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ahtsumu · 4 years ago

Text

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: [email protected]

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: [email protected]

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu scenarios #miya osamu imagines

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hinatas-sunshine · 4 years ago

Text

Synopsis: Babysitting with Kuroo, Kenma, and Kageyama was not something you’d expect to be so...weird?

Genre: Fluff I think yo no se

A/N: I’m trying to fit in as much writing so I don’t seem like a dead account when my online classes start up, but I really appreciate all the love you guys continue to give me thank u KITHES 🥺❤️

Kuroo:

• Kuroo had made plans to study with you earlier last week and you agreed, your boyfriend was a really good tutor after all

• Sadly, you wouldn’t be alone due to your sister showing up with your niece asking you to babysit last minute

• And again, you agreed because you love your niece and didn’t want your sister to struggle having to find a babysitter

• So when Kuroo showed up and you had a toddler in your arms, he melted at the sight

• He greeted you with a kiss after you put your niece down and then he continued to crouch down to your nieces eye level

“Hi there kiddo!”

• Your niece hid behind your leg and peeked out to look at the giant man in front of her

“Yeah I’d hide too.”

“Y/n! :(“

• You slowly stepped aside and your niece moved with you

“Lovebug you can say hi! He’s my boyfriend! He’s nice I promise and if I’m wrong you can have some ice cream.”

• Her eyes widened at the sound of ice cream and slowly waddled up to Kuroo and waved shyly

• He gasped in excitement and waved back

“Can you tell me your name?”

• And she nodded and told him her name before he lead her to the couch and picked her up to sit with him

• Now it was your turn to melt at the sight before you went to the kitchen to grab a snack for the three of you

• You returned with two bowls of ice cream, one for you to share with your niece and one for Kuroo, only to find your boyfriend showing your niece all about Chemisty

“She’s a toddler she doesn’t know how to read yet Kuroo.”

“She likes the pictures!”

• He showed her a bunch of cool things in his chemistry text book and her eyes sparkled with curiosity ignoring the ice cream you brought out

“A-Am I being replaced?”

“Uncle Ku!”

“Yes you are!”

• You giggled slightly as he picked her up and placed her on his shoulders, talking about all her favorite princess and how much she liked the stars

• You snapped a cute picture and ate ice cream feeding her some as she continued holding onto your rooster haired boyfriend

• Soon enough her eyes started closing and her blinking became slower as she fell asleep on your boyfriends shoulders

“Is she asleep?”

“Yeah, you’re so boring you put her to sleep Kuroo.”

• He pouted before placing her on the couch and draping his red Nekoma jacket over her

“She called me uncle ku. 🥺”

“Because you’re old. 🥺”

• You two laughed and whispered trying to let your niece sleep

• Your sister came in to pick up your niece and thanked you and Kuroo as she lifted her child up who woke up lazily due to the sudden movement

“Bye auntie y/n, bye uncle ku, you’re the coolest.” She rubbed her eyes

• Your sister laughed and said her goodbyes saying she PROMISED her daughter will be back soon to which Kuroo was excited to hear

• Once your sister was out the door Kuroo exploded

“She said I’m cool!”

• You giggled, getting on your tippy toes to kiss his nose

“You are cool!”

“Now I want one-“

“No ❤️”

• He definitely made a PowerPoint to explain why you two should have a kid - slide one: to have someone to call him cool

Kenma:

• You often found yourself babysitting as an side job during summer break

• When Kenma made plans to hang out with you he didn’t expect to see you on the floor with a toddler across from you

• He walked right back out of your house 😃

“Kenma!”

• He sighed and walked back in as you held the toddlers hand and had the other on your hip

• The little boy looked at Kenma with wide eyes and walked over to him

“What’s it doing? Why is it coming over to me?”

• You laughed scooped the little boy in your arms walking over to Kenma who looked scared for his life

“Say hi!”

• The little boy reached out for Kenma who looked at you and then the kid

“He wants you to hold him.”

“I don’t want to hold that.”

“Kenma!”

• He then sighed and took the boy in his arms, you snapped a quick picture at the two, who were looking at each other

The toddler: 😃

Kenma: 😐

• You laughed before sending it to Kuroo who had a field day with it by the way

• After you put your phone in your pocket you looked up to see Kenma trying to talk to the tiny boy

“Do you like video games?”

“....”

“Do you like animal crossing?”

“....”

• Kenma handed him back over and shrugged

“I couldn’t do anything.”

• You laughed and lead your boyfriend to the living room who automatically sat down and pulled out his switch to play animal crossing

• The tiny boy gasped in your arms and reached out for Kenma again who looked up and shrugged taking the tinier boy in his lap

• The two played on the switch for a little, Kenma making commentary about the game

“Yeah I don’t like him either.”

• You looked over to see the tiny boy slapping the screen and Kenma nodding as if he was agreeing with him

• Kenma slowly warmed up to the smaller boy and let him play with his switch for a few minutes before you brought out some fruit for the baby boy to munch on

• Kenma stole some of his fruit

• The little boy began falling asleep with some strawberry in his mouth and nodding off on the table before you picked him up and wiped his hands and face clean to lay him on the couch to sleep comfortably

Kenma: Must be nice, Y/n doesn’t treat me like that

Y/n: Yeah cause Kuroo does

Kenma: Not the same

• You spent time cuddling Kenma who played animal crossing and you scrolling through social media before joining him on animal crossing too

• When the toddler woke up crying Kenma was the equivalent to the caveman spongebob meme

• He was shook he didn’t think it could do that

“What’s wrong with it?”

“HE is just waking up, it’s okay.”

• You helped the boy calm down, his little sniffles leaving his nose before making you put him down and waddling over to Kenma

• Kenma gave a small smile and picked him up setting him on his lap again and then continuing gaming until the little boys mom came to pick him up

• You two said bye before the little boy ran to Kenma and hugged his leg and running back to his mom

Y/n: Does this mean you’ll babysit with me more?

Kenma: No, but I’ll come over only if it’s that one

• The next time at practice Kuroo wouldn’t stop showing everyone the picture you sent him and now you have to beat Kuroo up Bc Kenma said he won’t babysit with you anymore because he’s embarrassed

Kageyama:

• When you got a call from your boyfriend you realized something was off

• Mainly because he screamed through the phone asking you to hurry and come over

• Worry filled your body as you ran to Kageyama’s house and reaching the door throwing it open and panting

• Kageyama sat criss cross with a baby in his hands, holding it at arms length

“Tobio-Kun I thought you were- d- holy crap I’m out of breath...”

• You took in a deep breath

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE DYING!”

“I am dead if something happens to this thing!”

• Kageyama then explained that his aunt had dropped off his baby cousin and his mom was out at the store so he was in charge

• You scooped the baby into your arms cooing and rubbing noses with her, she happily giggled and Kageyama fell back with a sigh of relief

“Thank god you came, I was ready to just leave it on the couch and let it sit there but it started crying.”

• You glared daggers at your boyfriend and sat next to him

“SHE is a calm baby, she just needs attention.”

• The baby girl babbled and held onto Kageyama’s finger to which he tried to pull back but she had a death grip on

• He started panicking again, but you gave him a kiss and reassured him he’ll be fine

“So... can it- I mean she- play volleyball?”

“Kageyama she can’t even walk yet?”

• he sighed before resting his chin in the palm of his hand

“So what do we do with her?”

“Take care of her? What else would you do with babies?”

“I don’t know I’ve never met one.”

• you spent a few hours taking care of the baby and bouncing her around to keep her entertained

• Kageyama would be lying if he said his stomach wasn’t doing flips and you looked like you could be a perfect mother one day

• You finally handed her to him and taught him how to hold her, and he did his best although he was extremely nervous

• You took a picture to send to his team mates

• Everyone was in aw except Tsukki who went on about how the King looked terrified

• You then prepared to give her, her bottle and he said he wanted to do it and you smiled handing the bottle to him for her have her milk

“So all the do is drink milk, get attention from you and sleep? I want that type of life.”

• You laughed at your boyfriend only to notice the little girl was almost done and you took her to burp her, he just watched and you two played with her a few more minutes before it was her nap time

• You were putting her to sleep when Kageyama’s mom walked in

“Oh thank god he called you, knowing him he would’ve left her on the couch and not looked back.”

• You laughed lightly at your boyfriends face that was now a deep red.

• His mom happily took the baby and continued to care for her while you and Kageyama walked to his room

• He lied down and mumbled something about how exhausting it was and you laughed crawling next to him as he wrapped his arms around you

“You’d be a good mom one day.”

• You smiled and looked at him, his cheeks a deep red and all you did was kiss him softly

• He smiled into the kiss before pulling away and cuddling his face into your neck

• You stroked his hair and kissed the side of his head

“Never call our child an it or I’ll kill you Tobio my love.”

• He laughed and lifted his head up to press another soft kiss on your lips

“Well you’ll for sure kill me multiple times because I can’t care for a kid to save my life.”

• You laughed and he picked up his phone to check it

“Why is everyone calling me Daddyama?”

Tags:

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whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst · 3 years ago

Text

Texts from the Lost Tomb part 6.1

🎶 Back on the bullshit I never got off🎶

Is this another unnecessary story arc?? With three sections??

Yes.

Wushanju Crew Chat

Wang Meng: You know, I’m someone who appreciates consistency in my day. My life is pleasant, very few issues indeed if you ignore the big ones. And yet. Yet here we are. With unresolved messes at the end of a day.

Wang Pangzi: SOMETHIN YOU NEED TO SAY MARY POPPINS

Wang Meng: We need to talk about Huo Daofu and the glittery bead curtain.

Wang Pangzi: MY FAVE TEEN WIZARD SERIES

Wu Xie: did you turn on that suggested word thingy lol

What glittery bead curtain

Wang Meng: I closed the shop at 6:00pm this evening on the dot. I locked all of the doors in and out of the shop very carefully, especially in light of recent events. The hall leading to the back office was empty. I filed the day’s paperwork, updated and sent emails, and then spent an extra hour organizing receipts and dusting. When I came back out, there were glittery iridescent bead curtains over the front entrance to the shop.

What could this mean?

Wu Xie: uh that you need to spend less time at work?

Wang Pangzi: LOOKS LIKE WE GOT ONE FOR THE DETECTIVES. THE MYSTERY OF THE BEDAZZLED THRESHOLD COMMENCES

Wu Xie: I think we can be relatively secure in thinking a glittery bead curtain isn’t a hostile threat

Wang Pangzi: SAYS YOU

I REMEMBER YE OLDE EXPLORATION TIMES HOW FAST THINGS GOT FURIOUS

BEANBAG CHAIRS SET AFLAME AND LEFT ON DOORSTEPS AS A WARNING

GLITTERBOMBS FOR DAYS

PANIC AT THE DISCO

Wang Meng: Ugh, forget it. I should have just taken them down, regardless of who they belong to.

Zhang Qiling: They are not mine.

Wang Pangzi: A BOLD STATEMENT COMING FROM OUR PRIME SUSPECT

SOMEONE QUICK GO DRAW CHALK AROUND THE DOORWAY TO MARK THE SCENE OF THE CRIME

Wang Meng: Do we know anyone who *would* sneak in and put those up? For whatever reason, legal or not? Even as a joke?

Wang Pangzi: ARE YOU SERIOUSLY ASKING WHETHER WE KNOW ANYONE WHO IS CHAOTIC, AN OUTLAW, A PRANKSTER AND/OR SNEAKS INTO PLACES

BECAUSE THAT WOULD MEAN OUR SUSPECT LIST IS LITERALLY EVERYONE WE KNOW EXCEPT FOR YOU.

Wu Xie: okay let’s think about this; for starters, I didn’t break into my own shop

Wang Meng: You would be in danger of doing some work in the process, that’s true.

Wang Pangzi: LOL

Wu Xie: ANYWAY let’s keep going. For example, Xiao Ge would only break in somewhere for a good reason. Xiao Ge, did you do this?

Zhang Qiling: No.

Wu Xie: okay who’s next

Wang Pangzi: YOU REALLY MISSED YOUR CALLING IN INTERROGATION TIANZHEN

REALLY PUT THE SCREWS TO HIM

IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE;)

Zhang Qiling: How can we be certain *you* didn’t do it?

Wang Meng: Admittedly that was my guess, too.

Wang Pangzi: WOW I SEE HOW IT IS

BLAME PANGZI AS USUAL

ANYWAY HOW DOES HUO DAOFU FIT INTO THIS

Wu Xie: Oh yeah him! Oops I got distracted

Wang Pangzi: UR ENTIRE HISTORY IN A NUTSHELL

Wu Xie: Ugh fuck off

Wang Meng what abt Huo Daofu??

Zhang Qiling: ?

Wu Xie: oh sorry xiaoge I didn’t realize you wouldn’t have spent much time around him last year

He and I go way back

Zhang Qiling: Way back where?

Babysitters Club Chat

Wang Pangzi: I CANNOT BELIEVE HE IS BUYING YOUR INNOCENT ACT

IF YOU EVER TURN TO EVIL WE ARE FUCKED

Zhang Qiling: ?

Wang Pangzi: YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHO HUO DAOFU IS

YOU WERE EXTREMELY POLITE AND BORDERLINE FRIENDLY TOWARDS HIM

Zhang Qiling: I wanted him to feel welcome. I wanted to be sure he understands he has a place here. A specific place.

Wang Pangzi: FOR A SILENT GUY YOU ARE A MASTER AT SUBTLE POWER PLAYS IM ALL TINGLY

LMAO THE IDEA OF WU XIE LEAVING YOU FOR HUO DAOFU IS HILARIOUS AND ALSO NOPE

Zhang Qiling: Rationally, I understand that.

Main Chat

Wang Meng: Huo Daofu is coming for the weekend—didn’t Wu Xie tell you? Wu Xie asked me to check in a week ahead so we could start getting ready for his arrival

Wu Xie: oh yeah I did do that

Wang Meng: Fortunately I know you and so I already went ahead and took care of everything.

Re: the trip

He made a deal with Wu Xie’s doctor that he would do periodic checkups on him here at Wushanju

Bc Wu Xie hates being in the hospital

And frankly the hospital hates him too

Wang Pangzi: FAMILIARITY BREEDS CONTEMPT LOL

I FORGOT HUO DAOFU WAS DOING THAT

A VERY CHIVALROUS GESTURE

WOULDNT YOU SAY

XIOAGE

Zhang Qiling: Is it safe for him to be here with a criminal loose on the premises?

Wu Xie: Right, back to the curtain! Let’s focus on the curtain, hmm?

Wang Pangzi: I AM SO LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS WEEKEND.

ALSO WE CAN RULE OUT XIAO BAI FOR THE CURTAIN SHE JUST SENT A SELFIE FROM NORWAY COVERED IN GREEN SLIME WITH ZERO CONTEXT, UR PROTEGE INDEED

Wu Xie: okay but who else would do something so oddly charming yet illegal and—wait.

Snake Eyes Chat

Wu Xie: hey, Glasses hasn’t been in touch lately right?

Li Cu: uh nope

Unless u count the outdated memes

Why, is money or Xie Yuchen missing

Or is this curtain related, I saw Wang Meng’s tweet

Wu Xie: haha no nothing to worry about really

(I mean maybe? but who knows)

Wang Meng is probably just getting a little paranoid in his old age

Li Cu: better than getting reckless and stupid as hell in ur old age

Wu Xie: …hey:(

Unknown Number: Li Cu, we discussed this.

Wu Xie: ????????

Li Cu: *sigh* fine, reckless and stupid as heck

Unknown Number: …close enough.

Wu Xie: EXCUSE who is that

Madame, Sir, Non-Binary Tree Spirit, etc—whomst the fuck

Are you

Li Cu is underage FYI

So Im staying on this chat

Li Cu: okay first of all, it’s not like that

Second of all I’m literally not underage I s2g

u threw the embarrassing surprise bday party, okay so u should remember

And C, that’s my counselor and I invited her. She wanted to meet u and I knew u wouldn’t agree to a visit so I added her to our chat

we have been discussing u

Wu Xie: Oh wow!!!!!!!

What a surprise:)

hi so nice to meet you:)

Main Chat:

Wu Xie: RED FUCKING ALERT

FUCK THE CURTAIN FUCK THE VISIT

IVE BEEN TRICKED INTO FAMILY THERAPY BY A SMUG TEENAGER WHO TEXTS UNKNOWN NUMBERS

Wang Meng: I assume that means something to someone here?

Not my problem? Good.

Wang Pangzi: AHAHAHA GOD I LOVE LI CU

HES LIKE ADORABLE KARMA FOR ALL THE SHIT YOUVE PUT ME THROUGH

IM RAISING HIS ALLOWANCE

Wu Xie: wait i give him an allowance

has he been collecting on two allowances??

Zhang Qiling: Three. I knew about both of yours.

Snake Eyes Chat

Wu Xie: so uh may I ask your name?

Unknown Number: you can call me Ms. Lee.

Now, if you’re comfortable talking in this format, why don’t you tell me how things have been going?

Wu Xie: oh everything is normal and fine and safe as usual, why do you ask:)

Li Cu: I heard about ur necklace thing. nice of you to NOT mention it.

another dangerous adventure. again. prick.

Ur lucky your cool boyfriend cares about you so much or you’d have already died like ten years ago

Wu Xie: lol try twenty years ago

Li Cu: That isn’t funny.

Unknown Number: …What?

Wu Xie: shit ur right, okay that was a bit glib, my apologies.

…I use humor as a coping mechanism?

Unknown Number: and Li Cu, how do you feel about that?

Li Cu: he doesn’t even know what that phrase means

He doesn’t cope, like ever

In fact

It’s kind of why we met

Which is a funny story in retrospect tbh

Wu Xie: haha what are you talking about sweetie hahaha need I remind you of certain anecdotes that could idk send me to jail maybe lmao

Unknown Number: …You know, perhaps an in-person meeting might be more effective?

Wu Xie: haha such a nice idea but why

Main Chat

Wu Xie: If I go to jail, I’ll have to create alliances for protection, right, that’s how it works on tv

Who do we know who spends time in jail

Other than Hei Yangjing, he’s only ever there for like 12 hours and i suspect he just gets himself arrested bc he enjoys the breaking out process

Also how’s the curtain case coming along

Zhang Qiling: Has someone threatened you?

Wu Xie: well not yet but soon I’m sure

Wang Pangzi: WHERE WAS THIS PARANOIA WHEN WE GOT TAKEN TO THE TEA HOUSE HUH

Snake Eyes Minus Your Fucking Therapist Chat

Li Cu: okay how tf did u pull off spy and undercover shit

u are sus as hell

Wu Xie: damn son is it pick on Wu Xie night

I missed the flyers or I would’ve invited my uncles

Also re: the curtain it’s been mostly solved

Li Cu: I’m not your son, idiot.

Wu Xie: …oh. Sorry, sorry, you’re right, bad choice of words, haha

Forget i said anything

Delete this chat even

Li Cu: shit I meant

Legally, biologically, I meant—

shit

…I turn into an asshole as a coping mechanism?

Wu Xie: oh that’s all okay! I have to go do something else now let me know if you need anything okay kid thanks!

Li Cu: goddamn it calm down who’s the kid here

lemme organize my thoughts so I can articulate my emotions fuckin healthily or w/e

Ugh maybe for like one afternoon we could go to Ms. Lee together? She knows how to word stuff

Wu Xie: uh…okay.

Li Cu: Anyway you don’t need to worry abt jail

As if you would survive prison for one day you’d piss off half the place in like an hour or less

I gave Ms. Lee the heavily edited version of the desert highway to hell roadtrip and i discussed it more in terms of like “nightmarish but still wouldn’t take any of it back”

Well maybe the sand

that shit was everywhere

Wu Xie: oh kiddo. It’s fine, really…You don’t have to explain yourself to me.

Li Cu: no, no it’s just

I do technically have a dad

who is an asshole. Being a son doesn’t really mean shit to me bc it sucked.

So you need to stop backing down just cuz ur guilty abt stuff. I’m really really glad ur not my dad in a good way. Do u get what I mean there

Where’s the mafia widower I followed into hell, huh

Wu Xie: Ur a good kid, despite my influence. I’m really glad you have someone to talk to after everything I…after everything. Wow this talking through feelings thing is kind of weird but nice ur right

Jfc no wonder it took me and xiaoge so long to—you know what, we won’t get into that

Li Cu: ew tmi

Also re: this week’s recent necklace fuckery

I moved my stuff here, I live here now

So you can’t die anymore

Or else…Idk I don’t have a threat planned

anyways abt the curtain

Wu Xie: oh my god, kid…kid you have no idea

I am in tears.

Li Cu: see this is why I can’t be nice to you I can sense the hallmark channel from here

Ugh don’t be sad in ur room that’s dumb

Go hug Pangzi or something

Maybe delete this chat

Or the curtain thing

Focus on the curtain thing

Just stfu and go away

Wu Xie: <3 screenshotting this <3

Li Cu: I take back everything I said. This is why Xiao Ge sleeps on the roof. I hope the ghosts of the Wangs put up that curtain to strangle you somehow. Go die in a stupid way, it’ll suit you.

