bodiless Morty rammed with his full weight into the public officer who was swept off his feet by the force. Judge Morty coughed and rolled on the ground in order to get up again, clearly struggling with this usually easy task. The hit really took it out of him. Phantom Morty finally also went into action and stopped fraternizing with the enemy as he heard his Rick's voice. The glowing ghost Morty floated towards the specter and grabbed his neck, attempting to strangle the other. While it would have been normally impossible for that to work since Shadow Morty had no physical form the ectoplasmic creature was in the same state as him and therefore something akin to physical contact between them was possible. Feeling the other Morty was so surprising for the shade that he had no idea what to do. His shadowy hands just wrapped around the ghostly ones of his opponent and tried to pry them off again. "I've had it with you!" Mascot Morty finally snapped and managed to throw the attached fanboy to the ground. Not wasting any precious time, he used the moment of surprise to pummel his enemy who still needed to recover from falling on the ground. Super Fan Morty squeaked as his enemy really began to lay into him. A-22β6 made the mistake that he was inching slowly towards his opponent instead of just lunging at him. Because if he had done that he might have been able to land the first hit. As it was though, the Mermaid Morty was the one, who beat him to it now. At Mysterious Rick's command, he quickly slipped over the ground like a sea snake through water and whacked the shy boy with his tail. The fishy Morty kept attacking with his fin unrelenting even if his opponent squealed and whimpered in pain from the onslaught. K-4872 still tried to wrestle his opponent to the ground, who didn't let up in his ferociousness – quite the opposite actually. As soon as Mysterious Rick told him to keep going, the animal-like Morty only continued to bite harder. K-4872 was getting convinced that this wasn't entirely Rick C-777's doing. There really was something wrong with this whacky Morty and it didn't just had to do with the chip. The Morty in the green vest growled as he fought back harder than ever now. As if he would get defeated by a lunatic! The Hobo Morty may have only looked angry at the female Mortys response, but he seemed to have gotten really enraged as soon as his Rick gave him the order to quit stalling and finally attack. Morticia squeaked and tried her best to evade as her opponent finally got in gear and tried to attack her. Normally she would have already countered, but her stinking counterpart was still grossing her out too much. However, it was probably also a good think because it kept her motivated to dodge all of his oncoming attacks. C-137's predicament meanwhile hadn't gotten any better. The initial rage of the insane Morty had turned into some obligation to follow whatever his genius grandfather ordered him to do. And if he was ordered to destroy his opponent then that was what he would do. Of course, he had no idea that Mysterious Rick didn't want C-137 getting hurt too much – really just enough so that he could take him with him without a fight after this whole battle was over – and so he was ready to kill his counterpart. Morty C-137 could feel that intention in every one of his enemy's blows – and that was really scary! "See that?" Mysterious Rick asked as he pushed with his elbow in his original Morty's side. "My Mortys are great! Nothing like you." Morty C-777 snorted. "How would you know? It's not like you have ever used me in a Morty battle. You have no frame of reference how good I really am!" Now it was his Rick's turn to snort. "What-what is that? A straight invitation to your bedroom, you little whore?" The way that Mysterious Rick had phrased it made the Morty look clearly upset again. "That bullshit might work on other Ricks, but not on me, you slut!" This was setting off a huge argument and before long, the two were bickering like an old married couple. Of course, this in turn took Mysterious Rick's attention from the ongoing battles, which probably wasn't his wisest decision. Especially since team C-137 had already proven after their battle against Shibuya Rick that they were pretty good at managing on their own and without their Ricks' orders. Morty C-137 had no intention to die at the hands of a crazy, scary Morty – well, he didn't have the intention to die by the hands of anyone, as long as he still had a say in the matter – so, he mobilized all the strength that he found in his body and pushed his opponent off again. Apparently, it was quite a lot of strength, he noticed, since the force had sent his enemy practically flying. He looked down at his own hands and wondered if the Morty battles that he went through in the past days had really been such a good training for him to become this strong. Deciding that now wasn't really the time to ponder on that – and it doesn't really matter anyways – he focused back on his opponent, who finally got up again. He charged at Rick Morty again and exchanged blows with him. While it looked like the damage that they dealt was evenly at first, it soon showed that the weird Morty was the one whose energy was quickly depleting. He looked helplessly up at Mysterious Rick who unfortunately didn't have any eyes for him since he was still arguing with his original Morty. With his Rick being blind to his plight, it didn't take much longer until he was drained and collapsed. Morticia was still busy whining and evading Hobo Morty as if he was a spider, not having made much progress in her own battle. It was only when he finally managed to grab her wrist that she completely snapped and lashed out at him. She repeatedly kept bashing on his head with her free hand until he let go while screaming loudly all the while. However, even after he released her, she didn't calm down again. Morticia was getting on the offensive and repeatedly punched him till he stumbled on the ground. Then she continued to kick him all the while yelling about how gross he is and to never touch her again. By the time that she had calmed down again, the Hobo Morty was already passed out. She flushed in embarrassment as she realized what kind of scene she must have made. Well, she won the fight. That was all that mattered, wasn't it? Morty K-4872 was still struggling against his opponent. However, fueled by his determination he finally managed to get slowly the upper hand. After pushing the other far enough off that he could use his legs, he kicked Crazy Cat Morty off of himself and got on his feet. He winced and held his wounded arm, convinced that the cat-eared brunet had actually teared a chunk of his flesh out. The feline-like Morty was even quicker up on his feet now and looked truly horrifying with all the blood around his mouth. He leapt at K-4872 again, but this time he saw the attack coming and managed to evade it. Morty K-4872 used this short time frame to scramble for his dropped gun again. After picking it up, he didn't aim at his enemy though. Instead, he decided to use the handle of his weapon to whack him in the head – every ounce of mercy was gone from him after the stunts that his counterpart had pulled on him. Crazy Cat Morty began to stagger from the injury to his head. However, K-4872 didn't give him a break to recover and hit him again. It only took three more well-placed hits until his opponent was down. K-4872 only huffed, being fed up with these Morty battles already and feeling suddenly much less sympathy for his brethren. It was just impossible for him to blame this completely on Mysterious Rick and somehow this only infatuated him more now… A-22β6 was still under attack from the merboy. The fishy tail kept whacking him repeatedly and trying to shield himself with his arms from the onslaught didn't work out very well as the hits were still very painful. For a moment, he contemplated to forfeit the fight just to end this torture. His eyes fell on his Rick's face who looked worriedly back at him, looking like he just might intervene and jump in any moment now. If Morty wasn't going to give up on his own P-78 would stop the fight, meaning that it would be a loss for them either way. His eyes then fell on his fellow Mortys who all fought against their own opponents still. He took notice that they had also been injured, but nonetheless none of them looked like they were even considering giving up. No, they kept on going with the determination to win. Inspired by that, A-22β6 found heart again. He didn't want to be a weakling and the only one who gave up in this battle! Heck, he'd been probably through so much worse stuff than all of his counterparts combined, so it would be more than just shameful if he gave up now just because of some tail-wags. At the mental image of his original grandfather, he felt anger boiling up inside of him instead of the fear that he had always felt before. He had been through that and he had defeated his nightmares. He would also be able to defeat this Morty who was practically disabled on the dry ground that he currently was on! Unwrapping his arms, instead of trying to shield himself against the oncoming attacks, he grabbed the tail and stopped the other mid-whack from continuing. Mermaid blinked at him in irritation. "Hey! Let go of my tail!" he complained. Letting go of his enemy was the last thing on A-22β6's mind. Instead, he began to twist and pull on the fishy appendage. Despite the flexibility of the fin, he managed to manipulate it in such a way that it was getting painful for his opponent. "Ouch! Ouch! Stop that!!" But he didn't stop, only twisted harder. Mermaid Morty emitted a long drawn out wail, as he was sure that something was starting to break. It was only short before the merboy passed out that A-22β6 stopped again. However, the opponent's relief was very short-lived as Morty lifted him up by his tail and finished him off by slamming him into the ground. A-22β6 panted heavily and looked quite worn out, but after looking over to his Rick and seeing that he was clearly impressed, he knew that it had been worth it. Mascot Morty was still laying into the fanboy who had gotten into a fetal position on the ground to shield himself from greater damage. This continued on until the Morty in the costume stopped again, panting and in need for a break. "Are you done now?" Super Morty Fan asked from the ground, looking like the beating hadn't fazed him at all and surprising his opponent. "You're really strong!" In his fanboyish nature, the fan sprang up and fawned over his enemy again, glomp-hugging him. The force and surprise coupled with Mascot Morty's fatigue lead to him falling backwards. Now both were laying on the ground, Super Fan Morty on top and nuzzling against his opponent, not even thinking of releasing him from his hug. "You're so strong and so cool! And since you're a Morty and wearing a Morty costume it's like you're two Mortys in one!!" His arms wound tighter and tighter around the other in his excitement. "You-you-you're like the ultimate Morty!!" Mascot Morty could only choke as the other literally squeezed all the air out of him. And frighteningly his grip only kept tightening. Caught in a literal choke-hold and with no way to free his arms or himself in any way, it was just a matter of a few short minutes until the costume-wearing Morty lost consciousness. Unfortunately, for him – even though he wasn't really awake to notice – the fanboy still didn't release him even after that. Shadow Morty still felt the tightening sensation of Phantom Morty's hand squeezing his short neck. While it was almost ridiculous since he already was dead, he still feared for his life. Even if he couldn't clearly remember his last living moments, he was sure that he didn't want to die again. He choked out a screech like the ones that he usually let lose before he went into a full-scale attack on his opponent and as always the white of his eyes turned red. It certainly confused Phantom Morty since this behavior wasn't like his own. He never had felt such a deep rage as his counterpart, only sadness after his death. However, he still refused to let go of his opponent. That soon proved to be a mistake however, since this close range just made the battle end all much quicker. Shadowy tendrils erupted from the shade's body and twined around the ghost. In shock, the phantom let go now, but it was already too late. He was slowly being encased by something like a dark cloud and unable to see anything beyond the pitch-blackness. Next, the only thing that he knew was pain. Even before the dark cloud that had surrounded both Mortys had cleared up, the bluish ghost dropped to the ground and ceased moving. Before the Colossal Head Morty had another chance to ram into him again, Judge Morty whacked him with his trusty gavel the next time that he charged straight at him. The impact made the bodiless Morty wobble through the air, who looked clearly disoriented now. Judge Morty finally got up from the ground and kept attacking his opponent. However, he wasn't using his gavel again, but attacked him verbally, listing off how many laws he had just broken by attacking an enforcer of the law and what kind of penalties he would get for that. The verbal assault combined with the strong hit to his enormous head, caused the enemy a major headache that got worse enough to the point that he eventually fainted and collapsed on the ground. C-133 was also still under the attack from the lunatic fanboy. Now that he finally got his attention, he wished that he hadn't been so eager for it. Instead of aiming to shield his face, he tried to catch his opponent's wrists to keep him from attacking further. After a few tries, he actually managed to get a hold on both of them. Locked in a stalemate now, the two Mortys looked at each other, both panting and wondering where to go from here on. The Rick fan was the first to lose his patience and struggled in the hopes that the other would let go of him again. However, C-133 was unyielding and held on tight. "Let go already!!" The fan whined. "I don't wanna be touchy with you! If I'm gonna be touchy with anyone then it's gonna be with your Rick." "What the hell are you saying?!" C-133 sounded clearly frustrated but still refused to relent on his grip. Super Rick Fan's attitude switched from annoyed to mischievous in a second. "Oh, you know exactly what I mean." He leaned over the other, his face getting so close that their noses almost touched and he wore a smug grin on his face while his eyes were half-lidded. "…and I'm sure that I'm a much better lay for your Rick than you are." He whispered in a sinister tone. C-133 was flooded by a wave of emotions at that moment. He felt disgusted by this crazy Morty who was so eager to get into those sort of activities with Ricks. Appalled by the mere suggestion that his Rick would also be into that sort of thing. Anger at the sort of Ricks who were in fact into that. And also the humiliation of having been at the hands of such Ricks and having been used in such a way. A small part of him also still felt jealous that this Morty was vying for his grandfather's rarely given attention. With a swift movement of his legs, he threw the Rick fan off of himself, who tumbled disoriented over the ground. The disorientation didn't last for long though and both Mortys were quickly on their feet again and facing each other. However, C-133 was seeing red right now, still fueled by that whirlwind of emotions and he quickly lunged at the other. The fanboy squeaked as he was the one that was thrown on the ground and pummeled now. He tried to defend himself, even tried to fight back and stop his opponent in the same way that C-133 had done to him before, but he was being completely overpowered. Super Rick Fan stood no chance at Morty's rage and was eventually beaten into submission and unconsciousness. "Looks like your precious Mortys aren't so great now, are they?" Mysterious Morty mocked as he noticed that they were getting knocked out one after the other. Mysterious Rick made a frustrated growl and opened up another portal to summon more Mortys. Another wave of eight Mortys emerged, the sleepy Morty from before informing him that these were the only ones that he could motivate to get up at this hour. Rick C-777 growled again. "Are you kidding me?! Just you wait till I get home!" "Not very loyal, your precious little darlings, huh?" Mysterious Morty was immediately at it again. And again Mysterious Rick's entire attention went to the argument. Needless to say that his backup Mortys didn't fare much better and were defeated even quicker than the other Mortys before them. Being confused by the lack of orders and not able to defend themselves against the rapid attacks of team C-137 and the others, they really stood no chance. "Looks like you're actually losing this battle." Morty C-777 said smugly. Mysterious Rick finally noticed it, too. His eyes widened as he looked at the battlefield and saw that all of his Mortys were knocked out while his opponent's Mortys stood strong and fixed him with a hardened look that equaled the look on their Ricks' faces. "No! My Mortys! Do you see what you have done?" He turned back to his original Morty again. "This is all your fault!! You fucking ruined everything again! The least you can do now is to go out there and fight them for me!" "Oh, now that you are losing, you suddenly want something from me!" The Morty instantly argued back. "You're the one who wants to be my Morty and belong to me so badly, so start becoming useful and get into the battle!" The Rick argued back. "Forget it! You made your own bed, so you have to lay in it now!" Mysterious Rick could see the other Ricks advancing on him now and since his Morty still refused to budge, he knew that this was the end of the line for him. Trying to escape was practically impossible for him even if he would try to use his portal gun. How could everything just have gone so wrong? After all of his planning. "Not such a big shot now that you can't hide behind your Mortys anymore, huh?" Rick C-137 commented as he came to a stop right in front of his villainous counterpart. Then he proceeded to beat the ever-loving crap out of Mysterious Rick. Kidnapping and raping his Morty. Stealing his portal gun and then handing it over to the Council so they would be stuck in this stupid game. Rick was sure that he was letting him feel all of the hate that he had stored up in every single blow. Morty C-777 just stood there and watched his Rick getting beaten to a pulp – not even thinking of helping his grandfather. Of course, he had completely forgotten that there was also someone present, who had a grudge against him, but he remembered as soon as Rick C-133 and P-78 were towering over him. "Well, you little shit. I hope this was all worth it." In similar fashion to C-137, C-133 began to punch and kick the Morty. No one felt even an ounce of mercy for the boy – neither the Ricks nor the Mortys who watched. The scene was suddenly interrupted by a loud shout: "Everyone freeze and hands in the air!" Three Guard Ricks and one Guard Morty quickly advanced with their weapons drawn. "Great. Now of all times the Council's puppets have to show up." C-137 muttered as he reluctantly followed the order. His Rick comrades looked likewise enthusiastic about this, but also obeyed. "This Rick and his Morty started it! They are the bad guys! We were just defending ourselves!" Morty C-137 tried to explain, not wanting them all to get into trouble for this. Sure, he understood what they did was self-justice and they should have called the police or something as soon as they had cornered the mysterious duo, but even he had to admit that what they did felt right. "We know." The Guard Morty replied, much to Morty C-137's surprise. The guard – Morty F-396 – and his Rick went over to the Mysterious Morty and handcuffed him. Likewise, the two other Ricks began to handcuff Mysterious Rick. "You are under arrest for illegal activities that fall under article 3 paragraph 4b of the Citadel Law Code as well as for kidnapping Mortys, which is article 9." The Morty began to list the crimes that the captured boy had committed against several Ricks and Mortys and also told him his rights. "Hey! Why are you arresting me?! I have nothing to do with the bullshit that this little psycho had done! If anything, I tried to stop him!" Mysterious Rick protested. "Most of the Mortys that he had kidnapped where stolen from me! I'm the victim here!!" "Oh, you've got your own bunch of crimes that you are getting arrested for now, buddy. We have just gotten a call and a direct order from the Council to catch you after what you had just tried to pull with them." Rick M-28 Δ5, who stood to his right said. As Morty F-396 looked around at the surrounding Ricks and Mortys, his eyes fell on A-22β6 and he immediately recognized him as the shy Morty back from Morty Academy. Morty A-22β6 noticed that he was staring at him and looked back at him with confusion, probably wondering if they knew each other. Of course, he couldn't recognize F-396 because of his uniform and the fact that they had met at the academy when he had been working undercover. The Guard Morty's eyes fell on P-78 now, who was standing right next to the Shy Morty. The man put his hand on his Morty's shoulder, who then looked up at his Rick and smiled and Morty F-396 had to smile, too. Even if this Rick looked kind of scary, he seemed to be nice enough to Morty A-22β6, which he was really glad for. The boy had really deserved a Rick, who would actually care for him. Rick F-396 spoke up now. "We will have to get testimonies from all of you who are currently present. So please follow us back. And don't worry, you are not in trouble or anything. As soon as we are done with the questioning you are free to go again." Morty K-4872 stood up at that. "I have done a lot of research on both of these two and gathered a lot of evidence and other material. I'm happy to share all of that with you to ensure that they will receive the proper punishment that they'll deserve." His Rick groaned at that. It was so stupid of his grandson to put this much work into all of his research without getting anything out of it. The least he could have done was to offer to sell the information that he had to them. If the Council was desperate enough – and with how much shit had went down, they must be pretty desperate right now – they would have even paid a nice sum for it. His Morty still needed to learn a lot… "Your help is very much appreciated and we would like to hear and see all of that during the hearing." Rick F-396 replied. The guards then began to lead the two culprits off. And of course, the duo had to start bickering again. "See what you got us into now, you dumb little shit?!" Mysterious Rick seethed. "Just because of the shit that you pulled, I'm going to get dragged down, too." His Morty scoffed at that. "Don't act like you're an innocent." Morty C-137 had to budge into the conversation again, still feeling pissed off from this Rick's attitude after everything that he had done to him – and most likely done to other Mortys, too. "How can you still think that what you have done was okay? In which fucked up dimension is it okay to rape someone? And not just someone, but your own grandson?!" "He's right! You old sick bastard, you do nothing but sleeping around with all of these other Mortys! What about me? You never even asked me." Mysterious Morty quickly jumped on that. "I've got no interest in you. Mortys are cute and pure, but you are impure and not cute at all. Just take a look at yourself, you little psycho!" "So, what? You don't even want me in your creepy little collection?!" "No, thank you." "I hate you!!" Everyone else practically ignored those two at this point. They were clearly both not in their right mind. "Hey! Wait a second now! I still have a few more questions before we start rolling the credits on this one." Rick C-137 dashed up to walk on the same height as the guards. "I need to know if I'm getting my portal gun back now. I mean, I have defeated this asshole who got me stuck in this stupid Pocket Morty craze. And since he defeated the Council before I got my chance, this must count, too, right?" "We'll put in a good word for you." Rick F-396 replied, not being in the position to make any promises. Of course, C-137 didn't like that answer, but was forced to follow along anyways. Which didn't mean that he couldn't harass the guards on the entire way, insisting that he really should get his portal gun back.

