#also depending on the venue chances are there isn’t enough room to move. so you’re stuck three feet from the dance floor for an hour lol

[petrichoravellichor]

Title: A New Kind of Life

Wordcount: ~10k

Rating: T

Summary: What if, when Sam and Dean break into the Empty, Cas isn’t the only one they save? A post-15x19 fix-it fic in which Crowley gets a second shot at the redemption (and family) he deserves.

(Read on Ao3)

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Chapter 3 (of 5) (Ch. 1, Ch. 2., Chs. 4 & 5)

"When I suggested you take on the Mark of Cain, I didn't know this was going to happen. Not really. I mean, I might not have told you the entire truth. But I never lied. I never lied, Dean. That's important. It's fundamental. But...there is one story about Cain that I might have...forgotten to tell you. Apparently, he, too, was willing to accept death, rather than becoming the killer the Mark wanted him to be. So he took his own life with the blade. He died. Except, as rumor has it, the Mark never quite let go. You can understand why I never spoke of this. Why set hearts aflutter at mere speculation? It wasn't until you summoned me...no, it wasn't truly until you left that cheese burger uneaten...that I began to let myself believe. Maybe miracles do come true. Listen to me, Dean Winchester: what you're feeling right now—it's not death. It's life—a new kind of life. Open your eyes, Dean. See what I see. Feel what I feel. And let's go take a howl at that moon."

—Crowley to Dean, 09x23 "Do You Believe in Miracles?"

**********

The following evening, there’s a knock on his door. “Crowley? Hey, you in there?”

Crowley looks up from his book. He hasn’t spoken to Dean since that day in the war room, when they’d all returned from the Empty. From a tactical standpoint, it’s been very easy: all Crowley’s had to do is keep largely to his room during the day and save visits to any common spaces for the late night hours. This is the first time in a good long while Dean’s made it a point to seek him out alone, and it’s that more than anything that makes Crowley decide he actually wants to hear what Dean has to say.

Still, no point in making it easy on the bastard. “That depends,” Crowley calls back, aiming for nonchalance. “What have you brought me?”

“Ha ha. Open up, asshole,” says Dean, but the epithet contains about as much malice as the bitch he occasionally lobs at Sam. “We, uh. We need to talk.”

Crowley arches a brow; is it just him, or does Dean sound nervous? He sets his book aside and shifts to sit on the edge of his bed. “It’s open.”

Dean enters, and Crowley sees that he was right: Dean does indeed look nervous, perhaps even guilty. He nods sheepishly in Crowley’s direction as he closes the door behind him.

“Hey,” Dean says, smiling slightly, and the gesture stirs a painful kind of longing in Crowley’s gut. Looking at Dean has always felt to Crowley like reaching for something without knowing what it is he’s grasping at or why, the way a weed arches without thinking towards the sun. It’s maddening in a way Crowley doesn’t have words for, because he knows, in the way he supposes a weed does, that the light isn’t there for his benefit; experience has shown him that much.

And yet, for as much hurt and anger Crowley’s felt because of Dean, he’s also realized that he just...can’t find it in himself to hate Dean, not in any way that lasts. They’ve been through too much together, and maybe none of it mattered to Dean, but it matters to Crowley. He wishes it didn’t, but it does; it always has. And he can no more deny that than he can the sun.

But he can’t very well say all that to Dean, so he pushes his thoughts aside and schools his features into a neutral expression. “Hello, Dean,” he says evenly, rising to stand with his hands in his pockets. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Dean reaches up to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. “You, uh. You settling in okay?”

Crowley snorts. “Surely you can do better than that. Go on, let’s have it.” He takes a step towards Dean and flashes a smirk. “I promise I won’t bite unless you ask me to.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well...That’s kinda what I came to talk to you about.” He gestures at the desk next to the bed. “Mind if I have a seat?”

Crowley shrugs. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” Dean walks over to the desk and turns to lean against it, not quite sitting but also not quite standing. Crowley stands next to the bed, waiting.

Eventually, Dean clears his throat. “So, uh. Cas said the two of you talked—”

He expects his words to get a rise out of Dean, to throw him off kilter so their conversation is easier to manage.

“Oh for the love of—Is that what this is about?” Crowley grumbles; just how much of their conversation had Castiel felt the need to share? “Allow me to save you some time, then. You and your long-suffering Angel of Thursday have my blessings, for what they’re worth. Slow clap, mazel tov, etcetera, etcetera. If you like, I could even pull a few strings, see if I can get you Hell as a venue for the wedding.” He smiles darkly, adding, “Although based on recent events, your influence there probably exceeds my own.”

Instead, Dean just raises a brow and says mildly, “So you and Rowena still aren’t talkin’, huh?”

Dean chuckles. “Nah, just figured I’d let you finish first.”

Still aren’t—?! “Really?” Crowley sputters angrily. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Ever the gentleman,” Crowley sneers.

“I try.”

“You really think I didn’t miss you when you were gone?”

“Well, try to get to the bloody point!”

And whatever barb Crowley was about to hurl dies on his tongue. He opens his mouth, then closes it, shifting awkwardly under Dean’s level stare. Eventually Dean sighs; he pushes up off the desk and moves to sit on the edge of the bed, patting the mattress next to him. Crowley sits down without a word.

“Listen,” Dean says, once Crowley is settled, “I don’t know how much Sam told you, but you weren’t the only one we lost that night. Cas died, Lucifer made off with our mom, Kelly didn’t survive the birth, and Jack bolted after I took a shot at him. Which...yeah, in hindsight, I’m not proud of, but that’s where I was at the time.” Dean looks down at his hands. “It wasn’t good. If Sam hadn’t stepped up and been a dad, things with Jack woulda turned out different, and not in a good way. If it’d been up to me, if I’d known how...I probably woulda killed the kid.”

Dean snorts softly. “Yeah, maybe, only you were too busy offing yourself to keep Lucifer locked over in Apocalypse World. Man, you don’t even know how huge that was, do you?” Dean looks up at him then, earnest. “You think everything would be the way it is now if Lucifer had gotten his hands on the kid before we’d figured things out?”

Crowley swallows. He tries to think what he would have done if his and Dean’s places had been reversed, if Dean had died that day instead of him, and comes to only one possible conclusion. “To be perfectly honest,” he says, quietly, “I’d have done the same.”

Crowley can only stare back, stunned. He’d sacrificed himself to thwart Lucifer; that his death had also made it possible for Jack to grow up in the Winchesters’ charge, free of Lucifer’s poisonous early influence, and thereby helped shape who Jack was, who God was...It’s honestly never occurred to him until now.

A protective sort of rage boils up in Crowley on Dean’s behalf. Sam hadn’t gone into all the gory details during his explanation, but Crowley knows enough. “Michael.”

“Anyway,” Dean continues, when Crowley says nothing, “then Jack brought Cas back, which we didn’t even know was possible. Thought maybe it was just a fluke, but we didn’t have time to really think about it because we had to go get our mom back, and then there was all the crap with Lucifer, so we had to deal with that, and then...” Dean trails off, his jaw tight.

Dean inhales steadily, nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that. And then...after…” He sighs. “Jack lost his soul and killed Mom, and I damn near killed him, and then everything with Chuck...Man, it was just non-stop. Then we finally beat Chuck, and with Jack all souped up, we had a way into the Empty, and hell yeah, we were gonna get Cas out, but the plan was always to look for you, too. Oh come on, don’t look at me like that,” Dean says, frowning at Crowley’s shell-shocked expression. “You’re a royal pain in the ass, and there’ve been plenty of times I wanted to stab you in the face, but you think that means I don’t give a damn what happens to you? Like it or not, man, you’re family, and we don’t leave family behind, not when we can help it.”

Crowley studies Dean carefully, looking for the lie...and not finding it. Then, that means...Is he really...?

“Family,” murmurs Crowley, experimentally. “You know, I’ve never had much luck with that word.”

Dean gives him a sad sort of smile. “Yeah, me neither. Not the one I was born to, anyway, 'cept for Sam. The one me and him made, though…” His smile turns genuine. “That one’s pretty damn awesome.”

They sit in silence, neither speaking for several moments; then—

Crowley clears his throat. “Can I ask you something, Dean?”

“Shoot.”

“That first day, after you brought me back, Sam said I should talk to Mother, said she has...regrets.”

Dean regards him thoughtfully. “You thinkin’ about giving her another chance?”

“I honestly don't know what I’m thinking,” Crowley admits. “There’s a lot of bad blood there: hers, mine, both of ours. When I saw her here, in this room, she said she’d missed me, that she loved me, and...”

Crowley feels his throat tighten, and he doesn’t know how to say the rest: that for all he hates himself for it, for all the times it’s blown up in his face, for all the horrible things Rowena has done to him—

“You don’t know if you should believe her,” Dean finishes quietly, “but you want to.”

Crowley sighs. “It’s stupid, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not,” Dean says firmly. “It’s not stupid to want to be loved, not by family: that’s kinda how it’s supposed to be. The stupid part is that it doesn’t always go that way, and then we gotta deal with the fallout.” Dean hesitates, then adds, “And...and sometimes that means we think we don’t deserve love when we do, and other times, it’s people sayin’ they deserve our love when they don’t.”

Crowley mulls that over. “Does she deserve it, do you think?”

“From you?” Dean shakes his head. “Man, that ain’t for me to say.”

Bollocks, thinks Crowley, barely managing to suppress a groan of frustration; if only there were a way to know which decision was the right one ahead of time...“How did you decide?" he asks after a moment. "With your father, I mean.”

Dean looks taken aback, and Crowley thinks perhaps he shouldn’t have asked; but before he can change the topic, Dean sucks in a breath and says, “Look, my father was an obsessed bastard. He left me and Sam alone for weeks on end, and when he was around, he was more of a drill sergeant than a dad. Some of the shit he pulled...” One of Dean’s hands closes into a fist. “It’s not the kind of stuff you just...forgive.”

Then Dean lets out a slow breath, and the fist relaxes. “Thing is, though, a lot of the crap he put us through, raisin’ us the way he did...He was tryin’ to protect what was left of his family, and...and I get that, you know? I’ve done a lot of really messed up shit for the same reason, for family. Doesn’t mean I forgive him, it’s just...complicated.” Dean sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “Like, really freaking complicated. Honestly, I’m still kinda trying to figure it out. But, yeah...all that to say, I don’t know if Rowena deserves your love or whatever else you wanna give her. She’s done a lot for me and Sam, helped us save our mom and Jack, and then her whole swan dive into Hell and all that, but when it comes to the two of you...That’s something you gotta decide for yourself.”

Crowley studies his hands. His left palm still bears thin scars from that day in the war room, when Sam had told him Rowena had changed and Crowley had gripped his fist tightly enough to draw blood. He still isn’t sure he believes his mother is actually capable of being anything other than what he's always known her as. Maybe she isn't, and if that’s the case, then she doesn’t deserve his love. Crowley can live with that; he has his entire life. If Sam was right, though, if his mother has changed...that’s something Crowley needs to see to believe.

And there it is, Crowley realizes: he needs to see her.

“I think,” he says, after a moment, “that I’ll meet with her and hear what she has to say, and if I don’t like it, I’ll tell her to bugger off, this time for good.”

Dean gives a hum of approval. “Sounds fair to me." He claps Crowley on the knee and stands. "Okay, then, I’m gonna go hit the hay. Lemme know if me or Sam can help with the Rowena thing, okay? You don’t gotta deal with her on your own.”

“I will,” Crowley says; then, as Dean’s about to leave, “and Dean?”

Dean looks back, hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”

And Crowley once again feels something stirring in his gut, but this time, it isn’t longing, but gratitude, gratitude that he has Dean in his life and gratitude that, at the end of the day, everything they’ve been through together, the good and the bad, it matters to Dean, too, and that's important. It's fundamental.

“Thank you,” Crowley says, and means it. “For everything.”

For a moment, Dean regards him in silence; then he smiles. “Yeah. You too.”

He slips out of the room and leaves Crowley alone with his thoughts, which are...actually rather optimistic. For the first time in a long time, Crowley feels alive. It’s a new kind of life, one with family, one where he matters, and Crowley doesn’t know for certain what it’s going to bring, but he knows he wants to see it, experience it, eyes wide open.

[marculees]

Epilepsy Awareness Month💜

I recently seen this post by @interstellix  who made great points about epilepsy for Epilepsy Awareness Month. It sums it up really well so I suggest you give it a read and reblog! Its nice to find another photosensitive here too because we’re such a small group within the epilepsy community. I deal with anxiety on top of my epilepsy and while they aren’t always related to each other, I don’t hear enough about the day-to-day worries of epileptics. Things that seem completely normal or fine to some people can be dangerous for me, which is why stuff like giving trigger warnings are much appreciated. But often, non-epileptics don’t know about what its like to actually live with epilepsy - not just having seizures. I want to add on some of my own experiences with a funky clickbait title, below the cut. Anyone who reads this all is a star and ily⭐️

10 Things Non-Epileptics Don’t Get (Yet)

1. That moment in movies when the character wakes up and a bunch of faces are gawking down at the camera uncomfortably. Always have someone to stay with the person having a seizure. But out of care for both that person and the people around, its best to get everyone else away. No one enjoys watching someone have a seizure - it’s scary and knowing you can’t stop it can ignite feelings of guilt or panic. For the person having the seizure, its embarrassing - they aren’t even conscious of what’s happening and for all they can remember, they were minding their own business and now they’re waking up and barely able to move their body without wincing in pain.

*TW: BODY FLUIDS* I’ve literally puked, shit and pissed myself all at the same time unconsciously in front of a room of people. I’m lucky these people were my family but it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing or upsetting knowing that everyone there saw me in such a state. A fear I had growing up was having a seizure in front of my class and the students making comments about it, thinking it was funny. In today’s age, filming seizures is something to worry about too because of how easily it can be shared to others online. Even if you aren’t an arsehole like that, try to be as respectful as possible and get everyone else to evacuate the room. At most, have three people to stay there: one person to stay close and time the seizure, one person to move furniture away and find something soft to lay under the epileptic’s head, and one person for crowd control who is keeping everyone else out and reassuring them all it’s okay.

Whatever you do, don’t make the epileptic feel bad for having a seizure. They can’t control it. Afterwards, comfort them and let them know its all over and you’ll stay with them until they feel better (unless they say they would rather be alone). Most of the time, the epileptic will be so tired and sore after their seizure that they’ll fall asleep. Let them; they need it. I’ve woken up on a couch, in my bed, the back of an ambulance or in a hospital bed and sometimes I was laying there for half an hour, sometimes a whole day. Knowing someone was there is relieving. Knowing everyone was there is shaming and it doesn’t make you feel any better when they’re all in your face afterwards too. Don’t be the camera crew.

2. Travelling alone is either a dream or everyday reality for a lot of people, but its a no-go for some of us. I was raised in a very overprotective household and still today, I don’t have a lot of freedom. Driving is usually one of the first bits of independence you get, but not for me. I’ve had seizures while out travelling because of the SUN. The sunlight flickering through trees, railings or bouncing off surfaces have triggered seizures in me where my family have had to pull over. The thought of being the one driving in such a scenario is terrifying to me, my loved ones and everyone else on the road. Driving is such a normalised thing for people my age that I’m embarrassed to bring up my own case unless someone specifically asks.

Then you have public transport. The sunlight issue is also here but this time, you’re with a bunch of strangers (see Point 1 again). Something my mum drilled into my head since I was younger was that if I ever got public transport by myself, then I could have a seizure and someone would film it and another person would rob me (and then you wonder why I have an anxiety disorder). I got my first bus by myself when I was 19 and for something so mundane to most people, it was like a little adventure to me. My mum didn’t approve but she complained about having to drive me everywhere too. While its fun to get the bus into town every now and then though, it becomes a bigger issue when travelling is a daily requirement and you aren’t able/allowed to drive yourself.

Free public transport doesn’t always include those with epilepsy, depending on which country you live in. What do you do when an employer asks if you can drive? What do you do if you have committments to go to and no one is around to drive or come with you? Or you need to explain why you’re going out, every single time, because someone else has to decide whether its worth the risk. Sunny roadtrips? Want to be a pilot? That last one isn’t a joke, by the way! I used to get a coach/private bus to college and if it was sunny, I’d pull the curtain over, wear my sunglasses and try to nonchalantly cover one eye to help. You can’t really get a curtain while driving your own car though and driving one-handed is not cool, its irresponsible.

3. Staying up all night talking with someone you love isn’t as romantic as we’d like it to be. All-nighters, i.e. lack of sleep, are a huge trigger for many epileptics. I wasn’t allowed to go to sleepovers with friends as a kid until I was 13, and at that sleepover I ended up having a seizure in the middle of the night after waking up to use the bathroom. Not to flex, but I had a seizure on the toilet. Where’s the weirdest place anyone else has had a seizure?. As a result of that, I was put back on medication after being told I was growing out of my seizures and had been med-free for one whole year. I’d love to stay up with a loved one and spend the night talking or watching movies, but I think a seizure would be more of a killjoy than going to bed early.

3. Unless you’re the paparazzi, camera flashes won’t give photosensitive epileptics seizures. Its a small gesture and I do appreciate it, but don’t worry - one small flash from a camera will not send my brain into override. Just don’t be taking photos from 5 different phones at the same time for more than one pic. Standing and waiting for people to take a photo all at the same time is awkward already because you don’t know who to look at, what to do with your hands, if you should change pose, smile or not, etc. Just take one flash photo and be done, or don’t use the flash at all if you don’t need to. Ring lights are a common thing now, by the way and I love them? Bye-bye camera flash!

I don’t blame anyone for having these types of concerns though. The only time you’re probably warned about flashing lights is when you’re about to watch a news report or awards show where there will be paparazzi and performances will be aired. Concerts are another thing that can be risky depending on the genre, size of the venue, whether its indoors or outdoors (if you’re like me and enjoy EDM music, you’ll have a very low chance of actually attending or watching anything live fdkslbjfdhb). Those things we avoid. But you taking a photo with a once-off flash will be okay, don’t worry. Seizures aren’t triggered by a single flash, but rather multiple flashes in a short period of time. They’re called Hertz and that shit hertz when its between 3-30 flashes per second. Also, fuck strobes, the Incredibles 2, Into The Spiderverse and any other movie that uses these for unnecessary effect.

4. Not everyone is diagnosed with epilepsy in their childhood and though some might grow out of it as they get older, not everyone will. I thought I had been growing out of it on two occasions (see point 3 again and point 9). Some people only get diagnosed with epilepsy later into their life. If you’re diagnosed while young, its easier to adjust your life because you’re growing up with it as your norm and its something you’ve just learned to live with. But for some people, they suddenly have to change their entire routine that they’ve established since they became an adult. Be sympathetic to those with epilepsy in their adult years, especially those who only got a diagnosis. Its not just a disability for children.

5. There are different types of seizures and one that’s commonly misunderstood is the partial seizure. These types of seizures have been mistaken for people being drunk or high (i.e. slurred speech, difficulty standing up or walking in a straight line, etc.), which has led them to getting kicked out of venues for something they have no control over. Swimming pools seem to be a common place for these bans, as well as gyms. Sometimes, these people are still somewhat aware they are having a seizure but cannot control them, which is really scary to think about. I don’t have them myself but I cannot imagine how frustrating they must be to not be taken seriously and instead as someone being high or intoxicated and then being punished for that. Alcohol is usually avoided as it can trigger seizures but when these seizures happen at social events, people can get the wrong idea. If you know someone who has these types of seizures, keep an eye on them if you’re out together. We’re usually only allowed one pint and hardly anyone gets that drunk after just one, so be aware that its likely they aren’t actually hammered but having a seizure instead.

6. Nobody likes being overworked but school, college, jobs and sport can very hard on us. Unless you’ve had a seizure, your teacher or boss probably won’t extend a deadline for you. The latter might even fire you. Chronic fatigue isn’t taken seriously. School is one big memory test in most countries, but for those with aura seizures, their ‘spacing out’ can affect how information they are actually taking in. Side-effects of meds can also make concentration and memory tough, and I hate how forgetful I can be because then I feel like I’m unreliable even though I push myself to give 110% anyway. Some activities like sports and physical education can be more draining than they would be for the average person, and sometimes I’d have to sit out during these activities because I felt an aura coming on after overexerting myself. I wish I could sit out having multiple assignments and group projects due in the same week, but college doesn’t work that way. I wish I could tell employers that I might not have that presentation done by the end of the day, but that wouldn’t go down too good either.

If you know someone who takes longer to complete tasks that might seem simple to you, ask yourself if you’ve ever considered they might have epilepsy or another chronic illness or disability. Don’t assume they’re lazy if they need to take an extra day or two to complete their final essay or have to stop their beep test earlier than the rest of the class. I didn’t know a good average for the beep test was 8-9, because no one ever told me. I pushed myself to 16 because I was scared people would think I was lazy and that I was dropping out to be with the other girls who agreed beforehand. I then ended up having an aura that almost slipped into a full seizure. I also almost had a seizure an hour before my religion exam in my Junior Cert at school. My mum even insisted I stay home and miss my State exam because of it. I still went though, took a bathroom break because I had another aura, and finished with an ‘A’ but had it been a different day, I might not have been so lucky. Its about knowing yourself and your limits, but we aren’t always informed that they should exist and then you end up doing stupid things like me that could hurt you. Likewise, its important to be understanding that not everyone can work at the same pace as you. It doesn’t make the quality of our work any less even if we need more time or energy to do it.

7. Side-effects aren’t always in the short-term. My own meds are advised to not be taken long-term as they weaken my bones over time. I’m 21 now and I’ve been on meds since I was 8. I wanted to reduce my dosage and eventually become med-free last year but the neurologist told me I still had brain activity and needed to stick with them. In fact, they almost ended up prescribing me more even after I had told them I was five years seizure-free. Why? See point 9. I’m lucky though because I’ve only been on one type of med. Some people can take years to find what works and their neurologists will prescribe them all sorts and leave them with awful side effects. Only last year I was chatting with a woman whose meds had caused sudden depression and fits of anger in her after she had been diagnosed and given her prescriptions. She eventually got brain surgery instead.

8. If you have a uterus and/or want to have children, do your research and a LOT of it. Birth control is usually a tough decision to make and often times, it can feel like you have no choice. Its so important to check with multiple neurologists and doctors which form of birth control is the best for you with your medication, because even the slightest new introduction to your meds box can have unpleasant side-effects. With the current medication I’m on, I can’t take the pill unless I want to increase my current dosage of meds as the pairing cancel each other and make me more vulnerable to seizures and other side-effects. I’m not pregnant and yet I have to take daily folic acid supplements because my meds cancel that out too. Every month or two, I will faint or almost faint on the first day of my period and I’m more vulnerable to having a seizure during that time. If I ever want to give birth, my children can possibly inherit my condition or be stuck taking care of me when I should be caring for them. I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.

This is not to say that people with epilepsy can’t have fulfilling sex lives or raise families. But we just do it at a greater risk that even some neurologists aren’t aware of. I had to tell my neurologist last year why I didn’t want to go on the pill because HE didn’t know it interacted negatively with my meds. I’ve known women who were prescribed the pill or meds BY A PROFESSIONAL that interacted negatively with each other and gave them seizures as a result. It takes ‘find the right method for you’ to a whole new level. If your partner has epilepsy, its so important to discuss birth control and take their condition into consideration. I hear men telling their girlfriends to go on the pill so that they don’t have to use a condom, which is really selfish for a start and also disregards other forms of birth control. Do your research but let them and their own trusted neurologist decide which form is best. You should still be using a condom to protect yourselves anyway! And if you and your epileptic partner decide you would like to have children, do the same process and make sure that they are in a safe position to do so.

9. *TW: DEATH* Threatening (even ‘jokingly’) to trigger a seizure in someone is playing with that person’s life. SUDEP (Sudden Unexpected Death in Epilepsy) affects roughly 1 in 1000 people each year. Even if that person doesn’t die after their seizure, you may have just broken a record they set for days, months or YEARS without a seizure. You just revoked their driving license and they weren’t even behind a wheel. You just prescribed them new doses of medication without any years of medical school.

Growing up, I had countless incidences where classmates would joke about making me have a seizure. If the teacher left the room for anything, the first thing they would do is run up to the lightswitch and fuck around with it. In secondary school, I stopped using the bathroom at lunch because one of the girls thought it was funny to deliberately flick the lights on and off anytime I was inside. She would snicker and call out to me while I was in the stall, asking if it could make me have a seizure. Even after saying yes, she continued to do it. If I did end up having a seizure in that bathroom, god knows what could have happened. I had a seizure in a bathroom before and was lucky I only hurt my jaw as my head slammed against the wall. Others aren’t so lucky. Injuries from seizures can be brutal, just like OP said. Yeah, you might not kill them by triggering a seizure, but what injuries do they have to deal with after?

Imagine playing a game for years and you spent ages collecting all the items, defeating every boss and proudly showing off the trophies you won. Now imagine someone suddenly pulls the cord as you’re playing; your game freezes, the screen shuts to black and when you try to frantically start it up again and see where you had remembered to last save, it says your data is corrupted and deletes everything without your permission. It doesn’t matter where or when you saved. You have to start your progress all over again. You can try memorise the strategies from before but the game switches things up and suddenly you’re hit with a difficulty spike out of nowhere. The person who joked around and pulled the plug doesn’t have to do anything. And if they wanted to, they could do the same thing again and again. Don’t be that person. Be their Player 2 and help them. If they need to go into a dungeon but they’re scared to be alone, offer to cover their back. If their health is low, find them a safe spot and let them heal. The same goes for appointments and seizures. Its not a multiplayer game by default and while they can power through solo, that doesn’t mean they don’t need help if they’re ever stuck.

10. To end on a more positive note, there are lots of successful people out who have/had epilepsy and you probably never even knew. Cameron Boyce’s passing brought attention to SUDEP and celebrities with epilepsy but did you also know about these people and their own cases and seizures?

Prince

Elton John

Lewis Carroll

Danny Glover

Lil Wayne

Neil Young

Hugo Weaving

Charles Dickens

Julius Caesar

Vincent Van Gogh

Theodore Roosevelt

Adam Horovitz

Susan Boyle

Rick Harrison (the Pawn Stars guy!)

And some who are not confirmed (due to medical practices of the time) but are suggested as a result of numerous seizures:

Leonardo da Vinci

Michelangelo

Edgar Allen Poe

Agatha Christie

Socrates

Napoleon Bonaparte

Aristotle

Alexander the Great

Epileptics are humans, normal people just like you. And like you, they’re capable of great things too. If you think about making a crude comment to someone with epilepsy, think about these people and ask yourself if you would say the same things to them. 

If you read all of this, comment with a ⭐️ and please reblog to spread awareness. Whenever we talk about epilepsy, we start and stop the conversation at seizures. Its good to bring awareness to the other things too because its something that affects every part of our lives. Its an invisible disability but that doesn’t mean we are hidden from the disability community and discussion!

[zankivich]

The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 5

Hiya! This is the chapter when we get to figure out a little more of why Shawn is the way that he is. I’m not interested in villains for villains sake; I’m interested in complex characters in need of healing and kindness and also to maybe fight for themselves a little bit. I think this is gonna get very interesting if the thoughts in my head are anything to go off of. Also I try not to bug y’all too often but I am very very poor at the moment so if you did want to buy me a Kofi right here. That would be life changing. Ya girl got bills. K bye. 

WARNINGS: sex without a condom (gotta wrap it up folks), a mini panic attack w/o much description, and just some general softness. 

*Shawn’s point of view*

He’s in the studio. It’s his happy place. He remembered being eight years old, just barely big enough to climb into the seat, but finding something magical about the sound board. His nanny used to pick him up from school and he would beg her to take him to where his dad was working. They only started letting him go once they realized he’d stop throwing temper tantrums. He thrived there. He listened quietly and he learned about how to track vocals, how to create rhythms and what actual sound waves could look like for a vocal. And then he was thirteen, and his dad brought this guy in.