Wu Xie: lol don’t worry I’m not gonna embarrass you with it or anything

Main Chat

Wu Xie: omg guys look how cute my kid is *sending screenshot*

Wang Pangzi: I MEAN

HE IS WISHING YOU DEATH

BUT SURE

CUTE I GUESS

Wu Xie: no but read the whole thing:):):)

Zhang Qiling: It is indeed very hard to remain angry with you. And you are welcome to join me on the roof.

Wang Pangzi: UH NOPE

NOT WHENI HAD TO BLEACH THE COUNTER IN THE KITCHEN

DONT TRAUMATIZE THE EARLY BIRDS THEYRE ALREADY FREAKED OUT BY U YA HOODIE CRYPTID

Wu Xie: ok true but babe ur like a sexy cryptid

Wang Meng: so, are we just accepting that there is a glittery curtain of unknown origin, and Huo Daofu is going to have to see it while he’s waiting for you at Wushanju bc you’re going to family therapy?

Wu Xie: right

Wang Pangzi: SHOULDA TAKEN EARLY RETIREMENT HUH

Wang Meng: I’m going to go dust something.

Unnamed Chat:

Unknown number: so the curtain…

Unknown number 2: yep, not my best work but I kinda panicked last minute u know

Unknown number: what is in the water at Wushanju that makes everyone dumb and attractive

Unknown number 2: relax they’ll figure it out

#ultimate note #whomst #wu xie #dmbj #the lost tomb #pingxie #iron triangle

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starshine583 · 4 years ago

Text

New Girl on the Block (7)

(I hope you guys enjoy this new chapter! Feel free to check out the mini series connected to this fic called Journal Entries. I will warn whoever reads it that I’m not sure how long I’m going to keep it up, though.)

Ch.1 / Ch.6 / Ch.8

Chapter 7: That Happy Glow

“This is gonna be so much fun, Tikki!” Marinette exclaimed as she slid on her light pink flats. “I can’t wait to get to the aquarium!”

“Don’t forget your purse!” Tikki reminded, zipping around her chosen’s head. “I want to see some of the fish too!”

Marinette laughed and reached for her coat. The weather had been reported to drop over the weekend, and she didn’t want to take any chances. “Of course! I’ll make sure to pack some cookies for you too.”

When Felix told her last Monday that Adrien came to Rosemary looking for her, She’d been understandably distraught. Dupont had been given strict instructions to keep her new school’s name a secret, yet her old classmates were still coming to talk to her. It left many questions that needed to be answered. For example, how did they find out? Did Bustier tell them? Felix had mentioned that a girl was the one to give Adrien the information, though that hardly narrowed down the suspect list. Was Adrien the only one who knew? If not, were her other classmates going to try to come for her too? She’d asked her mother about it as soon as she got home, and as expected, Sabine flew into a rage.

“I send my daughter to a new school to get her away from her old classmates, and what do they do? They follow her there!” She’d fumed. “Unbelievable.”

Once Marinette talked her down from calling the police to file for harassment, they called the school, and Mme Bustier insisted that they’d been tight lipped about Marinette’s new school, but Marinette didn't buy it. Who else could have told Adrien? No one knew about her attending Rosemary, not unless Nathalie managed to find the information, and that was highly unlikely.

Although the situation was a mix of frustrating and worrisome, Marinette took comfort in the fact that Adrien seemed to believe she wasn't actually attending Rosemary. At the very least, he hadn’t stopped by again- as far as she knew -and hadn’t visited the bakery again either.

A small sigh passed her lips at the thought of how close she'd come to exposing herself as a Rosemary student. Thank goodness Felix had been out there to greet Adrien instead. His quick thinking had really saved her, and he even offered to give her a ride home afterwards. (For the second time) She never intended on asking Felix for help with things like this- mostly because she didn't want to bother him -but it was good to know she could depend on him when she needed to. Not only did he help her with Adrien, she also noticed him trying to keep others around her during the day after everything blew over. Allegra would order lunch with her more. Claude would join her to go to the lockers more. Allan would walk her to classes that they didn't have together. Things like that. Felix even offered to accompany her himself on a few occasions. It was a sweet gesture, and although the extra attention wasn’t necessary, it was greatly appreciated. Maybe she should make him a little thank you gift. What sort of things does he like again? Books and chess.. and silence.. how could she make a gift out of that?

Either way, Marinette couldn't thank him enough for his kindness, and now that six days of blessed silence has passed, the nervousness from the Adrien encounter was replaced with giddy enthusiasm for the aquarium. She buzzed around her bedroom to finish getting ready, putting on her scarf and earmuffs as quickly as she could. Allegra was supposed to come pick her up, but they were all going to meet up and walk into Aquarium de Paris together. She didn’t want to hold anyone up.

Marinette wrapped her purse around her shoulder, finally finishing her outfit, and bounced over to the trapdoor to go downstairs. Allegra should be arriving in about five minutes. That gave her just enough time to snag a few cookies for Tikki, a croissant for herself (and maybe Claude), and say goodbye to her parents.

“Goodmorning, sweetheart!” Sabine greeted warmly.

“Morning, Maman!” Marinette smiled, briefly pausing to let her mother kiss her on the forehead.

“Did you have a good sleep?” Tom asked, holding out an arm to her.

Marinette let out a nervous chuckle as she gave him a side hug. “Yes and no. I was kind of too excited to sleep.”

“You and me both.”

Marinette turned to one of the small tables in the bakery to see Allegra sitting with a smile and a cup of coffee. She was bundled up too, which told Marinette that she was probably right to put on her winter clothes.

“You’re already here?” Marinette asked, panic briefly seizing her chest. She looked around for the time. “How long have you been waiting? Am I late again?”

Allegra chuckled and stood up to pull Marinette into a hug. “Not at all! I just happened to get here a few minutes early, and your parents offered me a coffee while we waited for you to come down.”

Marinette relaxed a bit and hugged Allegra back. “You could have come upstairs to get me.”

“I didn’t want to rush you.” Allegra shrugged. “Besides, your parents are fun to talk with!”

Tom and Sabine both smiled and straightened with pride, causing Marinette to giggle.

“Here,” Tom said, taking a brown, paper bag out from under the counter. “We packed some breakfast for you.”

“And made sure to put plenty of croissants in for Claude and the others.” Sabine added with a smile.

Marinette took the bag with a sincere “thanks”. That saved her time on sneaking around for snacks.

“Oh, Claude is going to love those.” Allegra smirked, touching the bag to feel how warm it was.

Marinette giggled and nodded in agreement. It’s been almost three weeks since she started at Rosemary, and Claude still asks for croissants every lunch period. “Are we ready to go?”

“Yep! My driver’s waiting out front for us.” Allegra replied, tilting her head in the direction of the door.

“Have fun, you guys!” Sabine cooed.

“Make sure to take plenty of pictures with the fish!” Tom added with a wave.

“We definitely will.” Allegra beamed, looping her arm with Marinette’s.

With a final wave, they stepped outside together, and Marinette sharply inhaled as the chill of the air immediately gnawed at her features. She knew it was going to be cold, but she didn’t think it would be this cold.

I hope Felix didn’t decide to get there early today. Marinette thought to herself as they scrambled into the backseat of the car.

“So are you excited?” She asked Allegra while buckling in. Claude had been bouncing around the school walls all week for this trip, but Allegra hadn’t said much about it. Neither had Allan. Of course, they didn’t have to be excited. Marinette was just curious as to whether they were or why they weren’t.

“Absolutely!” Allegra grinned, bringing a smile to Marinette’s lips as well. Guess people show their excitement in different ways.

“Probably not as excited as Claude, though.” The blonde continued, a humorous expression crossing her features. “How many fish did he text on the group chat again?”

Marinette squinted slightly as she thought about it. “I think.. Twenty seven? Maybe twenty eight.”

“Twenty eight sounds about right.” Allegra said with a nod. “I swear Allan was this close to blocking him.”

Marinette laughed. “That knife meme was hilarious! I still can’t believe that Felix was the one who sent it. I was starting to think he didn’t read the group chat.”

“Yeah, he surprises us every now and then.” Allegra mused, a fond smile coming to her lips. “Like this aquarium trip. I don’t think he’s ever once agreed to go somewhere with us after the first invite.”

Marinette shrugged and settled into her seat as the driver pulled out onto the road. “Well, he did say that you were going to force him either way.”

Allegra’s smile turned devilish. “And he’s absolutely right. If he had said no to coming, I would have dragged him there myself, but that’s never stopped him before.”

Marinette tilted her head in a nod. That was certainly true.

“Maybe he just likes aquariums?”

Allegra hummed, a mischievous glint in her sky blue eyes as she said, “Or maybe he likes someone who’s going to the aquarium.”

Marinette furrowed her eyebrows. Like as in like like? Like a crush? Felix didn’t seem like the type to have a crush on someone, though after hearing him talk about the lovers in his classical playlist, she supposed it was a possibility.

“Is there someone else you guys know that might be there?”

A short laugh burst from Allegra’s lips, almost like Marinette had missed the point of something, and she shook her head. “No, nevermind. Forget I said anything. Let’s just enjoy our agreeable Felix while we have him.”

Marinette nodded, though her thoughts still lingered on the comment. Felix developing romantic feelings for someone sounded like such a foreign concept to her. Not that he was unlovable, or anything. He was just.. too logical. He didn’t dote on feelings. The only circumstance where she can clearly see him acquiring a spouse would be an arranged marriage. He’d probably be the one to plan it, too, seeing it as the most beneficial choice between both families. What type of wife would he pick, anyway? She’d probably be beautiful and quiet, right? Not to mention smart. Felix wouldn’t be able to stand someone ‘incompetent’. Maybe she’d be a bit of a perfectionist like him?