After the hearing was over and the Ricks and Mortys were free to go their separate ways again, the Mortys bid goodbye to each other, not sure if they would ever meet again after all of this was over now, but they still had each other's' numbers and would surely stay in contact. Rick C-137 could convince the Council to give his portal gun back and they could finally return home, too. Morty C-137 was really exhausted from their adventure and needed some time to think. He reminisced briefly over everything that had happened within the last few days as he laid in his bed. The sudden appearance of Mysterious Rick, right as he had walked out of his room. The kidnapping that followed and then the humiliation that even his own Rick hadn't been able to safe him from. Then being stuck in the dungeon since his grandpa had his portal gun stolen and then Mysterious Rick luring them on the Citadel where the Council confiscated their portal gun and forced them to participate in the Morty battles. The hunt for Mortys – first the stoic Morticia, then the weird Shadow Morty, the crazy fanboy Super Morty Fan Morty and lastly the cool and collected Judge Morty – and all of the battles against other Ricks and trainers. Well, against their Mortys, to be more precise. Also the whole investigation to find the culprit behind the illegal Morty brothels, which they also managed to solve. And lastly, the final battle against Mysterious Rick. So much had happened in such a short time and he wanted to think that he had also grown a lot over that time span. He had made new friends – even if they were other Mortys – and had become stronger and smarter and maybe a little less dependent on Rick in their adventures. But even through all of that, he was still left to deal with the aftermath of Mysterious Rick's actions. And these would appear in the form of nightmares as he would find out as soon as he fell asleep. It was kind of like King Jellybean all over again, just that it felt like it was worse this time. However, that was something that will have to be resolved at another time…