He was in baggy jeans and a green sweatshirt. His guitar had a plus sign on it, and there were scratches against the body where he’d strummed too hard. The sound guy told him his name was Ed Sheeran. He was there to sing for his dad. That day changed his life forever.

He went from playing soccer every day after school, to playing guitar and creating covers. His dad happily put him in the guitar lessons and the piano lessons and the vocal lessons. It was the outlet he never knew he needed, but couldn’t live without. Shawn was always thoroughly convinced he hadn’t been destined for much. Was never smart in school, never particularly passionate about anything either. And since the day he was born, all he knew was that his dad was powerful and his dad had money, and that meant one day he would have the same. Not because of who he was or what he accomplished, but because of who his dad was. Music changed that for him.

“Hey, pull back on the reverb?” He suggested to the producer. “It’s clouding the vocal. Trust me.”

There’s a guy in the booth. His dad’s new golden star. Niall Horan. His first album had done twice the numbers they anticipated, and so after a North American tour to test the waters he quickly pulled him in to try and do it again. That’s why Shawn was there of course. To oversee the creative vision, and “provide feedback”. What it really meant was, his dad knew he could determine what was good and what was bad, so why waste his time when he could have Shawn do it. As far as his dad was concerned, he should feel lucky that he was even allowed to be a part of the process.

“Aye, this is just isn’t feeling right. I’m coming out.” Niall said from the booth in his thick irish accent.

There’s a room of writers, but it’s actually pretty organic in comparison to some of the other artists under his dad’s belt. Two of them are friends of Horan’s from home, who had followed him along for the ride. He plops down on one of the couches and reaches for a guitar. His fingers pluck absently at the strings and Shawn can’t help but glance over there instead of filling out whatever dumbass report his dad was asking him to fill out. There’s a redheaded woman on the couch who started playing alongside him. Another guy uses his lap as drums, and they just start jamming with each other.

It’s electric. It’s that thing that made his stomach lurch like he was at the top of a rollercoaster. It’s what left him more at home in his own skin than anything else ever could. The energy in the room actually shifts. He swears he can feel the music. Like actually feel every strum in his fingertips as if its his hands on the guitar. It’s authentic and real and they’re just playing for fun.

But, somewhere in there he remembers that this is all he’ll ever get. Just watching from the sidelines while everyone else gets to play. It breaks his heart. It makes him sick to his stomach. So sick that he leaves abruptly in the middle of the session crashing outside and choking desperately for air. This is what he got. A noose that always felt too tight, with the hope every day that he just might get the chance to breathe. This was it for him.

***

*Y/n’s point of view*

Shawn: I need you.

y/n: That’s gonna be a little difficult. I’m in Miami, remember? First show of the tour for Grande.

Shawn: Well when are you coming back?

y/n: I’m staying through the first week of shows to make sure all the kinks get worked out. No pun intended.

Shawn: I don’t think I can wait that long.

You were walking past the merch booth getting set up and stopped to chat with some of the people working it. You had a lot of respect for merch booth people, depending on the show--and the pop shows were always the worst--shit could get hectic and fast. They deserved tons more respect than they got, and you were happy to show them some.

You peered down at your phone and read Shawn’s text over again. It felt a little off, even for him. You had gone stretches of time without hooking up before. There were times where he needed to be in LA while you stayed behind in New York, times where you had one show in one city, while he had one in another. It hadn’t been a problem before. You always just found time when the two of you available, and went from there. Shawn hadn’t ever pushed it further than that before.

y/n: everything alright?

Shawn: my dad is satan

y/n: well retweet sis! We been knew that.

y/n: Sorry. I wish I could be there to relieve the stress. If you wanna hop on a flight and meet me in Miami feel free lol

You head for the sound check, checking in to make sure that that stage was being set up, so that  meet and greet could go off without a hitch later. You nearly trip over one of Ariana’s dogs and die, but other than that it’s fine. There’s hours and hours of labor that have to go into a show before the doors ever open, before those kids every step inside to see their idol get up on the stage. It’s your job, along with a host of other incredibly talented and hard working people, to make sure that those hours seamingly don’t even exist. You don’t mind it. Back in the early days you used to go on whole tours to make sure your artists were taken care of. It wasn’t until you turned thirty that you realized slowing down a little bit was in everyone’s best interest.

When you’re not needed you set up in an office space to answer emails and check in with the office. The afternoon passes quickly, and before you know doors are opening up, and the kids begin to pile in. You’re backstage making sure the band and Ariana are good to go, when the tour manager comes up to you looking panicked and confused the way he always did.

“Hey, y/n! Sorry to bother you, but can I borrow you for a second?”

You clap hands with Ariana wishing her luck she won’t need before heading off with Mike.

“What’s up, Mike? Everything okay?”

He nodded. “Yea! It’s just that I got a call from the head of security at the back of the venue, and there’s a guest for you who doesn’t have a pass.”

“A guest for me? I don’t have any guests tonight. Did they catch a name?”

“It’s uh...It’s Manny Mendes’ kid? Shawn?”

“What?!”

Mike winced. “He uh, he told them you personally invited him. Guy must be charming, or they probably would’ve turned him away.”

Charming, your black ass. He was a nuisance is what he was.

“I didn’t personally invite him anywhere! Take me to this dumbass, please.” You groaned in frustration.

The whole walk there you’re just trying to figure out how the hell he managed to get here that fast! Who takes a back handed joke, and then actually follows through it? Shawn fucking Mendes. This man was going to be a thorn in your side for the foreseeable future. God, was he lucky his dick was big.

Sure enough, at the back of the venue at one of the stage doors, Shawn is sitting there with a couple of security guards. His hands rest easily in his pockets, and he’s telling them a fucking joke that has them laughing their asses off. Where was the justice?!

“Hey. Took you long enough.” He chuckled reaching for a duffle bag at his feet.

What was he moving in?

“Shawn what in the hell are you doing here?”

He stared at you incredulously. “You told me to come!”

“I was kidding! How in the hell did you get here that fast anyway?”

“Honey, we have a private jet. Surely that’s not surprising to you. What are you gonna turn me away at the door right now?”

Mike is still staring at you with nothing but confusion on his face. He probably had no idea you even knew Shawn Mendes, let alone enough to accidentally invite him to Miami. This was bad. This was bad, bad, bad.

Your gritted your teeth. “He is very unfortunately with me. Mike give him a pass.”

“Are you sure th--”

“Mike just given him the damn pass.” You sighed turning on your heel to disappear back inside.

Shawn keeps up with you easily with his obnoxiously long legs. Mike power walks behind the two of you ear piece and ipad still blaring.

“Mike you can run along before curtain call. I’ve got things here.”

It’s not an option. It’s a directive, and he quickly follows it leaving you alone with your headache of the day.

“You really call the shots around here, aye?”

“Little bit. Follow me.”

You lead him to the little office space you have in one of the green rooms, and quickly close the door before more people find out that the two of you are together. He takes a seat on one of the couches like he belongs. You want to pull your hair out.

“What in the hell Shawn?” You groaned. “We have rules. Very specific rules.”

“I know. Look, I know! But you offered, okay? And I couldn’t...I wasn’t gonna wait a week. I need this. I need you.”

That certainly was a little more honest than the two of you typically got with each other.

You paused to take a better look at him, and it isn’t the prettiest sight. The smile and witty laughter from outside was a thin facade to the bags beneath his eyes and the frown that’s evident now. He looks a little pale, like paler than usual, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say he hadn’t been sleeping well. You did know better. In fact you were starting to realize that maybe you knew him a little better than you gave yourself credit for.

You took a seat on the table in front of him, your legs knocking together in the small amount of space between you.

“What’s going on? And don’t say it’s just cause you’re stressed.”

He peered up at you, his fingers tapping anxiously against his thighs.

“Since when do you care? That’s not exactly within the parameters of our relationship now is it?”

You rolled your eyes. “Not all of us go through life only living based off of what we can take from others. I know it’s a wild concept to you, but some of us? Some of us can actually be decent human beings.”

“Great so I’m a piece of shit and you’re a saint, is that it?”

“Why are you trying to fight with me? Don’t be a child; stop deflecting. Just tell me what the hell is wrong, and maybe we can fix it.”

“You can’t fix it, y/n. I’m stuck. I’m always going to be stuck okay? There is no fixing me.”

He looked exhausted. And it wasn’t the hard day at work exhausted either. This looked bone deep in him. You couldn’t tell if this was something you’d just never noticed, or if he was letting down a wall for you to see behind for the first time. Whatever it was, you didn’t like it. There wasn’t time to work through why that was, or what it meant for you to care enough to want to fix it. You just knew that you didn’t like it. That’s all that mattered.

You reached forward, your fingers pushing at his knees to make more room for you to straddle his lap. His hands immediately came up to rest on your ass, and you slid your hand over his heart. It was beating like crazy. He just needed to slow down. He needed you to help him slow down. When you kissed, his fingers dug a little more deeply into the flesh of your ass. He groaned softly against your mouth and pulled you closer. It wasn’t necessarily that you didn’t kiss at all in the time that you spent together. Shawn had no problem dominating your mouth. It just so happened that in a relationship built on dominating your body there were a lot of other things you could be doing than kissing.

His lips were still heavenly though. He knew how to tug at your jaw, how to pull you in closer and run his tongue perfectly along the roof of your mouth. It was as intoxicating as all the other things he seemed to be able to do with his body. Only instead of quickly moving to the next phase the way that he usually would, he kept you there a while longer. His lips moved against yours and your arms wrapped tight around him. You could feel his shoulders release beneath your touch, could feel his hands relax against your ass. By the time he flips you to lay your body down against the couch, fingers already tugging to get his jeans down his thighs, your lips are buzzing, and you feel kind of lightheaded. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Tell me what you need.” You whispered against his lips. “Tell me how to please you.”

“Need to be in you. Right now.” He muttered reaching beneath your skirt.

His fingers found their way between the fabric of your underwear, gently nudging between your folds where you were already wet. He tugged the thing band down off of your legs and tucked them into his jean pocket.

He groaned softly plunging his middle finger inside. “You’re always wet for me. Know exactly how to be good for me.”

He curved up and to the right, rubbing quickly against your walls to get you where you needed to go. This wasn’t about foreplay. This wasn’t a scene. There was no plan here. It was frantic and a little messy. But you liked it. You liked it more than you knew what to do with.

“Are you my good girl?” He panted jerking his finger up and down to touch the thing inside of you that made you thrash.

“Yes. Yes, I am. Please, Shawn. Please?”

“The faster you cum, the faster I can get inside this pussy.”

His bicep tensed and his breath came out in harsh pants against the side of your neck. His fingers won’t stop, won’t let up, and your body gives him exactly the reaction he wants every single time. It’s like magnets. Like he knows exactly how to touch you to make you scream. And you do. Always.

His thumb rubs circles on your clit and your body practically melts. Your back arches and your moans get higher as your orgasm hits. Not one to ever be outdone unless it’s by himself, Shawn withdrew his fingers and immediately pushed his way inside of you. The stretch alone in conjunction with the weight of him pressing you down into the couch was enough to heighten your orgasm to a place it’d never been before.

“You’re so fucking tight, shit y/n.”

“I can’t fucking breathe--Shit! it’s so good!”

The arm of the couch provides a kind of leverage you couldn’t get if you prayed for it, and Shawn’s taking full advantage. There’s something different in the way that he handles you. He’s a little more desperate than you’re used to. His hips are less skilled precision and more broken lunges. But you love it just the same. Push your hips up against him chasing something similar, chasing a high that will take you both straight off that cliff together.

“I love being inside you.” He whimpered against your chest. “Nothing feels like you. Wanna give it to you so good.”

“You do. You fucking do.”

His teeth sink into the flesh of your shoulder and it drives you up a fucking wall. You dig desperately into the couch with your heels and cry out for him. It’s fast and dirty and not at all like what you’re used to. It’s just him, just him in all your senses. And you just wanted to give that back to him tenfold.

“Want you to cum for me again. Want you to come while I shoot my load in your pussy.”

“O--Okay. Okay I’ll cum, just please keep fucking me just like that. Please, just like that”

He pushes himself up onto his knees and moves your thigh up so that your knee is pressed against the arm of the couch. His dick doesn’t even make sense at this point. It’s like amnesia. Dick amnesia. But, he does this thing where he twists his hips every time he pushes his way back into you, and it makes you cum like a waterfall. And the second you’re cumming, his thrusts deteriorate into quick, rugged slaps against your sex. When he peaks, it’s euphoria for you both. Absolute Euphoria.

For a while neither of you move except for the pounding of your hearts in unison with one another. You can’t feel your toes, and it’s so sensitive to feel him inside you in this way. It’s not just good sex it’s a feeling that he gives you in wide abundance. You feel complete with him on top of you. Sated and fulfilled and taken care of.

“Wow.” He chuckled leaning down to kiss you roughly. “That was incredible.”

You giggled. “Yea. We’re good at that. Real good.”

He slides off your body and disappears into the bathroom for a few minutes. He comes back with some damp paper towels and cleans tenderly between your legs.

“It’s not my egytpian cotton, but it gets the job done.” He chuckled.

He already looks entirely different. There’s color in his cheeks and his eyes have that obnoxious sparkle shit that they do. You like him a lot better when he looks this way. And there’s a part of you that feels a sense of pride at being able to bring that out of him.

“Thank you, kind of.” You snorted softly.

You fix your skirt while he pulls his jeans back up. You can’t help but notice you managed to yank the neck of his t-shirt horribly out of place somewhere in the midst of your climax. The least you can do is grab him one of the merch shirts. It hits him in the face when you toss it, but that’s at least a few more seconds you have to calm the hell down.

“What’s this?”

“Figured we didn’t want people asking questions. Put it on, I’m sure there’s still some more of Ari’s set left.”

His eyes widened a little and he stared back at the t-shirt before looking back up at you.

“You want me to stay?”

It’s your turn for your eyes to widen and for the ground to become more interesting.

“You don’t have to obviously. You got what you came for. Ari, just puts on a really good show.” You mumbled.

“No I--I’d love to see the show. Haven’t seen her since Coachella.”

He changed quickly out of his t-shirt, sliding on a God Is A Woman shirt instead. The outfit change is a good one in your estimation.

“Great now give me my underwear back.” You murmured resituating your lanyard that got you in everywhere around your neck.

“Oh. Yea, no.”

You looked up at him and there he was leaning against the same part of the couch that he’d rammed you again not ten minutes ago. His long legs crossed in a similar fashion to his arms across his chest. That confidence was just obviously roaring in his system all over again. He was back, just like that.

“Excuse me?” You asked, eyebrow raised and pointed.

“I’m gonna keep them. Kinda want you to think about the fact that you won’t have any panties on all night, and I’ll be the only one who knows. Every time you have to yell at someone to do their job right, every time someone from the crowd bumps into you, it’ll just be you and I who know that you’re my good little girl. So I’m gonna keep them until I’m ready to give them back to you.”

And just what in the fuck does someone do with a speech like that?

“Yea….okay.”

You leave the greenroom behind in the hopes that no one will be able to tell what was done in there that night. Instinctively you reach for his hand and tug him along behind you to get the pits. It’s a sold out show, so there’s definitely a hell of a lot of people there, but you make it work nonetheless. With only the first half of the show missed anyway there’s still plenty of talent left for him to see.

At first you thought that you needed him to see what you were capable of. Ariana was all talent, all vocals, and iconicism, and magic. But, it was you that brought it all together, you who coordinated every little piece to make sure it all ran together without problem. Before you met Shawn, before ever deciding to do the little arrangement he schemed for the both of you, there had been a need to prove yourself. It came with the territory as a woman, let alone as a Black woman in a white male dominated industry.

Something happens in the middle of the show though, when the moon hangs from the ceiling, and her voice is belting out through the whole arena. You peer up at him watching the show, and there’s no ego to be had. It’s not like when other music execs come to visit shows, and they're just looking for a way to upstage you. He’s just there. Enjoying every note and letting the vibe of the crowd fill him in that way that you loved and cherished about live shows. It’s the first time outside of the bedroom that he eases the tension for you, that he gives you a sort of metaphorical pat on the back to say, “you don’t need to stand tall. Put that away for right now.”

You take a deep breath and let your head rest against his shoulder before there’s even room to think about it. Before you lose the moment, before the tension finds a way to ease back into your body, he wraps his arms around your waist from behind. Ariana keeps singing. The crowd keeps screaming. And he doesn’t let up until the lights come back on.

***

“Where are you staying tonight?” You asked, trying to pay attention to the break down of the venue happening around you.

“Wherever you’re staying I guess.”

You peered over at the way that he was leaning against one of the barricades, still dressed in his God Is A Woman shirt, with a smirk upon his lips.

“So fucking cocky, all the time.” You snorted. “I’ve got a lot of work left to do here. I’m always the last to leave from a show.”

“That’s fine. You want me to head up to the hotel, or should I wait behind for you?”

“You’re really staying huh?”

“Told my dad I’m doing research. I think he’s found a new intern to screw, so he’s not really checking in at the moment. I could use a little vacation.” He hummed. “You want me to go?”

You bit your lip and ran your fingers over your waist where his hands had touched. It was dangerous letting him in like this. You knew it. You had to know it.

“No I don’t want you to go.”

He smiled softly. “Guess I’m not going, then.”

“Guess not.”

“Besides if I left?” He murmured stepping forward to cup your hip intimately. “When would you ever get your thong back?”

Bastard.

It’s well past one in the morning before you get to leave. Your feet hurt and you really need a shower and the hotel can’t come fast enough. There’s a car around back waiting for you, and Shawn trails right along side you with his louis vuitton duffle bag that again just reeks of unnecessary indulgence, but you let him have it this time. The soft leather seats of the BMW and the gentle shake of the car is enough to lull you towards sleep. You were the queen of sleeping on cars. Touring life was perfect for you. What you weren’t used to was having someone beside you too as you made yourself comfortable.

“Are you falling asleep right now?” Shawn chuckled.

“I’m just resting my eyes.” you mumbled heading leaning back against the headrest, eyes closed. “Don’t worry, I’ll be plenty well rested for sex later.”

“Yea...Okay.”

*thirty minutes later*

“Honey, wake up.”

“Mmmm...No.”

“No?”

“No. I’m comfy, Ti. Leave me alone.” You whined snuggling deeper into her shoulder.

“As much as I have a feeling Tianna could kick my ass, I don’t think our biceps quite look alike. I am definitely not Ti.”

Your eyes popped open in shock alerting you to the fact that you wrapped your whole fucking body around this man’s arm and he had done nothing to stop you. The gal! The injustice!

“What are you doing? Why did you let me do that?” You gasped detangling yourself from his grasp.

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t ‘let’ you do anything. Your body tends to have a mind of its own. Apparently even in slumber. We’re here though, princess.”

Sure enough the hotel is there staring back at you from the window. You had really fallen asleep. And he had let you.

“Shit. Okay. Let’s go.”

The hotel room is neat and pristine. You won’t be there nearly long enough to do any damage to it. Shawn places his duffle next to yours and starts his routine that he always does at night. His watch comes off. The bracelet. The rings. And it is insane the effect that it has on your body. Your spine straightens. And he turns to look at you over his shoulder, curls extra fluffy without any product in it, and it just runs through your body like a fucking current.

He makes his way over to you and his fingers skim your chin like it’s fine. Like he’s not shirtless in front of you with a six pack and perfect wisps of chest hair. You kind of wanna ask him if the women he sleeps with ever don’t want to get undressed in front of him, but then a yawn leaves your lips and that thought gets left far behind, along with the moment.

He smiled at you softly and tapped your cheek.

“Look you’re exhausted. Why don’t we just wait for the morning. It’s no big deal.”

You wrapped your hand around his wrist to keep him with you.

“It’s fine. I swear.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s really not. Let’s go to bed.”

“Shawn--”

“I said consent at all times didn’t I?” He interrupted. “You’re too tired to consent. We’re not doing it.”

Too tired to consent. That was certainly a new one.

But the way that he settled himself into his side of the bed told you negotiation wasn’t an option. And you were fucking exhausted. So, you crawled beneath the blankets and let your body relax for only the second time that night. How odd for it to be that both of those times were because of Shawn? And what the hell did that mean?

His scent was in your sheets. It was on your skin and in your nose. He was there. This all consuming force that just seemed to fill the space around him infinitely. To the point where you barely felt like you fit in the bed beside him. And yet he sometimes looked so small that you wondered how he could ever fill any space at all. You couldn’t ignore the look on his face in the green room. The exhaustion. The smallness. What was up with that? And why were you thinking of him so damn much anyway?

“You’ve gotta shut your mind down to actually fall asleep.” Shawn mumbled from somewhere in the dark.

You rolled your eyes. “Thank you for mansplaining sleep to me.”

“I’m not--just...Look, what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing. What makes you think there’s something on my mind?” You asked defensively.

“I just can hear you fucking thinking from all the other way over here. Why do you have to be so stubborn all the time?”

“I’m not stubborn!”

You had one of those out of body experiences where you actually hear yourself speak, and it subsequently proved his point. Rude.

“It’s genetic.” You murmured softly. “Sorry. I guess I uh I’m just not used to having someone else sleep in bed with me.”

“Well thank you. We fall asleep after fucking most times though?”

“Yes well there’s a difference between being fucked into a coma and just lying beside the person.”

He took a deep breath. “Do you want me to leave? I can just go get another room.”

“No it’s fine! It’s fine. I swear. I’m just...adjusting.”

“Fine. You...adjust, then. I’ll try not to breathe too much and disturb you.”

It was a long night.

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

The sun fills the room and it’s a complete and utter nuisance to him. Too early. Too bright. Too not cuddly. So he snuggles his face back into the warmth and ignores it for a little while longer. It’s the most well rested he’s felt in months. So well rested that he doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to be without this warmth that he’s never felt before. And why would he? Why would he ever want to leave this?

He opens his eyes and all that he sees in brown. Cocoa brown with deep red undertones that light up beneath the sunrays. It’s the first time he’s ever woken up before her, her mental clock seeming to always pull her out of bed before his dick is even awake let alone his mind. The fact that she’s asleep is a miracle within itself. The fact that he gets to look at her while she does it feels like maybe a little extra miracle on the side.

There’s a freckle on the divet in the small of her back that he’s never noticed before. Her bonnet to cover her hair is the same color as her nails and there’s a part of him that needs to know if it was a conscious decision or not. Knowing y/n, it could go either way. The covers had slid down her back and he’d wrapped himself around her at some point in the night. And it was somehow the best night sleep he’d had in so long. No sex. No ropes. No lube. Just sleep.

He wasn’t dumb. Something was different. Something had been different from the very beginning. His hooks up didn’t sleep over. He didn’t fly to anyone, ever. Hell, he didn’t even drive to anyone. Uber was practically part of his foreplay in life.  How the fuck did he end up in miami grabing her waist while Ariana Grande scerenaded them by fucking moonlight? He didn’t do this. He didn’t grab hips if he wasn’t fucking. He didn’t tell a woman he’d rather sleep then have sex with them. He needed to end this. And fast.

However . . . she was still asleep. And the sun was still just coming up. So what was really the harm in lying there a little longer? He pressed his arm back over her waist, thumb rubbing smoothly into the skin of her tummy. He’d get up in just a minute, would end it in just a minute. For sure.

*three days later*

“I will be back in less than a week.” She says.

“It will be over in no time.” She says.

“Stop fucking biting my thighs while I’m answering work emails!” She says.

After a break full of rushing her off to different rooms with locks on them in the venues so he could get his head between her thighs, it was finally over. His dad had finally called to ask why the hell his new Director of Talent Management was nowhere to be fucking found. It was time for him to leave, which meant days before he would see her again. Which was fine. Totally fine.

“So hear me out,” He argued as they drove to the final venue, he’d get to see her out. “I just think maybe Tianna should be taking me into account when she’s making your schedule. That’s all.”

She snorted. “I am not going to ask that woman to schedule dick appointments for you.”

“They’re not for just me! I’m thinking of you here too. Had I not taken off from my busy schedule to come to Miami, you might have actually combusted.”

“Women can go longer than twelve hours without sex Shawn. It’s yall who act like the world will explode if somebody doesn’t touch your dick for two seconds.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “I’m just saying it might be nice to know that you’re gonna be gone for weeks on end, ya know?”

She peered over at him from her phone where she’d been working away. She seemed to work harder and longer than anyone he’d ever met. Even more than his dad, which is explained why he couldn’t stand her.

“You could always...hook up with someone else while I’m away.” She said.

Her eyes are curious, watchful. There’s something behind the question that she’s asking, but he doesn’t know that on account of him being stupid. All he knew was that women didn’t just offer up the opportunity to sleep with other people. Even his past hook ups grew easily attached. It was his main reason for never repeating. Who was this woman?

“What makes you think I’m not, already?” He asked trying to match her eye contact.

She bit her lip. “The fact that you’re here right now.”

“Are you...hooking up with other people?”

“What if I was?”

He broke his gaze, not having it in him to keep staring at her. She was definitely stronger than him there.

“Whatever. Wouldn’t matter. ‘Snot like we’re together.”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

“Yea, exactly.”

The rest of the ride is silent. She was getting dropped off at her venue to continue on with Ariana through the rest of the week. He was heading back for NYC to get back to work. It would be a few more days before she flew back home. But, that was alright. He could wholeheartedly find other things to fill out his day. He didn’t need her at all.

The car pulls up to the arena and she pauses before she exits the car. She looks back at him like she’s waiting for something, like she expects him to say anything else. He doesn’t know what to say, just completely goes blank under her stare. She smiles at him.

“Goodbye, Shawn.”

“Bye, y/n.”

***

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[badchoicesposts]

Loyalty Or Royalty

Chapter 2

Summary: Mia Bhatt spent years trying to escape her past, trying to escape the feeling of betrayal that was left in her heart after the fire, and she finally had. She was marrying the King of Cordonia and was finally going to get her happily ever after. But, after a momentary lapse in judgement caused her to send a wedding invitation to someone she was sure had forgotten about her, she realizes that sometimes the past has a way of crawling back to you.

Author’s Note: In this fic Anton and The Sons of Earth were caught before the wedding. Also this story will contain flashbacks that will be in italics.

Pairing: Liam x MC (Mia Bhatt), Platonic!Colt x MC, MC x The Mercy Park Crew

TRIGGER WARNING: VERY BRIEF MENTION OF PARENTAL ABUSE

Taglist: @flowerpowell​​, @dcbbw​​, @texaskitten30​​, @kingliam2019​, @hopefulmoonobject​, @lovehugsandcandy​, @los-cafeteros​​, @desiree-0816​, @lovemychoices​

Prologue, Chapter 1

Mia watched with a smile as Colt blew out the seven candles on his birthday cake. He was only two years older than her, and she didn’t understand what the big deal was but she knew that as soon as his parents left the two of them alone, he would be teasing her for still being five while he was seven. It was a small celebration, with just the two of them and both of Colt’s parents, and although they were doing their best to fake smiles, both children could feel the tension in the room as Teppei and Annya shared subtle glares.

Annya rose to help Colt cut the cake, guiding his hand and portioning out two pieces for both children, leaving them alone to enjoy the chocolate dessert. Annya exited the room to place the knife in the kitchen sink, and Teppei followed soon after her, the sound of a whispered argument making their way out to where both kids were sitting.

“They’re always fighting,” Colt sulked, picking at his cake unhappily. 

“At least your dad doesn’t hit you and your mom when they argue,” Mia said, having been no stranger to unhappy parents. 