A soft hum passed her lips. It was definitely a thought.

~~~~~~

Felix grit his teeth as the biting chill of the morning seeped into his clothing. It was times like this that he wished those jokes about the incredible inaccuracy of weathermen were true. He hasn’t even been outside for ten minutes, and his fingers were already numb. If Felix had known that his coat and gloves would be this ineffective, he would have taken the second coat that his mother tried to insist he wear earlier.

A shiver ran up his spine as a particularly cold burst of wind whipped past him, and he pulled his coat tighter around his waist. What time was it? Were the girls going to be arriving soon?

He flicked his wrist upwards to catch sight of his watch. Allegra said that they would be meeting at Aquarium de Paris at 10am. Being 9:58am., they should be arriving any minute, but that didn’t stop him from heaving a deep sigh towards the wait. Note to self: Don’t arrive early to activities that take place outside during the winter.

A nudge to the arm brought Felix’s attention to Claude. He’d also arrived early- probably out of sheer excitement. He’s been blabbering about this trip all week -but the cold didn’t appear to affect him nearly as much.

“Are you nervous?” The brunette asked, causing Felix to shoot him a flat look.

“Why on earth would I be nervous?”

“Oh, no reason..” Claude said, his tone light and teasing. “I just know that Marinette’s going to be here.”

Felix rose a brow. “And?”

Claude smiled knowingly, but Felix couldn’t imagine what the brunette thought he knew this time.

“You two have gotten pretty close lately.”

“In what way?” There was the physical way or the mental way. Granted, both ways were incorrect, but it was an important distinction.

“Well, you talk to each other all the time.” Claude answered, as though that should be some monumental fact.

Ah. So it’s the mental way.

“That’s usually what happens when two people are in the same friend group.” Felix responded. “They talk.”

“Yeah, but what about the library?” Claude argued. Why did he feel the need to argue? “You two were practically touching noses, and no one else was there besides me.”

Felix furrowed his eyebrows. “Yesterday? When we were sharing headphones?”

Claude nodded, a Cheshire grin crossing his features. Why did he look triumphant? No one had won anything. “Yep. That’s the one I’m talking about.”

“Do you share headphones differently?”

“Well, no..” Claude half-shrugged. “But you guys are still pretty close, don’t you think?”

Felix paused. The label of being close to Marinette wasn’t a bad one, save for the fact that it was completely untrue. In light of a physical closeness, the only moments that they were close would be times when Marinette fell on top of him or yesterday, when they shared headphones in the library, and the latter scenario is being taken entirely out of context. They don’t walk around holding hands or hugging or sitting shoulder to shoulder next to each other, and in all honesty, Felix wouldn’t want to. He doesn’t enjoy constantly touching people. And as for the mental closeness, Marinette hasn’t told him anything that she hasn’t told anyone else. Felix knows a lot about her, yes, but almost everything he knows has been found out secretly, through silent observations. He would hardly call that “close”.

“No, I don’t think so,” he finally answered, “but I’m still confused as to why that would make me nervous.”

Claude pursed his lips, studying him for a moment, then sighed and crossed his arms. “Oh, nevermind. Either you’re in denial or you’ll figure it out eventually.”

A hint of frustration started to stir in Felix’s mind. Figure out what?

Before he could ask anything else, another voice cut into their conversation.

“Oh, there you guys are!”

It was Allan, and when Felix looked up, he noticed that Marinette and Allegra were accompanying him as well. Wonderful. He’d somewhat forgotten about the cold during Claude’s maniac ramblings, but now that his focus had shifted, the weather was hitting him full force again. He needed to escape inside before his feet were frozen to the sidewalk.

Claude perked up and waved to the three as he ran over to them. “Hey guys! What took you so long?”

Felix hobbled over to them as well, catching sight of Marinette’s sheepish smile as she said, “Sorry, Claude. We got here as fast as we could.”

Claude, of course, waved off the apology. “Nah, I’m just kidding. We weren’t waiting that long.”

The brunette scooped Marinette into a hug, coaxing out a laugh from her. She was so bundled up with coats and scarfs and gloves that Claude had to squish her between his arms to hold her, and it vaguely reminded Felix of a marshmallow.

In weather like this, though, being a marshmallow didn’t sound half bad.

Claude blew out a contented sigh as he nuzzled his face into Marinette’s shoulder. “Man, Mari, you’re so warm! I need to start using you as my personal heater.”

Marinette chuckled and pulled back just enough to hold up a brown, paper bag. “Thanks, but I think it’s just the food Maman sent with me.”

A gasp flew from Claude, and he immediately set her back on the ground. “Food, you say? As in, croissants food??”

“Yes, Claude.” Marinette giggled. “Croissants food. Maman packed a few extras especially for you.”

Claude literally let out a girlish squeal and made “grabby hands” for the bag. Marinette gladly obliged, letting him dig through it for his favorites.

“Your mom is the absolute best.” Claude said, his voice muffled from the chocolate croissant he bit into. “Please adopt me.”

The group shared a small laugh, but Felix rolled his eyes. Claude was always overdramatic.

“You better not let Aunt Felicity hear you say that.” Allegra spoke up. She was also bundled to the max- though her coat was light purple -and looked about ten times warmer than Felix felt. “Remember the last time you asked Allan to adopt you?”

Claude scoffed. “That was different! This time I want to be adopted because of Mme Sabine’s cooking, not because of how many games Marinette has.”

“Oh, yeah.” Allan snorted. “That’s completely different.”

“Hey, mom will understand.” Claude insisted, placing his hands on his hips. “She knows she can’t cook anything to save her life. That’s why we have a personal chef.”

“Wait, are you two cousins?” Marinette cut in, confusion flicking across her features.

A slight frown came to Allegra’s lips. “No, why do you ask?”

“You called his mom ‘Aunt Felicity’.”

“Oh!” The blonde’s face lit up with understanding. “Yeah, we do that. Claude’s parents are Aunt Felicity and Uncle Albert, and Allan’s parents are Aunt Meridith and Uncle Theodore.”

Allan nodded in agreement. “I think it started back in middle school when Claude accidentally called M. Chanson ‘Uncle Arthur’ while taking some snacks.”

Allegra snorted. “Oh, yeah, that was definitely the start of it. Dad wouldn’t stop talking about it for days. He thought it was the best.”

Claude sighed, running a hand through his hair with a bashful smile. “That was totally embarrassing, but at least he liked it.”

“Can we all go inside?” Felix interjected. Talking about how they address the adults is nice and all, but his arms and legs have been burning from the cold for the last five minutes. Can’t they continue this conversation when they’re not standing in below-thirty-degree weather?

Claude laughed, throwing Felix a teasing smirk. “Aw, poor Fe. Are you cold?”

Felix scowled at his babying tone. “Of course I’m cold! Frost is slowly growing on our hoods as we speak!”

“Well, I’m not cold.” The brunette replied, swinging his arm around Marinette’s shoulder. “Because I’ve had some of Marinette’s delicious croissants to keep me warm.”

Felix scoffed and tugged his coat tighter around himself. Eating warm croissants certainly didn’t help him.

“They are pretty warm.” Allan said next to him. “You should try one.”

“He doesn’t have to.” Marinette, being the kind person she is, hastily jumped in. “We were planning on going inside, anyway, right?”

“Yeah, but I think Felix needs to taste one.” Allegra remarked. “It’s simply shameful of him to refuse them for this long, in my opinion.”

“I don’t like sweets.” Felix pointed out in annoyance. Just start moving towards the aquarium.

“Well..” Marinette faltered. “Maman did pack a regular croissant and a cheesy croissant..”

He held back a sigh. Though her intentions surely weren’t foul, his only ally had officially condemned him. It’s not that he cared to try one of Marinette’s croissants. After eating supper with Marinette’s parents last week, he had no doubt that anything they made was delicious. No, the problem came with the fact that he was being pushed to eat them. (The group wasn’t quite pushing yet, but he’d learned to pinpoint the signs of oncoming pressure.) If Felix says no, despite how unreasonable it might be, he expects that answers to be respected. The same way he would respect anyone else who told him no about something.

“See, there you go!” Claude smiled. “A nice, warm, non-sweet croissant to make you forget about the January weather.”

“I’d forget it just as easily if we walked inside.” Felix bit back.

“Oh, come on, Felix.” Allegra scolded. “Live a little! You don’t have to eat the whole thing, just one bite!”

“Guys, he really doesn’t have to eat it.” Marinette spoke up again. Felix silently thanked her for her efforts, but her previous comment made any resistance futile now.

“Oh, he’s eating it.” Claude stated. “He needs to know the pure bliss that is Mme Sabine’s croissants.”

“Plus, we’re not going inside until he tries it.” Allegra added.

Allan snorted. “Felix.. I think they want you to try the croissant.”

Felix’s eyes narrowed to a glare. “I’ll walk inside without you.”

“No, you won’t.” Allegra shot back. “You know why you won’t? Because you actually don’t mind trying the croissants. You’re just upset that we told you to try them.”

Felix was thankful for his pockets, because it hid the way his hands clenched into his fists. He absolutely hated when Allegra saw through his intentions. It made him feel transparent, vulnerable. Not to mention embarrassed. Was he that horrible at hiding his emotions or could he simply not match her level of observation? It was probably the former and that ticked him off the most.

“Just give me the dang croissant.” He finally bit off, jutting his hand out to Marinette. If he stared solely at her, he wouldn’t have to see Claude or Allegra’s victorious, blood-boiling grins.

Marinette flinched at the sudden movement and knitted her eyebrows, concerned. “A-Are you sure-”

“Positive.” Felix ground out, hoping she didn’t take it personally. Just give me the food so we can get this over with.

Although wary, Marinette handed over one of the croissants. The specks of yellow around the edges told him it was the cheese-flavored one.

With a deep breath to regain some composure, Felix took a bite of the breaded treat, and..

And it was incredible.

The croissant was piping hot, immediately stealing away the bitter coldness of the air as Claude had claimed. The cheese inside was stringy and practically melted in his mouth, and the softness of the bread allowed you to enjoy every bit of the doughy taste.

It took everything Felix had to keep a neutral expression. If they saw how much he enjoyed the food, they would never let him live it down. He’d be trying everything else under the sun merely because the trio was right one time.

“Well?” Allegra pressed. “How does it taste?”

“.. They are delicious.” He admitted, if only for Marinette’s sake. Downplaying Mme Sabine’s baking skills would only allow him to keep a small bit of his useless pride. He might as well be honest.

A smile slipped onto Marinette’s lips, but Claude’s triumphant laugh took away any satisfaction Felix might have gotten from it.

“I knew you would like them!” The brunette cheered. “Anyway, let’s go inside. It’s freezing out here!”

Felix scoffed, throwing a sharp glare at Claude. If it weren’t for how good this croissant was, he would have thrown it at him.

“Yeah, I think they’re open now.” Allan agreed as he checked his watch.

Curious, Felix checked his watch too. 10:10am.

“Oh! Race you guys there!” Claude abruptly announced, before breaking into a sprint.

Allan chuckled and humored the brunette by going into a jog, and Allegra picked up the pace as well. Felix, however, elected to keep walking as he munched on the croissant. The heat radiating off of it was enough to stall the looming chill around him anyway.

“So..” Marinette began, drawing Felix’s gaze down to her. She’d apparently decided to walk with him instead of running after Claude.

For some reason, that gave Felix a sense of accomplishment.

“Did you really like the croissants?” She asked, her hands fidgeting with the paper bag.

Felix nodded, taking another bite of the croissant as ‘proof’. “Claude wasn’t joking when he said that she made them fluffier than the clouds. I’ll have to buy them for Mother sometime.”

A small smile graced her lips. “I’m glad you like them.”

Felix offered a small smile in return. “Yes, me too.”

After Agreste’s visit earlier in the week, Marinette had been rather stressed. He noticed her looking over her shoulder often, checking windows before exiting buildings, spacing out during classes.. It was obvious that the encounter had unnerved her.

He tried to ease her mind by rallying the trio to help. They recognized her sudden anxiety as well, and although Felix couldn’t tell them the exact reason, he hinted at it possibly being the usual nervousness of their first round of tests that was coming up. This caused them to swarm Marinette for study dates and extra lunches, asking questions about different subjects while they walked her to her locker or to her classes. When this strategy failed- which wasn’t often -Felix would also offer to accompany her.

If she suspected his involvement in the extra attention, she didn’t show it, but she did relax after a few days of the special treatment. Felix took that as a success.

Marinette and Felix caught up with the rest of the group a few seconds later, and they all entered the aquarium together. Another shiver ran over Felix as they walked inside, the warmth of the building washing over him. He would have smiled with relief had it not been for the amount of people pushing against them. Despite the aquarium opening a little less than twenty minutes ago, people of all ages were already piling inside. Adults, teenagers, kids.. Felix supposed this was the price they paid for visiting on a Sunday.

“Everyone stay together!” Allegra instructed over the noise. She grabbed onto Felix’s wrist and Allan’s hand for emphasis. “We don’t want to get separated before we even pay for our tickets.”

Although it irked him for Allegra to be latching onto his wrist, Felix didn’t argue. Past experiences with the trio have made him well aware of how easy it was to get separated in a rushing crowd like this.

They weaved through the giddy schoolgirls and the tired parents until they found a steady line for the ticket both. There, they talked about which attractions to see first and which ones to save for later.

“I think we should just walk through.” Claude said, unsurprisingly. He was never one for order. “It’ll be easier if we just go.”

“But if we don’t have a plan, we’ll never get through it all.” Allegra pointed out. “It doesn’t have to be strict. We just need a vague goal to work towards.”

“We could start with the jellyfish?” Marinette suggested. “Those are always cool.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Allan agreed. “Then we could start working our way around to the shark tank. I say we save it for last since it’s the main reason we came.”

Claude let out a small whine. “Aw, what? Why would we wait till the end to see it if it’s the reason we came?”

“Come on, Claude, you know how the saying goes.” Allegra commented, flicking Claude on the shoulder. “Save the best for last.”

Claude grabbed his shoulder, even though the flick hardly hurt. “I never understood that expression.”

Allegra rolled her eyes with a smile and turned back to the group. “Are we all in agreement then? Start with the jellyfish and move to the sharks?”

“Works for me.” Allan shrugged.

“I don’t have a preference.” Felix stated, not that his opinion would matter much to anyone but Marinette.

With a (somewhat) solid plan, the group purchased their tickets and merged with the flow of the people to get to the main part of the aquarium. The first item on the list, aside from seeing Jellyfish, was to find lockers or another place to put their winter coats and gloves. Felix didn’t fancy the cold, but melting in a packed building also wasn’t preferable.

Allegra still held onto his wrist as they searched, but that didn’t stop the people around them from shoving and prodding to get through first. Felix jostled about, a scowl quickly forming on his lips after getting hit for the fifth time. How can it be so rowdy during the thirty minutes? Goodness knows what’s going to happen when more people start arriving! Why did he even agree to come here?

A gasp cut through the white noise of the crowd, and Claude called out Marinette’s name as she rushed forward.

She stopped in front of the jellyfish tank they came upon and pressed her gloved hands to the glass, smile bright and eyes sparkling with awe. The jellyfish circled in the water with the current, glowing blue and purple and pink under the aquarium lights.

A laugh of pure delight escaped Marinette, and she glanced over her shoulder at them. “Do you see how many there are? This is so neat!”

The sheer giddiness of her voice caused another smile to crawl onto Felix’s lips. Ah, yes. He remembered why he quickly relented to the aquarium visit. It was the first time Marinette had personally invited him to something, and he didn’t want to upset her if he fought against the activities as he usually did. After all, what thanks would that be to someone who constantly tries to keep him comfortable and respect his boundaries?

“Yeah, they look amazing!” Allegra grinned, tugging Felix and Allan forward to follow the ravenette.

Felix followed with a slight glare. He knew that holding onto each other was for the best, but-

Another person slammed into his shoulder, and Felix full on growled at them as they walked off like nothing happened.

-but perhaps the next time he feels the need to repay Marinette’s kindness, he should simply send a ‘thank you’ letter instead.

Tag List: @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce @i-need-blog-ideas @thewheezingbubbledragon @crazylittlemunchkin @unabashedbookworm @moonystars14 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @2confused-2doanything @magnificentcrapposts @moonnette @nickristus-dreamer @casual-darkness @vixen-uchiha @luxmorningstarr

#felinette #Felix Culpa #Quantic Kids #New Girl on the Block #Rosemary AU #Marinette

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gaymershigh · 4 years ago

Note

hulloh! I've only been on tumblr for a few hours, and me and my friend already love your work! Is it ok if I request some TWST parent scenarios with Riddle,Lilia,Sebek,Vil and Floyd? If so, thanks! Also once again, me and my freind love ur works alot!

Of course! Since there's no s/o really mentioned in here but people might still want to be included, s/o will be mentioned just a tiny bit (the kids being biological or adopted is up to you since I want to make the s/o gender neutral.) Also, thanks a lot! I'm still and probably be forever an amateur writer so this means a lot to me 🥺💞💞

Triggers: None

Parents au: Riddle, Lilia, Sebek, Vil and Floyd edition!

From what we've seen, his parents are not the best role models like, at all. They were too strict, pressuring him and treating him like a trophy child. However, he will definitely not treat his child like that at all after Ace slapped him with reality.

He will be a bit strict, having some rules and will scold them if they did something wrong but not as scold them the way his mother does. He won't raise his voice at them, showing them the right path after he scolded them. He will give them freedom and try his best to not make his children suffer the same thing he did, especially when he's the source of the pain.

Though, he might accidentally adapt some things from his mother and project her ways to his children, being completely not self aware. If you're his s/o, please teach him the baby steps to avoid this from this occurring too often.

Unfortunately, having a good life and children won't make his short temper extend. This is the only reason why he doesn't spoil them too much, they might act entitled and may be too late to change them back to the innocent infant they were back then. He tries very hard to control his temper if his children unintentionally knock furniture over or damage something. He just needs a few minutes alone, everything will be back to normal later.

There was one time where his child's birthday was near and decided to bake a cake from scratch, without any assistance from Trey nor his s/o. Thinking he could do it and don't want anyone to underestimate him. He was planning to make a burnt strawberry cheesecake and did the mistake of leaving the oven on for an hour for 400 degrees fahrenheit. The cake went on fire but it tasted very good when he for some reason tasted it. Nobody knew about the incident and the cake was actually used for its purpose. Yay for him, I guess.

He was already pretty outdated in trends when he was in his teens so do expect him to be like a middle aged soccer mom on Facebook every time his children send him memes or something like that. If he does even use any sort of social media and stumbled upon a 'funny' minion meme or something, he will definitely send it to the family group chat. He will make those 5th grade types of edits with one of the family pictures with a "I love my family". It's funny but still wholesome so don't laugh at him.

There is no alternate universe where Lilia isn't a good dad. Silver and his other wards are already an amazing example of how amazing of a parent he is! He has gained a bunch of experience so he got this in the bag.

Though, his way of taking care of children might be different from how it is now. Times have changed, there are probably some new and uncomplicated objects or toys to entertain the baby or child. He would love to go on a shopping trip to buy some fascinating kids toys he found in the toy store. Please stop him from buying everything in there because it looks "intriguing".

If you're his s/o, you're very lucky since if you have a baby who always cries at three in the morning or a kid who really have trouble sleeping, Lilia will sing a lullaby and they'll doze off in any second. He can wake up easily or he'll just always stay up playing his games so you don't even need to break a sweat in this situation.

His kids or any kid in general loves him lots. He will always tell his tales anywhere, anytime. If the kids ask him for a story to tell, he will always have a new one ready to tell. They also make amazing bedtime stories! It can be funny little innocent stories like his funny experiences taking care of his three wards to actual battles he went through. Any story is a good story.

He really got along with his child when they're young and innocent but when they get into their teenage years, oh boy. He will unintentionally embarrasses them but their friends won't mind. If anything, they will love him being around as he's always keeping up with the games and trends, not being a fat, shirtless creepy dad. One of the positive parts about his child growing up is that he can play video games with him just like he did with Silver! Reliving the nice memories.

He would always try to cook something in any opportunity he gets and of course, he gets stopped by either s/o or his own children. Yes, they have to go through the hard way to realize their father is garbage at cooking. He would always try to cook some food everytime something good has happen in order to celebrate but most of the times, he just wants to cook something for them to show how much he loves them. They really made him happy, he finally have a biological/adopted offspring to watch growing up (again).

Sebek unfortunately doesn't have that much time to spend time with his children due to being Malleus' trusted escort. Of course, when he does have free time and is not exhausted he will use the opportunity to spend it with his adorable younglings.

Knowing him, he still loves and worships Malleus but he's no longer his only priority in life when he finally has a life of his own other than just being Malleus' bodyguard. He will ramble and tell so many stories about his young master to his kids. They will be infatuated but will later complain about how everything is just "Malleus this, Malleus that". He will get a bit upset about that comment, so he will only talk about Malleus stories for 3 days a week.

He only has focused his life on guarding Malleus and advancing himself on magic and education. Now that he's now an actual father, this is a new chapter in his life and he's not prepared at all. He will seek Lilia for guidance and of course, Lilia being Lilia will rope him to doing something absolutely ridiculous and he would of course, woefully fall for it. Pretty surprising that no matter how much he has fallen for his teacher's trap, he still seeks him for advice.

His kids will definitely learn how to read fast. He loves reading and he really wants his kids to appreciate it too. He was about to immediately give them the books that have old and poetic language without even knowing what the alphabet was. Lilia put a stop to this and you couldn't even bear seeing how sad he looked because he needs to wait for a few years for him to have little reading buddies. Oh well, it doesn't matter now. He will teach them how to read and appreciate the art of reading no matter how long it takes.

He has exposed his children to a bunch of Malleus propaganda so there's no surprise if the children become just like him. Loud screaming, Malleus worshipping, smart but naive and other things Sebek has. If you're his s/o, please keep the children in check as they might cause problems to the neighbors. As this might be troublesome, it's at least entertaining experience I suppose.

Just like Sebek, he has even less time to spend with his kids as he always has modeling, acting and other businesses to attend. He's probably going to be exhausted when he comes back as well. Though, of course he's going to try to use all his energy to talk to his children till he can no longer open his eyes anymore. He prefers an s/o that is a stay-in mom/dad so the children won't feel lonely while he's gone.

They're definitely gonna grow up just like him. A model, actor, media influencer, or the combination of the three and it's not a bad thing. If they're going on the same route as him, he will teach them in a strict but still in a somewhat caring manner as he has learned a lot from his experience of the VDC boot camp and the overblot incident. He will only show his threatening side if they start to misbehave like those ADeuce rats.

Just because they are his children, doesn't mean they get a free pass if they intentionally neglect or not doing their best at all times, especially when it comes to appearance. He's known to be a neat-freak and a very hard worker to the point it's concerning. He will scold them if more than two pimples pop up on their face but he knows when to cross the line. He learned this easier if their child is rather sensitive and just emotionally fragile in general but they still need to take care of themselves.