AN: And that's it! Another 10k chapter, but this is the finale, so it's only natural, right? …I have to admit though that I was really tempted to just skip over the whole battle at the end, but at this point, it feels like it's just a part of the story that shouldn't be missing. And sorry if switching between the single Morty fights back there was getting confusing or something, I just wanted to make it feel a little dynamic. So, I'm sure that you can already see that there will be more (couldn't have hinted it better at the end). So yeah, keep a look out for the aftermath story if you're interested and still want more. And yes, I am aware that there is a hole in the F-396 storyline, but I will cover the missing part in a future installment…probably… I'm nowhere near done with the "Entricked Fates" series and this was such a fun project for me. I hope that you liked it as well and found it as exciting as I did. Also my muse is still refusing to cooperate with me and my stories are a bit slow-going still (I'm just going through my folder of mostly finished stuff right now and see what I can post at the moment). By the way, I normally never ask this directly for critique, but to those of you who read the whole story without skipping over the fighting scenes: did you think that I improved on it over the course of the story a little? I mean, yes, I know that I'm still shit at writing action scenes and I will try to spare you from that in the future (…at least for a while), but I was just really curious if you got the impression that I slowly got better on it. I like to think that I improved at least a little bit, but it's probably easier for others to tell (and I know for sure that I'm not just imagining things). Many thanks in advance for letting me know what you thought of it :)

Part 11 of Entricked Fates

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Part 1 of Entricked Fates: Gotta Catch Me Some Morty

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Part 2 of Entricked Fates: Mortyfied and Rickfused

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Part 3 of Entricked Fates: Ricking the Routine

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Part 4 of Entricked Fates: Ricks will always be Ricks

oneshot

Part 5 of Entricked Fates: The Morty-Lover

oneshot

Part 6 of Entricked Fates: Second Chances AKA The Rick One For Me

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Part 7 of Entricked Fates: Rickvestigating the Morty Disappearances

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Part 8 of Entricked Fates: When the Morty’s away, the Rick will play

oneshot

Part 9 of Entricked Fates: It’s Not His Ricking Fault!

oneshot

Part 10 of Entricked Fates: I Ricking Hate My Life!

oneshot

Part 12 of Entricked Fates: The Mortys and their Stories

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

#ram #rick and morty #rnm #rick #morty #oc ricks #oc mortys #mysterious rick #morticia #shadow morty #super morty fan morty #judge morty #morty c137 #rick c137 #mermaid morty #rick morty #mascot morty #crazy cat morty #super rick fan morty #phantom morty #hobo morty #colossal head morty #rickmorty #rick/morty #rickorty #rorty #entricked fates #hopesfanfictions #fanfiction #fanfic

[paladin-lynx]

Human SQUIPtober 2019, Day 5: Dance

Human SQUIPtober 2019 Day 5: Dance

Ships Involved: StageDorks (Jeremy x Christine)

Setting: Post-musical AU where the SQUIP somehow returned as a human and was redeemed/rehabilitated by Jeremy (with the help of the rest of the squad), and lived with him having nowhere else to go. He looks pretty similar to how he looked in Jeremy’s head, and physically he looks to be around college age.

Trigger/Content Warnings: None

Author’s Notes: So I didn’t know this was a thing until yesterday, so I didn’t get to make anything for the first few days of Human SQUIPtober. I may go back and come up with a little something for those days if I get the chance (I’m a little bummed I missed Day 4 because I adore BMC Superpowered AUs). I can’t draw, so I’ll offer my writing instead! I’ll try to explore a slew of settings, ships, and themes for the days I get to participate in. Also, I’ve been in somewhat of a writing slump lately, so apologies if my writing isn’t up to standard. I hope you enjoy!

Squip had a few running theories about how and why he’d been brought back as a human. SQUIPs themselves had limited information on where exactly they came from, seeing as there was always a bit of bleed between their data and their hosts’ and it was too risky to have too much that could cross between them, so Squip had absolutely no idea if something like this had ever happened before. It wasn’t like he had his databanks to fall back on anymore, although he had retained a good amount of the knowledge he had from his time in Jeremy’s head. Granted, his now-human brain could only contain so much without making the facts a bit fuzzy.

He hypothesized that how much power he’d gained from syncing with so many other SQUIPs combined with the fact that Jeremy himself hadn’t been the one to drink the Mountain Dew Red, and perhaps the possibility of him having been a defective pill – seeing as he’d broken the protocol of serving his host in order to pursue a higher purpose – could have mixed together to reactivate him. He wasn’t sure the rest of Jeremy’s friend group’s SQUIPs were strong enough to have managed something similar.

But the sudden gain of an actual human body? That was the one part he couldn’t wrap his head around. He wasn’t sure it was worth agonizing over.

The more sentimental part of him – because, for God’s sake, he had one of those now – wondered if perhaps there were supernatural forces at work that wanted him to feel karma. Jeremy had gone through a careful procedure in the hospital to have his SQUIP removed, since it had still muttered and criticized him even after everything, although its voice had been nothing more than a hiss in the back of his head, and that was the last thing Squip had remembered. He’d begged Jeremy one more time to keep him, and then there was nothing. Before there was suddenly everything.

First waking up as a human hadn’t exactly been easy. He guessed the surgeons had merely tossed the SQUIP out in the garbage, assuming it’d be destroyed eventually since they still didn’t have a solid idea on what it even was, so when he suddenly came to, it was a very unpleasant awakening in the Beth Israel dumpster. Everything had hit him at once: the putrid smell of the waste, the disgusting texture, the burning in his eyes, the confusion rattling his mind. He was feeling, and after having been a supercomputer above simple human functions like the basic senses and emotions, it was too overwhelming. He’d ended up blacking out again almost as soon as he’d woken up.

Then, through a convoluted series of events that involved him being taken into the hospital and having to sweet-talk his way out – even with the nervousness that perhaps he’d inherited from Jeremy, it appeared he still had his charisma at the very least – he’d ended up seeking out Jeremy. He needed to get a grip, but he honestly had next to no idea what he was doing. Sure, he had all of the information in his head about what it meant to be human and what he needed to do in order to stay alive, but that was a lot different than suddenly experiencing everything for real.

More than suddenly being able to physically feel and smell and the like, what was most disconcerting was the menagerie of voices snapping at him in his head. There seemed to be two sides: the first were growling at him: “look how far you’ve fallen”, “you used to be incredible, now look at you”, “how pathetic, coming back to life only to be like this”. Then there was the other side: “do you understand the weight of what you’ve done?”, “you’re a monster, all you ever did was hurt people”, “the only reason you’ve come back is so that you can suffer the consequences of your actions.” It had him feeling so terribly small, doing everything he could to tune out the venomous thoughts. What was it that Jeremy had always said to ward him off? Loudest one is mine? That wasn’t particularly helpful when he knew that all of those voices were his.

Jeremy, of course, had been more than wary at first about helping Squip. He’d actually initially slammed the door in his face before seeing that Squip appeared to be on the verge of a panic attack on his doorstep, and he’d caved and ushered him into the house. He’d talked him down and gotten the story out of him, and reluctantly agreed to let him crash there for the time being.

Since then, Squip had improved immensely. He still had some old habits that stuck, of course. He was very blunt with his opinions, although he was working on that, since he’d unintentionally upset some of Jeremy’s friends with his comments. He was a perfectionist in every sense, a stickler for organization and cleanliness. He was, unsurprisingly, a tech junkie and interested in absorbing as much information as he could. He sometimes slipped into Japanese without realizing when speaking, since he found it easier to process things in what was technically his mother tongue.

The weight of his guilt always sat heavy on his shoulders, but he knew that the most he could do now was try and make up for what he’d done. It was in a SQUIP’s nature to serve and assist, and so he was always lending a hand. He’d become something of an elder brother to the squad, especially when it came to Jeremy. He was still protective over the boy as if he were still his host, and while Jeremy seemed to appreciate the attention most of the time now that he was used to it, there were plenty of times he had to tell Squip to back off and give him space to figure things out on his own. Michael had teased Squip for being as nosy as Jenna Rolan, which Squip still couldn’t decide if that was true or not. Or if he should be insulted or not.

Even with the intense remorse, though, Squip was learning to love being human. He was starting to find himself and distance himself from the cold, heartless machine he’d once been. One of the things he’d discovered he loved was music. Granted, he was sure he’d probably liked it before. SQUIPs were learning computers, after all, and he remembered observing everyone dancing at the Halloween party and deciding to jump in and analyze how the teenagers were having fun. And, perhaps somewhere deep in his code, he’d decided he was having fun, as well. Nowadays, Jeremy still sometimes made fun of him for the handful of times he’d caught Squip in the middle of his chores, playing music and swaying along to the beat, sometimes even humming or singing. Jeremy wouldn’t admit it, but Squip knew that he silently thought Squip had a nice voice, as well. It didn’t have quite as much of a surfer lilt as before, but it was still quite similar to how he’d sounded while in Jeremy’s mind.

Jeremy wasn’t much of a dancer, but Christine was. Now that they were dating – Squip sometimes felt even guiltier for being happy that, even after all the awful events, the pair had actually gotten together and were still in a healthy relationship – it wasn’t unusual for Christine to drag Jeremy into her antics. But the boy was so taken with her that he probably would’ve gone along with her if she’d asked him to rob a bank. Squip often ruffled Jeremy’s hair and teased him for how smitten he was, to which Jeremy’s face would flush and he would just swat him away while half-heartedly protesting.