Even at such a young age, she knew it wasn’t right, and she couldn’t help but wonder why her mom didn’t do anything to stop it. She supposed it was because after her dad did it, he would always apologize and buy the two of them flowers.

“I know what would make me feel better,” Colt said, a mischievous smile breaking out over his face. 

Mia was just about to ask him what he was talking about when she gasped at the feeling of cold chocolate frosting on her face. 

“That’s not nice!” she exclaimed.

However, Colt could tell that she wasn’t actually angry because of the wide smile she had on her face as she reached over to grab her own piece of cake. She pushed it into his face and giggled softly at the angry scowl that she could see through the clumps of brown cake and frosting on his face. The two continued to throw cake at each other, laughing uncontrollably until Annya’s scandalized gasp caused them to stop. Even as she ushered the two of them into the bathroom to get cleaned up and tucked them into Colt’s bed for the night, they continued to laugh quietly to themselves. 

~~~

“We’re going to the reception in an actual horse drawn carriage?” Mia asked, a small laugh escaping her lips as Liam helped her into the vehicle. 

“It seemed appropriate,” Liam responded, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her into his side.

“Have I told you that I loved you recently? Because I really do,” she said, nuzzling her face into the side of his neck. 

Liam let out an uncomfortable sigh, causing Mia to pull away. 

“What is it?”

“I... I hope you still feel that way in a few minutes,” he mumbled, squeezing her hand gently.

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked with an amused smile.

“I may have asked the staff to change around the seating arrangements so that Colt and Ellie could sit with the rest of us at dinner,” he said nervously. 

Mia immediately moved away from him.

“What? Why? Why would you do that?” she asked.

“Because I can see how much you care about him. He should be there to properly celebrate with us, and I figured it would give you two a chance to talk,” Liam tried reasoning with her.

“Liam, this is our wedding reception not a therapy session,” she argued.

“I know,” he said, reaching over to grab her hand. “I just thought that it would be a good chance to just enjoy each other’s company instead of fighting.”

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you shouldn’t have,” she said, just as the carriage pulled up to the reception venue.

Liam helped her out of the carriage, and the two entered, the sound of cheers meeting their ears. They made their obligatory rounds around the room before settling in for dinner. Mia shot a glare in Liam’s direction as she sat at the largest table in the room, which was actually two tables pushed together to form one large enough for them and all of their friends and family. She wasn’t shocked at all to see that she was seated directly across from Colt and reminded herself not to roll her eyes in front of the entire court. 

“So, Mia, are you going to introduce us to your friends?” Leo asked, causing her to share an uncomfortable look with the rest of the crew. 

“Right, um, everyone this is Colt and Ellie. Colt, this is Leo, Maxwell, Hana, Olivia, and Liam’s stepmother Regina. And you already know Drake and obviously Liam,” she said making the awkward introduction as the first course was served. 

Everyone else already knew each other because the rest of the crew had arrived a few days before the wedding. 

“Well, it’s an honor to meet you, Colt. I can tell you’re obviously someone who means a great deal to Mia,” Liam said kindly.

“Someone who used to,” Mia muttered under her breath, although everyone heard her. 

She grabbed her wine glass and downed it all in one go, and one of the servers quickly stepped forward to get her a refill. She saw Colt raise his brows in surprise at the action, but he didn’t comment. Liam cleared his throat uncomfortably and rested his hand on Mia’s thigh in a reassuring manner. 

“So, Colt, what do you do for a living?” Liam tried again, to which Mia let out a loud laugh. 

“Yes, Colt, what do you do for a living?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. 

She watched as Colt’s jaw clenched ever so slightly and his grip on his fork tightened. 

“I, uh, I’m in between jobs right now. But, my last job was… as a mechanic,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Do you live in New York as well?” Liam asked. 

“You know, Li, that’s a great question!” Mia exclaimed, turning to Colt and giving him her full attention. She raised her eyebrows at him expectantly as she waited for him to answer the question. 

“I’ve spent the last few years moving around a lot,” Colt answered, and Mia saw Ellie give him a nervous look. 

“Moving around where exactly?” Mia asked. 

“A lot of places,” he said, meeting her gaze head on.

“Like where?” she asked more insistently. 

“It’s not important,” Colt responded. 

“Mia, maybe we shouldn’t-” Logan tried to interrupt.

However, at this point, Mia was too far gone to stop. She held her hand up to silence him and kept her eyes locked onto Colt’s. 

“Where have you been, Colt? Where have you been for the past seven years?” she exclaimed, everyone going silent around her. 

“Look, Mellie,” Colt began, letting out a tired sigh.

“No! Don’t take that tone. Don’t act like me wanting to know is some kind of inconvenience to you or like I’m being unreasonable!” she whisper yelled across the table to keep from drawing attention from the tables around them. “And you don’t get to call me ‘Mellie’ anymore!”

He was always the only person that called her that and hearing him say it now only added to her irritation. It had originally started because he had trouble saying “Amelia” when he was a kid, and it just stuck, even when everyone else around her started calling her “Mia”.

“You think I left because I wanted to?” he asked, dropping his fork and leaning in towards her from across the table. “I left because I had to!”

“Yeah, Colt I know. I understand that just fine. I understood that when the cops came looking for me to get information on you and your father. I understood that when everyone else left too. But, you see the difference with them is that they had enough common sense to get in contact with me. They had enough common sense to let me know that they were okay. They had enough common sense to let me know that they were still alive!” she said angrily, finally letting all of her hurt and anger out. 

“I’m sorry, Mellie,” Colt whispered, his voice just as pained as hers. “I couldn’t risk it.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough!”

“Mia, please. He didn’t stay away because he wanted to. You should have seen how much it hurt him not to-” Ellie began to say.

She stopped though when she noticed the murderous look on Mia’s face. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You kept in contact with her?” she gasped out, the guilty look on Colt’s face answering her question. “Go to hell, Colt!” 

“Are you really jealous right now?” he asked, his voice almost amused. 

This only served to make her even more angry. She was angry that he could even find it in himself to think of any of this as funny when she felt like she was falling apart. 

“Yes! I am! You were always the only constant that I had in my life. You were the only person I ever fully trusted, the only person I ever felt safe with. You were the only person I had left after that fire, and you up and left in the middle of the night with no warning. You didn’t even say goodbye. Do you know how much that broke me? Do you know how much sleep I lost wondering if you were okay or if you were in jail or if you were lying dead in some back alley? Do you know how long I waited to hear back from you? How long your mother did? And trust me I know how ridiculously co dependent this all sounds, but it’s still the truth. But, instead of getting in contact with the only two people who would have done anything to hear from you, you reached out to some girl that you knew for four months. Of course I’m jealous! I thought I meant more to you than that!”

She pushed herself out of her chair and stormed out of the ballroom. She could hear footsteps running behind her, but she kept going until someone’s strong grasp on her shoulder stopped her from moving any further. 

“Mia, I’m sorry, okay? I get it. I shouldn’t have handled things the way that I did, but I’m here now,” Colt said. 

“No, you shouldn’t have,” she said, her voice cracking as tears streamed freely down her face. 

Mia broke down completely and collapsed into his arms, crying uncontrollably into his chest and gripping him like her life depended on it. 

“I’m sorry, Mellie. I’m so sorry,” he mumbled into her hair as he gripped onto her just as tightly. 

Mia wasn’t sure how long the two of them stayed that way before she pulled away and wiped her face. 

“I’m still so pissed at you,” she confessed, looking everywhere but at his face. “But, I won’t have you thrown in the dungeons. Yet.”

Colt laughed nervously.

“Thanks. Your, uh, husband seems nice,” he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“He’s great,” she said with a small smile. “He’s wonderful, and I’m so lucky to be with him.”

“Did you, uh, tell him anything about me? About the crew?” he asked.

“No. The only person that knows anything about that stuff is Drake,” she admitted, feeling a bit guilty.

“Well, you’re going to have to tell him now. You kind of made a scene in there,” Colt teased, causing her to roll her eyes.

There was something so normal about Colt teasing her, something that felt so familiar and happy. But, there was also a part of her that still wasn’t okay with it yet. 

“Don’t do that,” she said tiredly in reference to his joke. “I can’t do that with you yet. I can’t joke around like that when I’m still not completely okay with all of this.”

Colt stopped smirking and nodded his head awkwardly, looking to her for an indication of what they should do now. 

“I’m going to go to the bathroom. I’ll see you back in there. We still have to get through the wedding toasts and the first dance before this is all over,” she said. “By the way, you’re probably going to have to make a toast. Try not to say anything that’ll make me mad at you again.”

With that Mia turned and went to the restroom, pressing her back against the closed door and taking a minute to catch her breath. After a few moments, she pushed herself off of the wall and looked at her reflection in the mirror, cringing when she noticed how puffy her eyes looked. She pulled her phone out of her bra and shot a quick text to Ximena asking her to meet her so that she could help fix her makeup, and then grabbed one of the spare hand towels from the bathroom cabinet. She ran it under some cold water, removed her glasses, which she refused to get rid of no matter how much Maxwell encouraged her to get contact lenses instead, and placed the cloth over her eyes. It was a trick she learned years ago to help reduce the swelling, and one that she had used countless times when she wanted to make it look like she hadn’t just had a breakdown before returning to her regular activities. 

“Everything okay in here?” Ximena asked, opening the bathroom door and pushing her way in. 

“Yes. No. Kind of,” Mia said, moving the rag away from her eyes as the other woman approached and began shuffling through a makeup bag. 

“What did he say?” 

“He apologized. He didn’t give any kind of explanation or tell me where he was or what he was doing, but he apologized, and I know how much of a big deal doing that probably was for him,” Mia said as Ximena set to work on her face. “I’m still upset, but it’s tiring being so mad, and I would actually like to enjoy the rest of my wedding.”

“Your new friends all have a lot of questions,” Ximena informed her. “They kind of fixated on the words ‘fire’, ‘police’, ‘jail’ and ‘dead’. Logan did his best to fend them off, but you’re going to have to tell them something.”

“I know. I’ll talk to everyone tomorrow. But, now I’m going to go back out there and slow dance with my handsome husband,” she said, linking her arm through her friend’s and leading her back to the ballroom.

Mia took her seat beside Liam and leaned over, giving him a sweet kiss on the lips, grabbing his hand where it rested on the table.

“I love you, and I’m sorry for losing it,” she whispered in his ear. 

“I’m sorry for changing the seating arrangements,” he murmured back, resting his forehead against hers. 

“Don’t be,” she said with a soft smile, “I know you meant well.”

The couple turned back to their friends just in time to see Leo standing and raising his glass for a toast.  

“So, as everyone knows, I’m the brother of the groom and the family disappointment,” Leo began, causing chuckles to erupt all over the room. “Even growing up I knew that Liam would make a better king than I ever would. He’s kind, compassionate, and there’s nothing he loves more than Cordonia and her people. Or, at least that’s what I always thought. From the moment I met Amelia Bhatt I knew that there was finally something he loved more than this country. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look happier than when he’s with her, and if there’s anyone in this world that deserves to be happy, it’s Liam. So, here’s to the new couple. I wish the two of you a lifetime of happiness.”

There was a light applause from all of the wedding guests, and Mia and Liam both stood to give Leo a hug. 

“Take care of him,” he whispered in her ear right before they moved away from each other. “He needs someone to put him first because lord knows he doesn’t do it for himself,”

“Don’t worry. I will,” she said, squeezing Liam’s hand as the two took their seats once again. 

The room filled with silence as they waited for someone else to begin speaking, and Mia kicked Colt’s leg under the table. He jumped at the intrusion and glared at her as she motioned for him to stand up. He did so grudgingly, glancing around the room with a nervous look on his face before clearing his throat and beginning to speak. 

“So, um, I’ve known Mia my whole life. She is one of the kindest, smartest, and toughest people that I know. I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t always been the best friend to her. But, even when I mess up she’s always there to help me set things straight because that’s just the kind of person she is. When she loves someone or something she does it with her whole heart. She looks past the bad or negative, and she tries to see the best in everyone and everything. That’s one of the greatest things about her, and I can tell that that’s exactly how she feels about Liam and about Cordonia. Not that Liam or Cordonia is bad!” he said frantically when he realized what his words implied. 

Mia facepalmed as he continued floundering for a way to correct himself. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Colt was never really good with words.

“I just mean that when it comes down to it, she’s willing to fight through difficult times if it means doing the right thing for the people and things that she cares about. What I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t take a genius to see that Mia loves Liam, and I have no doubt in my mind that she’ll make an amazing wife and queen,” he concluded, nodding to the room awkwardly before dropping back down to his seat and chugging all of his champagne. 

Mia bit back a laugh at his discomfort and reached across the table to squeeze his hand. 

“Thank you for saying that,” she whispered kindly, causing him to smirk at her.

“So, did I succeed in not pissing you off any more than I already have?” he asked.

“You almost ruined it, but you fixed it in the end there,” she said, removing her hand from his and letting Liam shake his hand. 

The rest of their friends took turns giving a short speech about the two of them, and by the end of it all, Mia and Liam were both holding back tears of happiness as they cuddled into each other. Even Regina, who Mia was sure hated her, had nothing but kind words to say. Soon after the toasts were over, the orchestra began to play and people slowly began to make their way onto the dancefloor. 

“Dance with me,” Liam muttered in her ear, pulling her out onto the dancefloor where he began leading her into a waltz.

Mia matched all of his steps and everyone’s eyes were on the newlyweds as they continued to glide across the room effortlessly. Liam spun her out a side door in the ballroom and onto a private balcony, causing Mia to laugh softly as she remembered how he had done the same thing the first night of the social season. 

“Those were some smooth moves, Your Majesty,” she said, pressing her lips to his. 

Liam kissed her back softly, and the two of them melted into each other’s embrace. They pulled away from each other after a few moments. However, Liam didn’t release his hold on her. Mia rested her head against his chest and began fidgeting with his bowtie. 

“I’m sorry that today was such a mess,” she said softly. “I invited Colt because as hurt as I was, such a big part of me still wanted him here. I just didn’t anticipate all of the negative feelings that would come along with him actually showing up.”

“What happened, love?” Liam asked, pulling away so he could look down at her but keeping his hands on her hips. “You’ve never told me much about your past, about your life in LA, and I wanted to respect your space, but I need you to talk to me.”

“I wanted to tell you, Li. I really did, and I still do. I was just so scared of what it would bring up. It’s not a time of my life I like to think back on, and to be honest, I was worried you would judge me for it,” she admitted nervously. 

“Mia, I love you with everything in me. There’s nothing you could say to change that,” he said, looking down at her with a tender gaze. 

“You do deserve to know, but not tonight. It’s our wedding night, and I want to focus on us. I’ve already spent enough of this day worrying about Colt and forcing you to worry about him too. Tomorrow we’ll have everyone meet us in Valtoria, and we can talk about it then. Okay?” she asked, smiling at him hopefully.

She felt terrible that their entire day had been spent focusing on Colt, instead of the two of them actually enjoying the fact that they were finally married. 

“Okay,” Liam said swooping down to pull her into another quick kiss before guiding her back into the ballroom. 

Liam pulled her onto the dancefloor, and the two of them spent the rest of their reception swaying in each other’s arms

[eternally-drifting]

La Mariachi (Kim Seokjin/Jin FF) 1

“I don’t know how you did it, but you’ve made this foreigner, immensely in love with you - to the point I don’t ever want to go back to Korea. I want to stay here, with ‘La Mariachi’… with you.”

Or

A broken heart leads Seokjin into leaving Korea under the guise of taking over one of his fathers business over seas - leaving everything behind - and start over. Never did he think - that walking into a Cantina, would lead him into sharing his broken heart with the main attraction of the establishment.

KEY (please read first)

pairing: Seokjin / Jin x OC (named original character)

genre: AU, fluff, angst, comedy

word count: 2636

Masterlist

Playlist

Chapter 1/? next>

A/N: All translations - depending on how many there are - will be at the top unless stated otherwise . Also this isn’t edited so bare with me. Salud!

© This work is copyright just-slowly-drifting 2020, all rights are reserved. This fic can not be modified, re-posted or translated without my permission.

—-

“Seokjin!”

The yelling and pleading voice of a woman is heard all throughout the hallway. Echoing off the walls and tall ceiling. Joined along with the clacking of heels, and the slight squeak of black dress shoes. Trailing behind the two are three men, all calling out to the man stalking at the front.

“Seokjin, w-wait! Please stop and let me explain! P-please!” A chocked sob stops her from speaking any further. She tries to clear her eyes from the tears, wanting to catch up to him. Only to stumble on her heels as they tugged on her big, white, wedding dress.

They say that the bride is always the most beautiful woman in the room on her wedding day. She, however, looks the complete opposite. The once perfect makeup, ruined, mascara running down from her eyes, as the tears leave streaks across the foundation. Her hair falling out of place from all the running.

“Jin, calm down!” Yoongi’s voice is heard shouting from the back. It’s of no use, the man has already decided.

“Seokjin, don’t, not here in front of everyone!” Namjoon tries to reason with him. Hoping to bring some sort of logical reasoning to his mind. “Think rationally for a moment, Seokjin!” Jimin huffed as he tries to keep up with all of them as he talks on the phone to Hoseok on the other side.

“-mn, what’s wrong? Where is Jin? Everyone’s starting to look uneasy.” Jimin could hear the people in the background, no doubt wondering the exact same thing Hoseok was. The ceremony was supposed to commence an hour and half ago – and with no appearance from the groom or bride – the guests were starting to get antsy.

Spearing a glance up, he notices how little distance is between Jin and the double doors leading into the venue. Jimin’s eyes widen with panic, quickly, he rushes to warn Hoseok. “Hoseok, you, Tae, and Jungkook need to block the doors off, right now! Don’t make it too noticeable, but make sure that Seokjin doesn’t get past them!” Before Hoseok can even question him, Jimin hangs up. Sprinting towards the others as they try to hold Jin back, but it was futile.

Pushing past the double doors, blocking Jungkook’s intent on keeping him outside the venue, he calmly walks up the aisle, smiling at every individual sat in the rows confused on the situation. Reaching the alter, he turns to everyone with a ‘friendly’ smile. Looking around, he spots the man he’s looking for, the man that he so happily named his best man… his own brother.

‘Why, Daejung?’

Seokjin’s eyes sting with tears, so many emotions coursed their way through his body. He could feel the rage running through his veins and gaining control over him.

All heads turn towards the double doors a screech is heard. Everyone witnessing the bride tripping on her dress as his groom’s men try to drag her out. They struggle with trying to remove her from the sight, avoiding every swing of her arms aimed at them.

“S- seok- seokjin… let me explain, p-ple- plea-se!” Her chest heaved as she slowly tried to catch her breath.

He can see her hands profusely shaking. How her lips tremble every time she tries to talk. The only thing he can think to do is glare at her, and slowly direct it to his brother.

Everything is quiet except for the shaky breathing of the bride. No one dares to say anything, the atmosphere is so tangent, so nerve wrecking. It leaves everyone feeling like a fish out of water.

The stare down continues, and it isn’t until Daejung bites his lip, and ducking down his head down in shame.

‘At least he had the decency.’ Seokjin thought fighting a scoff.

Clearing his throat, he calls all the people’s attention. All eyes are on him, each one hold confusion and questions, wanting answers to the situation at hand. All wanting to know what ‘gossip’ they can tell everyone after this all ends.

He isn’t given much of a chance as the rest of his groom’s men come to stand in front of him. Blocking him off from the crowd. Each of them wanting to deescalate the situation at hand.

“Seokjin, please. Don’t do this here, not in front of everyone. Not in front of your parents!” Jimin could only hope that his reasoning would work in bringing Jin back into his senses. He understands, they all do. He’s hurt, and no one can blame him for feeling that; but causing a scene isn’t going to help anything.

“Why shouldn’t I?! After what these two did to me – I think it’s only fair!” His voice was filled with such venom, it sent a chill down everyone’s spine. All the men looked at each other, quickly trying to come up with a plan on calming their friend down just enough to get him out of the venue and into one of the empty rooms.

“You’re angry and we unde-“ Seokjin scoffed out a laugh, face lifting upward towards the ceiling. A sarcastic smile was etched at the corners of his lips. Shaking his head as he looked at Namjoon in the eye. They were dark, cold, and oh so emotionless. The light that once shone through them, was now eclipsed.

“No, don’t you dare. Don’t you dare say you understand, don’t dare to stand there and tell me you know what it is that I’m feeling right now! You don’t, you have absolutely no idea, about how I feel!” He was quickly shushed by everyone as he growled out.

“Out of my way.” Jin quickly shoved through his members, fixing his blazer, and clearing his throat, he calls for the guests’ attention. Completely ignoring the protests behind him and the presence beside him, he ignored the sensation of eyes burning through his head on the other end.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I would first like to thank you for coming to celebrate… what would have been a very… very lovely wedding.” He jerked his arm away when he felt it being grabbed.

“Seokjin, please, let’s talk! Let me explain!” She pleaded with all her might – he could hear the desperation in her voice, and he hated to admit it; but it hurt him to hear her like that. The pain, the pain in his chest, the ache of his heart, was just too much at this point. He closes his eyes for a quick second to recompose himself.

‘It hurts, it hurts beyond my comprehension… why Young Mi?’ No, he won’t cry, not here, not in front of everyone. Not in front of them.

With his newfound determination, he was going to give them what they both want. What they have wanted from the beginning. So, he’ll be the kind and caring brother. He’ll give DaeJung what he wants, let him have what he has. Like always.

“I’m afraid that there has been a change in plans.” Young Mi had her hands pressed against her lips as begged for Jin to stop and hear her out. “Please – for one moment! Let m-“ her begging only hurt him more. Because he knew that she was only doing this to protect DaeJung.

“But seems that the groom has been replaced. Isn’t that right DaeJung?” Jin sneered as he turned to face his brother. “It appears to be that the bride and the best man are the ones that should be getting married today. Correct, Young Mi?” She looked at him with glassy, red eyes. Her lips trembled as she tightly shook her head ‘no’. All he did was watch as she mouthed out ‘please’ and ‘don’t’. Each of which made the sadistic side of him pleased with her humiliation.

“I apologize for wasting your time, but don’t worry, there will still be a wedding. The groom has just been swapped.” His eyes hardened with each word, hands clenching and unclenching. Looking back at Young Mi, his eyes focus on the ring she wears, his ring. Seeing her still wearing it, filled him with such disgust. So much so, he could feel the bile start to rise.

He reaches out for her wrist, holding it with a vice. The sudden move scared her, and she let out a yelp at the way Jin was holding onto her. She looks up at him, and instantly shrinks back into herself. Seokjin slowly leans his face down to hers, nose a hairs breath away that she stops breathing. He grabs her chin with his other hand and forces her to look him in the eyes.

“You have no use for this now.” His snarled words caused the others to attention. Jimin and Namjoon quickly coming up to the pair right as Seokjin tears his ring off her finger. Throwing it to the ground, he watches as Young Mi bends down, crawling to reach the ring before it could roll any further. Scoffing, he turns marching towards his brother.

He didn’t get far with Jungkook, Taehyung, and Hoseok blocking his way. “Move!” Try as he may, he couldn’t really push past the youngest. He could hear all the gasps from the crowd as Jungkook held him back from strangling his brother to death. “Stop it Jin, it’s not worth it!” Jungkook whispered.

Seokjin shoved Jungkook aside and stalked up to DaeJung, getting face to face with him. Giving one last hard glare at him “You always want what I have – well – now, you can have it.” Jin bumped into DaeJung’s shoulder, making way out of the venue. Once again, followed by shouts of his name and this time, six pair of feet chasing after him.

The room was packed with instruments, guitars, violins, trumpets, etc. Each of them scattered about. The bench, lockers, chairs, and even the vanity had a trumpet or two splayed across it.

The stomping of footsteps slowly ascended in noise. Following it, could be heard the chatter and laughter of various people. The door is roughly pushed open, boots scuffling along wooden floors, espuelas clinking as they walk along.

Amongst all the laughter and cheers, there are uneasy looks spread amongst all of them. Nail biting, lip chewing, legs bouncing up and down. All indications of anxiousness.

“Oye, I’ve had enough of this beating around the bush, shit. Where is s-“

A bottle of tequila slammed down onto the vanity, causing the trumpets to shake and nearly fall. A rough voice cuts through the silence “Will you relax! Mira, she’ll be here. Calmado.” The other men in the room start protesting, being annoyed with the situation at hand, they begin to come up with ‘backup plans.’ All of which sounded just as ridiculous as the last.

“All I’m saying, is that if she doesn’t show up, we put Mejillas over there – front and center. Let all the mujeres have their way with him.” Claps and whistles burst all around as Mejillas stood up and slowly started to ‘strip’. Followed by the chanting of ‘tubo, tubo, tubo, tubo’.

Refugio leaned back against the vanity watching them all fool around, taking their minds off everything for a minute or two. Pulling out his phone, he checks the time, only for him to frustratingly tug at his hair. He doesn’t know whether he should inform them of the timing or not. Looking back at the time, he bits his lip.

‘Seis minutos left’. His eyes close, brows furrowed in frustration. They left the house together, juntos! Where is she? She doesn’t ever leave the house! So why does her little aventura, need to be tonight! Licking his lips, he breaths in deeply, ready to deliver the news that she might not be here.

“Muchachos” Clearing his throat, they all give him the undivided attention, waiting to hear what he has to say. “We might just have to use Mejillas after all.” The onslaught of groans and whines echoed within the dressing room. All Refugio could do is look down and tap his espuela on the concrete floor.

“Cuco, you sa-“ the door slammed open bouncing back from hitting the wall. With her back faced towards them, she dragged something in. Huffing, she let the rest of what was being dragged fall to the floor. Brushing off the dust on her jeans, she turns around, eyes widening when she notices the unamused looks and glares directed at her.

“Que?” She starts to make her way towards the vanity, wondering if she had anything on her face for them to look at her like that.

“Come que ‘que’. You’re late that’s what, where were you?” She looked down and sighed, picking at her nails as she made her way and sat down in the chair. Turning to face the vanity, she looked at Refugio through the mirror as she got ready.

“It’s a long story and we need to get out there for tonight, you guys go ahead, I’ll catch up when I’m done.” Directing her eyes at the rest of them through the mirror, she bites her lip and nods. With no more time left, they all agree and leave for her to get ready. “What songs do we start off with then? Which one are you gonna perform first ternura?” She connects her gaze with the guitarron, slowly trailing them up to meet with hazel eyes, hooded with thick eyelashes. Her heart skips several beats.

Quickly regaining her composure, she grabs the makeup stuffed in the draws, pretending to be focused on getting ready. “You guys can start off with whichever songs you’d like, pero the crowd seems to be filled with a lot of heartbroken souls esta noche. Why not start it off with ‘De Que Manera Te Olvido’ just to share the sentiment.” All seemed to agree with the option, some even giving her a smirk.

“Never took you for estafadora, Soledad.” She can see his gaze on her through the mirror, watching as he laughs, smile so wide it causes crinkles at the corner of his eyes. Her heart continued to skip beat, after beat. She could possibly die and wouldn’t give it a single shit. If something as simple as a laugh and smile can nearly cause her cardiac arrest, then she doesn’t know how she’ll stay alive.

“I’m filled with surprises, Cesar.” Internally cringing at herself she claps her hands. “Ahora si, go and give the crowd what they want, show them what they came for.” With that said, an eruption of cheers and gritos followed. All of them trailing out of the room.

“The song, ternura?” She looks up, and shyly smiles. And he instantly knew which song she was thinking about. “Luz De Luna”. He smiles once more before nodding and walking out of the dressing room.

Now only leaving her with her interrogator. Mentally, she comes up with a clear explanation, but before she can even think of one, he cuts to the chase.