He expects his children to follow his footsteps when it comes to where they're schooling. He wants them to enter a prestigious school like he did for his reputation and for the sake of his children's future. This is optional (not really) but he also hopes his children to enter Pomefiore as well and take the dorm head title at least the second week they enroll in this school. If they were sorted to a different dorm, they still want them to have a role in their dorm or in the school at all.

He begs to the Great Seven that paparazzi or desperate losers obsessing over him don't intrude into his personal life, especially if it's about his family. The last thing he wants to witness is his family in pain or being uncomfortable for their whole life. He usually avoids or straight up tells the interviewer that he's not comfortable answering questions when they're going too personal when it's about questions of his family.

You cannot feel anymore blessed when you see his smiling face when he received news about having a vacation. He can finally spend more time with his wonderful kids he's raising with all his heart. He will tell them about some funny incidents in the studio while he was involved in some modeling gig or he will bring them to a private island with gorgeous scenery for both of them to enjoy. Of course, his children's happy faces are more beautiful than the island.

Floyd is seen to be very warm and sweet despite having a very intimidating height. Naturally, he's not going to be ruthless and act the same when it's with his children because it's his children of course, family is precious to him. He has a lot of energy even after a long shift at Mostro Lounge, so he will always spend a lot of time with his kids.

He's physically affectionate so expect him to be always close and wrapping his arms around his children at almost all times. He'll usually let them sit on his lap when they watch TV or sleep with them if they can't go back to sleep because of a nightmare. Headpats are needed, especially if the kids did something good or got good news. Not saying he won't give any headpats if something bad happens, maybe headpats of sympathy perhaps.

He's very patient when it's with his children because he doesn't want his children to fear him when they grow up. If anything, the s/o have to do the scolding to avoid him snapping or anything like the sort. They rarely do anything bad though, since they're aware of how their dad acts from how he treats a dirty burglar who once tried to break in.

Since he's usually very active and hates just standing around, he expects his children to be just like him. It's never boring if your dad is Floyd as he always has something really entertaining to do at most times. If you're his s/o, you have the free entrance to see an eel man dancing around with his kids or playing some basketball either inside or preferably in the backyard. He tried showing the art of parkour but is stopped due to it being very risky. He sulked about this but oh well, once they're ten, they have no choice but to learn it!

Floyd is an amazing cook and he sometimes lets his children be involved like chopping some vegetables or stirring the macaroni. He sometimes teaches them the perfect way of doing it or let's them try doing their own meal with his assistance. There was one time they decided to make one of the weirdest food combinations and try to eat it, he won and ate it all as it was too gross for the kids to eat it. It's not gonna be a surprise if everyone in this household is an expert cook when Floyd is here.

If possible, he really wants to bring his kids at work no matter how troublesome they could get. If Azul has a "bring your kids to work" day (which I doubt of him doing), he's going to bring all his children no matter how many he has. If there's no day like that, who cares! He's bringing his kids anyway and nobody's stopping him. Sure, he will get scolded by Azul but if that's the only thing stopping him then he'll take his chances.

I don't if it's still Christmas or not since I don't celebrate it but if it's still is, Merry Christmas! 🎉 I'll just say this is a Christmas gift for you and your friend, Mouaietaru! Especially for that Jamil and Silver fanfic that you made. It's very good, keep up the fantastic work! ✨✨✨

-𝕸𝖎𝖗𝖎

326 notes · View notes

keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

the sex party: i

(r18+)

shinsou hitoshi x reader

ao3

part 1 (you’re here!) || part 2

word count: ~7.1k

You and Hitoshi definitely have a thing for each other, but who would've thought that a 'sex party' would produce a confession?

warnings:

COLLEGE AU! characters are explicitly aged up to college students as early 20 year olds!

not really a sex party, mutual pining, friends to lovers, confessions, reader is canonically bi, brief momo x reader, light dom/sub, spanking, references to drug use, smoking (cigarettes, salem trademarked fic thing), drinking, and smut

there is a scene where there is attempted sexual assault. it is marked with ***** before and after.

---------

this.... this piece is a monster. i’ve been wrestling with it for a month and now its here for y’all. the second part is already out ;^)) thank you to @keiqos for being an absolute king and beta reader this monster. enjoy y’all!!

|||||||||||||||||

You never imagined that you would be where you were. It was under weird circumstances, but god if you weren’t going to try and enjoy it.

The party you found yourself attending was lit with flashing lights and rainbow projections. There were two different DJs on various floors of the suburban mansion. They bumped out remixed club music, making the walls hum and thrum and bodies writhe and sweat. One of the kitchen counters was loaded with bottles and bottles of hard liquor and mixers.

You were quickly making a third mixie. Just a vodka soda, boringly. There were certainly more fun options, but you weren’t exactly sure how to feel about this party just yet. You were having trouble discerning whether this was a ‘gin and tonic millennial’ party or a ‘jungle juice in an old cooler’ party.

Denki and Jiro had convinced nearly two car-fulls of your friends to roll up. It sounded so fun, so wild!

“Yo! Our friends from the EDM scene are throwing a SEX party! You all should come! It’s at a mansion across town!”

Their ‘friends’ were two middle-aged, white hippies who did a lot of molly for their age.

Nonetheless, you found yourself in a massive, odd house and managed to lose your friends fairly quickly (and accidentally). All the rooms stayed dimly lit and loud. You could hardly keep track of your own two feet.

Someone pressed you into the counter, a hand grazing against your barely covered ass.

You whipped around, watching as a couple walked away, one of them giving incredibly loud bedroom eyes.

Oh yeah, the ‘sex party’ part.

It wasn’t a kink party, or really a sex party at all. Sex was encouraged and provided for, but not necessary. The mansion’s massive attic was where most of the sex acts were happening with its five beds, three bondage rigs, a wall of toys of all types, condoms, lube, whippits, and even Viagra in decorative bowls. You had yet to venture up, but Denki had already spammed the group chat about it.

(It had been the first place he went upon arriving.)

You took your drink down the stairs (the place had three fucking basements) and turned into a small hallway that led outside.

It was cold, but your somewhat drunk body hardly minded. The sobering bite of wind gave a nice reprieve from the thrumming heat inside.

You immediately spotted Hitoshi leaning on a retaining wall, half a cigarette hanging from his lips. His face lit up, when he saw you, waving you over.

You smiled back at him, glad to find a friend and best of all Hitoshi.

You two were quite close.

In addition to both being sociology majors and having a lot of overlap when it came to classes, you’d known each other since freshman year and only grew closer with time. You’d spent many nights at his house off-campus, sipping cup after cup of black coffee in the midst of a paper writing and studying. You also definitely didn’t ever have close calls of affection though, no.

No.

Never.

You and Hitoshi were obviously just friends.

...

“Wild party, huh?” Hitoshi quirked an eyebrow, nodding to the house. He offered you a cigarette that you took greedily.

You placed it between your lips, Hitoshi ever so casually leaning forward to light it with his signature clipper. He’d nabbed it off some ‘milf’ at the casino which he and Denki had gone to for bingo ‘for the meme’ freshmen year.

You let out a puff, “Thank you! And yes, very wild. I’m on drink three and I still feel overwhelmed.”

Hitoshi sipped his own, nodding in agreement, “I know Jiro and Denki know some wild people from the scene, but this seems over the top.”

“It is kind of fun? But definitely an ‘I need to be a little more fucked up’ kind of fun,” You remarked.

You set down your cigarette on the cement wall, attempting to boost yourself up onto it. You nearly had it, except you really didn’t and slipped back down. You anxiously turned around, checking your dress over for any sort of tears.

Hitoshi set down his own cigarette, standing in front of you. You looked up at him and felt very small and very horny all of a sudden. It certainly wasn’t an abnormal set of feelings, given how the two of you teased each other relentlessly.

“Need some help there?” He chuckled at your struggle as you frowned up at him.

“If you insist.” You expected him to offer a hand to stabilize yourself on but no, Hitoshi’s big hands were suddenly grabbing at your waist, lifting you on the walls with little effort.

You swore you almost felt him squeeze you before letting go.

“You’re welcome,” Hitoshi just smirked as he returned to his spot, taking a deep drag to look at you through lowered lids.

You glared, but in good fun.

At that moment, a few other of your friends poured from the door to the patio. They were all shouting, jarring and drunk, and very happy to see the two of you.

You unconsciously shifted a bit closer to Hitoshi on the wall, bare leg just barely touching his shoulder.

You didn’t notice it, but Hitoshi definitely leaned into you too.

“(Y/N)! Hitoshi!” Momo addressed you firmly as Denki and Hanta snickered behind her. “You both are smarter than to smoke, aren’t you?”

“Nope,” You popped the word from your mouth to take another drag.

“We’re drunk, give it a rest,” Hitoshi waved his hand dismissively. You were both her friends, but she did have a pole up her ass sometimes.

Almost to emphasize the point, Jiro withdrew her own pack and started offering to other people.

As the ever-important smoking ritual continued, you couldn’t help but shiver from the now-painful gusts of wind. You abruptly hopped off of the wall, only wobbling a little on your heels as you hit the ground. Hitoshi moved to steady you, a firm hand on your shoulder.

(God, you wanted to melt into him.)

See, Hitoshi had been smart enough to wear a warm outfit. A pair of black jeans, a form-fitting, well-cut sweater, and a jacket which was slung over his arm.

He offered it to you, eyebrow raised, “If you’re cold, you’re welcome to this. I’m gonna stash it when I get inside anyways.”

You shook your head, pushing back on his arm, feeling the hard muscle beneath. You almost shivered. “No, no it’s okay. I’m gonna head back in.”

“Mind if I tag along then?” Hitoshi asked, eyes scanning around you. He seemed well aware that there were some creeps at this party.

Most of the time, you wouldn’t feel great about needing some tall, beefy dude to casually stand around as a deterrent. But, honestly? You appreciated it immensely.

“Right this way, smokestack,” You just had to give him shit, it was part of your cute dynamic right?

(It made the incessant flirting easier to hide.)

...

You couldn’t help but continually notice how Hitoshi had bulked up. He had been hitting the gym a lot and working on himself physically.

God, did it show.

His body had been a bit lanky and wiry before, but he’d filled out so well. With his cute sweater on, you could see how the fabric stretched tight around his biceps and his chest. You couldn’t look at his forearms in any setting or risk drooling all over yourself.

Not that you would mind drooling for Hitoshi, but you’d prefer it to be in a different context.

(But, you’d never admit that.)

The two of you wordlessly winded through the house, finding a somewhat less feral living room in one of the basements to relax in. Most everyone occupying the space was just mingling, save for a few couples making out. It seemed manageable. You settled for a spot on the carpet against a wall.

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow, “Really?”

“I feel way safer sitting on a floor than a couch here,” You couldn’t help smiling when you saw him snuff out his own amusement.

You both watched as a couple was grinding and audibly moaning on one of the aforementioned couches. Hitoshi relented, “Point taken.”

He slid down the wall next to you, shoulder to shoulder, drinks in hand.

You both sat in silence for a minute, just taking the sounds and sights of the party. People-watching could have been an olympic sport at this shindig.

“Hey,” Hitoshi broke the mild tension, tapping your upper thigh over your dress. “I’m not saying this to be a creep, really, I promise. But, I really like your dress.”

You turned your body slightly, towards him. Oh, now you needed to give him shit— “Oh, how complementary. Not creepy at all. Just my very sweet, male friend telling me how I look pretty in my party dress.”

Hitoshi leaned closer to you, mirroring you by lying half on his side. His breath and heat curled over your face and neck, “Oh, (Y/N), now you’re putting words in my mouth. I said that I like your dress. Because it’s one of Mei’s designs, right?”

You looked down, heat filling your cheeks.

Fuck your drunk mouth.

“Though,” Oh, Hitoshi was closer. He had leaned to your ear, steadying a hand on your shoulder. “I do think you’re pretty in this dress. I’d use a different word instead of pretty though.”

“Like?”

“Mmmm, gorgeous,” He hummed too casually. “As strong of a word as I can use without being a creep, right?”

“‘Toshi,” You groan, swatting his hand away. “You’re a bastard, you know that?”

He just beamed at you, “I’ve been told.”

Hitoshi drew back and met your eyes.

Once more, you mirrored each other. Both of you bore comically dilated pupils, wet lips, flushed faces and slight tremors in your hands.

“You know, I think I referred to you as ‘sweet’ too...” You raised an eyebrow at him. You couldn’t help the way your gaze flickered down to his lips. It flitted back up, “But, that’s nothing, right?”

Hitoshi bit his lip, taking a big breath.

Suddenly, he was standing up.

“Hey, wait—” You stammered, standing as well. “I’m sorry, that was a lot. I only meant to tease.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Hitoshi put his hands in front of himself, creating distance between the two of you. “Same. You know I can’t help giving you trouble, (Y/N).”

Ouch.

You cracked a smile, rubbing your arms, “Of course, yeah. Silly friend shit.”

Hitoshi was quick to redirect, pointing a thumb out of the room, “I’ve gotta hang this somewhere. See you in a bit, or you can come with me if you like?”

“Nah, I’ll wander,” You patted his shoulder, waltzing off your churning gut by cutting in front of him. “Take it easy, smokestack.”

You couldn’t hear if he replied.

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

You did, in fact, wander. With meandering feet, you moved through room after room. You poured yourself another drink, but it’s not nearly as strong. Your run-in with Hitoshi soured your mood. While not fully ruined, you were definitely feeling weirder than you wanted to be.

Hitoshi and you obviously had energy, yeah. But the most either of you had acted on it was ‘seemingly meaningless’ flirting. It was always followed up with a ‘no homo’ or ‘aha, got ‘ya!’, yet it always felt real in the moment. You weren’t a dumbass. You had caught Hitoshi eyeing you a few (read: many) different times. There were so many close calls and contacts between the two of you.

There was one time while you were making a box of mac and cheese in Hitoshi’s kitchen circa 2 AM. You had borrowed one of his shirts and a pair of joggers to sleep in, a common act of yours. He walked past you for a glass of water, keeping the cup under the tap until it ran over just to look you up and down.

His gaze wasn’t prying or predatory, not even close. You trusted Hitoshi with your life and you knew that he wouldn’t ever breach boundaries like that. Rather, he regarded you in a way that made him lose time, something soft and gooey in his eyes. That time, it wasn’t lustful attention. It just felt-

(Like the way lovers look at one and other, enamored.)

Another time was during one of his performances. The house venue had been dimly lit and musty as fuck, but that didn’t distract Hitoshi. As Jiro’s vocals shook the basement, you met eyes with Hitoshi as he slammed on guitar. His gaze always returned to you throughout the whole set. When you had teased him about it, he claimed that looking at you helped keep his stage fright in check.

The reasoning didn’t calm the butterflies in your stomach.

There was another particularly telling occurrence where you had fallen asleep on Hitoshi’s floor in the middle of working on your final paper for your theory class the semester prior. He returned from his smoke break to find you curled up under the first piece of cloth you could find (which, in that case, was one of his hoodies). You weren’t fully asleep, and you certainly weren’t when Hitoshi hefted you into his arms, laying you so gently down on his bed and covering you with a throw blanket.

Oh, god, the sweetness, like something you’d never known when you felt his hand on your face, smoothing over your cheekbones, your nose, and then your lips. His gentle voice, deep with the late-night, “You work too hard, you know.”

He nestled next on the floor next to the bed, leaving you to sleep undisturbed the rest of the night.

There were, of course, many more instances of Hitoshi’s way-too-kind kindness, and a pile of your own moments as well.

It was all damning, but relatively ignored. Your friendship was more important than any stupid feelings the two of you had right? You refused to acknowledge your own feelings beyond semi-sexual remarks, jabs, and jests. You couldn’t jeopardize your friendship, right?

...

You eventually found yourself at the foot of the stairs that led to the attic. Even from the landing, you could hear various rhythmic slaps, moans, and laughter.

You ascended the stairs and took in the sight greeting you.

There were various bondage rigs that were free-standing, all occupied at the moment you entered. Loops for ropes and chains to be tied to drilled into the ceiling. Flogs, whips, canes, and other implements hung heavy on one of the walls.

The room was lit dimly, yet nothing seemed obscured. A few rainbow lights illuminated the sweaty bodies about the room. Not everyone was having full-on sex. Most people were actually clothed. A lot of folks it seemed were just there spectating.

Speaking of most people, your party peers were all lounging on the beds. Sans, Hitoshi, of course, standing and laughing with Kaminari.

The lot saw you enter and flagged you down. You walked past a heavily-tattooed man getting pegged by a woman in a tutu and a crowd of costumed partygoers doing whippits which were being handed out by a man in an elaborate steampunk top hat. A cute girl with silver hair was strung up in a nearby rig, moaning as a leather-clad man fingerfucked her.

You stood next to Hitoshi, bumping into his arm with your own, “Didn’t take you for a voyeur.”

He snorted, joshing you back, “I have my moments.”

“I didn’t take you for a prude, (Y/N)!” Denki snickered, bringing attention to you. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost when you walked in here.”

“Denki, please,” You rolled your eyes. “I walked into a room made for very wild sex acts. That’s a very different expression than the one you’re describing.”

That made him snort and fall back onto the bed, along with Hanta and Mina.

(How high were they? That wasn’t even a good joke.)

Hitoshi chuckled himself, something low and lumbering.

(Don’t think about how hot that is.)

“This makes me think back to that night, in sophomore year,” Hanta spoke as he sat up. “You know, kink night.”

“Oh, yeah! I forget about that,” Denki turned towards you and Hitoshi and raised his eyebrows.

You flushed.

Momo, innocently, asked, “Kink night?”

Hitoshi cleared his throat, looking anywhere but you.

“Oh yeah!” Mina piped up, hugging Momo’s shoulders from behind. Jiro was sitting in Momo’s lap, head on her tits. “We made a drinking game of exposing our weird sex acts and kinks to each other.”

You laughed uncomfortably at the memory, avoiding the very embarrassing and horny part that involved you, “That was the day that we found Mineta was into scat.”

“Oh wow,” Jiro gawked. “That was before Mineta got canceled?”

“Oh, yeah. He got wasted and ran off after that. Thank god.” Denki snickered. “You know what else happened that night?”

“Denki, please, stop talking.” It was Hitoshi placing a firm hand on the other’s shoulder.

Denki just looked at the two of you like he was some old god of mischievous, turning back to the girls, “That’s when we all found out about Hitoshi and (Y/N)’s suuuuuuuuuper compatible kinks. Like, scary compatible.”

“They got sooooo awkward about it too!” Mina snickered, looking at your and Hitoshi with matchmaker in her eyes.

You would kick her ass for it later. In that moment, you tried to keep a somewhat neutral expression as you recalled the night in question.

Sure, it was a year or two back and you and Hitoshi weren’t half as close back then.

The lot of you had been sitting on the floor of Denki and Hitoshi’s dorm, passing around a bottle of cheap, flavored vodka in a fucked up, horny game of truth or dare.

...

“You’re next (Y/N)!” Mina passed the bottle to you and fell back against the carpet. You swallowed thickly, swishing the content liquor inside. “Dare or sex act?”

The rules of the game were simple. Choosing ‘dare’ meant that someone else chose a sexually-charged dare for you and ‘sex act’ meant exposing either a kink or a sex act you’d done. It was a roulette either way, but one option gave you far more control than the other.

After the last dare consisting of Denki giving a very messy lap dance to Eijiro, and you weren’t really in the mindset to repeat anything even close to that.

“Sex act,” You sighed in defeat.

Denki snickered in the corner, “Spill it!”

Hanta cheered you on as you bit your lip in thought.

The liquor swirling in your stomach was affecting your inhibitions, and with one shy, half-glance to Hitoshi, you spoke up.

“I have a spanking kink, what of it.”

You drowned out Hitoshi’s red cheeks and the cheers of your friends with a deep chug from the bottle.

The bottle was passed to Hitoshi as you asked the question, “Dare or sex act?”

Jiro giggled from the bed, sipping at her own drink as well.

“Sex act,” Hitoshi groaned, rolling his eyes at Denki, but you all knew he loved what was going on.

“Reveal yourself, Hitoshi! What gets your rocks off!?” Mina shouted drunkenly as she rolled on the floor. You made a mental note to cut her off from having any more of the trashy vodka.

Hitoshi gave you a fleeting, but very horny look before regarding the group.

There was a twitch in your lip that made you think his smirk was all for you.

“I love pulling a cute girl over my lap and turning her ass purple while she’s begging for more.”

As everyone around you jeered and cheered, you gulped.

And so did Hitoshi.

...

“Yeah!” Hanta fell back. “That was so fucking funny. Like, all night it was all (Y/N) being like ‘I’m a filthy masochist!’ and Hitoshi being like ‘I’m a filthy sadist!’”

“Hanta, for the love of god,” You interrupted him, face burning with a fucked up mix of shame and lust. Hitoshi was mirroring you. “Why do you have to bring that up?”

“Oh, dude, because whenever we talk about it, you and Hitoshi get so embarrassed, it’s hilarious!” Hanta fucking giggled and reached for his drink.

“Are we gonna talk about how you and Denki both like fisting—” You give them a taste of their own medicine, watching the two of them choke and gawk. To the side, Momo whispered to Jiro, eyeing you.

Hitoshi barked out a laugh, losing some tension in his shoulders. You met his eye for a moment, only to see the jewelish purple taken up by his blackened pupils.

Fuck.

Momo spoke up, brow furrowed, “Can I request something a bit odd of you, (Y/N)? It’s perfectly okay if you say no.”

“Shoot,” You reply, sipping your beverage.

Momo bit her lip, eyes going to Jiro, then you, “Can I try spanking you?”

Everyone collectively choked. You especially.

You took another nervous sip of your drink, avoiding eye contact with the group.

You regained composure, refusing to look at Hitoshi, but letting the fucked up idea brew and brew in your mind, “Uh, I mean, is Jiro okay with it?”

“Oh yeah, totally,” Jiro nodded, kissing her girlfriend’s jaw. “Pain isn't my thing, at all, and she’s always wanted to try it. And hey, if you’re a ‘filthy masochist’, be my guest.”

But, would you be her guest?

Your drunken mind considered.

It was the most acceptable setting for it to happen in public. You really did like getting spanked and were a raging masochist, so it would, at the very least, be fun for you. A little humiliating, but that was also a turn on. You’d also get to indulge Momo, who was dating Jiro, but they both seemed perfectly okay with a bit of platonic pain play, so what was the real harm?

Your gaze flickered to Hitoshi.

Oh, fuck.

His face was lit up with a deep blush even in the irisian hues of the sex attic. His eyes were pointed distinctively opposite of you, a hand literally over his mouth as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Your mind lit up with ideas.

Terrible, sinful ideas that you would be the peak of you and Hitoshi’s teasing.

Fuck it.

“Sure, I’m down,” You smirked and Momo lit up. Immediately, she was up and scouting out the area for a spot to go to town. Momo even seemed to be eyeing up a wall of toys.

“Hey,” Jiro whispered to you as you truly realized what you got yourself into. “Thanks for this. She’s really into this kind of stuff, and I like indulging her, but I can’t handle too much.”

“Oh, of course!” You spoke so brightly. “I have a high pain tolerance, so I’m sure I can take what she dishes out, too.”

You heard Hitoshi clear his throat behind you.

You let yourself take another glance at Hitoshi and it made you want to die on the spot. His eyes glared in anger with the sinful intensity that was entirely directed at you. You could tell by the awkward way he was leaning that he was trying to hide the bulge in his jeans.

Is... Is he that turned on by just the thought of me getting spanked?

Oh, this truly was your best teasing yet.

(Were you taking this too far?)

Kaminari was gripping the sleeve of Hitoshi’s sweater, not allowing him to leave. Judging by how the latter was looking and staring, he wasn’t going to either way.

Momo walked back over, tugging you by the hair to a bed that was a lot higher than the others. It was the perfect height for you to bend over.