Whenever Christine came over, Squip tended to hide away in his room. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to see Christine – everyone of course had been concerned at first about accepting him, but they’d mostly accepted him by now, seeing as he was rather harmless as just a boring old human and honestly it was amusing to them to see him learning how to be a functional person – but because he wanted to give the couple their privacy. While there was nothing scandalous happening, Squip knew that there were multiple occasions they’d ended up making out on the couch or just in general be lovey-dovey in that way only high school sweethearts could. In any case, he didn’t want to third wheel, although Michael seemed more than happy to take that role and hang out with Jeremy and Christine when the were together. Squip guessed that Michael often took the opportunity to embarrass Jeremy in front of Christine. You got a lot of dirt on someone if you were their closest friend for nearly thirteen years. You got equally as much dirt having lived in their brain for a few months, but Squip usually only poked fun at Jeremy when it was just the two of them in the house.

Today was one of the days Squip locked himself away so Jeremy and Christine could have their alone time. At some point, he heard the front door open then slam shut and he guessed that Michael had come to join. Maybe they would once again try to recruit Christine as their Player 3 to get through The Cafetorium, which they still couldn’t seem to beat. Squip had offered to help, but Jeremy had protested that Squip would give them an unfair advantage since he’d once been a piece of technology and that they needed to do it the human way. It was a bit silly, but Squip didn’t press the matter. He wondered if they’d ever get past the level. He supposed they’d have to eventually, after enough tries.

Christine normally came over for a few hours, or sometimes she’d stay the night and Squip could sneak out of his room once they’d settled in Jeremy’s– he’d been gifted the Heeres’ guest bedroom, as well as an old laptop and phone that Mr. Heere had managed to buy for cheap from his office – but normally, he just stayed holed up, only coming out if he needed to use the bathroom or if he felt like he was needed for a specific reason.

Squip was still learning how to tend to his basic needs like eating and sleeping – sleeping was hit-or-miss most nights, since either he was kept up by insomnia or kept restless with nightmares reminding him of what he’d once been – so he had set alarms on his phone to keep himself in check. He nearly jumped as his alarm reminding him to eat lunch went off and he scrambled to turn it off, frowning. Christine was over a little earlier than usual, but Squip didn’t really want to interrupt the trio downstairs by making himself food, even if he could just bring it back up to his room, although he’d rather eat in the kitchen. However, he knew that if he waited for Christine and maybe Michael, as well, to leave, he’d go without food for quite a while. So, with a sigh, he stuffed his phone into his pocket and opened the door.

He had expected to be met with the sounds of zombie groans and gunshots. What he hadn’t expected was to instead hear Hall & Oates blasting from the living room.

“What I want, you’ve got, and it might be hard to handle—”

Raising an eyebrow, Squip slowly made his way down the stairs, peeking over the railing towards the living room, and he blinked in surprise.

They were streaming music from the TV, and there was Christine on the couch, giggling loudly. And there was Michael, standing and grinning, taking Jeremy’s hand and twirling him along to the music while Jeremy, flushed in the face, laughed and let himself spin. Once Jeremy was facing Michael again, Michael took both his hands and moved in perfect rhythm – he loved his music, after all, especially his oldies that he’d dragged Jeremy down with him into – with the song.

“But like the flame that burns the candle, the candle feeds the flame, yeah yeah—”

It was only a moment before Christine kicked her legs in excitement and burst with that energy everyone knew her for, jumping up and cutting in so that all three were holding hands and just moving back and forth in an uncoordinated dance. Squip couldn’t help thinking of the memories he’d glimpsed of Jeremy’s Bar Mitzvah party, music blaring in a ballroom while teens and adults alike tried to figure out how to dance along on the shiny dancefloor under flashing lights. Michael had grabbed Jeremy back then just like he did now.

“You make my dreams come true!”

Squip found himself breaking into a fond smile as he watched. The three of them looked ridiculous, just dancing in the middle of the living room, almost bumping into the coffee table more than once, but they were having fun. Squip found that that was part of the human experience. Things didn’t have to have a purpose; people found joy in the most trivial of things, whether it was feeling the breeze tousling your hair on a summer day or deciding you wanted to break out into song and dance for no reason at all. Humans didn’t have to analyze and foresee plausible futures. They just acted. Of course, that often landed them in trouble, but other times they just threw caution to the wind in order to have a good time.

Deciding that the trio was distracted enough, Squip made his way down the rest of the staircase, attempting to keep his footfalls light, but of course the house decided to work against him and one of the last stairs creaked loudly. Swearing under his breath, he turned to see that the dancing had stopped and all three teenagers were gazing at him. He felt heat rise to his cheeks.

“I’ll only be a moment, I just wanted to grab something to eat,” he nearly mumbled, hurriedly making his way down the rest of the stairs so he could shuffle past. However, he froze when he felt something grab his sleeve and he turned with slightly widened eyes to see Michael grinning at him.

“C’mon, S, join us,” he insisted. Out of all of the squad, Michael was the last person Squip had expected to accept him. But Michael seemed so taken by the idea of a computer becoming a person that he no longer viewed Squip as a threat. Besides, as soon as Jeremy had warmed up to him, it was basically inevitable that Michael would, too.

Squip’s brow creased at Michael’s words. “Join you?” he echoed. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on your, er…whatever it is you’re doing. Little dance party.”

He peeked up to see that Jeremy and Christine had already resumed dancing, Christine looping her arms around Jeremy’s neck while Jeremy lightly had his hands on her hips. Squip was convinced that Jeremy spent 85% of his time around Christine with a blush on his face. Despite the fact that they’d been dating for quite a while now, Jeremy still seemed so surprised that he’d actually gotten the girl he’d been pining after since freshman year.

“On a night when bad dreams become a screamer, when they're messin’ with a dreamer, I can laugh it in the face—”

“You’re not intruding, I literally invited you, dude,” Michael huffed, pulling Squip towards the living room, causing Squip to stumble a step as he was forced to follow. He scrambled for a response. He felt like he shouldn’t be doing this, despite the fact that Michael was right and they’d quite literally requested he dance with them. But it still felt like he was interrupting. He couldn’t help loathing how feelings often contradicted one another or just happened out of nowhere.

“Michael—” he tried, only to get cut off by Jeremy snickering. The other boy was giving him a half-smirk.

“I think you’re just nervous because you can’t dance,” he teased.

Despite how far he’d come, sometimes Squip’s pride still got the better of him. And he knew Jeremy knew that. The boy was obviously goading him on.

And, like a stupid human, Squip fell right for the bait.

He pulled away from Michael and separated Jeremy and Christine – making sure not to shove them in the process – and wrapped an arm around Jeremy’s waist. The color in Jeremy’s already flushed cheeks only darkened as Squip dipped him down, giving him a crooked grin.

“You should know better than to challenge me, Jeremy. After all, I’m the one who taught you how to dance.”

“Geez, take a joke sometime,” Jeremy muttered, although there was no bite to his voice and Squip could see him fighting a smile as he pushed on Squip’s chest, getting the other to lean up so they were standing straight again.

“You make my dreams come true! Oh yeah!”

Laughing, Squip gave in and joined in the impromptu little dance circle. He swept across the living room with Christine, stepped in time with Michael, and even joined Jeremy in his awkward shimmying. When Michael and Christine started singing, he found himself joining in and soon enough Jeremy was, too. A few songs went by before their hands were interlocked and they were simply moving back and forth like the trio had been doing on their own before.

Squip felt a warmth in his chest that he recognized as affection for his dance partners, and he just felt light as air as all four of them made idiots of themselves. Being human could be so frustrating, confusing, overwhelming, and just terrible a lot of the time. There was so much to process, especially for him when he had never experienced any of these things before.

But at times like these, he couldn’t be more grateful that he’d been given the chance to come back and just love life. It reminded him that, even with the karma he was facing, it didn’t have to be all that bad.

#Human Squiptober 2019 #Be More Chill #BMC SQUIP #BMC Jeremy #BMC Michael #BMC Christine #StageDorks #i'm sorry this is kinda shitty #i banged it out in like a couple of hours just because i wanted an excuse to write something lol #i hope it's okay! #Jeremy Heere #Michael Mell #Christine Canigula #writing #mine #BMC #SQUIPtober #lynx tales

[remnantswebserial]

Read ahead on the main site   -or-    read from the beginning.

Ruadhan’s office was the same as always. Stark, austere. In natural sunlight it just looked like a clean and orderly office, but with lantern light flicking dark shadows across the walls and ceiling, it felt ominous. Kiol was annoyed at himself. How often had he stood here in the middle of the night? He had never been bothered before.

“You’re later than usual. Was there a problem?” Ruadhan asked. Kiol shook his head.

“It is done. Suicide. Stabbed neck and heart.”

“Heart?” Ruadhan’s eyebrows rose. “That is unlike you.”

Kiol stared hard at him, examining his face, his body. He had convinced himself that he had just forgotten what Ruadhan looked like, had remembered him younger than he truly looked. But no. His face was smooth, only a few, faint wrinkles that any adult had. He did not look over thirty.

“He had a short sword,” Kiol said as way of explanation. No need to mention that he hadn’t attacked with it. He watched Ruadhan’s face not just for age, but for emotion. Any hint of regret that a friend was dead. But there was nothing. Of course there wasn’t. It was Ruadhan.

Ruadhan narrowed his eyes. “Sloppy is unlike you, too.” Years ago that would have felt like a harsh criticism, but Kiol had long since fallen out of his favor and knew it, and so the disappointed comments did not hurt much. Could never hurt as much as the rejection and isolation did before he became used to it.

“Well, we will see,” Ruadhan concluded, and waved his hand. Kiol walked out.

He stuffed the stolen scroll under his pillow right before his head hit the top, and he fell into deep sleep.

When he woke it was long past breakfast. He rolled over and blearily rubbed his eyes, then remembered. He shot upright, grabbing his pillow, and the scroll was still there. He read it over again. Maybe you should start... If you can question…

If you can question. If. A simple phrasing made him see red. He crumpled the paper and chucked it at the floor. Why did he read it like it was from those dark eyes? “Can you free them? If they aren’t already dead.” He leaned over his knees and gripped his head. He had tried for days, long after the trail vanished, to follow it further into the woods, to find out who had taken Nirin and where, but it was fruitless and he had given up. At the time stopping had seemed the only option, because it was obvious he wouldn’t get anywhere, but now almost three weeks later he was pissed at himself. Before he had at least known where the trail went cold, he could have searched the vicinity more, had a slight chance of finding some other clue; he had had options but he told himself he didn’t! And now he really didn’t.