He walks up behind her, standing behind the chair with his sombrero held in one hand and his trumpet in the other. The stern looks in his eyes is enough for her to shrink down into her chair. He points at her through the mirror. “I’m not gonna ask right now because we’re behind on schedule. But you and I will have a talk later, don’t think I’ll forget.” His espuelas jingling as he walks back.

“I’m sorry Refugio. I didn’t mean to ge-“

“Not now, Soli. Like you said, let’s just go and give the crowd what they came here for. You, need to give them what they came here for.” Refugio is stood in front of the door, back faced towards her he tilts his head to the side, softly, he reminders her of who they truly came here for.

“La Mariachi.”

[johnroycomic]

Free Comedy Class Week Four - Revised

Comedy Class Week Four

It's me again.  You've spent a week making other people listen to you talk, so now It's my turn to do it to you.

Last week I had you watch videos by Patton Oswalt, Jay Larson, and Dan Mintz.

Patton Oswalt’s “KFC Bowls” clip was there to show you how you might play multiple characters in the same bit, yet make it clear who is speaking at all times. I wanted you to see  just how many tactics you have to use to make each character have a clear, distincit, discernible emotional point of view. If you don’t do this effectively, really pounding in who is speaking at every moment, a bit like this will be impossible for the audience to follow.  They won't know who is talking, and they'll lose track of what the conflict is.

The Jay Larson example is there to pound home the same lesson, now with multiple people talking and not just two.

The Dan Mintz video is there to show another dead-pan comedian, like Anthony Jeselnick last week. I wanted you to see that this approach doesn’t mean that Dan’s stage character doesn’t have any emotional point of view at all. He’s not a joke telling robot. Rather, Dan approaches each joke with a mixture of slight confusion and insecurity. It IS an emotional stance, just not one that changes depending on the sentence, as it does with Jay or Patton. I wanted you to see how this point of view is a careful choice for the act, not just a default “no emotion" setting.

I also wanted to show how some of the laughs Dan gets aren’t simply from the cleverness of his writing, but from the disconnect between what his character is saying, and the odd way he seems to feel about it.  

Anyway, enough about comedians who aren't you.  Let's talk about your progress. You've made it four weeks.  A month of standup!   Congratulations, you are almost to ten sets! This is a meaningless landmark that gets you nothing, but it’s cool, isn’t it?  I hope your third week went as well as it possibly could, given the endless ever-changing obstacle course that is Open Mic comedy.

Hopefully, by now, at least one of your jokes has worked more than once.

Which of your jokes is working most consistently? Why do you think that is? Can you identify any elements detailed in the last three weeks’ lessons in your most consistently successful joke?

If none of your jokes has worked to your satisfaction yet, don’t worry. Keep going through the steps I laid out last week, and eventually you will shape a joke that hits more often than not.

While we’re on the subject, here, in easy to copy bullet point form, is the Comedy Refinement Process I've been going on about, which we will further refine this week:

Write down the most consistently successful jokes from last week.

Ask yourself : Do any possible performance-based improvements jump out, like a body motion, facial expression, or change in vocal emphasis?

Would it benefit from cutting needless words in the set up? How about substituting more colorful language?

Is there room to clarify how you feel about what you are saying?

If none of these apply, put these jokes at the top of this week’s set list.

What less-consistent joke from last week do you have ideas on how to improve? Change it, keeping in mind these questions:

Is it clear what you are saying?

Is it clear how you feel about what you are saying?

Is there a clear expectation set up for the listener?

Is there a surprising fulfillment of that expectation?

After making all applicable adjustments, write that joke next on your list.

Fill the rest of your set with new ideas from this week. Form them into the best jokes you can, keeping in mind the above points.

Arrange these jokes into a Shit Sandwich, with the most successful two jokes at the top, another consistent joke to close, and the most untried material in the middle of your set.  Do this until you have all the jokes you need to fill the amount of time you will be performing.

And that, in as few words as possible, is the Comedy Refinement Process. It is an always-dependable tool for the construction of a standup comedy act.

“WAIT!” you might want to yell at this point, “If I keep repeating last week’s jokes, eventually all the jokes will be successful, and then there won’t be any room in my set to work on new stuff!”

Good point. At some point you will need to “graduate” consistently successful jokes from the Process, and make room for new ones. It would be my fondest wish for you to not have to do that until you have five awesome minutes. I would love it if you got to take a week-long victory lap through the Open Mics where your set was “all killer no filler.” Unfortunately, and this may already be evident, when you do the same Open Mics over and over again, people hear your material over and over again too. It starts to lose power, as it is no longer surprising to most of the room. There is no hard and fast rule for when this has happened. You’ve got to feel it out. If a joke that once did very well starts to do poorly in the same rooms, and you look out and recognize some of the faces from other nights you've told the joke?  It’s time to move it out of your Open Mic setlist. It will go into a new file that I will tell you about shortly. It’s also time to celebrate, because you now have your first solid bit! Your first go-to joke. The first piece of what will become your “showcase set.”

Assignment One

Create a computer file. Notepad will suffice, but you may want to use a better word processor as you're going to want to move these words around a lot. You could use an old-school paper and pen notebook for this task, but it will have to be revised constantly.  I definitely recommend a physical notebook for day to day notes and setlists. It's compact, tactile, it doesn't run out of power, and the act of writing long-hand helps your thoughts stick in your long term memory. However, the document I'm about to describe is one area where digital is better. If you want to do this long hand, you better like rewriting things.

Call this file whatever you want. When I started, I called it the “Massive Bit List.” This was ironic at first, but I watched with pride as it slowly became accurate. Divide the file into three groups.

Write down “Group One” first. These are your best jokes. As always, character lines and story beats go here as well, if you are doing those on stage instead of standard jokes. Group One is the pool of material you would draw from to make a “showcase set.” This just means a set you would do for real audience members who are not comedians on a real comedy show. These are the jokes you would choose to perform in order to give yourself the best chance of doing well. A showcase show at a bar or an off-night at a comedy club is your next most likely venue. Performing at such a show is the first goal of a beginner comic.

Don’t write out each entire joke.  Whatever one or two-word phrase you know that bit by will suffice.  Make sure Group One really is just your best jokes. These are bits that don’t need to be done at Open Mics unless you really want to open or close strong. If you feel in your gut that a bit still needs work, or has a shaky part in it, don’t put it here. If a joke needs work but you feel you can’t do it at an Open Mic anymore because the other comics and patrons have heard it too much, just rest it for a month. Then bring it back. Don’t worry. They won’t remember it any more than you remember their shit from last month. You will have a fresh chance to fix whatever you felt it lacked.

However, just because a joke gets to Group One doesn’t mean it’s “finished.” Standup comedy is a living breathing medium. Bits are always yours to change or expand. As long as you still enjoy a joke, you can add things, find new lines, new act-outs, and new angles to explore. We are not writing a script. Never think of your old material as set in stone. Comedy is nothing but a series of moments that we inhabit, and any bit has the potential to grow and change with your overall act.

Now write down “Group Two.” In this space, write down whatever jokes you have that are getting laughs here and there, but still need some work at the Open Mic level before you would trust them on a showcase show.

Finally, write down “Group Three.” This is your “in the shop” file, where bits go when they aren’t working in their current form.  These are bits you need to put aside for awhile until you gain a new insight that makes them work. I have had things in Group Three for years and then one new thought fixes them. Don’t throw anything away.

This bit file sticks with you your entire career. In addition to helping you remember all of the jokes you will write in the years you spend doing this, it’s a great way of seeing where you are in comedy at a glance. You can see what works; what doesn’t; what themes seem to resonate with audiences; what topics you may have difficulty with. So many insights can be gained just seeing your material laid out in one place. Watching it grow and watching Group One fill up with material is a rewarding way to see tangible evidence of your progress as a comedian.

Your goal at this point should be to fill up Group One until you have a solid five minutes of comedy. This is the smallest building block of a standup performance. It is the least amount of time you would ever be asked to perform on a show.  It is the standard length of a guest set at a professional comedy club.  It is also the approximate length of a standup set on a late night TV show.  Five minutes is to a comedian what one song is to a musician. You need to get that first single ready to perform.

This can take a while. Don’t rush it. Let the Process work. Take time with each new joke and make sure it is ready. Make sure a Group One joke is one you are confident about doing in front of any crowd, with a reasonable expectation of success.

As you progress in comedy, you will often be asked by bookers of shows and clubs, “How much time you have?”  

This does not mean, “If you performed every bit of material you have written in a row, how long would that take?”

This means “How many minutes of Group One jokes do you have?” You will be doing yourself and your reputation as a comedian a favor by being as hard on yourself as possible when answering this question. The booker is trying to judge how much of their show they can reliably entrust to you. Be honest and they will be pleased with the result and likely to book you again. Inflate that estimate, and you will look like a fraud, a rank amateur, or a crazy person. You want to cultivate the reputation of someone who does what they say they are going to do. A comic they don’t have to worry about. A comic who gets the job done.

Assignment Two

Make your set list for this week’s Open Mics, exactly as you have been doing. Get used to the Process until it becomes second nature.

Assignment Three.

Watch Kyle Kinane's World's Largest Pizza bit.  You will find it on the following video, from the 4:30 second mark on.  If this link is now dead, google “Kyle Kinane Big Mama's and Papa's Pizza,” or “Kyle Kinane Acme.”

http://youtu.be/WoeQybA7gqM

Then watch Jim Gaffigan break down Hot Pockets.  You can find the bit here.  If this link has died, Googling “Gaffigan Hot Pockets” will pull it up from somewhere.

http://youtu.be/N-i9GXbptog

I did not select these bits because they are both about food, but because they are both long sets about the same premise. Long chunks with tons of individual jokes in them. This may not be a coincidence. Food is a juicy comedy topic: you need it to live, yet you eat too much of the wrong food and you die.  You eat food every day, and it fuels the entire world economy. Food is on people’s minds a lot. People feel strongly about it. Whenever those things are present in a topic, it has the potential for great bits.

After asking our good old “Giraldo Questions” from week one, ask yourself these:

How many individual jokes can you identify in Jim Gaffigan’s set?

How many individual jokes can you identify in Kyle Kinane’s?

Express each individual joke as a simple declarative sentence.

Express each comedian's entire piece as a simple declarative sentence.

How does Jim feel about Hot Pockets? How does Kyle feel about the giant pizza? How do they feel about each individual sub-topic under the larger premise? How do they communicate these feelings to the audience?

Do this, and don’t read ahead to the next paragraph until you have answered all of the questions.

Notice how there is an expectation that is set and a surprise delivered on each piece of the larger bit. Notice how each individual joke under the larger premises of “Hot Pockets are disgusting” and “this giant pizza is a ridiculous example of American excess” has its own individual premise, such as “Hot Pockets would be ludicrous on a menu” or “someone who wanted extra cheese even though it was thirty bucks would be a dick.”

Look at your own writing. Have you tried to tackle a large subject on which you had a lot to say? This is how you do it. Look at your joke and ask the exact same questions you just answered about the videos. What is the over-arching premise? What are the individual premises? How do I feel about each one? You have to begin, and then complete, each individual joke one after the other. You have to clearly state each point of what you are saying.

If you don’t do this exactly as carefully as Kyle and Jim did, the audience can get lost and confused and the bit can fail. Each point must also be funny in its own right or it should be cut from the piece. You are a comic. You do not have the luxury of making points that aren’t funny, even if they are part of a larger piece. If it is going to stay in the bit, find a way to get a laugh.  

Perhaps, when you are an experienced comic, you will create a one-person show that contains stories or parts of stories that are serious, that are not expected to get laughs.  That is a task for when you have mastered the basics of comedy writing and are ready to stretch the medium.  Right now, assume that every component of your show must make the audience laugh or it has no place in your act.

Maybe, like Anthony Jeselnik and Dan Mintz from previous lessons, you don’t write in large chunks. If so, just use this week as further practice in identifying premises, expectations, surprises, and emotional angles. You can never do too much of this as you begin to write your own material.

If you do write or care to write large multi-joke bits, use these videos as a blueprint.

Ask yourself:

What is my main point?

What individual points am I making to illustrate this main point?

Is each one distinct enough to get their own joke?

Do I have a way to make each point funny with an expectation and a surprise?

Do I wrap up each bit in its own space within the larger piece, allowing the audience to keep up and digest each individual point?

That’s it for this week! Hit the mics! Kill ‘em! See you here next week.

[spring-emerald]

(i just had to let you know) you’re mine

For @yamineftis​ who sent this wonderful, wonderful idea. I hope you like it! :)

Five times Tsukishima accidentally called Kageyama ‘my king’ and the one time he let Kageyama know he means it. 

0It’s not that Tsukishima thinks that they’re going to get an easy win. Despite the captain being in the same team as him and Yamaguchi, which is reassuring, the powerhouse second year was on the King and Shorty’s team, and Tsukishima knows that he’s going to be a force to be reckoned with. And well, his arrogance and tyrannical history notwithstanding, the King is a good player, despite his complete inability to be a team player.

Nevertheless, Tsukishima counted on his uncanny ability to rile people up, and with the combined hotheadedness and bullishness of the other three, he’s pretty sure it’s a skill that he can use to his advantage.

What he wasn’t counting on was the Shorty to get through the King, and more unexpectedly, for the King to be receptive and accepting of that, leading them to make an insane play that eventually won them the three-on-three match.

It’s disappointing, to say the least, because Tsukishima had been looking forward to winning, just so he could rub it in their faces, but some things can’t be had. Whatever, it’s not like he’s invested in the match anyway. It’s just a club after all.

This doesn’t stop him from shoulder checking Kageyama on his way out of the club room.

“Don’t think,” he starts, looming over the King and looks down at him disdainfully, “that just because you won the match today means that I will bend the knee and swear to follow your every whim. You’re not my king.”

He basks in the glower that Kageyama gives him and leaves before the other can say anything.

1

Tsukishima’s come a long way from thinking of the volleyball team as just a club and had long since accepted the reality that they are a team, a brotherhood of the annoying and loud kind, but brotherhood nonetheless, and that there are certain expectations and kinship that comes along with that. You don’t spend sorrow and share victory with other people without feeling anything at all after that.

It’s not that Tsukishima thinks that highly of Kageyama, but he’d come to accept certain facts about their interactions, in that Kageyama is a teammate and a valuable one at that, from a collective good and logical standpoint. And Tsukishima is not blind. He had noticed, he had witnessed how the King too had come a long way from being the tyrannical ruler that he is, to a dependable team player and game genius, albeit still a demanding and high maintenance one.

The point is, as much as Tsukishima’s changed, Kageyama did so too. Karasuno and their experiences with the team both had changed them for the better, for good.

But perhaps, the king’s old ways isn’t as easily as forgotten as Tsukishima had initially thought. While Kindaichi and Kunimi had reached the point of acceptance about what happened with Kageyama during their days in Kitagawa Daiichi, there are some that still holds a grudge.

“I didn’t want to believe it you know,” the guy cornering Kageyama, a guy shorter than him says, arrogance clear in his tone. “I worked hard to get to Aoba Johsai and get into the team to be a regular in my first year just to see if the King of the Court had truly changed. Because the thought of you, Kageyama-san, becoming one with a team is just so…wrong. I had to see it for myself you know, senpai?” The honorific sounded like an insult that even Tsukishima, who don’t particularly care about hierarchy got offended and annoyed.

And why is Kageyama letting this upstart underclassman talk to him like that? He knows how well Kageyama can stand up for himself, so why isn’t he fighting back now?

The way Kageyama is clenching his fists and his jaw tells Tsukishima that he is in fact just holding back. Tsukishima sighs. Of course. Volleyball trumps everything for Kageyama, even his own worth apparently, and would rather take being insulted quietly than fight back and risk losing his chance to play in the games because of misdemeanor.

Of course.

And since they are teammates, Tsukishima has the moral obligation to help Kageyama out.

“Oi,” he calls out, startling the two of them. He enjoys the panicked expression of the brat at his appearance and made him more nervous by coming towards them and standing in his full height just in front of Kageyama

“Come now, my king. Our match is about to start. We don’t have time for disrespectful commoners,” he says, sending the brat a mocking glance before turning around and walking away.

Kageyama is smart enough to follow after him without a second to spare.

2

It’s the deciding match of the season and Tsukishima is feeling his pessimistic side rise from the ashes of doubt. It’s not that he thinks they’re going to get the spot in Interhigh like it’s a walk in the park, he’s not delusional. But Datekou is actually making it really, really hard and once again, they feel like they are at the edge of the proverbial cliff, one wrong step can lead the legacy of Karasuno that rests on their shoulders now, tumbling all the way down in one false move.

Ukai-san calls for a time out and the members all gather around him rather somberly.

“Guys, come on,” Yamaguchi claps, trying to inject hope to their tired system, playing the role of the captain perfectly despite not being with them on the court. “This situation is not new to us. We can turn this around.” He gives the closest members reassuring pats on their shoulders.  

Hinata slaps his cheeks and exhales sharply. “You’re right!” He agrees with renewed vigor, looking over the other members, encouraging them like the dependable ace that he is.

“That’s the spirit,” Ukai-san says. “We still got this.” Takeda-sensei nods frantically beside him. He proceeds to outline a familiar play that had always worked, tweaked a little just to have the element of surprise on their side to secure the match point, it’s a bit formulaic than what the adaptable Karasuno is known for he admits, but if it works, then it works. The whole team seems to be in agreement.

“Ukai-san, I want to try something.” Kageyama, who had been quiet through the time out interrupts before they can do their battle cry and proceeds to explain the play he’d been visualizing. Ukai-san is hesitant to give his go signal, but Tsukishima sees it all in his mind’s eye and is aware that it’s risky and too new to try out, but it could really work. His and Kageyama’s gaze met, knowing well that the setter is waiting for his decision as the court captain.

If there’s anything that had grown between the two of them from their years together, is their trust in each other. His trust in Kageyama and his judgment.

Obviously, Tsukishima nods.

And it works out, better than they had anticipated, and as the audience drown them in cheers and their teammates drown them in their victorious cries and tight hugs, Tsukishima manages to get to Kageyama and words of praise come easily between the two of them now.

“Well done, my king,” he says with a proud smile, one that Kageyama equally returned.

3

Slowly but surely, the ease of conversation started to breakthrough and now isn’t just limited on the court when they’re playing, but had seeped through other, non-volleyball related things as well. A comment about their respective classes’ attraction during the school festival, a suggestion of what activity to do for the third year’s weekly outing, a recommendation of songs and artists to listen to, because he’d been looking for new music and Tsukishima is the only person he knows who could give quality tunes that Kageyama has cultivated a taste for.

This leads to Tsukishima inviting Kageyama to watch a benefit concert featuring most of their mutually liked bands and artists, to which Kageyama excitedly agrees. Akiteru’s got him an extra ticket and Kageyama is the first person that came to mind when his brother said he can invite a friend and he even volunteered to drive them to the venue, to which Tsukishima, stupidly and wholeheartedly accepts.

It’s not that Tsukishima intended for it to be a date, because really, it’s just an outing between friends with the same taste in music. He should’ve known that Akiteru’s generosity comes with a price. He realized his mistake too late.

“Thank you very much, ah… Tsukishima-san,” Kageyama says with a respectful bow.

“You’re certainly welcome, Kageyama-kun.” Kageyama bows again, then gets out of the car.

“Thank you, Nii-chan. Drive safely,” Tsukishima says before opening the door, going out himself. He’s halfway away from the car when Akiteru calls out to him.

“Ah, Kei! Do you need me to pick you up later,” Akiteru asks just as Tsukishima bends down to his eye level, “or would you rather have some quality time with Kageyama-kun?”

Tsukishima watches in horror as his brother gives him suggestive eyebrow raise. He flushes.

“Wh-What?! This isn’t- we’re not- what is wrong with you?!”

To Tsukishima’s utter aggravation, Akiteru just laughs. “Quality time it is then. Anyway, be careful and don’t do what I wouldn’t do. Also, be sure to drop him off in his place, alright. Enjoy your date!” Akiteru leaves with a mock salute, before backing the car up, leaving Tsukishima to sputter incoherently at the empty pavement.

Suffice to say, the night went on a daze and he wasn’t able to enjoy the concert as much as he would’ve liked because his thoughts are a mess due to what Akiteru’s words implied and he only snaps out of it when they reached Kageyama’s house.

He’d inevitably dropped him off, Akiteru would be so proud.

“Thank you for inviting me, Tsukishima. I… I had a lot of fun. And please thank Tsukishima-san too, for the ride earlier.”

Tsukishima unconsciously smiles at the subdued but nonetheless delighted expression on Kageyama’s face. “It’s no problem, King. You’re not a bad company, surprisingly. And yeah, I’ll be sure to tell him.”

Kageyama just nods and unlocks his door. “Be safe on your way home then. Goodnight.”

“I will,” Tsukishima says, walking backwards. “Sleep well, my king,” he turns to walk away properly, missing the way Kageyama looks at his retreating back, hands clutching his chest in an attempt to calm his wildly beating heart.

4

On a hindsight, Akiteru had been on to something that night.

As it turns out, trust isn’t the only thing that Tsukishima had grown for Kageyama. As they spend more time together, and not just during club activities, but actually spending time together as friends, with the rest of the third years and that fateful night, where it was just the two of them, Tsukishima realized that he’d grown to have a soft spot that turned into an annoyingly persistent affection for the setter.

Tsukishima hated it at the beginning when he realized it. He tried to vehemently deny that he’s finding the King attractive more than he should a teammate, more than he should a friend, more than the kind of objective I-have-four-eyes-that-work-fine-and-it-acknowledges-that-Kageyama-is-actually-handsome-by-conventional-standards, but that he is seeing him in a shit-he’s-really-hot-and-i-catch-myself-staring-at-him-unknowingly-and-fantasizing-about-him-and-doodle-his-name-in-my-notebook-while-I’m-daydreaming-about-him-about-us kind of way.

(“Sounds like you have a crush, Tsukishima-kun.” Yachi says thoughtfully.

“Tsukki has a crush?!” Waaaah, that’s amazing Tsukki! You have a crush!!” Yamaguchi exclaims.

“No. I. Don’t. Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

God, what was he thinking? Telling them had been a wrong idea.)

There’s just no way. No way. God, this is so pathetic. He is so pathetic.

But such is the story of his life and denial can only take him to an even deeper rabbit hole.

And if he’s being completely honest, which he is right now, given the vulnerable state of his mind and ugh, feelings, having a crush on Kageyama isn’t really a bad thing.

He’s easy on the eyes and it’s no wonder that there are a lot of people that have happy crushes on him. He’s a national level volleyball player, so that’s bound to attract people even more. It’s not that Tsukishima likes him only for the shallow aspects.

He admires Kageyama because of those, but he likes him because he’d seen the way Kageyama puts an effort to communicate his thoughts better, despite his impulsivity and tendency to outright saying what’s on his mind. He likes the way he puts an effort to be a dependable senpai to their underclassmen, trying to emulate the way Suga-san and Narita-san did. He likes how he puts an effort to be a good, genuine friend, despite his general social awkwardness.

For all the ‘perfect’ things Kageyama can do, it’s the awkward and imperfect things that endeared Tsukishima even more. Tsukishima likes him for the way he’s changed and grown, and he likes that he’d been there to witness it.

And so Tsukishima has come to like the thing that he used to abhor the most back then: their tutoring session. Not to be unkind, but really, all of Kageyama’s genius had been sucked by volleyball and left little to everything else. It’s still frustrating at times, that’s true, but he’s cultivated more patience as the years went on, because Kageyama had been nothing but diligent during their sessions.

But there’s just something about the quadratic equation that stumps Kageyama.

Tsukishima massages the sides of his head and holds back from sighing, not wanting to upset an already frustrated Kageyama. “Alright, we’ll try this again. But this will be the last time I’m explaining this so pay attention, my king.”

Tsukishima proceeds to explaining, yet again, the steps needed to answer the problem, but noticed halfway through his explanation that Kageyama keeps on sending him nervous glances, looking like he wants to say something but cannot say it.

“Are you even listening?” Tsukishima can’t help the sharp tone. Kageyama sits straight, admonished and nods frantically.

“I am…but,” he pouts and frowns, as he’s wont to do when he’s confused by something that was presented to him.

“Just say it, king.”

“That. You keep calling me that…”

They’ve had this conversation before, Kageyama asking him why he still keeps calling him that. Tsukishima had been truthful when he said that it’s become a habit at this point. He’s just so used to calling him King, but that he can rest assured because it’s not meant to insult him or belittle him, not anymore, not ever. And he thought they’d reach an understanding.

Why is it bothering Kageyama now, all of a sudden?

“I told you-”

“I know what you’ve told me,” Kageyama cuts him off. “But you… you keep on saying ‘my king’, like I’m meant to be yours or something…”

Tsukishima couldn’t help the way his eyes widened and his breathing quickened. His hands crumple the page of his book. He doesn’t hear what Kageyama says next because the blood rushing to his face pounds loudly in his ears.

What?

WHAT?!

Had he really been- snippets of conversations and comments flood his mind and fuck him.

Fuck, Kageyama isn’t supposed to know yet. Dammit, he’s supposed to be clueless. Fuck! Breathe, Kei. Breathe.

Tsukishima covers his face with his arms, and oh no, it’s too late. He watch helplessly as Kageyama watch his reactions give him the fuck away and dammit his face is already burning in shame and embarrassment at being found out like this, dammit!

“…Tsukishima?” Kageyama leans closer, worry etched on the dip of his brows.

“I-I… I’m-”

“Tsukishima? Are you-”

“I like you!” Wait, Kei! No! What the fuck?! Kageyama’s supposed to be the impulsive one. What the hell are you saying?

But the damage has been done, because Kageyama’s eyes widen, the blues shining in shock, cheeks turning pink and mouth slightly opened in surprise, then it gives way to something bashful and giddy.

“I like you too,” he admits, and Tsukishima can’t be hearing this right. He lowers his arm from his face, feeling the blush slowly ebb.

“…You do?”

Kageyama nods, determined. “Do you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“Am I? Your king?”

It’s illegal, what Kageyama is doing to him. Completely illegal. Too much. He needs to stop because Tsukishima can barely control himself over this newfound revelation and if Kageyama keeps on asking him with that expression, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do.

“Tsuki-”

“Yes, I mean it! Now can we go back to quadratic equations and not making a fool of myself?”

“Okay,” Kageyama says, but pulls Tsukishima close and kisses him instead.

5

Tsukishima bends on one knee in front of Kageyama and presents him with a small opened box, a simple ring cushioned inside. “I’ll keep it simple. Will you officially be my king?”

Kageyama says yes.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #208

"if you want to soar with vultures, you'll have to swallow crow."