“What’s your safeword?” She asked, running her hand down your back to push you against the comforter like she’d done this hundreds of times before. Your chest fell against the bed, forearms giving you a bit of leverage.

You hummed, “Just ‘red’ should be good.”

“Perfect,” Momo smiled before pressing the back of your neck, forcing your face into the sheets. “I’m gonna give you ten with my hand, okay?”

“I trust you, Momo, do your worst,” You spoke so confidently, but truly you didn’t know what was coming.

Momo smoothed a hand over your ass, hardly covered due to the angle you were bent over. The pretty fabric of your dress, pulled over your curves, was hiding less and less. Momo hummed, running a firm hand down the zipper of the dress, “Do you have a preference as to if I pull your dress up or not?”

Oh, holy fuck.

That was beyond teasing.

Fuck it.

“You can pull it up, but keep my panties on. I need some dignity,” You winked back at her.

Momo blushed. She delicately pulled the fabric back, resulting in a round of wolf whistles from your friend. Sober you was going to hate the fact you did this, but drunk you? Thriving.

(Though you wished it was Hitoshi delivering, but you digress.)

Without warning, Momo brought her hand down on your ass, a loud smack resounding around the room, causing a slight hush.

Oh fuck.

You were already drawing some attention.

Despite the pleasant haze of painful pleasure that was beginning to swirl in your mind and gut, you couldn’t help but notice the looks and stares.

Particularly, you got a nasty feeling from the figure in the far corner eyeing you up from ass to toes. He looked fairly nondescript, but the aura he was giving off felt like poison. Something sticky and unpleasant formed in your gut when you looked at him. Your drunken mind chased it away by turning your head the other way.

And then all you could see was Hitoshi’s gaze on you.

It was damn near feral.

His cheeks flushed and dewy. A bit of sweat was dripping down his temple, reflecting the party lighting like some sort of sick joke. One of his hands was raking through his violet locks. His teeth dug into his full lips as he stared you down.

Your eyes met and you refused to look away.

So did he.

Another hit, harder, made you bite your lip to suppress a cry.

Three more and you couldn’t help the bubbling sounds that were spilling from you. Soft cries and moans, maybe a whimper or two leaked from your bitten lips. Momo wasn’t holding back, and you were sure your ass would ache tomorrow.

Good.

Two more and tears leaked from your eyes. You were sure your friends were just waiting to give both you and Momo so much shit, but you couldn’t care less. All you could do was drink in the hungry way Hitoshi eyed you.

It was definitely not the way people who were ‘just friends’ looked at each other.

“Last two, make ‘em count!” Mina shouted from behind you with a cheer. Some of the others in the room were clamoring to watch.

Momo ran a soothing hand down your back, “You doing okay?”

“I’m peachy,” You push out, voice clearly tear-stricken. “Finish me off, Momo. Bruise me.”

That apparently set her off. Momo smacked your ass with such a force that your face pressed harshly into the bed, obscuring your view of Hitoshi.

The last slap was, by far, the worst. Momo decided to tease you, torturing the raw skin of your ass. She would wind up only to pet your lower back or stroke the tops of your thighs. When she finally gave you the hit you deserved (for torturing Hitoshi and yourself), it sounded across the room just as loud as your sob that followed it. Tears leaked from your eyes as your breath came out in shudders. You loved the feeling of numbness and pain that emanated from your abused cheeks. You relished it.

You turned your head upright, vision blurry. Momo pulled your dress down, helping you sit up.

You didn’t get much of a chance to catch your breath as Hitoshi dashed away and out of the sex room, very tense and very distressed judging by how Denki was shouting after him.

Oh fuck.

You kicked yourself mentally, cursing your stupid fucking hubris.

You took it too far.

He’s either turned on, uncomfortable as fuck, or both.

Probably both.

You start to sit up, ignoring the sobering pain heating up your ass. Quickly, Momo pressed you back down to the bed. A solo cup of clear liquid was offered to you.

“Aftercare, obligatory. Drink this, it’s just water,” Momo stated curtly, watching you down the water. You rubbed the tears from your eyes.

“How’s my makeup?” You asked, ignoring the rising panic in your chest.

Momo inspected you for a moment as the others came over, jeering. She quickly rubbed away smears of mascara, running a hand over the side of your face, “Do you feel okay?”

“Yeah, totally. Shit was fun,” You prayed you were disguising the turning of your gut well enough with your nonchalant tone. “I’m gonna find Hitoshi and make sure he has an extra pair of pants.”

Momo frowned, pressing you down and squeezing your shoulders, “Somehow, I don’t believe that. Please rest for a moment, (Y/N).”

You faltered, following Momo’s command without much thought. Your mind was still in a somewhat of a fog as you sipped at the water she gave you. Her hand rubbed at your shoulders and back, dropping praise every few moments.

The rest of your peers filed over, cheering, flopping on the bed around you.

“Holy fuck, (Y/N),” Hanta whistled, clapping your shoulder.

“That was so hot,” Denki sighed, red-faced and wide-eyed.

Momo ran an affectionate hand through your hair as Jiro fell into her lap, winking at you, “She’s so good, right?”

“Yeah, holy fuck. If y’all ever need a third, you have my number.” You breathed, shaking out a laugh. “I think I need to find Hitoshi, though.”

You stood up, wobbling for a moment, comically aware of sets of eyes on you as you dashed away. Your friends shouted encouragement from behind you as you descended the stairs.

Truthfully, your intent was to smooth things over and make the routine, ‘but we’re bros!’ comment. You knew that this wouldn’t be enough, considering how far you pushed it.

You fucked up.

Took it too far.

What does Hitoshi even think of you now?

...

Your mind was sobering with the help of the water and pain.

You had to find Hitoshi.

So, you quickly moved about the house.

You scanned room after room, checked the front and back yard, but couldn’t find him anywhere.

Where the fuck was he?

You passed by a room upstairs, door shut, and you swore you heard his voice inside.

The panic that had been brewing in you was spilling over. Your ass ached and walking hurt like hell with the bruises that were forming. All you wanted was a cigarette and to apologize to your best friend for taking things way too fucking far—

You swung the door open and was met with a scene that did not include Hitoshi Shinsou.

A mess of four very cute, very high girls, mostly but not entirely clothed, were writhing on the bed, all popping up to look at you.

You flushed, body tensing as you tried to laugh it off, “Oh, wow, sorry about this! I thought my friend was in here. I’ll let you all get back to it.”

The girls hardly seemed perturbed by the sudden intrusion, rather they seemed quite complimentary.

“Aw, you don’t wanna join?” One of the girls pouted, giving you puppy dog eyes. “You’re so pretty!”

“T-thank you,” You shook your head, “You are all very sweet, but I have to find my friend.”

“The one behind you?” A different girl asked.

Your hazed mind hadn’t even picked up that was anyone behind you.

You couldn’t help lighting up. Hitoshi had to be behind you, of course, this silly anxiety attack would come to an end—

You turned.

Your face fell.

***********

It was the creep from the sex room, grinning down at you. There was a nasty glint in his eye.

Your heart started going faster. Your gut soured with a feeling far off from drunkenness.

“Actually, uh, no, I’ll be going, thanks.” You tried to sidestep the man, but he quickly blocked the doorway, boxing you in.

“No, I think we’ll stay,” Oh, the man’s voice was sick in your ears.

You were too shocked to move at first.

His reached for your shoulder, but you managed to stumble back from him.

“No, hey, dude, don’t touch me,” You barked back, pass your growing fear.

He scoffed, muttering something about you being a ‘cheap whore’ and stalked you down.

Your back hit a wall. You froze.

You felt trapped.

His cheap cologne was choking you.

He was just inches away.

You looked helplessly to the girls on the bed, but they had dissolved back into each other. Their hands were grabbing at each other's writhing bodies, clothes being torn away with light moans filling the air. They were far too fucked to be bothered with what was happening to you. The deafening music of the party drowned out your senses beyond the small room.

You tried to slip away from him, out of the door, but his arm slammed beside you.

He caged you.

His hand shot to grab your wrap, squeezing hard and shooting pain into your shoulder as you tried to rip yourself away.

“Get the fuck away from me!” You snarled, trying to wrench out of his grip, away from him. You fell deeper into panic.

You could feel his breath on your ear, and your heart dropped in your chest. With the thrum of the party, it felt far too loud for anyone to hear you. Even if you shouted for help, would anyone come? No one even knew that anything was wrong—

A voice cracked like a roll of thunder through the man’s actions and the drone of the party.

“Get the fuck off of them before I break your fucking fingers.” A familiar, blessed voice cut the air from behind you.

Thank fucking god.

Hitoshi stood in the doorway.

You almost sobbed in relief.

His broad form took up most of the door frame, chest puffed out in his anger. His brow was lowered, mouth twisted in revulsion and fury, all directed at the man who had you caged. Only rage colored Hitoshi’s features. Until he caught your gaze, anyways.

Then, it all dissolved to fear.

“We’re busy, she’s fine, fuck off.” The guy said, digging his hand into your side.

You kicked at his shoe, relishing the way he hissed in pain.

The man glared at you, then looked to Hitoshi. The man scoffed, looking him up and down to assess whether putting up a fight was worth it.

Apparently not, as the man shoved you roughly towards Hitoshi.

*********

You tripped into the latter’s chest as he caught you easily.

Without missing a beat, he steadied you and crushed you to him. One of his broad hands moved up to almost shield the side of your face. You were surprised to find that his body was shaking just as hard as your own. You both mirrored each other in rage and panic.

You pressed your face into his sweater as tears remained dangerously close to falling from your eyes. Fear still tore through you and everything about Hitoshi made you feel a hell of a lot safer.

Hitoshi’s arm tightened as he continued his stare-down.

The man grumbled, exiting the room in a huff and harshly pushing back Hitoshi (and you). You flinched, wincing. A low, rumbling growl rumbled in Hitoshi’s chest as he stared death at the man.

You knew that this was probably all too much. There were details of intimacy and boundaries that were being broken without thought from both of you and that was very bad, probably.

But, you also were drunk on fear as opposed to vodka, and having someone safe to hold you felt better than any hit you could’ve found at the party.

You surrendered to your very obvious reality.

When the man was gone, filtered back into the party, Hitoshi looked down at you, his mood entirely changing.

His anger dissolved. His face softened as he tenderly (and quickly) assessed you. Concerned, but earnest eyes searched your face and body for visible signs of harm. When he was satisfied, Hitoshi linked your hands and pulled you from the room.

He walked you through the party, quickly but gingerly. Your mind buzzed, still panicked and anxious, but the thought of cold air and a less stimulating environment was like aloe on a burn.

Finally, you reached the front door, walking onto an empty front landing.

You fell into Hitoshi.

Your sweaty, shaking hands clung to the back of his sweater as you buried your face into his neck. The familiar scent of his woodsy cologne and natural sweat was more of a sedative than any drug you could find at the party and you fucking needed it.

Hitoshi wrapped his arms around you from the small of your back to your shoulders, squeezing as he buried his face in your hair.

You stiffened but relaxed a moment later. You couldn’t keep pretending. You didn’t have it in you.

You were surrounded by him and the cold air, and nothing felt more comforting.

You decided to forget the semantics of your relationship for a little.

(You hoped, prayed, that he would too).

Hitoshi suddenly tensed, “Is it okay that I’m touching you?”

You could only nod, voice weak and small in the back of your throat, “Y-yeah, it's cool. It’s been cool.”

Hitoshi grounded you, turning the two of you so you were protected from any potential prying eyes. He moved you just right so that his cheek rested on top of your head.

You allowed yourself to close your eyes and focus on the calming beat of Hitoshi’s heart.

He soothed you by existing; he always did. But, in that moment, after such an uncomfortably close brush with something fucking disgusting, his presence was almost cleansing. It purged you of the incessant clawing in the back of your mind.

You’re safe.

You pulled away just enough to look up at Hitoshi’s face. You felt him give you a squeeze which made the smallest, unlikely smile form on your lips.

Slowly, like he was trying not to spook a wild animal, Hitoshi cupped the side of your face. The hold was firm, like it had power to it. You sank into his palm.

(Fuck that feels nice—)

“How are you feeling?” Hitoshi asked softly, gaze warm and honey-like.

You laughed weakly, leaning into his palm, “Like shit. Holy fuck.”

The hand cradling your lower back stroked a thumb idly, “I can only imagine. What happened back there? That guy had been in the ‘sex room’ with us, right?”

“Uh, excuse you, ‘sex attic’, I think you mean?” You still managed to joke. “And yes. Must’ve been following me or something, fucking creep.”

“If you want, I’ll go back in there and kick the shit outta him. I’m sure the others will help. It’d be so worth getting him thrown out for,” Hitoshi snickered, turning his head towards the door as he did.

As he turned back, his eyes widened as your fearful expression returned.

“P-please don’t leave,” You knew it was too much, right? Obviously. But, you didn’t care.

You felt fairly certain Hitoshi didn’t either by that point.

You pressed yourself back close to him and buried your face in the crook of his neck, clutching at his front. “Please don’t go.”

You weren’t sure if he’d return any affections (obviously earlier gestures were just to comfort you, right?).

He did. Immediately, he squeezed as much of you as he could reach, nuzzling his face into the side of your head.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.” Hitoshi reassured you with his voice as well as his touch. You shuddered, feeling his lips and breath so close.

The two of you stayed like that for a while.

You retained your death grip on Hitoshi, contemplating it all. Perhaps it was the setting or the way your body was thrumming, but something was forcing you to come to terms with how you really felt about him.

You enjoyed teasing Hitoshi too much for it to just be platonic. You knew this.

You wondered how Hitoshi felt considering all of those heated looks and smirks he loved dishing out.

(An insecure thought or two crept about only being a fuck to him. You tried to repress it, though it certainly didn’t calm you.)

Despite these thoughts, you held Hitoshi with everything you had, fearing that whatever long-cultivated connection the two of you would slip away by the end of the night.

After a few minutes of slow silence, Hitoshi offered you a cigarette, which you took graciously. He leaned forward to light it, silently regarding you with warm eyes.

You took a fat inhale, breathing out with shaky lungs.

“I’m sorry.” You spoke abruptly.

His eyes widened and he shook his head, gently grabbing your shoulders, “No, (Y/N), there is literally nothing for you to be sorry about.”

“No, there is. The thing with Momo,” You shook your head. “That was bad. I’m sorry, I was teasing you and I took it too far. Way too far.”

Hitoshi went still, averting his eyes and biting his lip.

“I appreciate the apology,” Hitoshi's face erupted in red. “B-but, you don’t need to be sorry.”

He’s... embarrassed?

Oh.

(You truly were a dumbass, but god love ‘ya.)

You took another puff, nodding.

Hitoshi pulled you to him again, this time wrapping an arm around your shoulders. His thumb rubbed idly at the bare skin of your arm as he whipped out his phone.

“What do you want to do?” The air was cold as Hitoshi spoke. It nipped at your skin and made you crinkle your nose.

With a moment's hesitation, you replied in a hoarse voice, “Can we go home?”

Hitoshi visibly softened for you, “Of course. I can call us an Uber. To your dorm...?” There’s a question in his voice that you both already knew the answer to.

You shook your head, “Your place?”

He nodded, “Of course, (Y/N).”

You leaned into his shoulder, letting yourself relax.

#salem writes #hitoshi shinso x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #shinsou x reader #shinso hitoshi x reader #mha smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shinso hitoshi #shinso hitoshi x y/n #hitoshi shinso x y/n #shinso hitoshi x you

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woozisnoots · 4 years ago

Text

modest jeon wonwoo

° pairing: wonwoo x reader ° genre: university!au, host club!au, fluff ° word count: ~1.7k ° warnings: none! ° a/n: this had no business being this long and idek if i like it lol but I want to specifically dedicate this piece to @wonwoosimp bc she’s literally the sweetest, best bean in the world [insert uwu meme here] thank you for gifting me my very first photocard, I literally cried opening it! I love you so much, I hope you enjoy!

welcome to the svt host club!

masterlist!

you entered university with a certain goal, a purpose. eventually, you were going to be the pediatric surgeon that the 13 year old you ushered you to be.

…let's just hope the knowledge of your brain was enough to get you through the first four years of pre-med. with your 3.7 high school GPA, you were lucky to get into your first choice college, let alone your current major

from the start of the semester, you dedicated yourself to studying the anatomy and physiology of the body until you knew every nook and cranny there was to know. and the library was the perfect sanctuary to get your shit together

as much as you loved your roommates, their constant fights over closet space and boy toys gave you no peace of mind what-so-ever

bless the library for being opened 24/7. If your roommates found you sleeping on their only working desk, you would find yourself waking up to the sound of tripping freshmen trying to get to their first 8am class right in the middle of the hallway

but the lone table in the corner of the library just on the third floor did you good at staying focused. even provided some good naps in between every now and then

the day before your first anatomy test, you LOCKED yourself in the library. no one was going in OR OUT of the premise just to sit across from you on YOUR table until you fully memorized the different layers of epithelial tissue >:(

gosh, you even scattered all your notes across the table just so people got the memo that this seat was: [OFF LIMITS]

yes, off limits to everyone except a certain jeon wonwoo.

the way you met was abrupt to say the least

besides your table, you had a pretty good view of the entire campus — from the main health science building all the way to the student parking lot

and just below you, an astonishing sight of a mob of screaming girls chasing after a mouse guy in glasses. not to be inconsiderate and heartless, but unless you heard someone scream bloody murder, diving back into your flashcard you go

tissue after tissue, you start to get delusional because at this point, everything is starting to look the same

slumping down into your chair, you take a second to mentally recharge, drinking the water you’ve neglected for the past three hours

you time yourself for a five minute break, going through the notifications on your phone

before you could read your roommate’s ongoing ramble on the latest update of the “crazy good looking, god-like, elite host club that the university has to offer”

a ‘club’ that you didn’t even know anything about nor cared for

you hear a loud ‘thud’ coming from the bookcase in front of you

from the side the tall, lean guy with glasses that you saw earlier emerged with his hands gripping his tricep

you try not to draw too much attention to him. half the reason being you didn’t want to embarrass him by laughing at the fact he ran into a 10 feet tall bookcase

and you did not need this man distracting you. it’s your eight week streak being this productive, a new record for anything you’ve done in your entire life and your pride wouldn’t let you have it if you lost it just because you saw an attractive man on sight

you scribble down a decent guess to the tissue identification question that you’ve been stuck on for the past few minutes, not bothering to look up

“that’s actually dense connective tissue, not smooth”

jolting up from your seat, you look up realizing the guy 5 feet away is now right in front of your face looking down at all your papers

“you can tell because they’re striated”

you stare at him in disbelief wondering how he could have gotten so fast with just looking at it for a few seconds. eyeing him up and down, he definitely looked around the same age as you but he wasn’t someone you’ve seen around the science buildings. and you would know since you took the liberty of familiarizing almost everyone within the department

“do you mind if i sit here?” his hands already on the edge of the chair ready to pull it out from underneath him

“...yeah sure”

“oh i’m wonwoo by the way,” he says as you both exchange awkward stares and knowledgeable nods

okay well since he’s proven that he might be of help to you, you might as let him stay. from what you’ve gathered, he didn’t have any stuff on him aside from his phone that you watch him get out of his front pocket, getting ready to play pacman

forget how attractive he is, this guy has some brains.

for the rest of the day, as you guys sat across from each other, wonwoo would occasionally bounce back and forth between giving you study tips and playing whatever game he decides to play at that moment in time

he was surprisingly really good at this? he knew more things about the subject than your professors did, and that’s saying a lot. like you’ve been looking at cells for WEEKS and you were lucky to get at least half of them. which begs the question:

“how do you magically know all this?”

the blank expression on his face tells you he wasn’t expecting that question but he quickly shrugs it off. “i just know a few things from my parents that’s all”

you would have questioned him further but the time on your phone read “22:57” and you already broke your number rule about sleeping early before a big test

as you pack up all your stuff, wonwoo pushes his chair in, bidding you farewell

“good luck on your test tomorrow!”

you appreciate the gesture, mentally thanking him for his help and proceed to go back to your dorms, preparing yourself to tell your roommate all about the exciting? day you had

“YOU MORON. JEON WONWOO?”

laying flat on your back on your bed, you cover the bottom half of your face, quivering under your sheets as you stare at your roommate’s outrageous outburst

you explain what happened and who you met today at the library. when your roommate asked to describe him in more detail, all you said was that he was pretty smart for someone who wasn’t particularly in your major

your roommate lets out a loud scream into their pillow, gripping the bed sheets before giving you the earful of the century

“he’s just being modest. he’s a korean lit major but he’s one of the uni’s top students since both his parents are the head of the science department.

…AND he’s one of the most requested host club members. so you caught yourself one big fish today bud.”

top student? science department? HOST CLUB? none of that was processing in your brain. the one club that you wanted nothing to do with and you just happened to meet their top money maker

grand.

the thought didn’t keep you up at night only because you thought that today’s encounter was just coincidence and you probably would never have to see him again.

(sad though, your roommate was right. he is rather good looking.)

the time that it took for you to take your test the next day flew by so fast that you questioned if it even happened. the first step you took out the classroom, you start to second guess all your answers, regretting that you didn’t check a third or even fourth time before submitting

your train of thought halts when you see jeon wonwoo standing in the empty hallway

“i’m sure you aced it”

and just like in a netflix original romance movie, he reveals a bouquet of pink begonias from behind his back while shyly adjusting his glasses

“these are for you. to congratulate you”

weird way to phrase it but you were still gonna take the flowers. “host club tendencies?”

“so you found out?”

from a distance, you can hear the rushing footsteps from downstairs followed by a sense of purpose. “i think i was bound to” :/

you didn’t know how you felt about the current situation. you had no idea what host club was until you got here and you still don’t know what they even do. for all you knew, this could just be a gesture to get them more clients

but if his actions were genuine… you wouldn’t mind seeing him again

“i have to start learning muscles for our next exam. heard it was one of the hardest ones. i’m not sure if you have more studying tricks up your sleeve?”

“i might.” a cocking little grin now appearing on his face

“good. same place at the library tomorrow then. and this time? try not to bring your dedicated fans wherever you go”

so these study sessions continued. you guys occasionally had to change spots - from cafe to an empty bio lab - if the mob ever saw a single hair follicle that might be his

but each time, wonwoo brought something more just himself. one day it would be coffee, others days it would be food. things to keep you motivated.

for a korean lit major, he was taking a lot of time out of his day to help you, being attentive to all the strategies that help you study and such

possibly making your assumption from months back, true.

by the time finals rolled around, aside from the spursts of review here and there, study sessions became more casual. you didn’t feel the need to overwork our brain since you already knew all the information (something you actually learned from wonwoo himself)

possibly the last meeting you’d have with him was similar to your first: just you two together but him playing on his phone. and yet before the night ended

“i have a proposal.”

“i’m not giving you money for your dumb club.” bold of him to assume you would-

“no but i really appreciate the thought :)

why don’t we turn these study sessions into… study dates instead?”