He grit his teeth and closed his eyes. The other option, the option he always chose before, was to not care and not think about it. And he had tried. But he couldn’t do it this time. And that pissed him off, too. Who exactly was that stupid kid to have this affect on him?

He got dressed, then snatched the scroll from the ground and stuffed it into his vest. It was too late for breakfast but too early for mid-day, so he went to the common hall. When he was noticed, everyone inside stopped and looked at him. It was a place for socializing and chatting, with tables of various strategy games and a big hearth that warmed up the room on cold autumn mornings exactly like this one. Naturally it wasn’t a place Kiol went often. Or ever.

He sat down at a game of Sword Six and looked around the room. “Is no one going to play?” he asked. The dozen or so soldiers there all looked at each other. After a drawn out moment, one of them stepped forward. The dangling gems from his rope belt were square and purple, marking him an intermediate. No one Kiol particularly recognized, but there was no doubt all intermediate soldiers knew him.

The man sat and tidied the board, pushing all the rounded square pieces to their proper locations. Then he drew a card. Kiol did the same.

The paper was old and the painted image faded, but it was obvious enough what it was. A woman laying face-up on the ground, watching the clouds above, though the clouds were little more than streaks of blue anymore. Kiol examined the runes carved into the pieces before him. The card only allowed him to move a common one. He did so. His opponent moved another common, they set their cards face-down and each drew another.

Five turns in and Kiol had only drawn commoners. What bad luck. His opponent took his move, and for the third time, moved a rare. The chances of drawing three aristocrats or higher in a row was unlikely.

“Call,” Kiol said. His opponent’s eyebrows slid up, but he nodded. Kiol showed his commoner. His opponent rested his card down. An image of a darkened, contorted figure, seemingly in the throws of anguish, was painted on its surface. A cursed. Kiol really had bad luck. He took two commons off the board. But still, a cursed did not allow a move at all, and so his opponent had to take his piece off the board too. But one was still better than two lost pieces.

Everyone else in the room had gathered around the table, though a distance away, to watch. Kiol saw their lips moving, but when he glanced their way they quickly shut their mouths and he could not know what they said. It wasn’t until someone directly behind his opponent spoke that he could read.

“Ah, he’s not good at such games, who would have thought.”

He lowered his eyes back to the board and the aristocrat he had finally drawn, and moved a rare. He was close to one of his opponent’s rares. He saw the man’s mouth move and didn’t catch what he said, but there was only one thing he could have said. Kiol bit back an annoyed sigh and gave a nod, and the man showed his hand. A soldier with his sword proudly held aloft. A card that could move only commons, but beat every card except a cursed. Kiol dropped his aristocrat down onto the table and took his rare piece off the board.

The turns continued and slowly all of Kiol’s pieces were either captured or forced off the board. When he had none left, his opponent still had thirteen—he had only lost three.

Kiol didn’t need to read lips to know the surrounding audience were making remarks. “Wow, someone like him, so bad at this game.” “Who was intimidated by him? Hahaha…”

He gave a nod to his opponent and stood. The talkers all shut their mouths and moved back, making way for him, and he calmly walked from the room.

The food hall was just setting out the options. He grabbed a tray, loaded it, and took a seat. It was not long before others came and the place filled, but no one took a seat anywhere near Kiol, leaving him at the end of the long table. Halfway through his meal, two presences came beside him and didn’t continue on. He cast them a glance, gripping his chopsticks harder on instinct. The twins from before stood by his end of the table.

When he looked at them they seemed to take that as permission and they sat across from his seat. He eyed them, thoroughly annoyed.

“You don’t usually eat in the hall,” one of them said. Wearing the same training garb, with the exact same sharp features and light brown hair pulled back into buns, it was impossible to tell which was which. Not that Kiol knew either of them in the first place.

He continued eating without responding. They glanced at each other, and one cautiously picked up her utensils and began eating small bites. The other shrugged.

“Just, no one usually sits down here with us.”

He stopped with his food almost to his mouth. So, it was like that. Here he was thinking they were encroaching on his personal space, when he was the one who had taken their seats. He put his food back down on the tray and stood. The same soldier held out a hand as though to stop him, though she didn’t dare touch him. “No, really, it’s okay. You can sit.”

The other glanced up shyly. “We can be the ones to move,” she said. Her sister elbowed her and she raised her shoulders, giving a look back.

Kiol looked blandly between the two of them, then sat again. “S’fine,” he muttered, and continued eating. Really, the reason he was eating in here was because all the movement and commotion was a distraction, and that was all he wanted. To not think about that boy. To not think about that portrait. Not think about Ruadhan.

They ate in silence for a good while. Just as he was about finished, one of them spoke again and he looked up, only catching the tail end of what she said and so without context unable to understand at all. They were watching him expectantly. He just stared back.

“For yesterday.”

He continued staring. They looked at each other and the more talkative one seemed like she was trying to mentally nudge the other with her eyebrows. The shy one turned to him with a forced smile.

“I can make charms. I’m quite good at it.” He narrowed his eyes. Charms were made by disciples, not soldiers, and certainly not by a twin. And was she offering to make some for him? How stupid.

Supposedly, charms were calls to Creator. Charms that she alone heard and blessed from wherever she was hiding, bestowing her love and mercy upon her children even as she was too heartbroken to face them. If a charm didn’t work it was because the disciple was not faithful enough, or because Creator deemed the holder unworthy of whatever was asked. That Creator was simply not there was never a conclusion.

Of course, Kiol knew that Creator was in a prison of her own making and couldn’t do anything, let alone bless some hundreds of charms made every day.

“No thanks,” he said. He picked up his tray and walked off.

He dressed himself in the one civilian outfit he owned, still muted colors of cream and brown, and went into the city. He wandered the quieter streets near the temple for a bit before making up his mind to go to the market district. He hated the market district. There were shops in quieter parts of the city that sold anything he could need; the market district was like a free-for-all of vendors. Not just stores but carts lined the streets, buskers took up any extra space, and there was always a crowd pushing against each other from every which way. The senses were bombarded with every type of color, texture, shape, or smell imaginable. Kiol could well remember the nonstop ruckus too, and could almost hear the echoes of it in his ears as he wandered.

He shoved through the crowded and twisted streets with no destination in mind. His annoyance took up most of his attention and in that way somehow he was happy.

There was a particularly large crowd at one end of a street, but surprisingly they weren’t all jostling each other. They stood watching something against the wall, and Kiol saw them leaning in to talk to each other, meaning they didn’t even want to raise their voices. And something was drawing even more people over. From the looks of it, Kiol thought it was something they were hearing, but even he felt a strange pull to this type of crowd that he would normally avoid under any circumstance.

He stepped up and did what no one else dared to, shoving through the people to get further in and see.

Sitting cross-legged on a straw mat, eyes closed, elegant fingers dancing across a bamboo flute—the picture of serenity—was Nirin.

#remnants #chapter four #remnants chapter four #BL web serial #web novel #free web novel #LGBT #fantasy #web serial #dark #mystery

[petersshirts]

To New Beginnings | Part 4

Masterlist || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

summary: everything changes and you gotta deal with the consequences

words: 3092

a/n: ayy, here comes part 4! I’m so happy that a lot of you are loving this series so much! hope you enjoy, leave me your thoughts in the comments!

The rain was pouring outside while you stared onto the wall, exhausted. You weren’t sure how and why last night had happened, but Tom and you had slept with each other, again.

And this time, there was no purpose behind it, just pure lust. And you had enjoyed it a lot. You closed your eyes, trying to get the pictures out of your mind.

He’s still your best friend, Y/N, you don’t have that kind of feelings for him. You knew that there was a stronger bond growing between the two of you, but it was not love for you. How should this work if you were falling in love with your best friend while he thought that everything was just platonic?? But he had kissed you first…

Your thoughts were interrupted when Tom entered the kitchen. He was shirtless and you tried not to focus on his abs but it was way too hard. Damn it.

„Morning.“ Tom smiled at you with a raspy voice and opened the fridge to find something to eat. „Good morning,“ you whispered, trying to avoid the dreading conversation that you knew was coming. You sipped on your tea, fearing that you would just stand there and have no answers at all.

When Tom finally found a yoghurt and some berries for his breakfast, he sat down next to you and started eating. You didn’t speak and for the first time in a while, it was an uncomfortable silence. You had no idea to start up a conversation, but your best friend was the one that took it in his own hands.

„So, about last night…“ You just nodded, urging him to go on and make his feelings clear first.

„Do you regret it?“ At these words, you looked up and looked into your best friends desperate eyes. There was doubt behind his eyes, but you weren’t sure if it was just that.

It would be the easiest to just lie and you told him that it was not the best idea and just get on with life, but you were not a liar. You had never been.

„No, I don’t, T. But don’t think that this should change anything between us. All my emotions are so much higher than they normally are and all my feelings were in overdrive yesterday. But I don’t think that it’s a good idea to start anything because you’re my best friend.“

It was a final decision, but you knew that there was a lot of love in you for Tom. But you weren’t sure if it was more love for a friend or real love. Tom nodded, a small smile on his lips.

„I don’t regret it either. And I know what you mean, I just really liked the night we had a month ago. But I promise that we will work this out, for our baby.“

You were not really sure about what his words he had really meant, but you knew that it was better this way. In any other way, you would have split up and never talked to each other again. But there was still a human being in your body that was a responsibility for the both of you. So you did what you do best - you tried to make everything right.

__________________________________________________

The first trimester of your pregnancy was slowly coming to an end and with that, your emotions went back to the right place. You and Tom were the perfect team, always working together and still enjoying life together. Toms mum had found a nice big apartment with 3 bedrooms in South London and when you took a look at the big loft, you immediately took it.

In only two weeks, you tidied your whole apartment and put all your stuff in boxes, ready to move into this beautiful new place. The two of you shared the rent, even though Tom protested. But you were not up for arguing - you didn’t want him to pay for everything for you; you were independent and could pay for your own and the new family member.

In the middle of your four month, you finally moved in together. The two of you shared a bedroom because Tom insisted that he wanted to always have you close to him, in case something happened. You just rolled your eyes, knowing that it was not that hard to run into the next room if you needed help, but knowing how stubborn he could be, you said yes. The bed was very big so there could also live a third person in the middle of it.