What may we call you? Brittany/Britt or Ozz/Ozzy. When can we send you a birthday card? (Figuratively, of course.): February 5th. And, where are you calling from? (Again, figuratively.): Please free me of the sweltering grip of North Carolina. What is your favorite Hostess/Little Debbie snack? BIIIIIIHHHHH that's too hard. I love that shit. I love the honeybuns, Twinkies, those little chocolate cupcakes... and really just most things lkdjalksdjwoe. Do you/your family buy loaf from the bakery or bagged on the shelf? Bagged. White, wheat or other? Mom usually buys whitewheat, but sometimes just wheat because she knows I prefer it. Have you ever fixed something without knowing just how you did it? I'm sure I have at some point. When was the last time you were on a plane? Last December. Where were you going and why? To Sara's for her birthday. What’s the best news you’ve gotten lately? Mom found a serious deal for a brand new Canon camera with more focal length range than my previous one and she bought it right in time for the wedding I shot yesterday. :') ^And, the worst? My niece may already be developing schizophrenia. If you could invent something, what would it be? Uhhhh... just one is hard. I literally just thought about this for like 5+ minutes and can't think of one singular invention that would actually be important. Well, maybe some sort of totally natural, long-lasting preservative for food? That'd help so many people and would greatly decrease the amount of fruits and such we waste, and it would also save money with probably slightly decreasing the frequency of grocery shopping. Tell me about your favorite pair of pants. I literally just have black yoga/dance pants lmao. Do you like getting dressed up? NO. Is your technology up to date? Depends on how "up-to-date" you mean. My stuff definitely isn't totally current. Ever been stuck next to someone really annoying on a LONG plane/train ride? Nah. Would you be embarrassed to find out you snored loudly in public? Yeah. Are you afraid of heights? Yes, to a degree. What is a compliment you get most often? "I like your hair"/stuff like that. Tell me about the last frightening/weird dream you had. This is hard, I like, never remember my dreams. Now, about the last pleasant dream you had. AHA I actually do remember this one: I got the rare-as-all-fuck and beautiful as all hell heavenly onyx cloud serpent in WoW, which I've tried getting every week for years. @_@ My eyes like popped open and I nearly gasped. Do you feel guilty about killing bugs? Sometimes. If there is a spider in your room, will you be up all night knowing that? YUP. How do you feel about coconut? I hate it. ^ Ever cracked one open? No. If you like someone, what do you do? Generally get shy and smile a lot when interacting with them. If you DON’T like someone, what do you do? Try to avoid being around them, keep talking to them to a minimum. What do you feel most insecure about? What DON'T I feel insecure about? Do you do your part to save the earth? I do what I can as not an independent adult (ex., I don't have my own car, so we don't drive to the dump). I turn the water off when brushing my teeth, I don't linger in the shower, I absolutely will not litter, things like that. Does it ROYALLY piss you off when your intended username is already taken? Yeesh, it doesn't even make me mad, it's just annoying. Describe your sunglasses. I don't have any. What’s the most you’ve spent on a pair of sunglasses? N/A ^Or, ladies, what about a purse? No clue, but definitely not a lot. Actually, what’s the most expensive clothing item/accessory you own? Again, I don't know. What is your favorite spoken language to listen to? Latin. Is there a TV switched on in the room you’re in? There is no TV. If so, what’s on? N/A What room of the house are you in anyway? My bedroom. Do you own anything that is special edition? I think some games, maybe? Maybe other things? Do you have any funky bookmarks? I have one of those moving 3D ones of meerkats. Do you know anyone with a British accent? Not personally. Are you reading any books at the moment? No. If so, tell me the plot briefly. N/A. When did you last get delivery pizza? A few weeks back. Drake Bell or Josh Peck? Back when the show was current, I preferred Drake. I know nothing about him now; Josh is cool, though. When was the last time you had a tick on you? EW idk I don't even wanna think about it. Do you watch Adult Swim? No, I hate it. It's crawling with immature humor. Have you been to the Grand Canyon? No. What is your favorite type of donut? Glazed or plain. Who usually makes dinner in your household? Mom. Name ALL the colors you’re wearing. Oh jeez, I have on a really colorful Day of the Dead-style skull tank top. Literally like every possible color. Are there more females or males in your family? Females. Have you submitted anything to Urban Dictionary? No. Did you have a Gameboy? If so, do you still have it? Yes to both. Is there a playground anywhere near your house? Define "near." Not very. Does anyone in your family snore loudly? Mom. What’s your favorite cereal? Probably Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Or Crunch Berries, the all berries kind. Do you read reddit? If so, how often and what subreddits do you like? No. Do you know anyone who’s had a baby recently? An old best friend from high school. When was the last time you ate marshmallows? Not since Sara was here and we had s'mores last summer. Do you listen to any podcasts? How do you listen to them? No. What brand of toilet paper do you usually buy? I don't pay attention to whatever Mom gets. Why did you leave your last job? The stress was giving me panic attacks. Have you ever eaten at a restaurant and left without paying? No. What was the last thing that made you laugh out loud? Probably Mark or GameGrumps. How old were you when you first became sexually active? 16. What’s your opinion on The Simpsons? I don't have one. Do you know anyone who has been through a divorce? Plenty of people. Do you have to pay for parking in most places in the town/city you live in? No. Can you hear lots of traffic from your house? Does it bother you? A moderate amount. We live on a busy road. Would someone being either a cat or dog person effect you dating them? No. What is the smallest thing you lose your temper over instantly? Hm, idk. Talk to me like I'm an idiot will definitely get me, actually. What’s a job that doesn’t get enough respect? Mfckn teachers. They are WAY WAY WAY underpaid. What did you take for granted until you visited another country? Never left the country. What is the worst first date you’ve been on? Tyler had a flat tire, and we had to walk to the gas station for something I don't remember and back to the sketchy tire place, and it was SO cold and windy. It didn't actually bother me, like he felt godawful and it wasn't like it was in his power, but from a date standpoint, yeah, that was an event. Who is your favorite scientist and why? I'm not educated enough on various scientists for this. Do you prefer emoticons or emoji? Emoticons. What’s the hardest task you’ve ever had to do? Open my mind in partial hospitalization to let Jason go and recover. How did you meet your pet? Teddy was from a friend of a family friend who knew we were looking for a dog. He was a present for me, so I didn't actually pick him, but rather Ashley chose the last remaining puppy with brown on him, and boy did she make the best decision. Roman was one of the shitload of kittens Ash's mother-in-law had; I was immediately drawn to him with his beautiful blue eyes. <3 Venus was from an online hub of ball python breeders, and I just absolutely fell in love with her colors. Kaiju and Mitsu were both from Craigslist. Do you look like any of your grand- or great-grandparents? I don't have a clue. Did/Do you have any PEZ dispensers? Oh yeah. Do you like grapes or raisins better? I only like grapes. What is the most extreme weather your area has ever experienced? I looked it up; the coldest in history is -9*, highest is 105*. Is there anything you plan on watching on TV today? No. Are there any broken appliances in your house? Maybe. Mom may still have my old Sager in hopes of fixing it one day or something, but I feel like we finally got rid of it. What color is the lampshade in the room you’re in? I don't have a lamp in here. At school, what is/was your worst area in math? I don't remember. Have Jehovah's Witnesses ever called to your door? Yes. Do you ever throw money in those ‘wishing’ wells? No. Waste of coins. Ever take money out of them? No. Are you well known by people in your area? No. What is the picture on the desktop on the computer you’re using? A meerkat. Have you ever had your future told? No. Do you 'spit on it’, to seal a deal? No no no ew. Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? No, thank god. If so, have you had any scary hallucinations? N/A Do you believe in ghosts? Totally. Would you ever stay overnight in a haunted house? Sure thing. When was the last time you had an injection? What for? Months ago when I was getting a cavity filled at the dentist. For some reason, I would NOT go totally numb until they gave me like 5+ doses. Is there anything you cannot wait to be over? This eternally-looping groundhog's day bullshit. I want a job, to be in school, friends, just a damn purpose. Do you have any enemies? "Enemies," no. People I don't like that also don't like me, yes. What was the last thing you had done at the dentist? Speak of the dentist, lol. Said cavity filling. Do you scrunch your face up when eating sour things? No, I'm not very affected by sour things. As a child, did you ever get the chance to go to Disney World/Disneyland? World, yes. <3 Are you someone who is really committed to politics in your area/country? No. When was the last time you were on a boat? Where did you travel on it? Two summers ago when I was fishing with Colleen, her husband, and dad. Does your family ever have any kind of weird traditions in your house? No. What would you consider your favorite movie from a different decade? The Lion King. Do you ever take bubble baths only to relax yourself in some way? I never take any kind of bath. When was the last time you were sick? What were you sick with and why? I don't remember. Have you ever wanted your significant other to get rid of a friend? Yes, though I had serious reason, but I wasn't in any way demanding about it/nothing was actually affected by them remaining friends. If you have siblings, have they moved out or do they still live with you? They've both moved out. Do you know anyone who has or has had any kind of mental illness/disorder? I'd love to meet someone who can possibly say "no" to this. Do you ever go to Blockbuster? How frequently would you say you go? *stares off into the distance wistfully* Is your mother a stay-at-home mother or does she work somewhere? She never stops working. What food would you just want to disappear off the face of the earth? Nothing? I'm not going to take away the diet of people depending on some source I just happen to hate. Do movies with super heroes intrigue you in any way? Why is this? Yeah, I just like fantasy stuff, and I enjoy the majority of the plots. I also just enjoy the idea of superheroes existing. Do you watch those late-night talk shows? What’s the best part about them? No. Do you ever listen to music so you can actually change your emotion? I try to sometimes. Do you like shopping alone? I've never really shopped alone. Does your best girlfriend have any talents that you don’t? Yeah, like she can animate pretty well! Have you ever written a song? I wrote a fucking song to the Nintendogs theme as a kid lmfao. Does anybody send you money in the mail for your birthday? My grampa always did, but he's sadly passed away, so now, no. Do you own any shirts that have a year on it? Ha ha, I have a Back to the Future shirt stored somewhere with the date on it, and it says "I was there." What do you think about mullets? I absolutely hate them. Would you rather date an actor or an athlete? I find actors more talented. I'd be afraid of an athlete s/o getting hurt, too. Do you have any scratches on your cell phone? No. Somehow. When was the last time you blushed? I don't remember, it's definitely been a while. Who is one person you met and automatically didn’t like? A doctor for my tremors. She was a BITCH with just such an unlikable, dull personality. Never went back to her. Do you have any video game systems in your room? Which one(s)? I have a Nintendo DS Lite somewhere... and then my laptop is actually a gaming laptop. What movie coming out do you really want to see? The. Live action. TLK. First day? I'm fuckin' THERE son. Is your skin tone lighter or darker than your mom’s? We're about the same. What is the best thing about the beach? All I care about is if the water's warm. Have you ever done another person’s make-up? I gave Jason a makeover once lmao. Have you ever spied on your neighbor? No. Do you think they’ve ever spied on you? No. What color eyes does the last person you kissed have? Brown. Honestly, do you double dip? No, I break chips apart. I will if I'm eating by myself, though. What color is your birthstone? Purple. What is one thing you don’t like sharing? Hmmm. Oh, probably candy, lmao. Where on your body would you NEVER get a piercing? Downstairs. Which Adam Sandler movie do you like the most? He's been in so many, I don't have a clue. I like him, though. Who was one of your first celebrity crushes? Jesse McCartney was my husband. Did your parents ever read stories to you before bed? Mom did. What are you listening to? "Queen For Queen" by Motionless In White. Do you like hickeys? If they're not in an obvious spot. Do you hate the person you fell the hardest for? No. When was the last time you talked to one of your best friends? I don't have a best friend besides Sara, and I talk to her everyday. Is there someone that makes you happy every time you see them? Sara. Do you believe what goes around comes around? Not always. Do you have any summer plans yet? No. I'd like to go up and visit Sara, but I have no clue if that'll happen, especially with me trying so hard to get a job. Do you have any good friends of the opposite sex? One. Do you have a secret that you’ve never told anyone? Yes. Have you ever regretted kissing someone? Yes. Do you think age matters in relationships? To an extent when a minor is involved. Even huge gaps in adult relationships creep me out, but there's nothing morally wrong with it. How many people have you had real, strong feelings for since high school ended? Two. Do you believe exes can be friends? It depends on the intensity of the relationship, I think. Plus what went wrong. Did you ever lose a best friend? Yeah. Has the last person you kissed ever seen you cry? Lol poor thing's seen me sob. Are most of your friend guys or girls? Girls. When was the last time you took a long drive? A few days ago to my psychiatrist. About an hour drive. Have you ever played Spin the Bottle? No. Have you ever TP'd someone’s house? Well, considering I've never been that damn immature, no. Who do you text the most? Sara. What was the last movie you saw? Detective Pikachu. It was cute, although I was expecting it to be more targeted towards an older audience with Ryan Reynolds playing Pikachu. (I knew nothing about it going into it.) Are you a monogamous person or do you believe in open-ended relationships? I'm monogamous. What do you most like about making out? The touching/caressing. Have you ever casually made out with someone who you weren’t seriously involved with? No. Would you get involved with someone if they had a child already? No. Do you miss your last sweetie? Not romantically. It'd be nice to hang out again, though. Have you ever gotten back in touch with an old flame after a time of more than 3 months of no communication? No. If you could kiss anyone who would it be? Y'all been known. What’s your favorite flavor of soda, pop or whatever else you call it? Blue raspberry. Have you ever attended a religious or private school? Yes; I went to Sunday school. How many cars does your household own? One. What time do you usually have dinner? 4:00 for fasting reasons. What’s your favorite meat? Probably chicken. Do you need glasses to read or drive or need them all the time? I always need them. Are you a very forgetful person? I'm so forgetful that I literally sometimes have borderline anxiety attacks that I'm developing dementia or something at age 23 lmao. What is the best gift anyone has ever gotten for you? My dog. Do you look anything like you did 3 years ago? I guess somewhat, though I was way bigger and my hair was much longer. Have you done something dramatic to your looks in the past year? No. Make up or no make up? I think everyone inevitably looks better with make-up as it enhances features and dulls imperfections, but I personally couldn't care less if you wear it or not. I almost never do, so I can't talk. What’s your favorite thing to watch on the TV? IF I was to watch TV now, probably things like animal documentaries. Would you rather be anorexic or obese? Actually go fuck yourself. Do you upload videos to YouTube? Definitely not regularly. I don't know the next time I'll make one. Do you own any albums by Michael Jackson? No. Do you like your phone on silent or vibrate? Vibrate. Do you like Beavis and Butthead? I don't watch it, but it honestly seems pretty damn stupid. What do you believe happens after we die? Who even knows, really. I believe there's something after we die, but we'll have to wait to find out what. Does the concept of eternity scare you? It kinda... does, actually? Like, wouldn't it get boring eventually? Are you happy that you were born and raised where you were? I suppose. Are your parents still together? No. Do you know anyone who is pregnant right now? Yes, and I want to see their fckng son he's gonna be so cute. She's due soon and I pray I get to take pictures of him. Is there a band you like but don’t like the people in it? Blood On The Dance Floor and Otep. Well, Otep is respectable in some areas, but all things considered, she is a bitch. What tabs do you have open right now? Fucking five YouTube tabs, dA, and Tumblr. Who was the last person to write on your wall on Facebook? No clue, and I don't feel like looking. Have you ever seen a tornado in person? Thank Christ in Heaven no. Are you between the ages of 30 & 40? No. How much was a gallon of gasoline when you first started driving? I have no clue, when I got my permit. What was your first car? N/A Who taught you how to drive? My driver's ed teacher and my mom. What was your high school mascot? A firebird. Did you go to your senior prom? Yes. What did you do after graduation? Honestly? I don't even remember, almost at all, lmao. I either went to Jason's or went home/Jason came with me. Any posters on your bedroom walls growing up? When Nicole and I shared a room, she literally covered the fucking walls in Jonas Brothers shit while I was at a friend's house, and I was. Very. Very. Unhappy. Do you remember the first time you drank a beer? I've never had beer, don't want to. Did you ever try cigarettes? No. How did you spend your summers growing up? Swimming, hanging out with friends, playing outside, riding bikes, playing softball with Dad, playing video games... If you could change anything from your teenage years, would you? Hey, could I have been like, a happy teenager??? Do you remember your first time? No considering at that time I didn't realize it essentially was sex, so it wasn't something that stood out at the time. After high school - straight to college or straight to work? I went straight to college. Favorite home-cooked meal growing up? Spaghetti. Favorite place to eat out growing up? It was probably McDonald's. How many stuffed animals do you own? I literally have multiple huge bags in the attic of childhood stuffed animals I couldn't get rid of, lmao. Are you good at comebacks? WOW no. When’s the last time you watched the news? I don't have the slightest idea. Do you love Christmas time? Of course. Do you really think that the number 13 is unlucky? No. What’s your favorite flavor of cough drops? Omggg I love those strawberry ones. Do you have a fan in your room? Yes. I wouldn't survive without it. Do you think Cookie Monster is cute? I don't really feel either way. Do you like candy canes? Yes. Have you ever had a dream where you killed someone? Yes. Which is worse: stuffy nose or runny nose? Probably stuffy? I don't have a runny nose much, but I've got pleeeenty of experience with stuffy noses. Which is worse: Sick to your stomach or sore throat? THE FORMER. What’s your favorite smiley face? c: Do you think your last relationship was a disaster? No. How many concerts have you been to? One. :/ Would you ever join a band? If I was actually talented with the guitar, maybe, but as things are now, nope. Which internet browser do you use? Chrome. Do you know anyone who is a firefighter? No. What was the last wedding you went to? Just a few days ago for a lady who contacted me about shooting hers. It was a great one, and honestly wonderful to see an interracial wedding here in the South. You do nooot see that everyday. What’s your favorite alcoholic beverage? Margaritas. When was the last time you saw a photo of your ex? Probably the last time I was uploading pictures from my old phone; it's the one I take the once-a-year selfie because the Samsung camera is ACTUAL trash. Do you “binge-watch” TV shows? No. Well actually, on the occasions Sara and I have, I can only handle a handful at a time before I completely lose focus on it or, at that time anyway, interest. What is your opinion of clowns? I don't have one. Do you play any games on your phone? Only Pokemon GO if I'm somewhere I can actually play it. Do you plan ahead when it comes to your outfits? No. Have you ever shaved your face? We have this tiny automatic razor thing for your upper lip, and I use that like once a month or less because yay having dark body hair. What color is your front door? White. What was the last vaccination you got? Whatever those mandatory ones are when you become a teenager. Idr. Would you ever try herbal medicine as opposed to conventional medicine? No. If I need medicine for something, I'm using something I know works. Have you ever been to a petting zoo? I think as a kid? Do/did you have a curfew set by your parents? It wasn't heavily enforced, but Mom preferred I be home by 10 if I went somewhere. How many times have you consumed alcohol? *shrugs* When was the last time you wore a hat? What kind? I have noooo clue. When was the last time you sang an ENTIRE song? Good question. I rarely sing an entire song, rather just parts. Do you consider yourself to be attractive? I don't mind my face, but I do NOT like my body, so overall, no. Are you addicted to anything? Technology. What are you craving right now? I've had an insane craving for hot dogs on the grill for like a week now lmao. Mom's doing that and buying some drinks today for the two of us. I wanted my sisters to come for some family time, but my younger sister has homework, and then Ash and kids like... never come here. "Because of the dogs," according to her husband, but I don't believe that. Are you a forgiving person? I'm way too forgiving. Do you have a brother? Yes. Have you ever had a dream of stabbing someone? WHOA actually I think I semi-recently had a nightmare of me going ham stabbing someone for some reason I don't remember. What would you want your last words to be if you could choose them? "I love you" or then "see you on the other side" is cute to me and also indicates we'll be together again. So probably the latter. What band can’t you stand listening to? I reeeaaally dislike Mumford and Sons. His voice is awful. What is your favorite mystery/crime/FBI related show? Does Sherlock count as a mystery show? Would you ever have a bird as a pet? Nah. How’s your relationship between you and your grandparents? Not wonderful. I don't like her very much, and evidence says I'm not her favorite person, either. Do you have a photographic memory? No. Have you ever had to speak at a funeral? No. Do you know someone who’s been cremated? Hm, don't think so. Have you ever talked to someone when they were high? Yes. Your ex is on the side of the road, on fire. What do you do? Uh, call 911??? Dunk water on him if at all possible? I'm not just gonna drive past anyone who's on fucking fire. It’s 2 in the morning and you get a text message, who is it most likely? Sara. I only ever text her and Mom, and Mom would be right outside my door asleep, so. Ever cried while you were on the phone with someone? Is there anyone who hasn't? When was the last time you saw your father? Not since his birthday last month. Do you like any of Justin Bieber’s songs? No. Any time when you need to search something on the Internet, which search engine do you use? Google. Do you believe saving your virginity for marriage or no? I don't care. I believe in saving it for someone you truly, deeply love. When you were a kid, did you ever like Barney? Yes. Omfg I just remembered something with my older sister; when she was little, Barney was her "boyfriend." She was "talking on the phone" with him once, and when Mom interrupted her, she scoffed and said, "I'm talking to Barney." And then Ash and Barney had an ACTUAL "ceremony" for a divorce. That's a thing that happened. What’s the capital of state, country, or providence you live in? Raleigh. When you open your web browser, what is your home page set to? Why did you select this? Google. I think it was automatically set. Would you allow a camera crew to follow you around and make a reality series out of your life (no matter how boring it is) if you got paid well? Why? No. I'd get so fucking annoyed, I'd feel under constant scrutiny, and I don't want fame. If your car broke down would you call a friend or family member to pick you up or would you call AAA (or something like it)? I'd call my mom and listen to her on what to do from there. Do you put a lot of thought into the gifts you buy for people? YEAH. It's rare I actually have my own money to buy gifts for anyone, so when I can, I think hard. On an average day do your thoughts tend to be more positive or negative? Negative, I think. Do you ever trust anyone else to drive your car? If you don’t have a car, do your friends and family ever allow you to drive their vehicles? I don't have my own, but Mom lets me drive hers. Name at least one thing you like about each season. Winter: SNOW. Spring: Flowers!! Summer: swimming. Autumn: visuals. What amount of time do you think is perfect for a vacation? I guess a week?

[benjaminernando97-blog]

How to Choose The Sims 4

Events, like the lengthy poster sessions, are a vital portion of the Workshop.  The Sims 4 now may also take pleasure in the background music together with enjoying a date by using their girlfriend of boy friend.  Get The Sims 4 Download at no cost, make your own family and enter in the dream home.

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[imaginekpoplikethis]

Even If You Hate Me - Jeon Jungkook X Reader

I missed writing about Jungkook.

I may or may not make a second part to this depending if anyone even wants to read a second part. I don’t know, I felt like writing a somewhat sad story and this is what I managed to come up with.

Fun fact: this idea popped out of nowhere when I was sitting in mass with my school listening to hymns lol.

Anyway, I hope you find this as interesting to read as I intended.

Part 1 - Here  Part 2 - Final

Singing on stage was your current life. You practised day and night to provide music for the fans you adored with all your heart. Without them you had no doubt in your mind you would not be where you currently are now.

You knew you were not the best singer but you certainly were not the worst. What drew people towards you and your music was more so your personality and charisma. They could see that you loved doing what you were doing and that was enough. You were not majorly popular but also not unrecognised. You had enough fans to sell out tickets within a few days which was saying something.

Standing backstage before one of the biggest concerts you had ever held was nerve racking. You believed it never would cease to be nerve wracking. A feeling of nausea accompanied the nervousness as usual. In fact, you had been feeling quite off for the past week though you brushed it off. This time, however, the nausea was somewhat stronger with a strong hint of dizziness. Taking in deep breaths, you stood to the sides in the shadows, attempting to hide your uneasiness.

“What’s wrong?”

The voice came from none other than your good friend, Jungkook. You had met him when you were still in college. You had both aspired to become singers and because you shared the same passion, you hit it off just like that. His career took off slightly before yours and so he was more experienced which was why he was your go to person in times of inspiration and advice.

“N-nothing. Just nervous.”

He didn’t look entirely convinced and reached a hand out towards you, placing the back of it on your forehead.

“You’re burning up! Maybe you should take five minutes to relax. I’ve got a bad fe-“

Before he had a chance to finish his sentence, your manager slapped a hand onto your shoulder, urging you forward.

“Come on, it’s time to start. Do your best!”

Jungkook’s hand unwillingly fell from your forehead and you could hear his protests along with your managers attempt to reassure him that you were fine.

Such was the life of a singer. If you couldn’t handle the pressure, were you really cut out for this sort of life? That’s the motto that had been drilled into your mind for the past several years and it was one you would continue to live by as long as you could.

-

Y/N was pouring her all into her performance. It was one that did not require any drastic movements. Actually, it required little to no movement at all. Her appearance perfectly matched the somewhat slow song she was singing to her fans, who all waved their light sticks in sync. Normally, she would stay away from concepts that would tend to present a melancholy atmosphere but this time around she had insisted on writing such a song, to everyone’s immense surprise.

Jeon Jungkook stood to the side of the stage, taking in the beautiful sight of an artist connecting with their audience through music. It never failed to amaze him and it was precisely the reason why he too decided to pursue music as a career. As of this moment, he was present at his long time friends concert for moral support.

Absentmindedly smiling to himself, he readied himself for the long note that was sure to come within the next few seconds. He was familiar with the song having spent late nights working on it with Y/N. The moment came for said note and she held it with such grace that he felt an overwhelming sense of pride fill him. Just like the practices he had spent with her, she perfected it. However, as soon as the note came to an end, so did her singing. Confusion tumbled over him. He knew what line was supposed to come next yet what left her lips was not what they had rehearsed.

“I-I’m sorry... so, so sorry but I- I think...-“

There was shouting coming from behind him, a couple of technicians giving directions that came straight from her manager.

“Somebody stop her! Cut the mic!”

“-this might be my last song...”

His heart skipped a beat with every stutter that left her. The microphone soon slipped from her grip and landed with a thud on the floor, a high pitched screeching sound escaping the fallen microphone and being blared out through the giant speakers situated around the venue.

Hands flew up to ears, attempting to block out the unbearable sound and that’s when Jungkook realised what was happening. He watched in horror as your legs gave up on you and you dropped to the floor, seemingly unconscious. At this point, the mic had been cut off, killing all sound in the hall. There was a short moment of silence before someone screamed your name and the venue erupted into shouts. He was the first to dash out onto stage, throwing himself down next to you and grabbing your torso.

“Hey! Hey, are you alright? Wake up. Please, wake up.”

His heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. Not getting a response, he pulled you onto his lap, though with much effort and pushed your hair away from your face. He was joined by backstage staff who began to press cold cloths to your face and prepare to take you off stage. He heard a distant shout of ‘dim the lights’ and began to help carry you off stage.

What just happened?

-

After the disastrous incident, you were rushed to the hospital where an emergency scan would take place. Your fans had left the venue in shock whilst everyone worked to end the concert early. Jungkook joined you at the hospital, staying put outside your room.

“I told you there was something wrong and you refused to listen to me...” In all the time he had been there it was the first time he spoke to your manager with a tone that could only be described as deathly calm. Your manager looked up from the ground to stare at Jungkook with guilty eyes.

“I... I didn’t think it was that bad. She said she hadn’t been feeling a hundred percent the past week but I just kind of dismissed it. I thought she would be fine...”

Jungkook clenched his fists, struggling to keep his anger at bay.

“Well she isn’t fine! She’s in hospital and all because you couldn’t be bothered to check if she was in need of a check up! A week went by where she was hurting, struggling to get through the days and you ignored her words...” His shout had lowered down to a whisper by the end of his rant and your manager sat speechless.

A doctor emerged from your hospital room, silently closing the door and turning to look towards the two other people present in the corridor.

“We performed an electrocardiogram to record the rhythm and activity of her heart. We’ve concluded that Miss Y/L/N has ventricular tachycardia from her abnormally fast heart rhythm. She’s extremely lucky to have been brought in before it progressed to ventricular fibrillation. Looking at her records it doesn’t seem like she has any heart problems... does she perhaps consume an excessive amount of alcohol?”