your assumption after 6 months later: finally confirmed

“but that’s only IF you ace your finals.”

well let’s just say at the very end, you had a successful first semester and are now one step closer towards being the surgeon of your dreams.

plus, you even landed yourself a pretty cool boyfriend in the process

let’s hope his parents put in a good word for you when you apply to med school!

#seventeen #wonwoo #caratwritersclub #seventeen imagine #wonwoo imagine #seventeen scenario #wonwoo scenario #seventeen au #wonwoo au #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #seventeen series #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo x reader

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firelxdykatara · 4 years ago

Note

not gonna lie I would love to hear more about the drama and infighting that went on in The Vampire Diaries fandom if you have the time (and also want to use that time to give your experience with the fandom, which from the snippets you've told sounds Not Fun so I get it if you don't want to lol)

oh god, there was like, SO MUCH, i just

i really feel like tvd is one of those fandoms that is so hard to describe without a lot of ‘you’d have to have been there’, but it really felt like this huge and all-consuming beast for about five years until the show finally imploded and the fandom basically turned on it en masse. (you ever see that post going around that’s like ‘if you ever want to know what true regret feels like, ask someone who once called tvd their favorite show’? still a mood, all these years later. basically the entire fandom thought the show should have just bowed out with whatever shreds of dignity it had left at the end of season 6, and became more of a hatedom than a fandom for the last two seasons. when you have an entire fandom cheering news of your show’s cancellation, i think that’s a sign you done fucked up, julie.)

first and most infamous, of course, are the ship wars. which are pretty much inevitable in any teen-centered drama, and i really think the CW fucking thrives on them, but it was particularly egregious in TVD’s case because not only was the base premise of the show a love triangle, but the two main romantic leads were brothers that the show constantly pit against one another--in pursuit of elena’s affections, but also because it kept up this insistence on the ‘good brother/bad brother’ dichotomy which stopped making sense after about season 2 (by which time we have found out that the good brother was never as good as he appeared, and the bad brother has been growing and isn’t nearly as bad as he pretends to be)--and the question of which brother ‘deserved’ elena (and no, what elena wanted very rarely factored into these discussions, especially in the team stefan camp because they turned on her when what she wanted was no longer The Good Brother, but i’ll get to that in a bit) was hotly contested.

i’m not kidding when i say the shipping wars were vicious. i started watching tvd shortly after it began to air, which was late 2009, and kept up with it fairly sporadically over the years. i didn’t come onto tumblr until 2011/2012, and by then, the fandom was already pretty much a garbagefire. there were anti ship and anti character blogs, any time something bad happened for one ship the rival ship would invade the tags to gloat about it (seasons 3 and 4 were especially rough, and i’m not gonna pretend delena fans weren’t just as bad about tag invasion and shit, but as that was my side of the road i saw a lot more of the stelena shippers being assholes, which soured my opinion on the ship a long time before i started rewatching and realized the red flags were there from the start), confessions blogs were popular also toxic as fuck (so much fighting happened in the notes of those posts, good gods), and this was right around when twitter’s popularity was on the rise and the line between Celebrity and Fan was thinning, so the fandom was absolutely atrocious to much of the tvd cast and crew.

(some of them deserved a lot of the later backlash, but in the early years a lot of it was ‘how dare you write the story in a way i dont like, you terrible fucking person’, and gods don’t get me started on the dobsley vs nian Thing)

i think what really encapsulates my feelings on the tvd fandom as a whole, though, is the way they (to this DAY) treated elena gilbert, which can be summed up in one meme that gained a lot of traction around season 3 if i remember right: that gif of pam from true blood, with the text altered to read “i’m so OVER elena and her precious doppelganger vagina!”

i swear at one time i had over half the active tvd fan accounts on tumblr blocked, because i got to a point where i would no longer tolerate elena hate, and she was (and still is, in what remains of the fandom; you’ll see a lot of ‘elena was one of the worst things about the show’ takes from ex-fans, too) one of the most widely despised characters in the entire fandom. because she -checks smudged writing on hand- was a traumatized teenage girl who -reads off a crumpled notecard- couldn’t always perfectly sort out her own feelings and -squints at the ceiling- sometimes made mistakes or bad decisions. (except a lot of the fandom also insisted that she was a mary sue who had no character traits or flaws or faults and it was like....make up your fucking minds???? is she a calculating conniving bitch whose somehow manipulating these centuries old vampires to tie them around her little finger or is she a boring flat character with no depth and no flaws??? jfc)

there was this massive double standard, too--like, stefan and damon could fuck whoever they wanted and that was fine, but elena was constantly raked over the coals for the crime of developing romantic feelings for the two men who had become constants in her life and whom she cared for deeply, and oh my GOD the slut shaming that happened when elena slept with damon was fucking wild. (and also happened in canon lmfao. like the show had one of elena’s best friends basically call her diseased on screen for falling in love with someone other than stefan. it was gross and ridiculous and the friend in question was also being a giant hypocrite at the time since she was happily flirting with someone who was directly responsible for the deaths of like four of elena’s loved ones and her own boyfriend’s mother but that’s beside the point) but like elena was called a slut and a bitch and a whore for ‘cheating’ on stefan (she hadn’t, and she had in fact broken up with him on screen the episode earlier) and ‘immediately’ jumping into bed with damon, even though none of them said fucking boo when stefan had one night stands or damon had fuckbuddies or whatever.

shit, caroline didn’t get any of this treatment when she started falling for tyler while dating matt! which isn’t to say i think she should have, just that i think it’s fucking ridiculous that elena was absolutely demonized by the fandom for daring to have feelings for two guys at once and eventually acting on them--despite the fact that the entire premise of the show was a love triangle. it’s not a love triangle if both sides don’t eventually get explored, and the crew had been pretty explicit about the fact that delena was going to happen at some point--but when it did, a huge chunk of the fandom absolutely threw a fit.

and a lot of these elena haters were alleged stelena stans, and i say alleged because they hated her so much for not wanting stefan’s dick anymore that it was clear they were really stefan stans and only wanted stelena to be endgame because they wanted stefan to ‘win’ at the end of the day, because ‘he’s the good brother’ so he deserved elena more.

it was all very gross and very misogynistic and very sex shaming (apparently delena was a ‘shallow’ and ‘superficial’ relationship because they had sex after two years of unrequited feelings slowly becoming requited and then pining for ages on both sides, and because they had a lot of on screen chemistry that the show capitalized on for years so of course they did a lot of making out and shit but it’s not like stelena didn’t have its fair share of making out and sex scenes, stefan was just too much of a coward to let elena top i’d apologize for that joke but i’m really not sorry because it’s true), and when i say it was egged on by the crew, that’s because they refused to let the love triangle die back in season 4 when it should have.

they insisted on stringing stelena fans along, dropping little bread crumbs to keep them invested, like dreams of a future where they were married and revealing that stefan was also a doppelganger and he and elena were descended from a pair of star-crossed lovers (a plot that ultimately went nowhere, to no one’s great surprise), and then fucking like. julie plec turned around and threw nina under the bus after she chose not to extend her contract and pretended that stelena might have happened again if she hadn’t left the show, which....i mean frankly i wouldn’t put it past her, but it would have been shitty writing. then again, she thought having a vampire pregnancy where a uterus was magically transplanted from a witch into a vampire that could somehow......carry the babies to term.... made sense and was a good way to accomodate candice’s RL pregnancy rather than like literally ANYTHING else, soooooo. but anyway julie saying that around like, end of s6 sparked off a new wave of nina hate and elena hate and ship wars bc they SEers took it as ‘confirmation’ that stelena was REALLY meant to be endgame and it was all just a hot fucking mess

another thing is that, while tvd was in its prime before the anti/purity culture shit started picking up any real steam, there was still this pervasive attitude throughout the fandom that if you liked Damon, you were A Bad Person. liking damon was apparently grounds for insults and harassment, and apparently he was The Worst Person on the Show even though literally nothing he does on screen is any worse than shit we know stefan has done (and frankly every other vampire too, but i mention stefan specifically because he was always held up--in the show but especially in the fandom--as the Good Brother while damon was the Bad One, and if you liked damon more then that had to mean your morals were dodgy and you clearly couldn’t appreciate what a heroic and saintly figure dear stefan was and....oops, i’m sorry, my salt keeps leaking -cough-).

meanwhile klaus quickly became a fandom darling despite not even really having much of a redemption arc (on tvd anyway, he just became more ‘affably evil’ as the show went on and more inclined to work with the main characters rather than try to kill them; i have no idea what went on over on his show, though), and like i can 100% appreciate liking villains and not caring that they do dodgy villainous shit, even just liking them bc they’re hot and wanting them to kiss a main character bc they have insanely good chemistry (yes i ship klaroline, no i won’t apologize for it, they could have been Really Great), it’s just really the double standard that gets me.

and all of this, incidentally, required ignoring some truly gross shit stefan was responsible for wrt his relationship with elena, that frankly it has always bothered me never really got addressed in the show. i get why elena herself would never be able to actually call him on it, but the fact is that he stalked her for months after he first saw her and thought she was katherine (meanwhile it only took damon .5 seconds to realize she was someone else entirely, but that’s another topic entirely), and then he deliberately inserted himself into her life because, in his words, ‘i have to know her’. he never gave a thought to how his presence in her life might affect her (or rather, he did, and tormented himself about it in his internal monologue, but never let this actually dissuade him from disrupting her life), and elena would wind up blaming herself for every tragedy that befell her friends and loved ones as a result of getting mixed up in vampire bullshit even though none of it was her fault--she literally blamed herself for existing but most of the fandom didn’t give a fuck about that lmfao--and stefan did shit like find out that she was adopted and then withhold this information from her until she got pissed about another secret he was keeping (her resemblence to katherine) and drop it on her to try and distract her from her very reasonable anger, and like... i should stop before this becomes a whole rant about how much i hate stefan fucking salvatore, but the point is, he did a lot of really sketchy shit he never answered for and elena never really took him to task for, and the fandom just kept eating up his insistence that he was the Good Brother and therefore he deserved to have elena, and if she didn’t want him anymore it was because she was a heinous bitch who didn’t deserve him.

uh.....i think i got off track there. and there’s probably a lot of shit i missed, like i think i was incandescent with rage for most of seasons 5 and 6 so i missed a lot of the interfandom shit cause i was too busy being increasingly pissed off at the show itself, but if nothing else this should give you an idea of how much of a goddamn cesspit the fandom was while the show as in its prime. there’s a reason both the show and the fandom have such a lousy reputation lmfao.

#the vampire diaries #tvd #tvd fandom salt #anti stefan #anti stelena #salt for ts #asked #Anonymous

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ruhrohimrorny · 4 years ago

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What Subjects I Think LOK Characters Would Teach:

Lin: PE, obviously. Dating Kya and all the kids are happy cause there’s a noticeable shift in Lin’s mood once they start dating. She no longer forces kids to run a mile every day and instead does it once a week now, so the kids are hoping her and Kya stay together. She also coaches Golf and Lacrosse.

Kya: Waffled between MILF Math teacher, MILF Science teacher, and hippy/chill Music teacher, but decided on MILF Science Teacher. Getting strong Biology vibes. Very fun labs and not strict at all. Her and Zhu-Li are super passionate about leading the Science Bowl team. Seeing these young people be so passionate about STEM and helping their fellow teammates makes her hopeful for this young generation.

Tenzin: He kinda gives math teacher vibes, but a large part of his character in the show is about him keeping his history alive, and teaching others abut learning and respecting history, so I feel like he’s a History teacher. His class is a lot of notetaking but he plays quiet music and does a five minute meditation in the middle of class to encourage kids to relax, so students really like him and actually listen to him. Also, he’s kind of gullible so they make up fake trends to tell him. He once spent a week addressing people as “brony” cause students told him thats what people say now instead of bro. Kids got a good laugh out of that one. Him and Pema are another favorite teacher couple.

Bumi II: Def gives off eccentric/unhinged English teacher vibes. Very interesting and informative conversations in his class, but things get off topic very quickly. Whenever kids ask about Bum-Ju, he gets distracted and will talk the entire rest of the period about what to dress Bum-Ju up as for Halloween. Probably plays a lot of videos. And students don’t worry about if they read the books Bumi II assigns cause they don’t think he’s even read the books he assigns. When having discussions about the books in class, sometimes kids will make up stuff and say it’s in the book and for the most part, Bumi II goes along with it cause he doesn’t know what actually happens in the books.

Varrick: Also gives off eccentric/unhinged English teacher vibes, but because he’s a businessman/war profiteer, I’m gonna have to say he teaches Econ and gives students lots of unsolicited financial advice. Also supervises the Engineering and Robotics Club.

Zhu-Li: Science teacher, probably Chemistry. She’s very good at explaining and getting kids to follow her instructions. Not only is she a co-supervisor for the Science Bowl team, she helps Varrick run Engineering and Robotics Club, cause if it were only Varrick running it, no kids would come. His intensity and eccentricity scares them.

Iroh II: He’s definitely the young Math teacher everyone has a crush on. Very chill and doesn’t give a lot of homework. Kids love when he shows pictures of his dog to the class and eventually he brings in the dog cause admin think the dog is too cute to say no to.

Tonraq: Resident DILF History teacher. Kind of a hardass but also a nice dude so most everyone passes his class. Probably that History teacher that is also a football coach, so during fall he doesn’t give a FUCK about whether anyone actually turns anything in. Him and Senna is the teacher couple that seems like opposites but actually are pretty similar and balance each other out.

Senna: That English teacher that every mentally ill student becomes emotionally attached to. You know what I’m talking about. She’s so sweet, funny, and chill so all the kids love her class. Tries to include memes in her presentations to seem “with it” but they’re like, doge memes from 2014. But the kids appreciate the effort.

Pema: Definitely the sweet English teacher that occasionally has a mental breakdown when the students test her patience. Otherwise very chill. Also teaches the Childhood Education and Development class. Her, Senna, and Bumi II run the school newspaper.

Bataar: Drafting. Pretty chill, very skilled, and def smokes on the weekend. Also, him and Suyin are that teacher couple that everyone likes.

Suyin: Dance. Super nice and always has like to of those smelly plug in things going so her room smells good and has a “good vibe that evokes emotion”. Always plays EDM or weird 80s rock to get the kids moving. She runs the school dance team. When Bataar has prep period, he sometimes drops in to see Su dance, cause she’s mesmerizing to watch. All the kids think that, coupled with the fact that they eat lunch together every day, makes them the cutest couple ever.

Amon: Drama. He loves directing kids on how to totally live a role. If you can imagine, he sometimes gets a little overdramatic about drama, forgetting that these are just highschool kids, not Oscar winners, but his passion makes the class more enjoyable. Runs Drama Club with Tarrlok.

Tarrlok: Probably Physics. A difficult class, but he’s pretty good at explaining so most kids don’t struggle too much. His main focus is running student government, which he takes pretty seriously. Sometimes too seriously.

Unalaq: Teaches Psychology. The most pretentious teacher on campus. It’s literally so bad, that even other teachers avoid him. Amon abandoned his coffee still being brewed in the machine in the staff room cause Unalaq walked in and he didn’t want to be in a room with Unalaq again after he said that Amon’s outfit “looked like something stolen from the lost and found of a funeral home”. Unalaq sees it as “telling it like it is”.

Zaheer: Government and Politics. Tries to teach the class very well but also injects his own opinion into teaching a lot. The students find him scary but some also kinda think he’s hot. Also does Yearbook. Him and Senna run Mock Trial. Replaced the old Government and Politics teacher Hou-Ting after she retired. She was that one old teacher that made it a hobby to harrass students and constantly reminisced about when you could smack students.

P’Li: Math teacher. Much scarier than Zaheer. Plays her trash ass music very loudly while the kids work. Def yells at kids. She’s kind of funny when she’s in a good mood tho, and when she roasts kids it’s really funny cause it’s usually dead on. Her and Zaheer are those teachers that flirt a lot and you know they’re sleeping together.

Ming-Hua: Art. Loves drawing and, you guessed it, watercolor painting. Very chill and plays soft music but lets you listen to your own music. Super sarcastic and all the students eat it up. Literally a universal favorite. She runs Art Club and Fashion Club.

Ghazan: Guitar. Pretty cool teacher that definitely has some weird stories. All the students know he has a crush on Ming-Hua cause they flirt constantly, but he denies it. Runs E-Sports Club. Idk why I think that, it just feels right. Him and Ming-Hua are also the kinds of teachers kids become emotionally attached to.

Kuvira: Government and Politics also. Seems calm and reasonable, but is a total ass. Makes kids give up their phones, allows almost no talking, gives out more detentions a week than most teachers do in one year, and doesn’t allow for much discussion. Everyone wants her class cause she’s hot but most drop within the first week, to the point that counselors have to say no to some kids so they don’t have to get rid of the class altogether.

Bataar Jr.: Computer Lit teacher. None of the students respect him so they’ll play Minecraft the whole time or play inappropriate videos really loud. Doesn’t really put much effort into teaching, which for some kids is a dream, but for others is an annoyance. Him and Kuvira are the teacher couple that makes everyone say “wtf”. Literally no one knows why they’re together.

Izumi: Secretary/Attendance. Pretty much remembers everything and is super organized. She is the glue that holds the school together. Most students don’t know her name though cause she’s super quiet and works mostly behind the scenes. Whenever Zuko sends anyone her way though he reminds them of her name and to say thank you cause he recognizes how hard his daughter works to keep everything running smoothly. Izumi catches on to this and always manages to thank her dad with a nice tea and a hug.

Toph: Vice Principal. Scary as fuck. Doesn’t ever call kids’ parents cause she efficiently scares the shit out of every kid, so they never do whatever bad thing they were doing again. When she has to work dances, Katara always tries to get her to dance with her. She resists every time, but she always gives eventually. She’s happy to though, cause although she’ll never say it out loud, seeing Katara this happy at her old age warms her heart.

Katara: Health Clerk. Very sweet and everybody loves her. Sometimes kids pretend to feel sick just to talk to her. She doesn’t mind though cause a kid that has a tummy ache and a kid that needs to talk are both kids that need help, and she’s happy to offer whatever support she can. She also always offers to supervise dances when the school has them and always manages to bust a move.

Zuko: Counselor. Wants to be to students what his uncle was to him. Aang and Sokka were counselors too, some years ago. And while they could give some good nuggets of advice and offered the kids amazing support, they also would totally fuck up student’s schedules by accident cause those numbskulls were exactly that- numbskulls. So usually Zuko would have to fix that. He misses fixing their messes and, more importantly, he misses them (they aren’t dead, just retired). He hopes to retire soon too, cause he’s getting too old for this, but he secretly doesn’t want to retire just yet cause working at school allows him to see and spend time with Izumi. Since they’re both working, it’s not like they have too much time together, but even just her popping into his office to bring him tea or check in on how he’s doing that day brings a smile to his face that doesn’t leave for the rest of the day.

Raiko: Principal. After Toph stepped down cause she’s “too old for this shit” (her words), Raiko stepped in. The students aren’t a fan of him but he’s not terrible. And since Toph is still Vice Principal, she keeps him in check.

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kiruuuuu · 4 years ago

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Smoke/Mute in which ten cups of coffee change Mute’s life. (Rating T, slice of life/fluff/budding romance, ~5.8k words) - written for none other than @nutbrain for being a remarkable human being and an even better friend 💖 Please enjoy!

Mark eyes the shopfront before him with suspicion. His safe haven apparently gone, a flashier version has taken its place some time during the semester break, keeping nothing but the location and the proffered goods. Instead of the old-fashioned, thick-cushioned chairs and dim lighting, the new café shines with an open-floor concept, simple wooden furniture and an overall dark look with specks of gold to brighten it up. Leo Coffee, reads the sign next to a golden logo displaying a roaring lion. What big cats have to do with coffee isn’t obvious to Mark, but he overcomes his initial distaste and steps inside nonetheless.

As visible from outside, the place is deserted. The previous coffee shop was frequented by businesspeople and students alike, located halfway between the campus and Mark’s dorm – on rainy days, people often took public transport and bought their coffee elsewhere, but even on those occasions, it’s never been as empty as this.

Not that Mark is complaining. If the coffee is good, he’ll continue frequenting the new shop, and being able to work in peace would be an added bonus. He is quite fond of Julien and Timur, but even so, they’re not the… easiest to live with. To say the least. A quiet place would be very welcome.

He sets his books down on the table furthest away from the counter, slings his bag over the back of a chair and approaches the empty void where an employee should be standing. This is when he notices another curiosity: there’s no menu board. There isn’t even a menu card by the counter or anywhere, really, only a glass case with a handful of baked goods inside, most of which look like a child made them. So far, the only redeeming quality is the delicious dark smell of roasted coffee beans lingering in the air.

After another minute, still nobody has appeared, so Mark checks his phone for reviews. If the place has less than four stars – alright, three, he’s giving them the benefit of the doubt purely because of their convenient location and quietness –, then he’s out of here. He can’t even remember the last time he had to wait this long to -

“Are you going to order or what?”

Nearly dropping his phone in the process, Mark jumps at the sudden gruff voice and looks up to find himself face to face with a grizzled man. The black apron is all that betrays him as an employee as the unimpressed glare and casual attire do nothing in his favour. “Uh”, he replies eloquently and vows that he’ll never set foot in this place again if this is how he’s going to get treated.

The old man’s expression melts into friendliness. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting anyone. Welcome to Café Leo – it’s your first time here, so have a loyalty card, lad.”

Mark accepts the piece of paper without thinking, still thrown off by the bloke’s sudden appearance (how does he move completely silent like that), and at least has the presence of mind to inspect it. Its contents are so absurd that he forgets to ask how the man opposite him knew he hadn’t been to the shop yet. “‘After 10 coffee purchases, you’re eligible for a free wish’”, he mumbles, reading the text printed white on black aloud. “‘This offer is not transferable.’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that only you can redeem your reward, not anyone else. Would you like some coffee?”