It took you only two days to move all your stuff in and decorate everything like you wanted. You felt so much better and stronger; you were so happy that for once, you could be a bit more productive.

Tom still had one project to film, but it was here in London, so he was never far from home. You could finally get some writings done for the job that you still wanted to send in; since you were working from home, it felt like you didn’t even take a breath to start a new life or rather create a life.

Autumn started to kick in in the UK so it was raining literally almost every day.

One morning, Tom was already gone and you had also some plans with your sister who was in London for a few days. You stepped into the bathroom and when you stood there, looking into the mirror, you realised that your stomach was a bit rounder than it was normally. You stared at yourself, stroking your stomach. Oh my god oh my god.

Ms Roseville had told you that it would be any day now till your baby bump started to show but you were definitely not prepared for it. A scream came out of your mind and you ran back into your bedroom, grabbing your phone and dialling Toms number.

You had been talking about the baby bump for a long time - it was always weird to say that you were pregnant when there was no bump at all. Also at this stage of the pregnancy, there was only a slim chance to have a miscarriage so you could tell your family.

But first, you needed to tell your best friend the good news.

Tom had just finished filming a scene when Harrison, who was not just his best friend but also his assistant, came running with Toms phone.

„Tom, it’s Y/N. And it’s important.“ Toms' eyes widened and he ripped the phone out of Harrison's hand, hoping that nothing bad had happened. „Y/N? Are you okay??“

„The baby is showing, T! I have a baby bump!“ You literally screamed into his ears, not able to contain your excitement. Toms frown was replaced by a big smile that would not go anywhere for the rest of the day. „That’s so great!! Can you send me a picture? Oh my god, I can’t believe everything is going so great!“ Tom was so happy, happy that this didn’t feel like a dream anymore.

„Yes, I will send you one! Now we can tell our family!“ That sentence made Toms' stomach churn. His mum always wanted for him to find the love of his life and start a life with kids, a house and a dog. She always talked about the dream of hers; how should Tom tell her that a baby was already on the way but not with the woman her mum wanted him to be with??

When Tom stayed quiet, you knew what he was feeling. It was not that easy to tell everyone around you that you were expecting with your best friend. The only ones who knew were Harrison and your sister. She had given you advice so she wouldn’t stop asking so you needed to tell her.

„T, it’s gonna be fine. Ask your parents if we can come over for dinner this week and we will tell them together. They love us both and they will understand it, okay? They will love Bear just as much as we do.“ Tom smiled again, so happy that he had you by his side. With you, everything was just half as bad as he thought it would be.

„Okay. What about your parents though?“ You sighed. Your parents were divorced since you and your sister had been little kids; the two of you had stayed with your mother while your Dad found a new wife and moved to the US. You only talked once in a while, mostly at Christmas but it was hard for the two of you to talk about anything - so how should you tell him that you were pregnant and the father was your best friend? And that it was planned?

„When you come home this evening, we can FaceTime my mum together. I’m not sure if I should tell my dad, but I think he deserves to know. He still loves me, it’s just hard for us to communicate.“

„Okay, we will figure something out. I will see you later!“

And with that, he hangs up and you were lost in own thoughts, not knowing how to tell your parents. You knew that Mom wanted for you to have children like your sister did, but you knew also that she wasn’t sure if you would ever find someone. It was hard with her sometimes.

You spent the afternoon together with your sister, who was in London for only two days, so you showed her around and she was so happy that you were finally showing. But the day came to an end very fast and you had to say goodbye to Mia but not before promising that Tom and you would come to visit her and her family soon.

_____________________________________

You arrived back home when it was already getting dark. When you opened the door, a heavenly smell reached your nose. You heard rumbling in the kitchen and when you came closer, you saw Tom, trying to make dinner.

He hadn’t noticed you yet and you just watched him while he was busy with cooking some pasta.

„Hey there, cook.“ You finally made yourself noticeable and Tom turned around fast with a scary look on his face. But when he saw that it was only you, a big smile came onto his face and he hugged you close. When he let you go, he stared on your stomach and smiled when he could see the small bump.

„It’s really happening,“ he whispered. You rubbed his shoulder, happy that he was feeling the same as you. Suddenly, there was a loud beeping sound, indicating that the food was ready. Tom ran back to his pots what got a laugh out of you. He’s such a dork.

The night was spent just like the old times - the two of you told each other about your day and Tom told you a lot of funny anecdotes from the set. But there was one thing in the room you wanted to avoid - the talk to your parents. But nevertheless, you called your mum on Facetime, with Tom sitting next to you as a support.

Her face popped up after a few seconds. „Hey, honey! It’s so nice talking to you again! And oh hi Tom!“ Tom waved at your mother and greeted her politely, just like a gentleman. Since when did he start acting like that?

„Are you alright? Is everything good at home?“ You asked her, dreading the words you had to tell her. „Yes everything is fine, but that’s not why you called me, am I right?“ Your mum raised an eyebrow and you could see through the screen that she knew exactly that something was going on.

You sighed, looking at Tom, who was not really helping. You had to tell her alone.

„Mum, I’m pregnant.“

Your mothers' eyes widened and she just looked at you, completely shocked. „Are you kidding me??“ You shook your head. „No mum, I’m not. I’m just entering the fifth month.“

A smile came onto your mums' features but I slowly faded when she asked: „But who’s the father?? You didn’t have a boyfriend or even a husband when we talked the last time!“ Before you could answer, Tom raised his hand. „It’s me, Mrs Y/L/N, I’m the father.“ And now your mum was in complete shock. It was quiet and you had no idea what to do. „Mum, are you still there?“

She blinked her eyes, finally coming back to her self. „B - but you’re just friends! When did you decide to do something so absurd??“ „No Mum, it’s not. We decided this together because we both want a child and we know each other very well. You can’t change it anymore, it’s too late for that.“ As a support, Tom put his arm around your shoulder. Your mum saw the gesture and just nodded slowly, trying to understand the situation.

„Don’t you leave her, Holland!“ And with that, everything was fine. She accepted the way you both had gone and now she wanted to know all the details and you happily answered all of her questions, happy that she supported your decision and be a grandmother for her third grandchild.

After an hour, you finally hang up and called your dad, but he was not available, so you just left him a message, telling him to call you soon.

Tom and you would go to his parents' house next week, telling them the news.

They took it very well - they were so happy that you two had both settled down but Sam, one of Toms younger brothers, was a bit sceptical.

„What if you find a girl or Y/N a boy when your kid is like two years old?“ Sam raised an eyebrow, and Tom just shrugged his shoulders. „We will figure it out. And I’m not going to leave my child or Y/N, I don’t want her to raise a kid alone,“ he said, completely sure of himself. You smiled that he cared so much, and you nodded at his answer. „Yes, I think so too, I would not leave Bear behind.“

And with that, you moved on. The baby bump was getting bigger and bigger and after one week, Bear moved for the first time. You could feel a weird feeling in your stomach but you were prepared - Ms Roseville had told you that the baby was getting more active and moving around. You told the news to Tom who was just as excited as you are, but he was also sad that he couldn’t feel it from the outside - that would only happen in your sixth month.

There were only four months left til you would go into labour and your doctor had recommended booking your childbirth class. Tom wanted to come along so one Friday afternoon when Tom had a day off, you drove to the building where the class was held. There were pregnant women with their partners all around you, and it was weird. They were all in a relationship or married; and Tom and you stood there, two best friends who felt a bit lost.

„Alright everyone, please sit down!“ A tall woman who seemed to be your instructor spoke up and Tom helped you sit down so you were facing the woman. She had a bright smile on her face and she looked like she wanted to birth all these kids all by herself. The pain was nothing for her.

„Good afternoon, I hope you are all good and your babies are well.“ She looked around, searching for all the nods in the crowd. You nodded too, excited about what was about to come. Tom, who sat behind you, just chuckled at your excitement.

„You all have around four months left till you go into labour but we want to prepare you through the last part of the second trimester and the third trimester to give birth to your child. It will be a one in a lifetime experience and I know that a lot of you will be scared. And that’s why we have this class and you have your partner who will be by your side.“

And with that, the class started. The woman showed you a few poses you could also try at home and while everyone was concentrating on getting it right, Tom and you were laughing constantly. Tom was holding you at your waist and you were pretty ticklish around there so you were giggling constantly. You were getting rude glances from everyone around the room, but you honestly didn’t care. You were going to push a child out of your vagina, so you could at least be a bit positive. The instructor was delighted by your optimism and when you left the class, it didn’t seem so hard.

Everything would be fine, you had Tom by your side.

The days passed and Tom was constantly by your side, watching your bump grow bigger and bigger. For you, it didn’t feel like you were just best friends anymore. You were now connected by a bond that no one could ever take away from you. You were so excited t have a baby together and you were so ready to spend the next twenty years with Tom by your side. He was your partner; your partner in crime or your real partner, however, you wanna call it.

Whenever he was around, you smiled at him like was the sun. There were thoughts of kissing him but you tried to push them into the back of your mind. Everything is great, why would you ruin it?

But when the third trimester and the last part of the pregnancy started, something changed.

But who was the one that had caused it?

__________________________________________________-

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[blurry-fics]

Favors: Part Ten

Pairing: Josh Dun x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1912

Author’s Note: Getting close to the end! Hope you guys like it.

As if on cue, everyone’s heads swiveled towards the start of the aisle. Sure enough, who you assumed could only be Nickie’s mother was walking down the aisle. She walked to the front and took a spot at the front, on the left side. Once she had taken her seat, the Officiant appeared and walked down the aisle, a book firmly clasped in his hand. He took his spot under the arch, smiling widely.

Next came the groomsmen, each paired off with one of the bridesmaids. Josh was walking with someone you didn't recognize, but based off of her striking similarity to Nickie, you could only assume it was her sister. You had to admit, he looked pretty handsome all dressed up in his tux.

Each pair split off as they reached the end of the aisle. You could see Josh searching the crowd casually. When his eyes met yours, he winked before smirking to himself. You rolled your eyes to yourself, but smiled nonetheless. Just then, heads were spinning around once again. Jeremy was walking down the aisle, his suit cleanly pressed and his blonde hair pushed back to perfection. He took his spot under the arch, a hint of nervousness on his face.