Your manager answered without missing a beat.

“No, she very rarely drinks.”

“How about caffeine?”

This time, his eyes widened drastically before he answered.

“Y-yes, she drinks quite a lot of caffeine. She claims she needs it to get through the day.”

“What’s her daily schedule like, if I may ask?”

He nodded his head before glancing back down at the floor.

“She either doesn’t sleep or wakes up extremely early to fit in exercise and practices. She drinks quite a lot of caffeine to keep herself going throughout the day, though I’m not exactly sure how much.”

The doctor nodded in understanding before he clicked a pen and scrawled down some notes in a notepad.

“It’s very rare that an excessive caffeine consumption would cause ventricular tachycardia but paired with quite a bit of exercise makes it much more likely. The symptoms include, dizziness, fainting, chest pains, shortness of breath and fatigue. Did she display or mention such symptoms?”

Jungkook glared at your manager when the doctor asked his question.

“She mentioned she had been feeling dizzy. Actually, I noticed she would hold a hand to her chest a lot and take deep breaths but I didn’t think much of it.”

Jungkook’s anger resurfaced and he forced himself to turn away in case he done something he was sure he would regret. The doctor took more notes before he put his notepad and pen away.

“She will have to undergo radiofrequency ablation. An electrical current will destroy any abnormal tissues causing her heart to beat incorrectly. After that she will have to remain in hospital for around two weeks until we deem her healthy if she wishes to leave then she may but will have to rest at home and stay away from caffeine and ideally exercise. If you want to go in and see her, now is the time.”

“I understand. Thank you so much.”

The doctor smiled slightly before bidding farewell and taking his leave.

“Jungkook, you should go in. I... I don’t think I deserve to see her right now.”

Jungkook said nothing. There was nothing to say. He wouldn’t bother trying to console your manager, he didn’t deserve that either. Instead Jungkook rose from his seat and silently entered the room.

You were sleeping.

That was the first thing he noticed when he stepped further into the room. He didn’t know if he expected you to be awake, smiling at him with tired eyes. Perhaps that was too much to ask. Thankfully, your life wasn’t in danger. You had narrowly missed that road.

Jungkook made his way to the table and chairs situated to the side of the room, grabbing one of said chairs and moving it towards your bed. Sitting facing the back of the chair, he simply stared at your resting figure. By now, it was late at night. He supposed he had been waiting for at least three hours in the corridor. Time had flew by though, worry eating him from the inside out. He blamed your manager for not noticing your sick state but he was just as bad. He had seen you plenty of times throughout the week and not once did he think to ask if you were okay. He assumed the smiles you would give him were enough and that’s where he went wrong.

“When I think of it, this is my fault isn’t it? I encouraged this. I pushed you to work this hard. If I hadn’t gotten involved in your life, if I had just stayed in my lane, I wouldn’t be sitting here and you wouldn’t be laying in a hospital bed...”

He could feel tears brimming at his eyes. He didn’t want to cry but when one of the few important people in his life were put at risk, what else could he do?

“I should just step back shouldn’t I...?”

Of course you wouldn’t answer, you were sleeping peacefully, probably having the best sleep you have had in weeks, maybe even months. Jungkook let out a shaky sigh, reaching a hand out towards one of your own. He traced your knuckles with a finger, not having the confidence to look you in the face anymore despite the fact you were not awake.

“I should step back... but I can’t. I don’t want to leave you by yourself. Actually, I don’t want you to leave me by myself. I may have family and friends surrounding me but if you left me... I don’t know what I would do.”

He smiled solemnly to himself, heart thumping painfully in his chest.

“Even if you don’t feel the same way I do, I would still stay by your side. Seeing you smile is enough for me. Even if you hated me, I still wouldn’t mind as long as you pay me some attention.”

The light from the moon highlighted the thin streaks running down his face which he quickly wiped away, suddenly embarrassed.

“I guess it’s true that love makes us act in crazy ways.”

[jinjikook]

Under The Stars (M)

word count: 8k 

genre: smut + a tiny bit of fluff at the end; domestic AU + church boy! doyoung

pairing: reader/doyoung

summary: you’re forced to go to the equivalent of bible camp, out in the forest. unfortunately, you’re also forced to share a tent with a resident goody-two-shoes and you decide to have a little fun messing with him. turns out, it brings him to his limit and pushes him over the edge.

requested by: an anon who wanted a camping smut with doyoung from nct 127

a/n: just a disclaimer that none of the religion talk was supposed to be rude or offensive, it was simply a theme i chose so please don’t take anything said to heart.

masterlist

The weather was balmy, clammy even. It made your loose t-shirt stick to you in ways you could only verbalize as gross. Another heavy sigh left your mouth as you shrugged your duffle bag to your other shoulder, both of them already sore from the constant switching of the weight as you trudged along the trail.

Your mother made you go on this trip, a so-called “annual camping cleanse” that your local church would host to the local youth. The age limit was technically at 18 but the pastor more often than not let others go regardless of age, wanting whomever who wanted to experience the healing powers of nature come along. So long as they followed the rules.

They are as stated:

1.      Absolutely no intermingling between the males and females of the group inside tents

2.      Clean up after yourself, including campfires and dishes.

3.      Respect everyone

4.      Know what you’re there for: to learn the beauty God has graced onto this earth.

It was awfully corny and you never wanted to go in the first place. But your grades had been slipping lately along with an up rise in the form of a biting attitude towards your mother. This resulted her having a long talk with your church’s pastor to which she explained the situation. Usually the camping trip had a deadline to sign up by, which is what you hoped would save you from the torture of being eaten alive by countless mosquitos all while not being able to kill them because “all of God’s creatures are beautiful and have a purpose in this life”. Unfortunately, not even that saved you. Your pastor had been touched that your mother thought the trip would be the best way to help her and agreed wholeheartedly. The entire scene made you gag.

So now you’re forced to be in this god-forsaken group of tweens and young teenagers, a singular legal adult among the youth. There were only two other people your age; a pretty girl named Joy who you knew from school and a shy boy named Doyoung, who usually stayed quiet on the sidelines. You knew Doyoung strictly from church, having seen him passionately recite sermons alongside some other students who shared his love for the religion. You had no intentions of being around him, already deciding on making Joy your only hope in surviving the next few days out in the cold and bitter wilderness.

You say cold but in reality, the heat is biting against your skin and nipping at your heels so fervently you could barely think straight.

How much longer? You thought as the path began to open up into a grassy clearing, a rickety brown sign telling you that this was your new home for the next 3 days.

Campsite D

“Alright everyone! We’ve arrived, please set down your belongings as we distribute some snacks and water. You all have earned it after that invigorating hike! Can’t you just feel the Lord pulsing through your veins?” Your pastor animatedly droned on as you mumbled a bitter I feel like the Lord isn’t what coursing through my veins to which Joy giggled to quietly at your side. You’d definitely stick to her like a bee with honey, sure that she’d be your saving grace out in this barren forest.

Setting your baby blue duffle next to Joy’s ducky yellow backpack, you waited for her so you could stroll together towards the few chaperones that were already passing out most likely stale granola bars and miniature bottles of water. You graciously took them both, uncapping the water quickly and chugging its minimal contents in seconds. You stashed the crunchy bar in the pocket of your loose denim shorts for later, not wanting to deal with the cotton mouth it’d give you just yet.

Your pastor spoke up again, regaining the attention of the now feeding youth that encircled him, “We’re going to take a quick roll call and then we’ll move on to tent assignments! Remember: no fraternizing with the opposite sex.” Your pastor seemed hell bent to keep the all-so sinful temptation of intermingling teenage hormones to a minimum. A difficult feat indeed based on the fact it was several of you versus the few chaperones and the great outdoors was a quite a venue to lose one’s virginity and innocence.

You scoffed at the sheer thought of some of the 14 year olds that surrounded you trying to get to second base inside a tent. It was laughable in itself and you wondered if some of these kids came to this solely to get away from parents and guardians just so they could feel up on some other horny preteen like themselves. The concept, while in theory, was practical but in reality was nothing more than awkward and uncomfortable for all parties involved. Especially if you got caught.

“Joy!” One of the chaperones shouted to which your new friend piped up cheerily, raising her hand. “Bunny Tent!” She giggled at the name for her home for the next few days. Each tent assignment was to have between 2-3 people in each, depending on the age of those residing inside. You mentally celebrated that Joy and yourself would get a tent all to yourselves because of your age. Unless they wanted to pair one of you up with Doyoung, which was hilariously unlikely.

“Y/N!” You begrudgingly rose your arm and the chaperone that called you took a peek down at their marked up clipboard before giving you your tent assignment. “Gopher Tent!” Taking a double take, you and Joy exchange confused glances at the name of your tent. Before the chaperone could continue rattling off names and odd animals in lieu of tent assignments, you shouted to get their attention.

“I’m sorry, but why am I in Gopher? I’m 18, the only other female of that age besides Joy. Shouldn’t I be bunking with her?” The chaperone shook their head, sternly telling you that the assignments were final.

Mind still reeling with wandering thoughts as to whom you could be bunking with, your answer is quickly brought to light with the next name that’s shouted.

“Doyoung! Gopher Tent!” The mere mention of your tent made you freeze. What was going on? Weren’t guys and girls not supposed to room together, seriously, what is even going on? You glanced over at the boy who was the same age as you and watched as he fidgeted nervously between one foot and the other. He clearly wasn’t comfortable with this decision either, and you’d have to clear this up with the pastor immediately. Clearly this was a mistake; there was no way they’d willingly bunk a male and female together, especially not ones of legal age like yourselves, whom had most likely already been exposed to a lot of temptation and experiences.

Once everyone was coming together with their tent mates in small bundles, introducing themselves and getting to know one another, you gestured to Doyoung to follow you. He bit down on his lip and nodded before shuffling behind you. You tried to not stomp your way over to the pastor, but you really were hoping for the godsend that was Joy to be your tent mate for the remainder of this trip.

“Excuse me, Father?” Your pastor turned on heel to face you, ripping his eyes away from what looked like a hefty itinerary for the rest of the day. You shuddered at the thought of all the horrible bonding games you’d have to endure today. “Doyoung and I seem to have been misplaced in terms of tents? There’s certainly no way that you’d want us to be together, we’re of opposite sexes!” You tried to innocently rattle off your reason, as if it wasn’t clear as day that you two were indeed of opposite genders. He responded with a chuckle and shake of the head, as if the answer was so plain and simple.

“My dear, young Doyoung and you are supposed to be in a shared tent. He is a child of The Lord and has since proven that. And since we needed another hand to keep an eye on the younger ladies on this trip, we’ve decided that Joy was the perfect candidate to make sure they stay on the path of righteousness all through this lovely weekend. We figured you wouldn’t mind staying with Doyoung; he is respectful and humble, more than willing to give you plenty of room. For your troubles, we’ve gone ahead and given you two one of the larger tents. There should be more than enough space for the two of you to coexist peacefully for the next few days.” He didn’t even give you a chance to protest before one of the volunteers came asking for him to approve of a few final things in the itinerary. He shrugged you off with a firm farewell and wave of the hand, leaving you stand in disbelief at your luck.

Shaking your head, you sighed and shuffled off to where you knew your now permanent tent was set up. Arriving in front of the nylon mounted shelter, you were genuinely impressed, the thing looked pretty spacious and actually seemed like a comfortable stay. Even if it was with a guy you barely knew. Hearing someone cough awkwardly behind you, you’re met with Doyoung himself. He stood and stared at you, clearly not comfortably with the arrangements as well.

“H-hi. My name’s Doyoung… you’re Y/N right?” His voice shook with anxiety as you raked your eyes across his body. He was clearly not the most confident person but you could tell he was at the very least trying his best to come across as friendly and welcoming. Letting yourself smile warmly at him, your feelings on the matter dissipated as you felt pity for the poor guy. Not like he asked for this either, and he was clearly not a sleazy guy happy to get a woman all alone with him nor was he a hormonal tween with a tendency to have wandering hands.

You could live for the next few days with this arrangement, so long as you guys honored each other’s privacy. Gesturing to the tent, Doyoung shuffled in front of you to pull at the zipper at the top, letting it drag all the way down until the inside revealed itself. It was definitely roomy on the inside and you smiled in awe at how at the very least you got one of the best tents to sleep in out of everyone, even better than some of the chaperones.

“Wow…” Doyoung gaped next to you, eyes twinkling at the sight. “I’ve been going on this trip every year for the past 6 years and I’ve never gotten a tent as nice as this one.” Every year for 6 years? That meant that Doyoung had gone on this trip starting from when he was 12 years old.

“Damn dude, do you ever do anything else other than mess with the church?” Doyoung looked at you, puzzled at not only your choice of words but also what you were implying behind them.

“It’s not ‘messing with the church’, it’s surrounding one’s self with good people and positive influences. Something I’d recommend to the likes of you, Y/N. I never see you around, maybe that should change?” Doyoung responded with a lot more biting sarcasm than you thought the innocent looking boy could muster.

“Excuse you. I have a life that doesn’t revolve around parading around thinking I’m better just because I spend my weekends praising Jesus instead of living a normal life.” You shot back a sneer, not appreciating the tone he took with you so suddenly.

He shook his head and removed the look of disgust from his features, returning back to his usually small smile. “I’m sorry, this is no way to start a friendship. Sometimes people have reasons for doing what they do, but they always find their way back. After all, it’s the best medicine.”

“And here I thought the best medicine was laughter,” You chuckled and surprisingly, Doyoung had stifled a few of his own. So he did have a sense of humor, you thought. “Or sex. An orgasm is surprisingly helpful.” You shrugged your shoulders as you bent down to enter the tent, already decided that the right side would be yours. You hadn’t even taken in Doyoung’s reaction, already choosing to unpack the essentials before one of the volunteers whisked you away and forced you to do some “group bonding therapy” or something.

“We shouldn’t talk about… that.”

You turned to face him, finding Doyoung still at the entrance of the tent with his eyes cast down at his shuffling feet.

“About what?” You pause, “Sex?”

He answered with a small nod, still not meeting your eyes. You couldn’t help but scoff at the situation, no doubt exposing Doyoung as a diehard virgin with no intention to change that anytime soon. At least that meant you had some trust in him to not try anything while you slept or something.      

“Oh god, it’s perfectly natural. Nothing to freak out over.”

“And you shouldn’t take His name in vain either…” Doyoung trailed off, foot kicking away at the now unearthed dirt under his worn out sneakers.

“Well if I followed those philosophies, my weekends would be pretty boring and they’d certainly be very quiet.” You giggled at your own innuendos, since you were sure Doyoung wouldn’t get it or wouldn’t appreciate it.

Before he could respond to your brazen remarks, you two turned your heads in the direction of a megaphone amplifying one of the volunteer’s voices, stating that the first activity was due to begin in 10 minutes and that everyone should gather promptly.  

Doyoung shuffled into the tent and dropped off his things, not making any sort of contact with you. Giving up on all hopes of reigniting the conversation, you sighed and grabbed your phone before stepping out again. Even though there was essentially no use for your phone due to the lack of service where you were coupled with the fact that the chaperones frowned upon the use of them while on the trip, you still found comfort in having it with you. At the very least, you could have something to fiddle in your hands while you tried to keep your mind off the mind-numbingly boring games they’d make you play in hope it’d “cleanse” you.                

Doyoung trailed behind you, the only indication he was following was the light crunching of grass under his feet and the shadow that bobbed next to you as the sun angled its way down past the trees along the horizon. It’d already begun to get dark, the trek up to the campsite taking a lot longer than normal.

“Ah, Gopher Tent! Glad to see you two settled well, I presume?” The pastor addressed the two of you. You shrugged and gauged Doyoung’s reaction; he simply smiled and nodded. You guessed he was a better actor than you thought, so maybe he wasn’t all he seemed to be. “I trust you Doyoung, I know you’ll make smart choices while Y/N stays with you. We really appreciate it you know, those young ladies in Rabbit Tent are truly some wildcards that we’ll have to straighten out.” The pastor shook his head, deep in thought. Doyoung and you left him to stew in his mind, choosing to join the rest of slowly assembling kids that were surrounding what looked like an empty fire pit.

Already fumbling with your phone, you hear Doyoung murmur under his breath.

“You can’t have phones here.” You sneered and showed off your phone, as if to rub in his face that you can and will have your phone on hand. You were happily showing it off before it’s suddenly ripped out of your grip, the spaces in-between your fingers devoid of your phone. Whipping around, you’re met with one of the bitchier volunteers; a handsome man named Junmyeon.

“You’re not supposed to have this, are you aware of that Ms.Y/L/N?” You swore you heard Doyoung snickering behind you and you glare from your peripherals, hoping he could feel your rage behind the glimpse. “I’m going to have to confiscate this until the end of the trip, please try to stay focused on the purpose of being out here.” Junmyeon walked away after pocketing your phone. You gaped at him, not really believing he could just take your belongings so easily like that. Turning around, you crossed your arms across your chest and stared Doyoung down.

“Are you freaking serious? You couldn’t even warn me he was coming?” You seethed, watching as Doyoung continued to uselessly try to hide his laughs behind his hand.

“Shouldn’t have been brandishing it about like that. Now be quiet, I think they’re about to start.” He turned to face inside the circle, going on his toes to try and peek over the small crowd in front of you two. You vowed to make the next three days a living hell for this kid, whether he was a child of God or not.

 It was a sweltering 94 degrees outside, the sun relentlessly beating down on the wide open space you were staying in. The pastor had called for a break hour, understanding that the heat was too much for the young ones to bear so they were given an hour to rest in the shade of their tents with plenty of water.

This was one of the times you wish you had your phone, so you could at least play games on it or something other than just watching the heat waves trembling in the distance. Doyoung was scribbling away at a notebook he’d brought along with him. You fanned yourself with your hand, wishing you could will away the heat that clung to every inch of your skin.

Doyoung shot you a glare from across the tent, shaking his head and turning back to his useless scribbles on the page. Furrowing your brows, you ignore his passive aggressive tendencies and continue to try and cool off. Shucking off your t-shirt, you tug at the slick and sticky tank top you wore underneath. Half of you hated that you layered up but the other half of you was happy you did because you were able to remove something without revealing too much skin.

You missed how Doyoung snuck a glance in your direction when you tore off the offending piece of clothing, eyes raking across your tight body as sinful thoughts ran all through his mind. He tried to tamp them down, to keep sane even though your mere presence in the same radius had his head spinning. He wasn’t sure he was capable of doing this, the first time you two had went inside together being a severe enough warning that it’d be a lot easier said than done.

But he couldn’t voice his concerns, for everyone thought he was a pure and clean young adult. The last thing he wanted was to arise questions from your more-than-awkward sleeping arrangements. Despite the conditions, he really did appreciate the spacious tent; having dealt with his fair share of far too cramped conditions with more than enough hormonal teenagers going through the ugly bumps of puberty.

He could control himself, he was a good kid. He knew how to keep these sinful desires at bay, able to hold off the carnal needs inside of him because he was supposed to wait. Until he found someone “special”; the one who he’d spend the rest of his life with.

That was also easier said than done. Especially when life tested him time and time again with things like having the rotten luck of sharing a tent with you. Because no matter how much room was inside, the air was always stifling and he felt your presence constantly looming over him. He could feel his skin buzzing with the itch to touch you, to feel your body give under his pliant touch.

Now he had a little friend he’d have to hide.

He glanced over at you, shaky eyes checking to see if you had been paying any attention to him in the last few minutes as he shamefully let his mind get the best of him with filthy thoughts. You were laying on your back, eyes closed as you panted heavily. The heat was getting to you bad, resorting to constantly fanning yourself with anything at hand.

Doyoung shifted in his seat, trying to tug at the fabric of his shorts. The material did absolutely nothing to hide his rapidly growing erection.

Lately it had felt like you were constantly teasing him with your body, ever since you’d gotten your phone taken away two days ago. It was the last day already, and he’d been through enough.

There was swimming in the lake which was torture enough, even if you were wearing denim shorts and a t-shirt; the fabric still clung off your frame wetly much like a second skin, something straight out of the dirtiest fantasy Doyoung could ever muster up. His mouth went dry at the sight, having to excuse himself so quickly that he raised questions among the others.

Then there was when you were messing around with Joy and she’d thrown an ice cube down the front of your shirt. The cold made you jolt upright and scream, your first reaction was to get it out as quick as possible. Which meant you were tugging at the neckline of your top and flapping it wildly, exposing your now wet chest to him. He tried not to stare, he really did, but then you were hopping around because the damn ice cube was stuck and all he could see was your breasts bouncing wildly with every powerful jump.

It’d been the most he’d ever thought about sex in his entire life.

Usually when he got urges, he’d draw or scribble away at something. It would release his frustrations and tension and sometimes he’d get a nice piece of art out of it. But nothing was helping this time around, the feelings just too real and intense for him to just whisk away. Rarely did he take matters “into his own hands” but when it was just too much and he desperately needed the relief, he’d ask for forgiveness and go to town on himself. He hated how satisfied it made him but at the same time, he couldn’t help but think about doing it again. It was dangerous, to crave flesh so much. But it was you who became the tipping point, the push that sent him flying over the edge.

“Could you stop?” Doyoung began, seeing no other choice in getting you to leave him alone other than picking another fight. It was what worked, it’d make you storm out and go see Joy for a little while. Just enough time to take care of his issues.

You shot him a glare, tired of all the attitude he’d given you all this trip. He was most certainly not the angel people pegged him to be, you knew that much. But you never expected him to be so damn rude. Especially after how much you restrained yourself from beating him to a pulp with the way he treated you.

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything,”

“The fanning; it’s annoying and it’s moving the whole tent.”

“Well, I’m sorry but it’s really fucking hot and I’d rather not melt away into a puddle right here.”

There it was, the one chink in Doyoung’s armor. The language you used was nothing short of vulgar, not afraid to curse in every filthy way imaginable. At first it pissed him off, to see someone so ignorant that they’d willingly choose those words over any other words in their vocabulary. But soon he realized he’d get angry because of how hot it made him, the malice in your voice coupled with such sinful words; the thought alone brought him close to the edge. He couldn’t bear to hear you say more than a few words, knowing full and well that if you kept your big mouth open, there’d be no holding him back.

“Hello? You’re not even listening to me are you?” You stood and the strap of your tank top slid down your shoulder, revealing the contours of your collar bone. Doyoung eyed it precariously, knowing there was just a thin thread that held together his sanity and he was so sure he’d snap.

“Just please leave, I don’t want to fight right now.” Doyoung managed to asked, his voice slightly strained with the amount effort he had to put in order to not come off as desperate as he felt.

“You’re the one picking fights! I swear Doyoung, you’re just fucking weird and you have the nerve to call me annoying. Whatever, I’ll be with Joy and the little trouble triplets that she has to babysit. Let me know when you grow up,” You paused as you stepped out, turning to smirk at Doyoung. “Or grow a pair.”

You zipped up the tent and began to trudge away, heading in the direction of Rabbit Tent. The thing about your tent was that since it was bigger and you two were older, you got to have a little more peace and quiet. So this meant your tents were slightly further away from the others. You greatly appreciated this when you met with Joy one afternoon and realized just how rowdy some of the kids got. How anyone slept over there was beyond you.

Doyoung watched you step out and waited approximately one full minute before throwing his notebook off his lap and scrambling to reach into his dark maroon backpack, where he secretly had a miniature tablet. He’d given you shit for having your phone even though you had very little intentions of using it for its intended purpose, but here he was with a fully charged tablet (courtesy of the spare battery he brought) and a folder of downloaded low-quality porn already coming into view. Doyoung quickly chose a basic video, wanting nothing more than to get this over with.

Grainy but still effective, Doyoung jammed an earbud into his left ear and dipped his hand past his waistband. The overplayed moans rang in his ear as he wasted no time in wrapping a hand around himself and pumped deftly. He bit his lip to muffle any sort of sound, knowing he was still in a thin tent outside.

The girl was like every other two-bit porn star, clad in basically nothing as she wildly jumped up and down on some random guy’s dick. The visual wasn’t much for Doyoung, nor was the sound. Truth of the matter was that he was thinking about you; the sounds you made while you slept, the way your shirts always seemed to expose more than they actually covered. The porn was just a cover, a way to make his mind believe he wasn’t lusting after you so much that he was making up his own fantasies.

He was reckless, letting himself succumb to the base pleasure of his hand. He was weak, letting his eyes roll back as his eyelids closed tightly. He was stupid, for doing this in the first place.

At least that’s what he thought the minute he heard you speak.

“What. The. Fuck?”

You were halfway inside the tent, one foot in already as you stood frozen at the sight in front of you. Doyoung’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he scrambled to get his hand out of his pants. He sputtered and stuttered, tripping over both his words and own feet as he struggle to stand. Apologies and defenses were already stumbling out of his mouth, his eyes pleading you to forget all about it.

“No, no, no. Seriously, Doyoung. What the fuck?” You repeated, now fully in the tent. Doyoung’s mouth hung open, at a loss of words as to what else to say.

This was it, he’d get ratted it out and punished for being so sinful. He’d get in so much trouble, from both the pastor and his parents. He’d never live it down.

“All that trouble, all because you wanted to jerk off? Why couldn’t you have just asked? Seriously dude,” You walked past him and reached for your bag where you had a bag of trail mix that you had originally came back for. “And don’t think I’m not mad at you for being a fucking hypocrite, you should at least share your damn tablet since you made me lose my phone.”

Doyoung couldn’t believe how casual you were about all of this. He was just sinning, doing something he’d always seen as wrong. And yet, you couldn’t care less?

“But… aren’t you angry that I’m doing that?” He tried to gesture the motions as appropriately as he could.

“For what? Masturbating?” Doyoung cringed at the word. You chuckled at his obvious feelings towards the situation. “Dude, it’s normal. Everyone does it. Even me.” He tried not to dwell on the fact that you admitted to doing the same as him, knowing it’d be no good in helping his little friend go away. “Seriously Doyoung, don’t stress about it. If you needed some alone time, you could’ve just said something.” Your previous anger dissipated, realizing that Doyoung seemed to be truly ashamed to be doing it despite how normal it was.

“But it wasn’t even the fact I was doing it…” He trailed off, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact with you.

“Then what was it?” You inquired, stepping closer to Doyoung as he shifted nervously on his feet. He went back to biting his lip and the closer you got to him, the harder it got to breathe. He couldn’t utter the words he had brewing in his throat, feeling the tent get hotter and hotter as seconds grew into minutes.

“Was it maybe what you were thinking while doing it? Because, by the looks of your cheap porn stash, I don’t think that was doing the trick for you.” You smirked, having him in the palm of your hand.

You couldn’t deny the odd sense of attraction you had for the boy, maybe it was his boyishly good looks or just the fact that he was so innocent, so pure; you had wanted to ruin him. So maybe to spite him, you’d been extra touchy. You had worn a little less and flirted some. He seemed oblivious to it all and you just assumed he was immune to a woman’s charms, but clearly he hadn’t been as unaffected as you originally thought. Not if the tent in his pants were anything to go by.