He blinks at the bearded man, trying to ascertain whether he’s being serious, and is met with an almost bored stare. Weighing his options, the scales are only slightly tipped in favour of staying, but only because he knows Julien has a ‘visitor’ over today and there’s no other place he can study – the library is overrun by frantic procrastinators who left finishing their coursework assigned over the break to the absolute last minute, and Manu is coming back tomorrow. Apart from her and his roommates, there’s no one with whom he’s comfortable enough to invite himself over.

Especially not him. God knows why Mark even considered him for a brief second.

Looks like he’ll have to deal with this awkwardness if he wants to get any work done whatsoever. “Alright then. What do you sell?”

“Coffee”, comes the curt answer.

Mark rubs his eyes in exhaustion. He’s beginning to understand why there’s no other customers here. “Sure. Yes. A coffee, then.”

“That’ll be…” The employee trails off while frowning down at his wristwatch. “…um, about £7.92.”

“For one coffee?”

“It’s free refills, son.”

Oh, so maybe this is an American chain. That would explain quite a bit. Mark considers whether he’s staying long enough to get the most out of his money, but seeing as the bloke doesn’t seem the chattiest type and he’s unlikely to get interrupted, he decides it’s worth it. Still, there’s something he simply can’t let go. “… what do you mean, ‘about’ £7.92?”

“Are you paying cash or card?”

Alright then.

The next ultimatum: if the coffee turns out dogshite, he’s never coming back. He’d rather travel an increased distance to a normal coffee shop than to have to deal with this nonsense. Wordlessly, he sets down a £10 note and scoops the change into his wallet before watching the obviously American guy (and maybe the chain imports all their workers, who knows) pour a cup of the darkest coffee he’s ever seen. He unceremoniously sets it down in front of him and makes no indication of mentioning neither cream nor sugar. He’s lucky Mark prefers his energy supply as-is.

“Ta”, Mark mutters and scurries away, glad to escape that hard stare. To make sure he’s not being scammed, he takes a quick sip of the fragrant liquid and is surprised at how pleasant the taste is. Minimal bitterness, a gentle, almost floral note, and just strong enough to satisfy his craving.

Well, crap.

Looks like he’ll have to come back after all.

~*~

“Did you guys know the old coffee shop closed?”, Mark voices his thoughts into the middle of a medium-sized food war between Manu and Timur involving entirely too many packets of salt.

“The one on campus?”, Manu asks and accidentally elbows Julien in the ribs, causing him to actually look up from his phone for once.

“No, the one halfway to our dorm.”

“I was there last week”, Timur pipes up, making him furrow his brows. A week can’t be enough to refurnish the entire café, let alone switch owners completely. “Is it closed now?”

“There’s a different one instead. It was dead when I went, but the coffee’s good. The bloke serving me was weird.”

“Look at you, stringing multiple sentences together”, Julien chimes in, grinning. “Something novel must’ve happened for you to even bring it up. Was the dude hot?”

“Because that’s the only reason anyone would ever get excited about anything”, says Manu drily. “We can check it out if it’s good, even if the employees suck. Not like we have to socialise with them.”

Mark shrugs and regrets mentioning the café in the first place – it feels somehow personal, whether it’s to do with the odd experience overall or the fact that he ended up staying more than three hours. His productivity was through the roof, the calm atmosphere helped immensely and the thought of his loud friends – as much as he appreciates them – invading his newfound hideout isn’t one he particularly enjoys.

It turned out that the employee wasn’t so bad after all: as soon as Mark considered asking for more coffee, he appeared right by his side and filled his mug again, without bothering him at all. Still, Julien would complain about him and Timur might agree and Manu is likely to judge his impolite manner, and Mark wouldn’t be able to defend him. Even if he doesn’t mind the silent company.

For the moment, he needn’t bother with these thoughts as his friends are wholly occupied with arguing over some internet memes (and Mark remembers vividly how they all had to talk Julien down from nibbling at their laundry detergent pods), so nothing could be further from their minds than sitting down and actually studying for their degrees.

Not that they’re bad students, quite the opposite, they’re just not as… ambitious as Mark. Some have called him obsessed, yes, and he can’t quite refute it, but he prefers to call it ‘determined’. There have been few who are able to keep up with him, which is probably partly the reason why he’s made friends with people from completely different departments. He tends to be a loner in most classes, which suits him just fine.

Well. Most classes.

“I would give my left bollock for you.”

Mark certainly doesn’t appreciate the imagery. He hands over the photocopied sheet to the bloke nearly bouncing in delight before shuffling after his fellow students into the lecture hall. Closely followed, of course. “Make sure to change enough details”, he repeats the reminder, earning a scoff.

“I’ll make it illegible, babe, don’t worry.” James plops down next to him, stretching and taking up too much space. “You’re the only reason I’ll actually get credit for this course.”

Oh, Mark is very aware of this fact. He lets his seat neighbour prattle on as he takes out his materials, lines up his pens, and waits for the lecture to start. If he were pressed to explain how he ended up in this position, with a chatterbox glued to his side too lazy to do any of the coursework, he wouldn’t have a concise answer. Other than his inability to say no.

The problem is that James knows exactly who to befriend. Mark is naturally drawn to the overachievers in each class and carefully selects his group for projects, going by people who do put the time and work in to get a good grade – anything where students are meant to collaborate is 30% actual work and 70% politics. The right people tend to listen to him whenever he knows better, because they’re interested in improving and learning, they tend to go along with his division of tasks, because he distributes them fairly and suited to everyone’s skills, and they tend to work best independently, so they can get it done even without excessive communication.

And James? He follows the same strategy as Mark, except that he’s a leech. He latches onto the teacher’s pets, chooses the easiest tasks, always volunteers for presentations (meaning he’ll just have to regurgitate what his group produced), and bribes his groupmates so they don’t throw him out. Whether it’s snacks or drinks after class, whether it’s attention and compliments, or playing matchmaker: he knows how to make himself useful in all aspects other than his studies.

He’s a clown. He makes everyone laugh and worms his way into their hearts so they would feel bad about calling him out. Not having to do any work is his reward for asking questions everyone’s thinking but doesn’t dare ask for fear of looking stupid in front of the prof.

Obviously, James has latched onto him ever since they crossed paths in chem last semester, and Mark considered dropping the current class when he found out that he was in it as well. Even worse, James began asking him for homework, giving excuses like having had no time, not being able to write it down concisely, and so on – and though Mark initially refused, classmates approached him and gently nudged him towards sharing his results with James. Just to be nice. Just to help him. He’s such a good guy after all.

So Mark’s homework gets copied and passed along. And James’ fondness of him only grows.

During the long, meaningless rant interspersed with an impressive amount of curse words, he perks up at a quiet: “Wait, this one doesn’t make any sense.”

His pride won’t let him ignore it. “Which one?”

James points at one of Mark’s answers, a complicated equation. “Shouldn’t that be on top?”

“The denominator?”

An uncertain glance. He points again. “This.”

“You mean the bottom fraction? That’s the denominator, yes. And it is where it should be.”

James frowns, indubitably not content with the reply but possibly unsure how to voice his dissatisfaction.

“Trust me, it’s correct. Just copy it.”

“But I want to understand it.”

Fat chance. No way did he get any of the previous homework without having engaged with the subject matter at all, so it’s impossible for him to work it out, even if Mark explained it. Which he doesn’t want to. Because he figures it’d be like explaining string theory to a brick wall. He’s saved by the prof’s entry, knowing James at least has the decency to shut up during class, and hopes he can simply slip away afterwards.

It turns out, however, James is fully aware of his biggest weakness. “Do you have a bit of time after? You think you can explain it to me? Please?”

Yikes.

Not only is Mark burning to show him how wrong he is, he’s also entirely unable to refuse a plea for help. And there’s no doubt James knows this. He can’t keep getting away with it, he’s exploiting Mark enough as it is without offering much – if anything – in return, plus it’s obvious the endeavour is futile and doomed from the start. And this is disregarding the possibility of James suggesting more meetings in the future. So, like the reasonable adult he is, Mark replies: “Sure.”

And has never wanted to kick himself more.

If this bloke really is the only employee they have, it’s no wonder the place is dead yet again. They stare at each other, unblinking, and seem equally dismayed about each other’s presence. “Hi”, says Mark after a few seconds of tense silence.

The old man is wearing the same clothes as last time, apron and jeans – even his disinterested expression hasn’t changed. “I’m Sam”, he offers completely out of the blue, surprising Mark with how unexpected the introduction is. “I figured you shouldn’t have to keep calling me ‘this bloke’ in your head.”

“… Mark”, he responds hesitantly.

“Is that a threat?” Sam barks out a brief, mirthless laugh. “I know. You wrote it on your loyalty card.”

He most certainly did not, but only because the card is solid black with white text. “Look, I’m just here to buy coffee.”

“You brought a friend.” Sam indicates James who already sat down by a window and is absorbed in his phone for the time being – and for all his faults, Mark has to admit that at least his (limited) attention is always on the person he’s talking to; he’s never seen his fellow student even checking for messages during a conversation.

“Not really”, he says nonetheless and is reasonably sure they’re out of earshot. “We just have chem together.”

“You have chemistry, hm?”

He wonders if it’s possible to set someone on fire with a hard look alone. “Just sell me the bloody coffee.”

“For the both of you?” Sam turns around and studies the clock on the wall behind him, whispering to himself for a few seconds before announcing: “That’ll be roughly £15.84.”

“Fine.” He holds out a card, scowling when Sam makes no move to take it.

“No complaint?”

“Is it gonna be cheaper if I do? Besides, he’s paying. So I don’t care.”

“Oh. Then it’ll be £22.43.”

“Why is it -” As quickly as his annoyance spikes, it ebbs again. It’s obvious there’s no logic behind all this nonsense, yet he still tries: “If it’s cheaper for me, I’ll pay and get the money back from him.”

“That’s illegal. You’ve already told me he’s paying.”

“I’m not trying to buy liquor, why would it -” Deep breaths. He already told James about how good the coffee is, and if they go anywhere else, someone else might see them. He’s strongly incentivised to stay. “Fine. Here.”

Sam runs the card and, as last time, pours two very unimpressive mugs before, to Mark’s horror, reaching into the display case and pulling out two slices of cakes on their own respective plates. The chocolate one is drooping and threatening to fall over if anyone looked at it wrong, and the sponge cake seems suspiciously wet. There’s no telling how long they’ve been sitting there. “It’s on the house”, Sam says, almost begrudgingly, as if he was the inconvenienced one.

Mark considers asking for forks or napkins but decides that the shorter their interaction, the healthier his sanity. “Ta, mate. Do you need my loyalty card?”

“No need.”

Fair enough, though he’s not sure what the point of it is, then. He carries the coffees and cakes over in two trips and wonders how he’ll get rid of the sickly-looking bakeware without Sam noticing. When James eventually tries his piece and doesn’t keel over immediately though, Mark gives his own a try.

It’s the best chocolate cake he’s ever had. And he’s never been madder in his life.

~*~

At some point, it turns into stubbornness. There’s a few mannerisms, the odd hobby and some of his preferences which started out as either ironic, as guilty pleasures or as things he actively disliked, but the more he engaged, the more he developed the attitude of: you know what? This is mine and I don’t care what anyone says about it.

He’s starting to adopt Leo Coffee. The awkward vibe about it, the indecipherable employee, the delicious food and drinks – it holds its own charm in a way, and he’s stopped wondering about being the only patron. It’s perfect for studying or unwinding, and does wonders for his stressed soul. He’s been returning regularly now, about once a week, and even brought James with him a second time to argue about yet another homework he criticised. The atmosphere renders Mark calmer, more patient, and so he endured the other man’s presence for much longer than he would’ve thought possible. They stayed for almost three hours the first time, even longer the second.

Just to make sure he’s not being a nuisance, he tried to check the coffee shop’s opening hours and wasn’t even sure what he expected to find. They’re listed nowhere, of course, and Sam switched topics the instant he brought it up.

So now the only people he has to drag in here are his friends, who have somehow evaded his efforts so far – but not today. Timur and Julien promised to come even though Manu has to go to some recital or other, meaning she’s excused. For now.

Eyes idly following pedestrians outside, he’s resting his chin in his palm and waiting. Being the only punctual one has always meant boredom, so he’s lucky his mind is imaginative enough to keep him occupied in the meantime. His train of thought meanders through all the topics occupying his brain recently, how the new guy Julien is seeing is basically moving into their apartment, how Timur keeps hanging around the wrong crowd, how unfair it is that Manu aces all her courses with so little effort, how he happened to run into James during his break today and almost suggested spending it together -

His phone buzzes, interrupting his aimless daydreaming and prompting him to check the colourful screen.

I got ambushed, writes Julien and it’s unclear whether he’s being cryptic on purpose. Mark sends a question mark and has to wait a minute or two for the explanation: Sudden date night, looks like Netflix & chill boys ;) sry for ditching you but the shop isn’t gonna go anywhere right?

An eye roll later, Mark responds with a simple TMI.

I don’t think I’ll make it either, adds Timur, a friend wants to yarn bomb the stature by City Hall and they need me as lookout.

This one gets points for creativity at least. He sighs and reassures them with a quick sure, no problem before commending himself for not going home first to drop his bag off. Now he can just study instead. Woohoo.

Another brief vibration, this notification from a completely different group chat, one Mark apparently forgot to leave once the project was done: @Mark: are there carrots in carrot cake?

The number is translated to ‘GirthControl’, so there’s just one person this could be. He stares at his screen. Is that a trick question? Yes, he feels confident enough to affirm to James.

Ah okay. Thanks babe.

This is when it occurs to him: Wait, why did you only ask me?

Silence. Whatever quest James is currently on, it apparently required Mark’s input and Mark’s input only.

He can’t help but laugh at the absurdity and suddenly feels a lot less abandoned. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter whether his friends don’t rank him at the top of their priority list as long as he’s on it somewhere. And knowing that he’s left a lasting impression on James beyond being the lad who supplies him with homework is oddly reassuring.

When he approaches the counter, Sam once again materialising out of nowhere (at least that’s what it feels like – he’s always there when Mark needs him and never at any other time), he’s decided to not get weirded out by anything today. “A coffee”, he orders confidently and inspects the haphazardly thrown together bagels featured prominently in the infamous display case. “And a bagel.” He doesn’t bother specifying, Sam will choose for him anyway.

After peering at the digital alarm clock on the counter, Sam announces the approximate value of the aforementioned items and then squints at him. “Weren’t you going to meet with somebody?”

Mark half-shrugs. “Kinda. They’re busy though.”

“Mind if I join you?” He must notice Mark’s surprise because he adds: “It’s your ninth time here. Would be a shame if we didn’t get to talk before you’ve filled up your loyalty card, don’t you think?”

“Alright”, he agrees and waits until Sam has poured himself a mug as well before they sit down at Mark’s usual table – tucked away in a corner but close enough to the windows to be able to do people-watching if his eyes need a rest from staring at textbooks or screens all day long. It’s the first time he examines the man opposite him more closely: the distinguished features, greying beard, wild mane of hair. He looks too… important to be working in a coffee shop, like he was destined for greatness. Mark can’t picture him angry even if he exudes a bitter, cynical aura which he’s likely to hide behind sarcasm.

“How did you end up here?”, he wants to know, genuinely curious.

“Good question.” Sam takes a few sips of his excellent coffee as he ponders how to reply. “It’s a temporary thing, that’s for sure.” He leaves it at that. “What do you study?”

Mark eyes the disorganised heap of books keeping his bagel company and sighs. “At this point, I don’t even know anymore.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It is”, he emphasises. “I love studying.”

“Where’s the problem then?”

There is none, he wants to say yet his mouth refuses to comply. He stares into the dark liquid, running his thumb over even porcelain and then decides to sod it – he asked, right? And somehow, it’s always easier to unload on a complete stranger. “I feel like it’s all I’m doing.”

“You keep others at a distance on purpose.” He nods, even though it wasn’t a question. “So don’t be surprised if they do the same.”

“I’m not.” The warmth seeps into his palms as he wraps his hands around the mug, providing as much comfort as Sam’s gentle tone. “I just want it to be different.”

“Make an effort. It’s never to late to change. I’m sure your friends will appreciate it. Put some trust in them, they’re your friends for a reason.” He nods again, lost in thought. “Have you figured out what you’re going to wish for next time?”

He scoffs, amused. There isn’t a single thing he can imagine himself wanting from the old man before him, so he’s unlikely to wish for anything at all. “No. Not yet.”

“Well, think about it. I believe in you, son.” With that, Sam downs the last of his own coffee and gets up, ready to walk back behind the counter and only stops when Mark calls his name.

“Is there someone you care about?”

It’s the first time he sees Sam smile. “Yes. There were two, but I lost one – so I keep the other one twice as close without trying to be suffocating. It’s hard. But remember, Mark, it’s never too late to tell the people in your life how you really feel.” And then he’s gone, disappeared into the back, leaving behind a faint nostalgia tinted with hope.

There’s no challenge from which Mark has shied away in his life, and this one isn’t going to be his first.

~*~

The word fuck on his lips, Mark bursts into the café like a panicked chicken. He’s juggling two bags and his phone, his frantic typing only interrupted by the need to breathe now and then, and nearly drops it when he slams his book bag to the ground at the counter. “Sorry, one sec”, he addresses an unimpressed-looking Sam as he dials a number and curses once more when it’s not immediately picked up. “Can I get a coffee to go?”, he asks, out of breath, as the dial tone beeps in his ear.

“I don’t serve people who are on the phone”, Sam replies, as calm as ever.

Mark mentally increases the number of people who’d be dead if his looks could kill by one. “This is the worst thing to ever happen to me”, he says gravely and hangs up after thirty seconds have passed. “I’m gonna fail this class.”

“An event without precedence, I assume?”

“You have no bloody idea. But yes, a coffee please, I need to go back to the library and get an entire semester’s worth of material because I’m too fucking dumb to read a syllabus correctly. This has never happened to me, I have one day to write this assignment and I’m lacking so much -”

“Can you give me the time?”, Sam interrupts him nonchalantly and stares at the screen of Mark’s phone as he holds it up for him to read. “Thanks. Let’s say £2.63.”

“And I can’t study at home because Timur has his friends over, and Manu is in a panic herself, and I know the library is going to be overrun by people who treat the study rooms like their social media accounts by loudly oversharing all the time, and I have no idea how I’m supposed to do this. Maybe I’ll just accept fate and fail. No clue how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

“Your loyalty card.”

Distracted, Mark fishes it out of his wallet and puts it on the counter. “And the other people in chem aren’t answering or are no help at all, I don’t get it, I’ve done group projects with them and still they don’t have the courtesy to help me out in this. It was a genuine mistake, as stupid as it is, and I’m just -”

“You need to write it down.”

He’s briefly interrupted in his rant to frown at the black paper card. “Write what?”

“Your wish.”

“But you won’t be able to read it. I only have black or blue pens.”

“Doesn’t matter. Write it down.”

With an irritated sigh, Mark takes out a pen and thinks for a second, the majority of his attention elsewhere still. Eventually, he scribbles someone who cares, not that it’d be legible in any way, and hands it to Sam. “That’s it? I’m not sure this reward system is going to pay off in the long term, you know.”

Sam holds the card up to the light as if he was inspecting a bank note and nods, apparently satisfied. “You’re all set. Good luck.”

“Ta, I’m gonna need it.” Mark shoves all his belongings in various pockets, hoping he’ll remember where he put them, and grabs the to-go cup. And then, without so much as a goodbye, he storms back out, steeling himself for an all-nighter certain to mess up sleep schedule for days, if not weeks.

He ascribes it to his flustered state that he doesn’t look up as he exits the coffee shop, and promptly runs into someone, collides with what feels like a solid wall. His coffee gets squished and sloshes over, soaking the front of his clothes – fortunately, it’s not hot at all, more like lukewarm which is odd in and of itself. He swears again, yanking his phone out of his pocket before it gets wet also and it’s only due to another hand grabbing the device that it doesn’t plummet to the ground straightaway.

“Oh bollocks, I’m so sorry”, says the wall he ran into which turns out to be none other than James. Of all people. “Are you alright? Is it hot?”

“No, no, I’m fine”, Mark presses through clenched teeth, the stress slowly overwhelming him. “But now I have to go home and change before I can start on this stupid fucking -”

“Babe. Calm down. What’s wrong?”

He takes a deep breath and ignores the quickly cooling wet patches on his clothes for the moment. “I still have to do the report. I didn’t realise we were meant to -”

“Oh, you haven’t done it? At all?”

“No! No, I didn’t, and everyone else is partnered up so I can’t just join someone else, so I’ll have to -”

“I’m not paired up.”

“Sure, once I’m done I’ll put your name on there, whatever, but that doesn’t -”

“Babe. Mark. Listen to me.” James waves in front of his face with a slight grin. “I did it. It’s almost done. I’ll put down that we did it together and you’re good.”

He stares at James, mouth open, for several unflattering seconds. “Wait – you… how?”

“I can show you, but it’s at my place. My roommate is around your height, he can lend you some clothes. Let’s go.”

And yet again, Mark finds himself unable to refuse. He drinks what’s left of his coffee in one go (and it really is tepid, he must’ve gotten really lucky), tosses the cup in the nearest bin and leaves Leo Coffee behind without a single glance back.

James’ flat looks exactly like Mark would’ve imagined it, only louder. Double bass and epic vocals are permeating every room, and all available horizontal surfaces are littered with stuff. The walls are plastered with posters, some funny, some pretty, some morbid, and it reeks of weed.

A small part of Mark feels right at home, oddly enough.

“Turn the fucking music down!”, James yells at the top of his lungs, throwing him an apologetic look, clearly uncomfortable with the state of it all and ignorant as to Mark’s growing amusement.

Somewhere, a door opens and the shrill guitars become clearer. “Whot?”, someone replies just as loudly.

“Exactly!”, is James’ deafening reply, and a few seconds later, the melodies decrease to a reasonable level. Another bloke joins them, tall and well-built with an unkempt beard and a band shirt as well as no socks.

“Who’s that? Is he allowed to be here?”, asks James’ roommate and regards Mark with suspicion.

“That was Sabaton, wasn’t it?”, Mark inquires back. “Primo Victoria?”

The dude’s entire face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, a connoisseur. He can stay, James, I like him already.”

And while the two of them exchange more words, Mark goes exploring. He ends up in what must be James’ room which is covered in paper, be it books or hand-written notes, and most of it seems related to chemistry in some way. Curious, Mark looks around until he finds a spiral-bound notepad titled with the name of the course they’re sharing this semester. Contrary to his expectations, it’s far from empty – not only does it contain copious lecture notes, it also features every assignment they’d been given since the start of the course.

Solved differently from Mark’s own answers.

Confused, he checks more closely and finds a recurring pattern: equations that are struck-through, calculations lacking several steps in between which wouldn’t be accepted by the prof this way, and very little text. It looks like the writings of someone who certainly understands the material but simply has a hard time putting his thoughts in order, putting his ideas into neat writing.

He’s been immersed for several minutes when James finally joins him, and when he does, Mark holds up his notes and greets him with a simple: “What the fuck?”

James doesn’t seem to realise where Mark’s problem lies and shrugs. “Yeah, I’m a hopeless case, I know.”