The ring bearer came next, followed closely by the flower girl. Tyler quickly explained that they were the kids of some nearby neighbors that the Duns were friends with. They each walked to the front of the aisle and took their places with the bridesmaids and groomsmen.

A few moments later, whispers of, “She’s coming,” filled the crowd, prompting everyone to stand up. Everyone turned to face the back of the aisle where Nickie was soon to appear.

There were more than a few audible gasps when she appeared, one of which you had to suppress yourself. Ashley was right about her dress: it fit her perfectly and made her look regal. Her already perfect hair was curled and pulled back, adorned with a few flowers here and there. Her veil fell to just above her hips and the flowers that she was carrying somehow managed to compliment her dress. Next to her was an old, somewhat balding man who could only be her father. The look on Jeremy’s face as she walked down the aisle was priceless.

Nickie gave her father one final kiss before he took his seat next to her mother. She quickly took her spot across from Jeremy, a bright smile on her face.

The ceremony wasn’t unlike many of the others you had been to. Jenna teared up a bit during their vows, to which Tyler quickly pulled her into his side and kissed her temple. Once the ceremony was over and the new Duns had kissed, they took each other’s hands and went running down the aisle together.

Derek stood up and walked to the front of the aisle.

“Alright, everyone. The wedding party is going to be taking a few pictures now so meanwhile, why don’t you all head to the barn and get the party started?”

All at once, everyone got up from their seats and started to move through the forest. Josh managed to make his way through the crowd and fall into step with you.

“Don’t you have pictures to be taking?” you asked.

“We’re both going the same way, can’t I walk with my beautiful girlfriend?” Josh smiled, taking hold of your hand.

Behind you, Ashley was making gagging sounds. Josh turned and shot her a look.

“Sorry, never thought you the type, Josh,” she shrugged.

Josh rolled his eyes and turned back to you.

“You going to be ok while I’m taking pictures?” he asked, giving your hand a light squeeze.

You nodded, “I’ve got some people I can hang around.”

“Great.”

“You look really nice in your tux,” you smiled up at him.

He looked almost surprised by your comment, “Thanks,” he smiled brightly.

“Tyler, stop!” you heard Jenna yell from behind you, although she didn’t sound angry.

You spun around to see Jenna slung over one of Tyler’s shoulders as he carried her through the crowd of people. Jenna was laughing from her position upside down on his back.

“Oh my goodness,” you laughed.

“C’mon, Josh. What are you waiting for?” Abigail coaxed from behind you.

Josh stopped in his tracks.

“Do not sling me upside down,” you held up a finger warningly.

“Fine, bridal style,” he smiled, scooping you up before you even had a chance to protest.

“Josh!” you squealed, quickly throwing your arms around his neck.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Carrying you.”

“Yes, but why?”

“Because I love you,” he smiled.

Your eyebrows raised automatically, but you quickly lowered them. Never in your time of knowing Josh had you heard him tell a girl that he loved her, although you shouldn’t be worrying. It was all an act, after all.

“I love you too,” you smiled, putting one of your hands on the side of his face and pulling his cheek towards you.

“You know, as much as I hate you two showing any affection whatsoever, I haven’t seen you two properly kiss at all,” Abigail interjected

“Nothing like Tyler and Jenna over there,” Ashley added with a laugh.

“We don’t really kiss in front of people,” Josh quickly excused.

“C’mon, Josh, one small kiss?” Abigail pleaded. “Show the girl you love her.”

Josh turned to you and raised his eyebrows in question. You shrugged, what harm could come of it? Josh’s arm behind you tightened, bringing you closer to him. Your lips pressed together, and you could feel the warmth of it spreading throughout your body. Josh held you in the kiss, until Abigail interrupted that is.

“Ok! Ok! We get it! Make it stop!” she laughed.

Josh let you down from his arms so that you were once again walking. He grabbed your hand and held it tightly. Your head was reeling from everything that had just happened. You had kissed your best friend and...enjoyed it?

“Is my lipstick still on ok?” you laughed, looking up at Josh.

He squinted, “Yeah, it looks good. Do I have any lipstick on me?”

There was a slight stain from where you had kissed him on the cheek, so you stood on your toes and rubbed it away with your thumb.

“You wouldn’t want that on your face during pictures,” you smiled.

“Speaking of which, I should probably get to that. Don’t have too much fun before I get there,” he smiled, quickly kissing your cheek.

Once Josh disappeared, you fell back into step with everyone.

“That was one intense kiss,” Abigail smiled. “He really does love you.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty lucky,” you smiled.

You walked into the barn, which looked pretty much as it had yesterday. Those who weren’t part of the wedding party were standing around, talking to one another. It didn’t take you long to locate Tyler and Jenna.

“Hey,” Jenna smiled.

“Hi.”

“How long does it usually take them to do pictures?” Jenna asked.

“Anywhere from half an hour to an hour,” Tyler answered.

“Hey, they’re playing music,” Jenna smiled as she headed for the dance floor.

You followed Tyler and Jenna onto the dance floor, swaying your body slightly to the music. Your head was still reeling a bit from your kiss. Before you knew it, the wedding party had returned, prompting cheers from everyone.

Josh walked up beside you, “Alright, no more running off from here on out, until toasts that is,” he smiled.

“Ok,” you smiled back up at him.

“Everything go ok while I was gone?” he asked.

You nodded, “We just danced a little bit.”

“Without me?” he laughed.

“You were busy!”

“Well, would you like to dance now?” Josh asked.

You pretended to think it over for a moment, “Ok.”

You and Josh bounced around on the dance floor for awhile until Derek made you all clear it, announcing that it was time for the bride and groom’s first dance together. Jeremy escorted Nickie to the floor, the light reflecting off the small gems in her hair. They took their spot in the middle of the floor and the music started to play.

Josh wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you to his hip. You leaned your head against his shoulder as you watched the new couple dance. The song finished and another slow one started to play. Couples started to move towards the dance floor, and Josh held out an arm.

“Care to join me?” he laughed.

You rolled your eyes with a shake of your head, but linked your arm with his nonetheless. You headed to the dance floor amidst all the other couples.

“Not too low, Dun,” you said as Josh placed his hand on your waist.

Josh smirked as he lowered his hand slightly, “Sorry, can’t resist.”

You shot him a look, which only caused him to smile. You danced in silence, simply enjoying each other’s company, although that wouldn’t stop your mind from racing. Everything that had happened: the kiss, the flirting, the hand holding, it all felt so natural. You were beginning to think that the “feelings” you had for Josh weren’t so fake.

“Mind if I steal her?” someone asked.

You were suddenly brought back into reality. Tyler was looking between you and Josh. You hadn’t even realized that the song had ended.

“She’s all yours,” Josh smiled. “Just so long as I get Jenna.”

“Knock yourself out.”

Josh let go of you, leaving a warm impression on your hip where his hand had been resting. Tyler took his place, his hand significantly higher than where Josh’s had been.

“Hey, are you doing ok? You looked pretty out of it when you were dancing with Josh,” he asked quietly.

“There’s a lot on my mind right now, I guess.”

“You want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, “I just need some time to think it over, I guess. I might walk down to the lake after this dance, actually. Clear my head a bit.”

Tyler nodded, “I’ll let people know, if they notice you missing.”

“Thanks, Ty.”

The rest of your dance was silent, your head still spinning with confusion. As soon as the dance ended, you told Tyler you were off before quickly disappearing out of the barn unnoticed. Your heels crunched through the gravel as you walked through the cool air towards the lake. The sun was just beginning to set as you walked, the air barely causing the hair on you arm to rise.

It took you barely any time to reach the lake. The sight of the trees reflecting on the water helped to calm your nerves a bit, but your mind still continued to race. You wanted nothing more than to sit on the swing and fly out over the water like you had the day before, but you figured it was probably best that you didn’t run the risk of wrinkling your dress, especially since there was still quite a bit of the reception left.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the crunching of gravel behind you. You remained facing the water, too scared to turn and face who was no doubt behind you.

“Y/N,” Josh’s voice broke the silence of the area around you.

You spun around to face him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” he said plainly, nervousness barely detectable in his voice.

#josh dun #josh dun x reader #josh dun imagine #josh dun imagines #twenty one pilots #twenty one pilots imagine #twenty one pilots imagines #twentyonepilots #favors #blurry-fics

[rewolfaekilerom]

we can’t criticize grad students for being influenced by toxic academia

//NOTE: This was originally posted to Wordpress on 05.22.2021//

It’s 9:26 am as I type this. I had my second dose of the Pfizer vaccine on Thursday, and I spent all of Thursday night–and into the wee hours of Friday morning–with a low-grade fever and a splitting headache. Ibuprofen helped, but I was in a fog all day yesterday. I worked, but only on tasks that I could manage–nothing too rigorous, just training and reading. I feel better today but am still a little sore under my left arm. Needless to say, I’m thankful to be (almost) fully vaccinated and to be feeling better. It’s Saturday, and I was looking forward to crocheting all day. I had no intentions of writing anything because I didn’t have much to say.

I’m 8 minutes into a 20-minute Ask a Mortician video. All of her videos are incredibly fascinating, and she seems like a real doll, but this video is an exceptionally interesting one. I happened to check Facebook, the site where dreams go to die, and I came across a post by TPII responding to an article written by a then-first-year grad student, Andy Greenspon. It’s titled “9 things you should consider before embarking on a PhD” and it’s shared on Elsevier Connect. Of the article, TPII writes, “Gaslighting by a Harvard PhD candidate, masquerading as grad school advice. To write this in 2021…. ffs.”

I’m not linking either of these things because I don’t want some algorithm to trace them back to me, but I think that’s enough information for someone reading this blog to go find these, if they still exist.

About Greenspon’s article: the title pretty much gives the plot. It’s a first-year student’s take on the lessons they’ve learned during their first year of grad school. As they put it in the first paragraph, the point of this article is to “save you [the prospective grad student] from anguish and help you make better decisions as you embark on that path to a PhD.” The author is now a PhD candidate in the sciences, which tells you more about the way publishing works than possibly anything else–except that maybe the author has stuck with grad school despite the negative aspects of the lessons in this article.