So maybe you could keep having some fun. After all, Doyoung still desperately needed the relief and you’ve been so bored the past few days that this seemed like some good fun. Not like you didn’t need some relief too, it had been a particularly hard trip to stay “celibate” on.

You boldly reached forward, cupping Doyoung’s length in his khaki shorts. He tensed in an instant, eyes shooting up to meet your own.

“Do you want me to help you? Obviously that video wasn’t working, but maybe this will?” You began to massage the muscle, feeling how hot and heavy it already was. He couldn’t control how it twitched against your fingers, the feeling of someone else’s hand on him for the first time taking him places he’d never thought he’d go. “Or do you want me to stop? I can leave and you can get right back to where you were with the chick on the screen. I’ll forget I saw anything and you can act like nothing happened.”

You gave him a choice, one that he really should’ve spent more time thinking about. But honestly, the blood wasn’t going to his brain at the moment and he really needed some relief, and fast.

His voice was small, weak. It fueled the dominance in your mind, “Help me… please.” He begged.

You nearly purred at the sound, moving quick to get down in the tent. You tugged at his arm to follow, his expression confused at your action.

“C’mon stupid, if you’re standing while I do this, our shadow is gonna give us away.” You giggled, watching as the cogs began to turn in Doyoung’s mind and he realized what you were implying. Once he sat down, you placed your hands on either of his thighs, leaning forward to capture his mouth in a searing lip-lock. The action had surprised Doyoung, having only have kissed a few women; most of which were family members and had been chaste, quick pecks meant to say hello or goodbye. “Loosen up Doyoung,” you murmured into the kiss, feeling as Doyoung exhaled before letting some of his tense muscles go.

Letting your hands trail up, you slowly returned to feeling him up over his pants. This time Doyoung felt more pliant under your hands, worry melting off his bones as you two continued to kiss languidly. Your tongues slowly met, Doyoung’s tentative movements making you sigh a few giggles into his mouth at the damn inexperience you were dealing with.

Deciding to forego all sorts of foreplay, since this entire trip felt like foreplay in itself, you made quick work of the buttons of his pants. Doyoung watched as you pulled away to reach inside his underwear and tug out his member into the hot outdoor air. He had no time to process anything, feeling instant bliss when your hot breath fanned over his cock. It jumped at the attention, Doyoung feeling every muscle go numb as all his senses focused on the feeling of you hovering over his length.

“Mmm, are you ready?” You sensually hummed over him, watching him through lidded eyes. You looked like sin itself and at this point, Doyoung forgot all about the church and his readings and everything; his mind fogged with the sex haze you dropped on him. He numbly nodded, his throat tight with anticipation at what he’d only seen in porn.

You slowly kissed along his length, gentle butterfly kisses that made Doyoung jerk every time your warm lips met his skin. His breath came out labored, shuddering heaves that followed light whimpers as your mouth continued its descent down to the base of his cock. You made sure to make eye contact with Doyoung before you flattened your tongue against the underside of his length and slowly dragged it up all the way to the tip, which was now leaking heavily. His fluids coated the swollen and red head, pooling in a glistening glaze over the surface.

Tongue racing to catch every drop, Doyoung let his hand cover his mouth as an uncontrollable groan left his lips. He tried to hold back but you were steadily making him teeter on the edge of coming, when you had barely even done anything. His stamina was no doubt garbage, inexperience coming back to haunt him.

If he could, he’d have taken up every offer any girl had given him in the past; all the chances he passed up for someone to take care of him. He’d have built up some resistance at this point, able to hold back from coming embarrassingly premature.

But he hadn’t, and you had just suckled in the tip of his hard length before Doyoung reached for your head and tightened his fingers in your hair. He came with a shout, the act surprising you so you shut your mouth out of instinct which led to his come splattering all over your mouth and face. Scrunching your eyes shut, you braced yourself for rest of his load, waiting until his grip softened in your hair to finally pry one open to check on Doyoung.

He had his head thrown back as he laid limply against his sleeping bag, fingers clutched tightly on the crunchy fabric now instead in your hair. He panted heavily as air failed to fill his lungs, tremors still racking his system from the intense pleasure of the sudden orgasm. You let Doyoung catch his breath, taking a moment for yourself to clean up around your face.

Mumbling to yourself, you looked around for something to clean the come off with, a good amount just in your hand as you scraped more and more off your cheekbones. Doyoung lifted his head to catch you contemplating in thought, finding it sort of cute how you looked around like a lost puppy but still looked absolutely filthy with his release left glazing your face.

Catching his eyes, you watch as Doyoung’s eyes trailed along the span of your visage, no doubt looking at every drop of his come sprinkled on your face. Deciding to toy with him just a bit more, you take the hand that is covering in his come and raised it to your mouth, roaming your lips and circling them for a moment before dipping in the coated digits inside. Doyoung’s eyes widened as he watched your fingers disappear past your lips, his cock twitching valiantly at the sight.

“Y/N…” He mumbled, heart racing a million miles a minute. You slurped the substance of your fingers before bringing them out with a lewd pop, his release gone but now clear saliva coated your fingers.

“Doyoung,” You began, gauging his reaction for the next few words you were carefully going to say. “Do you mind if you help me out too? I can show you what to do, what makes me feel good.”

Doyoung hesitated, unsure if he’d be able to go on to do what you were asking of him. After all, he had absolutely no experience and he’d already done enough sinning to last him a life time. But as they say: Go Big or Go Home.

He nodded slowly, watching with trained eyes as you smiled and took his hand, guiding him to hover over you as you laid on your back. Before you could proceed, Doyoung stopped you with a hand and reached into his open duffle bag, pulling out a dark t-shirt. He silently and gently wiped at your face, kindly cleaning the remains of his release without even being asked.

You giggled at the sincerity, his manners overcoming the lust inside the tent, which felt suddenly much more cramped and intimate than it had in the past few days.

“Okay, okay,” You batted his hands away from your face, laughing at how sweet he was being. “That’s enough, I’m clean enough. Let’s get a move on, please?” Doyoung smiled and nodded, setting the shirt away from the two of you before returning to hover over you, kneeling in-between your spread legs.

He sat back on his haunches and awaited for your next commanding, an eager student ready to learn how to make your writhe in pleasure like you had done for him. Giving him a warm smile, you tugged your shirt off and watched as Doyoung’s eyes quickly began to take in the sight of your nearly nude torso, the only remaining piece of offending clothing being your bra.

“Did you want this off?” You purred, letting your hands toy with the straps of your navy blue bra, enjoying seeing the lust-driven gaze from the male in front of you. He nodded and you wasted no time arching your back and reaching to unclasp the brassiere, sliding off the loosened straps off your shoulders once it was unfastened. It seemed like nature overtook Doyoung’s senses as he lunged forward and latched his mouth on a pert nipple, his other hand naturally finding the other and already began to tug and toy with it. The action surprised you and you couldn’t help but gasp out loud, covering your mouth as a hasty afterthought.

Doyoung had little self-control at this point, running solely on instinct as he teethed harshly around your breast, no doubt leaving red and slightly purple indentions along the skin. Whining his name in a higher pitch than you would’ve liked to, Doyoung understood your need and switched to the other side, giving the other neglected nipple some nibbles before pulling away completely.

“Y/N, what now?” Doyoung breathlessly asked, his lips a puffy pink from using them against your skin so harshly. You felt your core heat up even more at the sight of the boy so utterly wrecked, all because of you. Motioning for him to slide down further, you began to make work of the buttons on your bottoms, tearing them off quickly and not giving Doyoung a chance to even land a finger on them before they were off. Leaving you in a pair of plaid boyshorts, Doyoung had rested his hot palms on the bones of your hips, letting his fingers mindlessly circle there until he received further instruction.

This was heaven to him, having never been so close to a woman; especially not one as needy for him as you were in that moment. He could nearly smell your arousal from where he was knelt, the fabric of your underwear clearly soaked and dark with your slick. He felt his mouth water at the sight, his hormones raging inside and making his mind whirl with filthy thoughts of you in too many naughty positions to count.

You were leaning back on your hands, watching intently as Doyoung’s eyes were drawn to your dripping sex, and you couldn’t help but let a breathless whisper ghost across your lips.

“Kiss me.”

Doyoung’s head snapped up at the request, eyes softening at your visage and he leaned forward with his palms now cradling your face gently, in a way you’d only expect Doyoung to do. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, passion evident yet it was strangely tame despite the awfully tense atmosphere. It was mostly an exchange of breaths, mixed with intoxicating brushes of tongue before Doyoung was already pulling away; sooner than you honestly would’ve liked.

“Teach me, c’mon. I want to make you feel good.” Doyoung requested, his strangely gruff voice making you shiver in anticipation for what his eager self could do to you. You laid back down, telling Doyoung to do what he wanted with your underwear, if he wanted them on or off. Doyoung pondered for a moment, thinking of how close he wanted to be to you.

Finally making a split-second decision, you felt his soft hand caressing your thighs before his digits wormed under your waistband and he gently pulled your underwear down your legs and off you. You obliged with his decision, shivering at the cold air that suddenly stroked your heat. You could hear Doyoung humming under his breath, almost like he was counting his breaths in order to keep sane. Your eyes had slid shut unconsciously so you were surprised by the sudden feeling of warm puffs in-between your legs. Eyes snapping open, you bring your head up to watch as Doyoung curiously let his tongue poke out to taste you, the combination of the sight and feeling of it making you ache for more.

“Doyoung… please.” Your voice was brittle, weak like the half-broken branches hanging off the trees outside your tent, one small gust of wind away from breaking off completely and disappearing into the dark brush underneath.

It felt like Doyoung chuckled against you, a small puff of air striking your folds and making you instantly turn into mush; putty in his inexperienced hands. Doyoung let his subconscious take over, hoping all the videos and gossip he’d seen and heard about eating a girl out gave him enough knowledge to at least make you come.

The first thing that came to his mind was the “Alphabet Method” where he would outline letters of the alphabet with his tongue against your folds. He had heard of this through some rowdy boys whom spoke a little too loud for public courtesy but it gave Doyoung an earful of how effective this method was. At least, it seemed effective if Hoseok proudly retelling his friends how he had Wendy going wild when he did it to her was anything to go by.

He began to spell random words, things like ‘cat’, ‘round’ and ‘water’. He found that you responded best to the letters that had curves in them, gauging your reactions by going back and forth between them. Your legs tightened around his head and your fisted your hands into the sleeping bag as Doyoung continued to work past his inexperience, though if you had to admit, he surely didn’t seem inexperienced by how well he was eating you out.

You continued to hiccup a mantra of his name, followed by gasps and mumbled curses as Doyoung let his hands spread you out a little further so he could tongue you deeper. His pink muscle probed inside you and his nose bumped against your clit so well that you couldn’t help but thrust up in his hold, seeking out friction on the nub once more.

As much as it pained you to admit; Doyoung was good. He had a natural ability of giving oral, and it was making your head spin.  You felt your release drawing near, your breaths coming quicker as Doyoung sensed your walls spasming around his tongue. Your tight core hugged his tongue as he fucked you even harder with his tongue, abandoning the letters and choosing to simply attack you as much as he could with his mouth. He pulled away to latch his soft lips around your clit, sucking harshly and making you choke on your breath and clench your hands deep into his chestnut hair.

“D-Doyoung, I’m close—please, oh my god—I’m gonna come!” You whimpered, trying to pull his mouth off your clit where he had showed no mercy on the nerves. Doyoung rode out your high right there, still suckling on your most sensitive area as you loudly gasped his name, back arching into a deep set curve as you come harder than you’re sure you ever had in your entire life. Whatever natural ability Doyoung had in sex, it came as not only a surprise but also a relief to you because it gave you such a euphoric high with minimal to no awkward lessons or transitions.

Doyoung had imitated the sound you made when you had sucked your fingers into your mouth, a soft pop from his lips unhinging from your clit as he pulled off. He let his eyes trail up your glistening body and made eye contact with you, a small smirk toying on his lips. Your eyes rolled back as you let your tired and breathless body collapse back down against the floor of the tent.

Doyoung expressed the same kindness and courtesy from earlier and cleaned up between your legs, your release soaking up his t-shirt from earlier. He gently pulled your underwear back on, waiting until enough energy surged through you to lift your hips so he could tug the fabric back over your lower body.

The afterglow was nice; calm and peaceful. It was filled with the sound of your panting breaths, the crickets chirping outside and the gentle breeze rustling the leaves on the trees. Doyoung quietly shifted until he laid next to you, hands brushing away the sweat slicked hairs that stuck to your face to tuck them behind your ears.

After a few moments, Doyoung finally let his voice break the semi-silence inside the tent.

“Good?”

You hummed a response which Doyoung seemed to deem as enough before he reached over and covered your body and his in a fleece blanket. The heat had dissipated during your ‘session’ as evening began its slow crawl into the deep of night.

It was the last night you’d be out here, under the stars.

What a way to spend it, you thought as Doyoung snuggled close to you. You’d deal with the consequences of your actions later, choosing to enjoy the tender moment and sleep the noises of the night away alongside Doyoung.

This night was quiet—peaceful, even—much like your newly developed relationship with the boy whom you had gotten all wrong. But like the stars slowly appearing in the dark cerulean sky, your feelings for each other were bleeding into focus, in small pinpricks and pixels.

A pace you two could work with, surely.

[emeraldwaves]

Title: Don’t Look Down DJ AU Chapter 10 (Read from beginning Here or Here) Pairing: Sarumi Rating: M Word Count:  7,094 AO3 Summary: When Fushimi Saruhiko is dragged to a club by some of his co-workers, he refuses to dance, earning him the attention of the lively, up-and-coming DJ, Yata Misaki. After a heated argument, the boys go their separate ways, never expecting to meet again. Little do they know their first meeting is only the beginning of their now intertwined lives.

Full Fic Under Cut. Thank you to @its-love-u-asshole for betaing!

Regret began to settle into Saruhiko's being a few days later when Doumyouji and the others caught wind of the performance Saruhiko had agreed to do with Misaki. This subsequently meant Munakata had found out as well, and that made Saruhiko feel even worse. So much so, he attempted to avoid Munakata every time he locked eyes with the man in the office.

However, by the afternoon a few days later, there was absolutely no avoiding his boss.

"Oya! Fushimi-kun, I heard you're going to participate in a live performance this weekend. How thrilling!"

Thrilling was one word for it. It certainly felt like something out of a horror movie. Saruhiko clicked his tongue. "Tsk, sure."

"I think it would be wonderful if the office went to hear this song of yours," he grinned, and Saruhiko knew it was a telling grin. One that let him know, Munakata had known everything anyway and he wasn't about to let Saruhiko say no to the entire office coming to see him. He also had to know how much Saruhiko despised the idea of performing live and was silently hoping Misaki would change his mind.

Of course, Misaki had shown no signs of doing such a thing. In fact, it was more the opposite. Misaki wouldn't shut up about how excited he was. He was constantly texting Saruhiko, which wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but every text was related to how excited or nervous he was to perform live. The emotions fluctuated depending on the day, and Misaki was a ball of anxiety whenever he called Saruhiko and left him a multitude of messages.

So far, Saruhiko had been consistently avoiding practice, in hopes that Misaki would maybe forget the whole thing and he could silently slip away into the shadows. It was a foolish thought, since Misaki rarely forgot about anything regarding Saruhiko and music, let alone something he'd been dying to do his whole life.

Saruhiko was stuck it seemed. At the very least, he wasn't going to let the whole damn office come and watch him make a fool of himself on that stage. "No," he said finally. "No one is coming to watch." Just thinking about the performance made him want to throw up.

"It's good for co-workers to support each other's endeavors," Munakata smiled.

"I wouldn't exactly call this my endeavor," Saruhiko grumbled. He assumed there was no way he was going to get around people coming to watch, especially if they already knew about it. It wouldn't be difficult for them all to figure out where and when it was, especially if they were smart enough to ask Misaki.

"But Fushimi-kun, we still would like to support you, whatever it is you do." He doubted any other boss cared as much as Munakata. As annoying as it was he did mean well, and he cared, more than Saruhiko could say about most of the people throughout the course of his life.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, sighing as he rolled his eyes, watching Munakata finally leave him alone. He knew he was probably going to see him, Hidaka, Akiyama and the rest at the performance whether he wanted them there or not.

He was going to have to cave to Misaki and actually start practicing. This performance was a reality and in order to not make a complete fool of himself, he had to start somewhere.

Picking up his phone, he replied to one of the messages he had been avoiding this morning.

[Text Reply] Misaki: Alright, we can practice. I'll stop by after work.

[Text]: GREAT! Where the hell u been? We shoulda started days ago. [Text]: We can show Kamamoto so u can @ least do it 4 some1 b4 the big night

Saruhiko wished Misaki would stop mixing numbers into his words when he texted, and he really wished he would stop referring to it as 'the big night'. It was far too much pressure for Saruhiko to handle. He wasn't a performer.

And that became painfully obvious when he stood in Misaki's living room, frozen as Kamamoto's eyes were on him before the song began. Or well, he thought Kamamoto's eyes were on him, he couldn't tell behind the idiot's damn sunglasses. Him being in the room was more than enough to set off Saruhiko's nerves, even though Kamamoto had presumably heard Saruhiko practicing in Misaki's room simply by proximity. He pursed his lips, opening his mouth, as though he were about to begin, but when the intro ended, he could barely open his mouth.

Misaki had promised him happy memories, but if he couldn't actually make any sound, there weren't going to be any happy memories for the two of them.

"Saruhiko!" Misaki said, slamming his hand down on the button, after it happened for a third time. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sick," he coughed awkwardly, clearly fake. "The sound isn't coming out."

"Bullshit you're sick! What's going on? You've sang for me plenty of times and Kamamoto has heard you a ton of times!" Misaki folded his arms and flopped on the couch next to Kamamoto.

"I told you I'm not a performer," he said.

"Yeah but you also agreed to do this for me!" Misaki jumped up. "I get that you're nervous...but I know how you can sing, I've heard you and I fucking love it! They're all gonna love it too, and even if you fucking hate it, it's barely 5 minutes of your life, it'll be over before you even know it!"

Saruhiko hated that he blushed when Misaki said he loved his singing. It wasn't something he was proud of, or something he wanted to pursue. He wasn't like Misaki, but he did like Misaki, begrudgingly, or less so as of late. If he could make Misaki love something, that was slowly becoming enough to spur him on. He wasn't sure when it had become like that, their relationship, but he didn't hate it.

"And it's not like you're gonna be alone! I'll be there right next to you, or well, behind you, sort of," Misaki said, and Saruhiko hadn't realized the shorter had still been talking.

"Alright, alright. Do it again," he scoffed.

"Right!" Misaki said, standing behind his mixing board as he started up the track again.

This time, Saruhiko sang out, and even behind Kamamoto's sunglasses, he could see his eyes widen. He didn't move much, and Misaki said that was something they'd have to work on, especially since Misaki was often so energetic, but Kamamoto noted the sound was so good, he didn't imagine many people would care if Saruhiko sat like a lump on the edge of the stage as long as he sang like that.

"I didn't expect you to sound like that, even from just hearing you guys through the wall and the recording," Kamamoto noted.

Saruhiko rolled his eyes. "Surprises, I'm full of them apparently." But the person he kept surprising the most was himself.

"See!" Misaki cheered, shutting his laptop. "You're gonna be amazing! Just...move a bit more and you'll be fine!"

More than anything, Saruhiko wanted to believe Misaki was right, just this once.

~~

Misaki had imagined many times what it would be like to actually meet a music producer who was willing to hear him, to give him that one chance he had always assumed he'd needed. And now it had happened and he was going to do a test performance. It didn't feel real.

After he had called Kusanagi to confirm the performance, he woke up every morning and thought about it. Every day he had to remind himself he was in fact going to perform for a real time producer. Mikoto's producer no less.

"Kamamoto. Can you believe tonight...I'm going to do a performance for a real producer!" Misaki cheered.

"I can believe it!" he said, nudging his friend. "C'mon Yata, we've all known how freaking talented you are. It was only a matter of time!"

"I dunno. It still doesn't feel real to me!" he said, glancing at his watch. "Shit!" he cried out, dashing into his room as he dug through the pile of clean clothes on his bed. "I gotta get ready!"

"Uh, Yata," Kamamoto mumbled, peering into his room from the doorway. "You have plenty of time."

"Yeah, but I gotta look perfect!" he said, holding up a shirt.

"Right, I'll get dinner ready." Kamamoto sighed, and left Yata to dig through his clothes.

He wondered what Saruhiko planned on wearing. They had to look professional, but casual, right? What the hell were they supposed to wear? He wasn't any sort of fashion expert, but he also didn't want to look like an idiot.

He blushed thinking about the song once more. The best idea would probably be to go with an outfit that matched their style. Being himself was definitely the best option. The song ran through his mind, Saruhiko's voice ringing in his ears. He couldn't wait for them to hear how amazing Saruhiko was live. If only Saruhiko would believe that. He prayed the idiot would be able to handle it.

Misaki knew he really owed Saruhiko a lot. This was the third or fourth thing he'd convinced Saruhiko to do against his will. "I'll make it up to him, somehow," Misaki muttered under his breath. Briefly, a memory of them making out in the tent flashed through his mind, but he quickly shook the thought away. He couldn't just repay Saruhiko with those kind of favors.

Sighing, he pulled a white hoodie on, smoothing out the flyaway hair which stuck out every which way. He probably was going to wear his beanie like he normally did, and as his heart beat with anticipation, he made his way to the kitchen.

~~

The bar venue was smaller than Misaki expected, but he wasn't upset, in fact, he was relieved. He was used to playing in smaller clubs. The smaller the crowd the easier it would be to get people moving. Bigger crowds were far more intimidating. Though he had to admit, he was surprised Mikoto was playing at a place like this. He knew Kusanagi, Homra's producer owned the place, and it was where the company had gotten it's start, but he was surprised the place wasn't swarming with Mikoto and Totsuka's fans.

"Yata! Good to see you!" Totsuka bounced forward, holding out his hand. "King just got here too! Is your singer here? We're gonna do a quick soundcheck!"

"Not yet," Misaki smiled, staring at Totsuka. He still hadn't gotten over the fact that he was actually going to be an opener for Totsuka and Mikoto, his music heroes.

"That's alright! King and I can go first." Totsuka turned away, waving to the tall, red-haired man who emerged from a backroom. "King! Come say hi."

The man approached slowly, his body swaying back and forth with each casual step he took forward, and Misaki held his breath, watching as the man he'd admired for so long walked closer and closer. He held a cigarette behind his lips, and stopped next to Totsuka. Mikoto was taller than Misaki had realized, it was difficult to gauge that sort of thing when he was just watching someone one a stage.

"Yo. Yata-san, yeah?" he said, pulling the cigarette from between his lips.

"Uh...Y-Yeah! It's such...such an honor to meet you, Mikoto-san!" he said, bowing his head. "I've been a fan of your music for...as long as I can remember!" he yelled.

"Mm," Mikoto smirked, and placed his hand on Misaki's shoulder, giving him a pat. "You're good." And with those few words, he walked with Totsuka to the stage.

Misaki was frozen. Suoh Mikoto had complimented him. Him, and he was going to open for him tonight. His heart was pounding so hard, he thought his chest might explode from the excitement.

"Tsk. Misaki, don't keep your jaw on the floor, it's dirty there."

A familiar voice broke Misaki from his daydream as he turned to face Saruhiko, who was staring at him skeptically. "S-Saruhiko!"

"I think you're drooling," Saruhiko smirked.

"S-Shut up! Do you realize that was Suoh Mikoto! THE Mikoto!" he gasped.

"I realize," Saruhiko replied flatly. He looked annoyed, but then again, when didn't Saruhiko look annoyed. He did, however, look damn good in the outfit he had picked out. Tight jeans and a button up shirt with a unbuttoned gray vest. Misaki pursed his lips, trying to focus on the situation, instead of wanting to kiss Saruhiko.

"Look I get that you don't care, but tonight is a big deal to me!" he snapped, folding his arms.

"I'm here, aren't I?" he muttered, shaking his head. "Let's get ready." Saruhiko brushed by him, heading towards the stage to soundcheck.

Misaki's heart was starting to race. He could guess there probably wouldn't be more than fifty to hundred people in such a small, casual bar, but meeting Mikoto had made him even more nervous. This was Mikoto, Suoh Mikoto. It was his dream to open for such an amazing talent. The man who had inspired him to do this in the first place.

"Misaki? You coming?" Saruhiko asked, bringing Misaki back to the present once again.

"Yeah! Duh! I'm ready. Completely ready!" he said, hopping up onto the small stage. Saruhiko's brow was raised as Misaki walked by him, but the shorter boy chose to ignore him. Saruhiko's attitude problem wasn't going to change Misaki's utter excitement, and it certainly wasn't going to help his nerves. Ignoring it was the far better choice.

Standing behind his laptop, he slipped the headphones over his ears, his head already felt hot, his ears wet with sweat.

"Alright, just do the beginning," Kusanagi called out from next to the stage. "Just a couple lines, we just need to make sure we can hear Fushimi over the music. Fushimi, make sure you sing as loud as you think you can."

Misaki swallowed, he hoped Saruhiko would actually sing out, especially after they had practiced for so long. The music began to swell in his ears, and Saruhiko's cue was about to hit. Of course, there was silence for a moment, Saruhiko coming in late as his sweet voice finally rang out. Misaki's chest deflated, letting out a sigh of relief. There wasn't much of an audience yet, but he hoped Saruhiko would keep his confidence up. He wanted him to come in on time.

"That's great, thanks!" Kusanagi said, waving to them, the song stopping abruptly. "We're going to double check the soundcheck on Mikoto, so hang out in the backroom for thirty or so. We'll call you out when it's time."

"Right," Misaki nodded, stepping off the stage to stand, or pace rather, in the backroom.

"Sit down," Saruhiko grumbled. He'd plopped down onto one of the large red cushion chairs. He folded his legs and arms, looking just as grouchy as he had before.

"I can't!" Misaki said, rubbing his hands through his messy hair. "I'm too nervous! This is Mikoto-san! Mi-ko-to!" he said.

"I know. You've said that. I don't know why it matters so much. You'll be just as good, if not better."

Misaki blushed. Did Saruhiko really think he was better than Mikoto-san? That was ridiculous, there was no way he was. Saruhiko probably just thought that because he didn't know very much about music.

"No way!" he scoffed. "No way will I be better than Mikoto-san!" Misaki jumped up and down a few times, shaking his hair out.

"Fine. You won't be. Can you just sit down?" Saruhiko scoffed. "You're...making me more nervous than I already was."

Misaki froze, and quickly took a seat. He was used to feeling nervous, but Saruhiko was not, and it was imperative that Saruhiko actually sang tonight. "Sorry," he muttered.

The two sat in silence for the remainder of the time, but Misaki kept bouncing his leg up and down quickly, though Saruhiko attempted to stop it by grabbing his thigh every so often, hoping to quell the vibrations.

"We're ready for you!" Kusanagi smiled. "We've got a nice small crowd, so nothing to worry about."

"Right," Misaki nodded, the two boys standing up to make their way to the stage.

"We've got quite the treat for you before King and I do our set," Totsuka smiled. "Introducing the next DJ hit, Yata Misaki and his incredible singer, Fushimi Saruhiko!!" The small crowd clapped, as they walked onto the stage. Misaki was quick to wave, the nervous energy hitting him positively. Kusanagi was right, there was no reason to be nervous, this was his night, best to have fun. Saruhiko kept his gaze forward, as though he could only stare at his goal, the microphone on the stand in front of him.

Standing behind his laptop, Misaki placed the headphones back on his head, though he left one ear open as he picked up the mic on the table in front of him. "Hey everyone!" he smiled. "I'm Yata Misaki and I'm thrilled to be here tonight with Saruhiko for our first live performance of this song. I hope you guys like it!" he smiled. There were a few more claps from the audience, but Misaki didn't wait for them to finish as he turned up the bass on the soundboard.