“No. No, you’re really not. This is – look here, if you just shift this around, you end up with the correct result. You’re like 95% of the way there, you just didn’t finish it.”

“Oh.” James blinks at him. “I guess. It’s kinda like that with the report. I was hoping you could help me write the conclusion, I’ve got the rest, but -”

“Sure. Yes.” Mark’s agreeableness seems to astonish his host. “That’ll take an hour, maybe two. And I won’t have to pull an all-nighter. James, you have no idea how much you saved me.”

And James, bless his soul, is blushing. “Well. No problem. I owe you anyway. Right?” He suddenly remembers he’s holding spare clothing and vaguely gestures in Mark’s direction. “You, uh, you can change in the bathroom. Don’t mind the cat, she just loves staring at naked people. Dom found out the hard way.”

Twenty minutes later, Mark is reading through James’ report with a ball of fur purring on his lap, faint metal playing in the background. There’s a lot of grammar and spelling to be fixed, as well as phrasing, but content-wise, it’s near flawless. He’s smiling to himself, enjoying the way James turns almost bashful whenever he compliments his work, and remembers Sam’s words from the second-to-last time he visited the café: it’s never too late.

He’s definitely treating James to dinner after he’s saved his arse like this.

The next time Mark passes by that familiar spot, the next time Mark develops a craving for caffeine and some peace and quiet, the next time he plans to go to Leo Coffee, all he finds is the same coffee shop which has been here for years already, the afternoon crowd populating the tables and several diligent employees taking care of the customers.

Somehow, Mark isn’t the least bit surprised.

#rainbow six siege #smoke #mute #smoke/mute #zero #fanfic #oneshot #I combined a few things I know you like and hopefully it's the same with the result #I want to remind you that there is no need to retaliate #but also that'd mean I've won this war

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popatochisssp · 4 years ago

Note

I need memes for the new boys. Meme me, Poppy. Meme me.

As always, I am ashamed at how well-equipped I am to answer this question...

Meme Fluent: Ash (Undergloom Sans), Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus), Sunny (Gastertale Sans)

Can At Least Ask Where The Bathroom Is In Meme: Brick (Horrorfell Sans), Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus), Aster (Gastertale Papyrus)

Meme-blivious: Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus), King (Horrorfell Papyrus), Merc (Horrorswap Sans), Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans)

Ash (Undergloom Sans): Very savvy and up on all the most popular memes, scrolling through memes is an activity very low on the ‘activity’ part and great for when he’s feeling a little too tired to do anything else. He’s very into tiktoks, which help him keep up to date on the latest meme songs-- some of which he might try to learn to play on his own. In general, he’s also into memes with funny or weird-looking animals (frogs, possums, axolotls, etc), no specific kind of meme, the presence of a goofy-looking creature in it is usually good enough to get a smile or a chuckle out of him.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): Not all that up to date on the meme scene, he’s usually busy with other things... but! He really loves relatable memes, especially ones about procrastination or not being able to focus on work or having to do chores, everyday mundane irritations that everybody can relate to! He also thinks reading comprehension errors are great harmless fun (i.e., “my bad i thought u said moths”), just silly misunderstandings that make for confusing interactions until someone realizes.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): Doesn’t always remember every meme, but he gets the gist of most of them. His favorites are the MS Paint memes, usually the more poorly drawn, the better (but a fan of pretty much every catcrumb image he sees, those chaotic little cats are great). He can also be caught laughing himself to wheezing and banging on the table over completely bizarre and out of context interactions--for some reason, they just hit right on the funny bone and he has no defense against them. (The ‘Nyquil Detroit Become Liquid’ post nearly killed him, but he would’ve thanked it.)

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): Not too interested in memes. He’s peripherally aware of them but rarely knows the latest trends or cares to know them. He does have a slight fondness for evil memes--ones about being evil or having an evil lair or just have the word ‘evil’ as an adjective in front of something else seemingly incongruous--he finds them silly and they can usually win at least a smirk out of him when he happens to come across one. If you want a laugh, though, find him some of those screenshots of old newspapers from the 30s-50s, formally written humor that still holds up even now (like The Windsor Star, Ontario, November 1, 1958, The Cincinnati Enquirer, Ohio, February 21, 1947, or Barnard Bulletin, New York, December 20, 1935). Sensible chuckles abound from those!

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): Not too into memery, he’s definitely got a lot of other things going on and isn’t always online. Still, he is a fan of stuff like one-time-i-dreamt and other accounts of peoples’ dreams or thought processes. He thinks it’s interesting, the little peek into the wandering, strange, and sometimes funny subconscious, or how people think about love and tenderness and nostalgia and remind others to appreciate those things, too. It’s a very niche, wholesome sort of enjoyment for sure... but not to worry! If you’re looking for something more mainstream and ‘haha funny,’ he also got very into the whole ‘Surprise! It’s cake!’ meme trend that was going on for awhile and is still delighted to find a video where a realistic object is cut into and turns out to be cake. He’s definitely going to make one himself, maybe as a social media marketing thing for his home business...

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): Very meme savvy and tends toward some of the maybe darker types of humor--stress and anxiety memes, introvert memes, et cetera. Animated text is a big one he likes, with enough of a mix of pessimist and optimist memes that he doesn’t come away from checking it actually bummed out or feeling bad, a fine line to walk to be sure. He also likes coding and programming humor! He’s still kinda teaching himself, so he definitely doesn’t get them all, but it gives him a little sense of accomplishment and community when he does, which he really likes.

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): Not interested in memes, and a lot of them are heavily based on visuals which, unfortunately, he’s going to miss the context. Still, he does get a hell of a kick out of brazen and blatant misinformation--the smooth sharks post, facts-i-just-made-up, and the like--and finds it hilarious when someone insists something that is obviously untrue, especially if a lot of people aren’t getting the joke and are trying fervently to convince them of their wrongness. He’s also a little bit evil, so whenever he learns a new piece of whatever slang is popular and in at the moment, he’s going to use it incorrectly, or use outdated slang to induce cringe in those around him. ‘Totes yeet yo’? Yes. ‘That is so pog, as the kids say’? Of course. ‘It’s lit, fam’? Definitely, who do you take him for? The cringier, the better, he revels in the discomfort of others when he throws one of those babies out.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): Definitely knows a little bit about memes, not always the latest trends but his base knowledge is pretty good, and of course has his favorites. He loves John Mulaney references and reaction images, they just Speak to him, y’know? Outside of that, he’s very fond of day-of-the-week memes, Tuesday Again?, Out of Touch Thursday, Fat Fuck Friday and so on. Aside from being a useful reminder of what the hell day of the week it is, he likes the consistency and recurrence of it, just a silly little moment to look forward to at some point like, “oh yeah, it’s el muchacho monday, nice!”

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): Pretty wise to the meme scene overall, loves the fun and creativity of it all. If you want him to absolutely lose his shit, though, show him a terrible picture of an animal--by which I mean, poorly photoshopped, blurred, in mid-panoramic, as long as the end result is an absurd or very screwed up image. Why are things like ‘buff half cat’ and ‘dog but very, very long’ his sense of humor? He has no idea, but the worse it looks, the harder he laughs. He has a bit of a fondness for ‘gotcha’s too, like a Rickroll but really anything where you go into it expecting one thing, and get trolled by receiving something else. (If Megalovania memes were a thing in his universe, he would be all over them, if that gives you an idea of the kind of gag he thinks is funny!)

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): Aware of memes, but not all that invested in them. He likes corporate and office/business memes a lot-- the kind that roast bosses and unnecessary meetings, translate ‘polite’ corporate phrases, anything to do with emails--because they can be very relatable. He also likes seeing screencaps of people on Facebook or Twitter getting dragged for misinformation, or trying to act like a pompous jerk and getting shredded (for legitimate reasons of course, not just random unprovoked cyberbullying). He...may be involved in a bit of that sometimes himself: he may not be working in a scientific field, but he is half of a scientist, and just petty enough to spend a few hours of his free time looking up and reading through a few credible sources to cite in a strong and well-crafted rebuttal argument if someone is being especially, dangerously wrong about something. Not everyone has the time and resources to do it, so why shouldn’t he? 😇

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novantinuum · 4 years ago

Link

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences (TW: language)

Words: ~3K

Summary: Lars has no idea what he was expecting the moment Steven texted him in the middle of the night to ask if he could come over, but being immediately tackled in an intense vice-grip of a hug the second he opened the door probably wasn’t it.

Set mid SUF.

I don’t think I’ve ever gotten to write Lars’ POV before this, but it was really fun! If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

____

Besides the quiet lull of the TV and the electric hum of the attic’s rickety old heater, all is silent in the Barriga household. The nighttime streets outside are vacant. Not a soul roams through his section of town, not even the newer Gem arrivals, who thankfully have been informed of humanity’s biologically mandated curfew by now. Sheesh, it’s about time.

After all, silence is peace. And in this day and age, in a world where the barriers between human and intergalactic politics are becoming increasingly blurred by the hour, peace is a gift.

Which is why having free time to play whatever old video games he wants in complete and total solitude at one AM is probably the single thing keeping him sane at this moment.

Lars’ fingers expertly flick at the joysticks of the controller as if by innate memory. It genuinely feels like forever since he’s been able to lose himself for hours in a solo campaign like this, and quite honestly, if given a choice he prefers it to any other leisurely activity. Chatting with his online friends or with that Gem gang of his is fun, sure, and working the counter at his bake shop can often be emotionally satisfying, but pushed too long and any kind of social interaction feels draining. He shifts on his bed, paying little to no attention to the slight chill against his bare chest. He’s pretty sure it’s like, near freezing outside and yet somehow it’s no more an annoyance to him than having to pause to reload an ammo clip in this game. It’s weird. Really weird. But then, at this point everything about his dumb life is.

It’s the Steven effect, he thinks with a soft scoff. Weird practically orbits him and his moms, and inevitably, every person he comes in contact with is brought into the fold. He’s a good kid, though. Don’t get him wrong. Steven always tries his best to be thoughtful when dealing with people he doesn’t understand— even when initially those people just act like dicks in return— and he for one is grateful for that, for the gift of a... a second chance. He knows full well he didn’t deserve it, (he still doesn’t), but he’s grateful.

The kid’s still on his mind when his phone lights up on the nightstand beside him, like the now familiar glow of Gems synchronizing to fuse.

(And goddamnit, does a part of him still balk almost two years later that it’s so normal to be casually relating everyday things to outer space Gem stuff anyways. What is he, with his pink hair and alien friends, the main character of an anime?)

Eyes skirt away from the grainy television set he’s been playing his favorite Immortal Combat on, and glance at the new notification.

Steven, the name at the top of the text reads. Well, lo and behold. The true shounen protagonist himself. Somebody’s ears must have been burning. Though, hmm. Come to think of it, that’s actually unusual. They pass bullshit memes back and forth sometimes, yes, but he never sends him anything this late at night.

Lars frowns, failing to obscure that annoying, instinctual worry that seizes him like the long lost sensation of hunger rising from the pit of his stomach, and scoots forward on his bed to grab his phone. What’s he want at this hour, anyways?

Steven: hey, sorry i know its late but can i come over ?

His frown deepens as he glances down at himself, clad in only a pair of boxers. He doesn’t mind having an unexpected visitor— after all, it’s not like he requires sleep anymore— but he’s not exactly dressed for company, here.

yeah but gimme a mo, he types back. kinda need to put on a shirt

Steven: k

Yawning out of sheer habit, he leans over the other side of the bed and grabs the first decent smelling tee he can find off the floor. It’s got an overlapping triangular emblem on it, a symbol from one of the game series he used to be obsessed with as a kid. He quickly shrugs it and a stray pair of sweatpants on, then returns to his phone.

decent now, he updates him.

The response is almost immediate.

Steven: be there soon

With a heavy inhale, he leans back against the headboard and begins to mentally prepare himself for the passage of One Whole Teenage Boy through the portal in his hair. For the most part he’s grown used to the changes caused by Steven’s literal magic resurrection, but not this. Who the hell knows how his pet lion puts up with it all the time. Quite frankly, how that creature has remained so docile and patient after years of interloping within Steven’s chaotic world of Gems eludes him, ‘cause it sure as hell isn’t a side effect of all the death-defying space voodoo.

Also, he’s like, 97% sure that “docile” and “patient” aren’t words anyone would pick to describe him at any stage of his life, ever.

And yet, yawning in his boredom, Lars waits.

And he waits.

And when eventually he breaks his stubborn streak and dares to check the time on his phone to see how many minutes have elapsed, how many minutes of his thrice-damned maybe infinite lifespan he’s wasted sitting up against the far wall of his room waiting for that kid to tumble right out of the literal inter-dimensional door hidden amidst the curls atop his head, he’s mildly surprised that his first emotional response to this delay is... dare he admits... disappointment.

It’s been nearly fifteen minutes. For whatever unknown reason, it seems as if Steven may not be coming over after all. Huh. He wonders what changed his mind. Pressing his lips into a thin line, Lars decides to check his texts. It’s possible the guy wrote something else and he just didn’t see it. But when he pulls up his latest conversation, all that comes up are the last messages they sent to each other. Be there soon, he said.

He hovers hesitant fingers over the keyboard, caught in the midst of trying to decide whether or not it’s too invasive and prying to send some sort of casual check-in, when he picks up on a very timid knock on the front door downstairs. And given the lateness of the hour, there’s really only one person it could be. He blinks for a moment, his mind still doing somersaults in order to process the mere concept of Steven not gleefully taking the opportunity to explode out of his hair for once in his life, and then drags himself up to his feet. Walks out of his attic room and down the stairs, being careful not to disturb his slumbering parents. Unlatches the locks on the door.

Truth be told he has no idea what he was expecting the moment Steven texted him at one fucking AM to ask if he could come over, but being immediately tackled in an intense vice-grip of a hug the second he opened the door probably wasn’t it.

He struggles not to stumble backwards at the initial force of the teen’s silent yet yearning embrace, eventually regaining his stability and... slowly, delicately... hugging him back. Honestly, he’s never been much of a hugger himself, but eh. He’ll give the guy this one. After a brief moment Lars gives him a few awkward pats, clearing his throat.

“Uh, Steven? You good to let go, now?” he asks quietly, still keeping his voice in a whisper for his parents’ benefit.

“Oh! Y-yeah, yeah,” his younger friend stammers, immediately pulling himself away. His eyes are drawn to the floor as he wrings his hands together. Timid. “Sorry, I just— I just needed somewhere I could clear my head tonight. Thank you, by the way.”

“No problem,” he throws back, gesturing for him to follow up the stairs. “‘S not like I ever sleep a wink now anyways. So I might as well have company.”

The two of them tiptoe towards the attic, a familiar setting for both. Steven’s been in here quite a few times before, so— already knowing the lay of the land— he plops himself down in the beanbag chair Lars keeps at the foot of his bed. They don’t talk about much of anything at first, merely passing back and forth brief updates about their lives. Small talk, nothing more. As expected though, Steven’s update is infinitely more interesting than his. Apparently he went on some mission to an alien planet with that Lapis friend of his the other day and had to deal with the attitude of some stubborn terraformers who didn’t want to stop working on their shitty old Homeworld assignment. (Meanwhile, the only update he has to offer is how he’s teaching Blue Lace Agate the art of bad baking puns while at work. Gotta leave behind some sort of legacy before he leaves with his fellow Off-Colors, of course.)

When the small talk finally dries up, (which seems... uncharacteristic, given the typical enthusiasm of his current visitor), Lars offers him a second controller.

“We can play the go-kart one, if you want,” he says, knowing full well that his friend isn’t a huge fan of all his war-themed combat games. Still, he figures the guy could probably stand to blow off a little steam. He looks super stressed, with his brow all creased and his stare unnervingly glassy.

The sixteen-year-old nods, adjusting his hands around the grips of the controller as Lars switches out the disk.

They race a few rounds in relative quiet, wholly insulated by the reassuring stillness of the night all around them, before Steven decides to open up again.

“Where do you think the line is?” he asks when they finish their current course.

His whole face scrunches in confusion. “Huh?”

“Between like, doing bad things, and outright being bad?” he continues, seemingly unaware of the comedic pulse of Lars’ initial response.

Lars blinks.

Considers these words deeply and thoroughly for a moment, as any good friend should.

And then...

“Where the heck did you pull that question from?”

Steven merely shrugs, his shoulders drooping a bit lower than they had been when he first entered his house a while back. “I dunno, just musing, ‘s all.”

The edges of his mouth curl downwards as he lets this corker of a conversation starter wash over him, not so much intended as a frown at Steven, but a frown at... whatever force of this universe would lead his friend to start musing about such depressing philosophical quandaries in the first place. Acting numb and brooding at the rest of the world is supposed to be his job, not this kid’s! And sure, yes, yes, yes, he knows he can’t exactly call him a kid anymore— at least not to his face— and that he’s been a teenager for a good three years now. It’s just that... well. For all his complaints about it earlier in life, Lars kinda grew to respect and feel uplifted by his cheery, upbeat, never-give-up-hope outlook. Dare he says, he kinda misses it.

(And for Steven’s sake, he kinda hoped he’d never discover the burnout and cynicism waiting on the other side. Alas, he fears that ship has probably sailed.)

“Sorry,” the sixteen-year-old mumbles upon noting his extended silence, his cheeks flushed with shame. “Probably not something anyone wants to think about at two in the morning. Just- forget I said anything, okay? Let’s play one more round, and then I can lea—“

Eyes widening, he holds up a hand to intercept that train of thought. “No, that’s— you asked an interesting question. Deep, but interesting. It’s fine, I don’t mind. I...”

He inhales deep, collecting his wits and whatever years of wisdom he may or may not have accumulated ever since dying and coming back to life.

“I suppose in my mind, people aren’t truly bad unless they intend to cause harm, y’know?” he begins, meeting Steven’s eyes. “You can still hurt others without meaning it, and like... that’s still not great, and you should still try and make up for it however you can, but... life’s complicated. People are complicated. It’s all a huge mess of emotions and ethics and beliefs all the time.”

He pauses, a twinge of melancholy rising within his chest as he catches a glimpse of a photograph hung on one of the wooden support beams at the far wall. It’s a selfie of him and Sadie he printed out a few years back when they were still low-key dating, one that— for the life of him— he can’t bear to take down. She’s kissing his cheek. He’s caught in the middle of laughter, playfully trying to nudge her away. They look... so young.

So naive.

(So human.)

“And sometimes it can be so, so easy to convince yourself that you’re always in the right,” he continues, quieter, “that people feeling hurt because of something you did is just their problem. In that case, it’s not that you wanted to harm anyone, it’s just... that you were blind to it, I guess.”

(And he was blind for a long, long time.)

“Like I said, it’s messy.”

Lars sighs, willfully averting his glance from the photographic reminder of all the ways he ignorantly fucked up with Sadie as a friend and partner, and with everyone in his life, making the same stupid mistakes over and over with nearly no improvement until he literally died to his old self.

“So, yeah. There. I guess that’s my opinion,” he mumbles, absentmindedly fiddling with the collar of his graphic tee. “Everyone makes bad choices sometimes, but you’re not actually a bad person unless you literally want to harm others. I don’t think people are bad once and bad forever, though,” he adds, pulling his hand away from his shirt.

Inhaling deep, he splays his palm wide, admiring those same old loops and whorls at the tips of his fingers, identical in every detail to his old, living, human self... but now pink. It's haunting, sometimes.

“People can change, y’know? If they make the effort to.”

When he finally glances back at Steven, he seems thoroughly spaced out by all his impassioned rambling, his gaze walleyed and void of any identifiable emotion. He scowls, unsure whether or not he should feel offended, and gives an exaggerated shrug to defuse the sickeningly earnest atmosphere out of this room.

“But hey, I’m biased,” he mutters, letting that instinctual, age-old self-depreciation coat his tone once more. “For all I know, everything I said could be absolute bunk, and I’m still just an asshole.”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole, Lars,” Steven finally speaks up, his expression still perplexingly unreadable.

“I—“ His eyes blow wider, the sheer frankness of this comment catching him entirely off guard, overturning all of his once-impenetrable defenses. “...Thank you. I’m trying not to be.”

The conversation doesn’t advance any further from there, both parties content to fade back into the understated comfort of silent companionship. They play a few more rounds of their racing game, Lars beating Steven handily each time. (Truth be told, he’s not confident he’s bringing his A-game, though.) Then, sometime around three AM, his friend drags himself out of the beanbag chair and announces that he should probably head home and get some rest. Apparently he’s got a lot of planning to do for Little Homeschool's graduation ceremony that’s happening in a few days, or whatever. Which, is fair. Not everyone is blessed enough to be a sleepless zombie like him.

“Y’know, it’s been nice, getting to hang out, just us,” Steven says— quiet, but genuine— as Lars leads him back down the stairs. “We should do this more often.”

Purposefully, given the unusual emotional atmosphere of this whole visit, he decides not to mention the fact that he's planning to leave Earth again when his all Gem friends finally graduate. Later, he thinks, when everyone's in a better place.

“Well, if you’re ever bored, you know where to reach me,” he replies as they reach the bottom step, fondly rolling his eyes. “The good ol’ inter-hair-mensional express. Just, y’know— text me. And not during work hours.”

The teen gives his thanks once again, and then exits out the front, making sure to be extra gentle shutting the door on his way out for his parents’ sake. Huh. Seems that even when he’s (seemingly) in a funk, he’s capable of being uber courteous like that. Goodness, how does he do it?

Lars stands motionless at the entryway for a few moments after he’s gone, staring blankly at the now empty space the sixteen-year-old just occupied. His brow furrows, his fingers curling in perplexion at his side. He doesn’t have enough insight into Steven’s inner life to claim anything for sure, but he can’t help but feel like something with that boy was... off, tonight. Like, beyond your standard teenage moodiness. His demeanor, his bizarre and specific question, his relative silence... it all seems to be pointing towards something, lurking in the background. Still, there’s little he can do for a person who’s not volunteering information. And it ain’t his job to drag it out of him, either. He always hated when his parents tried to do that when he was younger, and it almost ruined their relationship entirely. That’s the last sorta scenario he’d want to force upon Steven. He’ll open up when he’s ready, in the end.

And until then... well.

He just hopes that the kid knows that— beyond the bizarre magic portal in that pink lion’s mane— he’s always got a brother on the other side who’s willing to at least listen. To be but a small source of support.

If he wants him to be.

#su #su future #lars barriga #steven universe #su fanfiction #my writing stuff

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