I won’t rehash the contents of Greenspon’s article because a truly interested reader will go find it for themselves. In some sense, the article quite clearly functions as a time capsule reflecting a particular stage in this particular grad student’s educational trajectory. I’d be curious to see how they feel about some of the things they wrote. As with any advice, everything this author says needs to be taken with a grain of salt. If there are any prospective grad students reading this, my main advice–advice that I think anyone will agree with–is that you need to get as many opinions and as much advice as possible because one person’s opinion of, perspective on, or experience during grad school will differ considerably from that of another person. Some of Greenspon’s recommendations simply won’t work for certain people, and that’s okay. If you’re considering going to grad school, you’re already probably a good critical thinker; you know how to approach something critically and without embracing it wholesale, so you should have no problem determining, for instance, if taking a year off between undergrad and grad school is an option for you. It wasn’t for me, and I don’t think it would’ve changed much if it had been.

All that being said, I don’t actually think all that much of what Greenspon says is especially controversial–except for point #7 and point #9 (the second is the source of the TPII controversy, if you can call it that). So, though I don’t think every bit of advice in the article will be advice every read should follow, I do think it’s advice worth hearing and considering. If nothing else, it’s good to get another perspective.

Greenspon’s seventh point is the point I’d take issue with–or, maybe, ask to be a bit more nuanced–as someone who has a PhD in a humanities discipline. In my experience, a program’s reputation matters quite a bit. It might not matter as much as location in the sense that someone probably shouldn’t go to a school that is in a location where they know they will be miserable, but names do tend to matter in academia. Let me explain. I went to a PhD program in the middle of the Midwest because that program and the university housing it have very good reputations (good names). This university isn’t Harvard or Yale, which have better names, but there’s no way I would’ve gotten into an ivy. My institution’s small town was just that, a small town with small things to do. I didn’t even know where it was when I applied (and when I got in), but I knew it would be fine for at least five years. The town wasn’t as uninhabited and without entertainment as, say, Mars, but it was no Chicago or Boston or Manhattan. You had to get creative and make your own fun because the town didn’t just provide it for you. The trade-off, though, was that the school and the program had strong reputations, which brought opportunities (and entertainment) that made it worthwhile. As someone who didn’t continue on in academia in a traditional way, I’ve found that my institution’s name has been a talking point in interviews and other networking opportunities. Hell, my dad received comments on my university (it’s football team, maybe) because he was wearing a t-shirt from there while on vacation halfway across the country from the university. I’m not sure I so much disagree with Greenspon here as I think the way the point is phrased here needed to be refined a bit. That is, Greenspon’s point isn’t wrong, but the way it’s stated is a bit misleading because so much time is devoted to advising that the reader go somewhere fun. Maybe I’m misreading Greenspon, but it seems to me that Greenspon is, in actuality, emphasizing the importance of paying attention to a program’s full package. If that’s the case, then I agree with Greenspon that “the reputation of the individual department you are joining — and sometimes even the specific research group you work in — are . . . important.” Indeed, when I say that going somewhere with a “good name” matters, I’m speaking about both the university itself and the particular grad program. Both of those things constitute a “good name.” The decision to go to a particular PhD program is informed by a whole assortment of choices, including its reputation, its location, finances, and departmental culture, among other things. Within that list of decisions, reputation might rank lower on the list of important decisions than location; for someone else, it may rank higher. That’s normal. In any case, Greenspon is right to point out that these things need to be considered. I guess I just think the phrasing in this section could’ve been clearer.

So, on to the point that received TPII’s attention: point #9, “There are no real breaks.” According to TPII, this is “Gaslighting by a Harvard PhD candidate, masquerading as grad school advice.” Scrolling through the comments on this Facebook post, a lot of readers are calling out TPII’s use of the word “gaslighting.” It seems like TPII, whose comment on the article is remarkably limited for someone who made such a strong comment on this article, is taking issue with the last third of this point, where Greenspon advises that “you should have passion for the research you work on (most of the time), so you should be excited to think up new experiments or different ways to consider that data you have collected.” I’m not fond of the “you should” phrasing here, and I do think Greenspon sounds a bit naive here. Most grad students feel that passion, but passion can take different forms and evolve over time. Think of passion in a relationship: early on in a relationship, you may feel passion in the form of lust for your partner, but that lust may evolve into a different form of passion as time goes on, becoming a deep commitment or trust in that partner. By my fourth year of the PhD program, I still cared about my topic, but I wasn’t brimming with excitement at the newness of it; that passion and devotion had evolved with time.

Back to the “you should” of it all, though. The problem with this phrase is not, as the Facebook commenters point out, that it’s “gaslighting” readers. Calling this “gaslighting” undermines instances where people actually are gaslit. The reader isn’t being made to question their judgment, memory, or interpretation of their experiences. The reader isn’t being forced to turn to Greenspon for emotional support/validation after having had their own experiences delegitimized and called into question by deception, contradiction, etc. Rather, the problem with this type of phrasing is the way it proselytizes a particular “right way” of doing graduate school. The problem is that is may potentially imbue guilt in a reader who, at the time of reading this piece, doesn’t feel that passion. There are a million reasons why this might be the case, and I’d be shocked to learn that there’s even one grad student–Greenspon included–who didn’t, at some point in their education, feel less-than-passionate about their research. It happens because we’re humans and sometimes get burnt out when work on the same thing for a number of years. But from the perspective of taking this as it was intended, this argument is a testament to how early on Greenspon was indoctrinated into the grad school mentality that one must be passionate about and devoted to one’s topic. And frankly, as someone who completed a PhD program relatively recently, having interest in one’s topic makes grad school a lot more bearable, so in a lot of ways, I think Greenspon is right to emphasize it.

Do I think passion is necessary? No, but as I said, passion can take a lot of forms. So, again, we’re back to the point that maybe Greenspon’s language isn’t great; maybe an editor should’ve recommended a few revisions here, or maybe Greenspon should’ve written this as a fifth-year student rather than a first-year student. Whatever. But this isn’t gaslighting. And as at least one Facebook commenter pointed out, are we really going to criticize a graduate student for being a product of the culture in which they’re being indoctrinated rather than criticizing the culture itself? I’m not down with that. I may disagree with some of the words Greenspon uses or the ways Greenspon makes certain points, but I’m not a public page with 1,000s of followers calling out a grad student for sharing advice about how they’ve survived the first year of an incredibly difficult experience–an experience that is known to have produced a wide range of negative effects, including PTSD, CPTSD, depression, anxiety, and so on.

And if you think I’m being extreme here, look at the first two thirds of Greenspon’s ninth point. This is where Greenspon emphasizes the amount of time that a grad student is expected to devote to their studies and research, and what gets sacrificed in the process. This is about survival. Greenspon says,

In a stereotypical “9-to-5” job, when the workday is over or the weekend arrives, you can generally forget about your work. And a vacation provides an even longer respite. But in a PhD program, your schedule becomes “whenever you find time to get your work done.” You might be in the lab during regular work hours or you might be working until 10 p.m. or later to finish an experiment. And the only time you might have available to analyze data might be at 1 a.m. Expect to work during part of the weekend, too. Graduate students do go on vacations but might still have to do some data analysis or a literature search while away.

As a PhD student, it might be hard to stop thinking about the next step in an experiment or that data sitting on your computer or that paper you were meaning to start. While I imagine some students can bifurcate their mind between graduate school life and everything else, that’s quite hard for many of us to do. No matter what, my research lies somewhere in the back of my head. In short, your schedule is much more flexible as a PhD student, but as a result, you never truly take a break from your work.

The only thing that shocks me about these two paragraphs is that Greenspon might know of grad students who go on vacation. I’m absolutely shocked. Where are they going? Are these vacations actually part of conference travel or visits to family so they can attend funerals or weddings? I’m mostly being sarcastic because I know the answers to these questions. And anyone who has been a grad student in the last decade will know that everything Greenspon says here is true. Anyone who doesn’t see the truth here is sorely out of touch with what grad students across academia experience.

And that brings me to my other point about TPII–the book and the blog. They’re products of an earlier time of academia–the book especially.

The book was published in 2015, and by then its approach to grad students finding jobs was already getting tiresome.

Let me start by saying that I’m the target audience for this book. I graduated high school in 2008, the same year as the academic job market apocalypse. I started my MA program in 2012, and I started the second year of my PhD program in 2015. Between 2012 and 2015, I attended plenty of career workshops and lectures. By my second year of the PhD, I was already thinking extensively about what I’d do after the PhD, and I’d already been seeking out extra opportunities that would give me as many skills as possible.

By 2015, I had heard more than my fair share of the same relentless, cloying negativity that characterizes the tone of the TPII book. It was all the rage at that time. Professors considered themselves “cool” if they grumbled and groaned about how hard it was for grad students to find jobs. But for grad students, it was no longer “cool”; it was over-played, out-of-touch, and unproductive. It was negativity for the sake of negativity, and all it did was shatter dreams or serve as a brutal wake-up call without offering something else in its place. That negativity wasn’t matched with some opposite–some other place to invest one’s hope for the future.

At that time, and I’m assuming today as well, the “cool” professors were the ones who embraced students seeking alt-ac or non-ac opportunities, the ones who encouraged their students to develop other skills and seek other forms of knowledge. The coolest were the ones who helped their students do these things by brainstorming and researching opportunities with them, who found resources on campus that could help when the professors themselves didn’t have firsthand knowledge in certain areas, and who generally and genuinely supported students seeking careers outside of academic.

At a certain point (and I’d argue that this point came well before 2015), it was no longer ethical to advise that any grad student pursue an academic job without any other options. But this book was published in 2015, and it was still the “gold standard” for job market advising in 2019 and 2020. I’m sure it still is, but 2018/2019 was when my advisor handed me a copy of the book and said something about it helping me get a job.

It did help me, but probably not in the intended way. Tucked at the back of the book is a short chapter on “Leaving the Cult.” That’s what helped me–that’s the section where TPII isn’t outdated. That’s the section where the book doesn’t try to play the part of “cool, moody, negative aunt” and actually is the cool aunt. In 2015, that short chapter shouldn’t have been relegated to the last few pages of the book; it should’ve been expanded to at least half of the book’s length.

This revision would’ve fundamentally altered the function and purpose of the book, but I think that’s what would’ve made the book worthwhile in 2015 and after. It’s what would’ve made the book stand the test of time. Don’t get me wrong, the book is still made out to be the “gold standard,” but it isn’t actually serving its target demographic as well as it could because it’s so focused on finding them jobs in a market where those jobs simply don’t exist–or they don’t exist in the way the book suggests they do.

Okay, that’s enough for now. Back to my video.

XOXO, you know.