The familiar tune flowed into his ears, and it was like he forgot where he was. This was their song, his and Saruhiko's, and now they were going to perform it together. That alone was amazing, everything with Mikoto aside, the fact that Saruhiko was actually going to sing live for someone other than him was incredible.

This time, Saruhiko started perfectly on time, the song sounding almost as flawless as it did in the mix track. Misaki smiled, bouncing with the track, his body moving in time with the music. Even Saruhiko seemed to be moving, his hips swaying back and forth, and he even moved his arms a few times, as though he was actually enjoying performing the song. He looked good, damn good. From as far Misaki could tell from behind, Saruhiko's gaze stayed up and out, not looking down once out of fear or nerves.

Misaki couldn't believe it. He'd dreamed about this moment, a time he and Saruhiko would perform live together, and he was opening for Mikoto. It was perfect, the way they moved together on stage, the excitement and passion building within him, like a flame engulfing his every being. And before he could really even take it in, it was over, perfection ringing in the still air.

~~

Saruhiko was shocked sound actually left his lips when the song began. He knew where to sing, he'd done it so many damn times in recording, and in front of Kamamoto and Misaki. It would've been dumb to miss his cue like he had during the soundcheck.

The lights were much brighter now, and though he could make out some of the tables, mostly Saruhiko couldn't see a thing, and the music was so overwhelming, he couldn't bring himself to do anything but sing, and once he did, he realized how much sense it made. His voice belonged in this track. If he hadn't sang, it would've sounded wrong, and empty.

So he sang, loud. His voice didn't sound like his own, his body didn't feel like his own, his hips beginning to sway in time with the music. Behind him, he could feel Misaki's energy pulsating, and he felt him jump up and down a few times. People in the audience were cheering, but Saruhiko could barely hear that, nor did he care. This was something he and Misaki had made together, and they were sharing it together now.

His heart was pounding in his ears, and the rush was incredible, addicting. For a moment, he wondered what it would feel like to do this all the time, for a larger audience, blinded by lights every night. The thought made him a little sick, but it didn't stop him from moving and singing. He didn't hate it, and he hated that he didn't hate it. He despised having a brief moment of understanding why his father had missed this, why his father hated him so much. But mostly, he couldn't stop thinking about Misaki behind him, and he hated how much that affected him and his performance, how excited it made him.

And then it was over, and Saruhiko slowly lowered the mic back onto the stand, his hands trembling. He swallowed, bowing his head toward the now cheering crowd. They were shockingly loud for such a small space, but Saruhiko felt his ears throb from the silence, his ear drums remembering where the music had once been. Misaki ran forward, and hooked his arm around Saruhiko, forcing Saruhiko to bow to the crowd.

"Thank you!" Misaki cheered, waving his hands up and down frantically. "Thank you," he whispered quietly, Saruhiko barely able to hear him, but he knew Misaki was grateful.

The two made their way off the stage and Saruhiko couldn't stop his entire body from shaking.

"Great job boys," Kusanagi said, patting Misaki on the back, as the two headed to the backroom. "Feel free to take a seat at the table in front if you guys want to watch after you've settled down," he smiled, heading towards the stage to introduce Mikoto and Totsuka.

Shutting the door behind them, Saruhiko immediately fell backwards, his back smacking against the door as his lips were met with Misaki's. The shorter was kissing him, his lips trembling against Saruhiko's. "Thank you, Saru, you were amazing!" he yelled, nipping at Saruhiko's lips.

Gripping Misaki's hips, Saruhiko turned him around and pushed him against the door, pressing their lips together once more. He had so much excess energy, and unsure of what to do with it, he took it out on Misaki, kissing him hard. He pressed his tongue into Misaki's panting mouth, pressing their hips tightly together. Misaki moaned, and fought against his tongue, their wet muscles intertwining. Misaki panted, pulling back, his chest heaving.

"D-Damn. We really should...perform more," he said.

Saruhiko rolled his eyes, taking a step back now that he had gathered his thoughts. "Forget it. I said this once was enough."

Frowning, Misaki leaned forward and flicked Saruhiko's shoulder. "C'mon! You're amazing! That was amazing!" he said. "We have to make more songs! Maybe we could get signed and make a whole ALBUM!" Misaki cheered, his flushed face sparkling from joy and sweat.

"Slow down," Saruhiko sighed, wiping his face with a towel. "Why don't you see what Kusanagi says later alright?"

"Fine, fine!" Misaki said, puffing out his cheeks. He tucked his laptop into his bag, and wiped his his brow with his sweatshirt. "But...seriously, Saruhiko, that was...amazing. You were really good. Thanks...I...I really owe you," Misaki mumbled, his face flushing even more from the blush rising to his cheeks.

Saruhiko shook his head. "I'm only as good as you. You made the song, and you can repay me by not asking me to perform again," he snorted. It was a silly lie he was telling himself. He knew he would have a hard time saying no to performing again, especially if Misaki asked him.

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself," Misaki teased, nudging Saruhiko with his shoulder.

"Not likely," Saruhiko grunted, clicking his tongue. "Hey, you're going to miss Mikoto's whole set if you don't hurry," he continued, strategically changing the subject.

"Shit! You're right," he said, grabbing his bag as he rushed out the door to take a seat at the table Kusanagi had set aside for them.

Saruhiko followed, sitting next to Misaki who had proceeded to ignore him completely. He really should've expected that to be the case. Whenever Suoh Mikoto was involved, Misaki was gone, lost to focusing on this supposed musical prodigy. It was so strange to Saruhiko, how much Misaki seemed to idolize the man. He claimed to emulate him, but Mikoto's musical style was so much more boring compared to Misaki, and though it did have passion, it came from a much lazier place. Misaki's music always awoke something within Saruhiko, a kind of dormant energy. Mikoto's music made Saruhiko want to sit and chill out.

But Misaki was always so captured by Mikoto. He hadn't even looked at Saruhiko since they had come out to watch. His eyes were on Mikoto, mouth agape, as though he were watching a king. Saruhiko wondered what it would feel like if Misaki looked at him like that. Overwhelming...probably...

When the set ended, Misaki finally sat back with a sigh. "Man, no one does it as good as Mikoto-san!" he smiled.

The red-haired man bowed with Totsuka, and both of them stepped down off the stage, immediately rushed by a group of fans, all looking to talk to him. Misaki looked a bit disappointed, but sat back with a shrug. "I'll talk to him in a bit," he nodded.

Saruhiko practically jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around, he was both surprised (and not) to see his boss, Munakata Reisi standing behind him.

"Oya! Fushimi-kun, an amazing performance as expected. It was lovely seeing you up there. You were practically a different person!" Saruhiko's face paled, and he immediately glanced around, waiting to be rushed by the others. Munakata let out a soft chuckle, waving his hand back and forth. "No, no, Fushimi-kun. I came alone. Don't worry, I didn't out your location to the others." Munakata placed as finger over his own lips. "It will be our secret. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to say hello to an old friend."

Saruhiko blinked, watching Munakata make his way towards Kusanagi, smiling as they greeted each other. It was an oddly small world, his boss knew Kusanagi, and Mikoto it seemed. But mostly he was surprised Munakata had actually respected his wishes to keep his performance a private affair. It would be nice to go into work and not be swamped by his co-workers, desperate to get information out of him.

The crowd around Mikoto had finally begun to disperse, so Misaki jumped up. "I'm going to go say thank you to Mikoto-san, and tell him how amazing he was! I'll be right back," Misaki smiled, leaving Saruhiko behind at the table. Shrugging, he rest his chin on his palm and watched as Misaki cheerfully greeted Totsuka and Mikoto. There was a huge smile on Totsuka's face, who gave him a hug, and Misaki's face turned so red, Saruhiko was surprised the shorter boy hadn't fallen over.

"Excuse me, do you mind if I join you for a moment?" A man with dark green hair in a wheelchair rolled up next to his table.

"Uh..." Saruhiko began to refuse, trying to make up an excuse that he was tired after the performance but he couldn't think of anything to say.

"Nagare Hisui," he said, his lips curling into a devilish smile as he pulled out a card and placed it on the table, sliding it towards Saruhiko. "I'm a DJ as well."

"Ah..." Saruhiko muttered, picking the card up off of the table. He had heard Nagare's name before, though he hadn't taken the time to listen to his music. Mostly because he didn't care.

"I enjoy working with a variety of singers on different styles of songs," Nagare explained. "I'd really be interested in collaborating with you if you're interested. Your voice is just what I need for a new track I'm working on."

Saruhiko pursed his lips. He really hadn't meant to make anything of this singing thing. He had begrudgingly sang with Misaki once and that was it. He definitely didn't want to sing with anyone else.

"Thanks, but I'm not actually a singer," he said, tucking Nagare's card into his pocket.

"Oh, but you are," Nagare smirked. "You're very talented. I'd love to have you on at least one of my songs."

"Mmm. Like I said, singing isn't really my thing," Saruhiko muttered.

"Still," Nagare replied. "You have my card. Consider it, if you feel like working for a more...professional DJ." He wheeled himself away, leaving Saruhiko to wrinkle his nose as how damn pretentious Nagare seemed. This was exactly why he had no desire to be in this DJ world.

"Saruhiko!" Misaki called out, plopping back down in his seat. "Were you just talking to Nagare Hisui!? I can't believe he was here!" he said.

Saruhiko shrugged. "He liked my singing."

"Yeah because you're amazing! Fuck, that’s so cool!" Misaki said, running his hands down his face. "And guess what, Mikoto-san and Kusanagi want to meet with us tomorrow! Can you believe it?! You gotta come with me!"

Saruhiko rolled his eyes. Actually he could believe it. Their performance tonight had been amazing, even if he refused to admit it out loud. Of course Misaki was asking him to go with him, Saruhiko wasn't sure why he had expected anything else.

"Fine," he said, deciding not to argue with him. It was easier. "If, and only if, you come home with me tonight," he grinned, loving how quickly Misaki's face heated up.

"Yeah..." he muttered, rubbing his arm. "Yeah I could do that."

"Good," Saruhiko replied. He wanted Misaki to look at him, and only him for the rest of the night.

~~

When Misaki awoke the next morning, Saruhiko had already left for work. He had promised Misaki he would come to the meeting on his lunch break, but he still had to go into work to finish up a few computers.

Yawning, Misaki sat up, the blankets sliding down his bare chest. His face flushed, as he thought about the evening before. Saruhiko had thrown him down on the bed, and then he'd been wrapped up in him for the rest of the night. He panted and moaned, his breath filling the hot air, their hips falling back into the rhythm of each other. It was nice, to be connected to Saruhiko in such a physical way, especially after they had been so connected through his music before.

He sighed, flopping back onto the bed with a large smile on his face. Saruhiko was amazing, they were amazing, and their performance had been even more amazing. The best part was, Mikoto and Kusanagi wanted to meet with him again today. He wanted more than anything to sign with Kusanagi, and keep making music. Make actual money, do actual performances...it sounded amazing. Maybe Saruhiko could sing more and quit his job. Though Misaki wasn't sure if that was something Saruhiko really wanted.

He knew he had to stop pressuring Saruhiko into doing these things he didn't want to, but whenever Saruhiko broke free of the chains he put around himself, it was always so damn beautiful. Misaki loved it, hell, he was starting to think he maybe even loved Saruhiko. Covering his eyes, Misaki ran his hands down his face. Glancing at the clock, he decided it would be better to think about this later, since he had to get ready for this damn meeting

Today was the day he hoped his new career would begin. Grabbing his clothes, he decided to leave early to change at his apartment, figuring it would be easier to look semi-decent with his own wardrobe. Plus, he didn't really want to show up in the exact same outfit he had worn the night before.

"Yata! You were amazing last night!" Kamamoto said, almost immediately as Misaki walked through the front door of their apartment.

"Thanks!" he replied, dashing through the living to his own room. "I have a meeting with Mikoto-san and Kusanagi right now!" he called out.

"You do?! Do you think this could be it?!" Kamamoto asked.

"Yeah! I hope so! They loved what we did last night, so keep your fingers crossed for me!" Tossing off his clothes, he jumped in the shower, getting ready, which didn't take long, since Misaki had so much nervous energy. Dashing back by Kamamoto in a new outfit, he waved and practically ran out the door.

He was thankful when he saw Saruhiko standing outside of the main office building where HOMRA Talent was located.

"Saruhiko!" he called out, waving as he ran up next to him.

"I'm surprised you're on time," Saruhiko teased, glancing at his watch. "I was starting to think maybe you were going to be late to your own meeting."

"Hell no! I wouldn't do anything to screw this meeting up!" he smiled, hitting Saruhiko on the arm. "Thanks for coming."

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. "I didn't want to do anything to possibly ruin your chance," he muttered. "Still, I don't want to be a singer, so I'd rather not...sign anything," he clarified.

Misaki let out a small sigh. He should've expected Saruhiko to say something like that, but there was a small part of Misaki which hoped Saruhiko would change his mind and be his permanent singer.

"Right, well, let's go," Misaki said, leading the way inside.

Once they made it to the 7th floor, they were greeted by Totsuka, smiling brightly. "Hey guys! So happy to see you both made it!" Totsuka said. "You were both so fantastic last night! King was so impressed!" he said, leading them down the hall.

"Was he?!" Misaki said, looking so eager. He couldn't believe Totsuka Tatara was actually saying this to him.

"Mhm!" Totsuka nodded. "We have lots to discuss!" Opening the door, he led them into the room with Mikoto and Kusanagi. Misaki swallowed, wanting to pinch himself. He couldn't believe he was actually here, in this moment. His dreams coming true.

"Yata-san, Fushimi-san, please take a seat!" Kusanagi smiled, gesturing for the two to sit down in the chairs in front of them "We're very happy you're both here. You both performed wonderfully last night," he continued, pulling out a few folders.

"As I said before, we have a lot to discuss!" Totsuka smiled.

"Right," Kusanagi chuckled. "We'd love to bring you on as one of our talent, Yata-san," Kusanagi said, pulling a contract out of one of the folders. "With this, you are required to make a twelve track album. It will include the single you have already released, and we would like to offer Fushimi-san the chance to sing any of the songs he wishes with you. We also want to offer you a collaboration with Mikoto and Totsuka. This, we would sell as your second single," Kusanagi explained. "It would boost your popularity and get your name out there, which is exactly what we want. If the album does well, we can talk about a longer contract for more albums, but for now, this is for your first one."

Misaki glanced at the paper, and then back at Kusanagi and Mikoto, and once more to Saruhiko. In front of him was the contract to actually make an album, a real album. His songs would be heard on the radio, maybe he'd even go on a tour! Plus, he would get the chance to collaborate with Mikoto. He was sure he was dreaming now.

"Really?" he said, speaking finally, though his mouth felt dry and his hands felt clammy.

"Yes, really. Are you interested?" Kusanagi said. "Mikoto has already begun the track you are to collaborate on. He's looking for you to add to it, and perhaps Totsuka and Fushimi could duet for it?"

"Of course I'm interested!" Misaki said, leaning forward in his seat.

"Great! We brought a copy of the track for you to hear so far."

Pulling out his phone, Mikoto placed it on the table. "Here," he said quietly, pushing play. It was softer, and slower than music he normally created. It certainly sounded like something Mikoto would make, and it was definitely something he could work with.

"You want me to...add to this?" he asked, and Mikoto nodded. "Shit..." he cursed. "I'd be so honored!" he said, bowing his head to Mikoto, his heart pounding. He couldn't believe Mikoto actually wrote a song with him in mind!

Next to him however, Saruhiko clicked his tongue. He had been oddly quiet this whole time.

"Fushimi-san?" Totsuka said, still smiling. "You've been very silent. Are you interested in singing with me?"

Biting his lip, Misaki turned towards Saruhiko, nervous he already knew the answer.

~~

Saruhiko wasn't really sure what the fuck was going on, but he hated the song that had come from Mikoto's little device. It was boring and slow, and it had none of the heart Misaki's music usually had. Even if Misaki added to the song, there was no way it would be his regular sound.

But of course the idiot looked incredibly excited about it. It was Mikoto-san and how could Misaki possibly say no to him. He was the definition of selling out.

Clicking his tongue, he glared at Totsuka when he asked him to sing with him. He had explicitly told Misaki he wasn't going to be a singer anymore, really he had just come for moral support, though it really hadn't mattered.

"No, I'm not," he said bluntly. "I already told Misaki I wasn't interested in singing anymore, but I'm especially not interested in singing something that sounds nothing like what Misaki normally does." Standing up, he made his way out of the office. He was done, there was no reason for him to be here. Misaki was going to sign the contract, and he could go back to his regular job. Misaki would probably forget about him completely once he was wrapped up in the whirlwind of his new life.

"I'll talk to him!" he heard Misaki call out behind him, but he kept walking towards the elevator. "Saruhiko! Saruhiko what the hell!?!" he yelled, stopping him before Saruhiko could escape onto the elevator.

"What do you mean what the hell?" Saruhiko asked, folding his arms. "I already told you I wasn't interested in singing more, especially not for a shitty song like that."

"But Saruhiko, Mikoto-san..."

"Fuck," Saruhiko snapped, clenching his fists. "I am so damn tired of hearing about 'Mikoto-san', Misaki! You're good on your own! You don't need his fame to carry you, and I get he's your...idol or whatever, but your sound is yours, and it sounds nothing like his, and I'm not going to sit here and watch you suck his music dick, just so you can do some shitty song with your hero! You can sign the contract, and get your music career without me," he scoffed.

Misaki's eyes were wide as he listened to Saruhiko yell at him, he almost felt bad. He knew this was an important moment for Misaki, but he was so tired of being second to Mikoto. He hadn't wanted the attention from Misaki before, but now that he'd had it and lost it, it didn't feel good.

"This is a big deal for me Saruhiko!" Misaki yelled. "I've been waiting to be noticed by someone, anyone, and the fact that it's Mikoto-san is amazing! Yeah I might be good, but I'm never going to get anywhere if I just keep doing what I'm doing! So stop being an ass, and just...come sing with us!"

Frowning, Saruhiko brushed by him, pushing the button on the elevator. "I already told you, you can do whatever the hell you want. I get it, Mikoto-san is amazing, and you're willing to give up everything to do whatever he wants. That song sucks Misaki, and I'm pretty sure you know it. But you don't need me, you've got them. I'm sure Totsuka can handle singing the whole damn thing," he snorted.

"You're invited to sing with us, Saruhiko! It's not like I'm...replacing you!" Misaki yelled.

Stepping into the elevator, Saruhiko rolled his eyes. "Even if I wanted to sing again, I would want to sing your music, not his. Goodbye Misaki," he growled, pushing the button to close the doors to the elevator.

"Fine! Do whatever the hell you want, I'm tired of trying to work with your difficult ass!" Misaki snapped.

Saruhiko was positive Misaki was still talking as the elevator lowered to the floor, but Saruhiko didn't care. Misaki was going to be perfectly happy without him. He'd made it clear he did not need Saruhiko anymore. Misaki had used him to get exactly where he needed to be, and now he could become a carbon copy of Mikoto. The worst part was, Saruhiko had actually fallen for his stupid ass.

Clenching his fists, he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out Nagare Hisui's card. He grabbed his phone and input the number, waiting for the DJ to answer.

~~

Storming back into the office, Misaki bit his lip trying not to cry. He couldn't look like an idiot in front of them. Stupid Saruhiko! Of course he was excited to be signing with an actual agency, and of course he was excited to work with Mikoto! So yeah, maybe he didn't need Saruhiko, but he wanted him. Saruhiko was the best person he had collaborated with, even if he was a stubborn shithead.

"Is everything okay?" Kusanagi asked.

Misaki sighed, shaking his head. "Saruhiko really doesn't want to be a singer."

"Eh," Mikoto shrugged. "He's good, but if he doesn't want to, don't force the guy."

"Yeah..." Misaki said quietly. "I won't."

Totsuka placed a hand on Misaki's shoulder. "It's alright! You'll find other great singers for your music. I'd be happy to collaborate with you, and I'm sure other singers would too!"

Smiling, Misaki nodded. He was a good DJ, and he was about to make an amazing album...anyone would be excited to work with him! "Thanks Totsuka!" he smiled. "You're right, we can...find more singers."

"So you're still interested then?" Kusanagi asked, and Misaki nodded, reaching forward to take one of the pens. He grabbed the contract in front of him.

"I'm honored to be a part of your team," he said, bowing his head as he signed his named on the line.

Even without Saruhiko, Misaki was going to make music, and it was going to be amazing. Or that was what he kept telling himself.

[ecotone99]

[SF] The Gulf | Ep. 1: Masquerade

Paradisia sucks. But the whole island sails there on Monday.

Well, the island doesn’t really sail. It’s called Gulf Sails, but there are no sails. Some of the windmills sort of look like sails. So does a lot of the architecture on the central platform. The architects did that for aesthetics, obviously.

I’m putting on my costume for Halloween tonight. I’ll be meeting up with friends in two hours at Cask of Amontillado.

I know, it sounds like a boring place where old guys sip whiskey. But that’s just the basement. The main floor is a club with a gothic vibe, mainly because the building is an old cathedral. They fully exploit that for Halloween.

That’s why it’s anarchy on Halloween night. The place to be, or at least the best place to start.

I’m dressing as a masquerader, and so are a couple of my friends.

It’s always bittersweet. Of the four months each year Gulf Sails is anchored here, it’s the craziest party night in Barracuda. But it also marks the end of the best four months of the year.

Barracuda is absolutely epic. And on Monday we sail to Paradisia. And as I’ve mentioned, Paradisia sucks.

For starters, the drinking age in Paradisia is 21. Gulf Sails leaves Paradisia next year on March first. I turn 21 on March second. So I can say goodbye to my nightlife for the next four months.

Because another reason why Paradisia is so shitey, is that it is strict. It’s basically the polar opposite of Barracuda. It’s a cruel joke.

My parents say Paradisia is meant to be a detox for the residents of Gulf Sails after going crazy for four months. Paradisia leadership is all about yoga and cleanses.

There’s more juiced alfalfa sprouts than vodka in Paradisia. And I’m more of a vodka guy.

I’ve been telling my parents for years that they should just detach from Gulf Sails and dock their platform permanently at Barracuda. But they say they would never get enough work done living in Barracuda full time. It’s for summer slacking, they say. Then it’s crunch time. And Paradisia is the perfect environment to get the mind and body in order.

I disagree. Paradisia makes me feel like I am trapped. It’s half spa, half cult. I want to smack the smug looks off every one of those shysters’ self righteous faces.

The permanent residents of Paradisia walk around in white flowy clothes, always smiling and bowing to each other with hands clasped or pressed together. They’re creepy as all hell.

It’s the type of place that is so sanitized on the surface I feel like there must be some kind of underground sex trafficking dungeon. Nobody’s that perfect.

I could move onto mainland Barracuda myself. But I don’t make nearly enough money to pay for decent accommodations. And to be honest, it would be a tough downgrade slumming it after living my whole life on my parents’ platform.

It’s nice. They do well for themselves.

I put my final touch on the costume: a mask that goes over my eyes and nose. It’s gold and black, with red and black feathers protruding back over my ears from the sharp edges of the mask. I put some eyeliner on so that my eyes are rimmed especially dark behind the oval slits in the mask. People will hardly notice the eyeliner though. My eyes are pretty dark anyway.

I stick a gold dollar sign on one of my cheeks. On the other, a black interlocking Mars and Venus sign. You know, the circles; one has a cross coming from the bottom for female, and the other an arrow from the top right for male.

I find that when I give obvious signals like this, it cuts down on the number of guys that flirt with me. It’s not that it bothers me, but why waste either of our time?

And for some reason, I’m like a gay magnet. They love me, I can’t figure it out.

I’m wearing a matching button down vest, like from an old three piece suit. The back is all gold, and the front is a black base pinstriped with gold. The pocket has red and black feathers poking out. The pants match the front of the vest. And my shoes are gold.

I look good. The ladies are going to love it.

Downstairs, my parents and younger brother are eating in front of the big screen and my mom gushes over how “adorable” I look before telling me to get myself some dinner from the kitchen. It’s all laid out on the counter buffet style. But she still describes it all, and suggests:

“First, you’ll want to lay down the rice, then put the stew on top. There’s some shredded carrots that go on top of that. And then sprinkle on the parmesan and seasoning mixture. Oh and I laid out parsley sprigs for a garnish. There’s fresh bread too, so you can mop up all the extra juice when you’re done!”

I look at my dad’s plate. It has three distinct sections. The rice, stew, and cabbage do not touch each other. He ate his bread first.

When I sit down, he talks to me without moving his eyes from the screen.

“Are you going to stay out all night again?”

“Probably,” I say, a little indignantly. “It’s the last chance to have fun for the next four months.”

“Maybe you should give Paradisia a chance and do the cleanse with your mother and me this year,” he says, and turns to me with a raised eyebrow.

I take a deep breath and widen my eyes, “Maybe,” I say sarcastically.

He rolls his eyes.

My little brother Raji chimes in, “I’m sure the guys are gonna love your costume, Dege.”

“They probably will. Luckily I’m not a homophobic little twat like you.”

“True, you’ll take any attention you can get,” he says, and my dad chuckles, then tries to play it off like he was just clearing his throat.

My mom glares at them.

I finish my dinner, put my plate away, order a drone, and yell “Bye!” from the hallway, but my mom runs out of the living room because she has to get a picture of me in my costume before I go.

The drone is waiting on the landing pad.

I swipe my bracelet and get in.

Lift. Altitude. Acceleration.

I catch a good sunset on my way into town.

Purple and orange lights mark all the public landing pads for Halloween.

Barracuda gets into any holiday you could think of, and some you definitely have never thought of. I’m pretty sure they’ve made a few up along the way so that basically every weekend during the four months that Gulf Sails is docked is some kind of festival.

On Monday the city’s population will halve as Gulf Sails floats to Paradisia.

I meet up with Dean and Craig at Cask of Amontillado. It’s just getting started. The stone archways and cast iron chandeliers are perfect. We couldn’t have chosen better costumes. Somehow the DJ infuses chilling organ scales into his beat.

I know that might sound weird, but holy shit: it works.

She walks in to a beat. She flicks her hair to the side at the perfect time to match, not just the music, but the lasers too.

It all happens in slow motion. (Not really, but you get it.)

She looks at her friend and they both start laughing, realizing she accidentally mimicked the music with her mannerisms.

She has a black mask tied around her face.

Her costume is a short, form-fitting dress: black with long sleeves. There are red ties around the waist and arms.

And the part I like the most is the slit that runs all the way up her left thigh.

She isn’t just a ninja. She is a sexy ninja.

Her jet black hair is tied back with another striking red complement to the rest of the outfit.

She is surrounded by friends but I walk straight up anyway. I’ve learned that I have the best success when I walk up to a girl straight away.

Don’t even think, just do it. That way you don’t have time to get nervous, and girls think you’re super confident. Also, you get the drop on other guys.

“Hi I’m Rodigio,” I say over the music, stepping in between two of her friends and extending my hand.

The two friends I stepped between throw shade my way.

“Hi!” She says with pep, “I’m in the middle of a conversation!”

“Ouch. Just karate chop my heart why don’t you?” I say.

“How about I judo kick you out of my vicinity?” She says, and her friends agree.

“I…” I have nothing. I turn around and walk away.

“Have fun haunting the opera!” she calls after me.

“Masquerade,” I mutter.

“Seems like it went well,” Dean says.

“I decided she wasn’t hot enough for me. Hey, have you guys stocked up on contraband for Paradisia?”

Craig and Dean look at each other.

“What?” I say.

“Dege,” Dean says, “We aren’t going to Paradisia. We got an apartment here in Barracuda.”

Wow. I feel sucker-punched. This is the only thing that could make spending four months in Paradisia worse.

“And you didn’t include me!?”

“Come on, you know we wanted to. But the place we are getting is $2,000 a month for each of us, and, well…” Dean trails off.

Dean sold an app he created this year. He got a big payout and will be raking in royalties for years. Craig has been programming robots for two years and makes plenty.

I just fix bugs for a website hosting company–the glitches the automatic crawlers can’t repair. It’s easy and I can do it on my own time. I log in when I feel like it, and get paid per repair.

“But-” I’m looking back and forth at them in disbelief.

I just see stony masks staring back. I feel betrayed. I know Dean isn’t trying to be a dick. But what he is really saying is that he doesn’t want me mooching off him.

“Guy, don’t be dramatic,” Craig says trying to downplay how bad I should feel, “You’ll be back for New Year’s! TURN-OF-THE-CENTURY!” He booms it like an announcer and slaps my back.

“Yeah man come back for a whole month if you want,” Dean says. “You can stay with us the whole time. It will make the trip even cheaper than it was going to be.”

“Can you guys believe it!” Craig (a little too enthusiastically) throws in, “We have been talking about New Years 2100 for YEARS! And now it’s only TWO. MONTHS. AWAY.”

“I plan on non-stop anarchy from Christmas Eve, to maybe January 4th or 5th,” Dean says. “Depends on how much momentum I can build up.”

I’m glad I have this mask on. I wouldn’t be able to hide my emotions otherwise. I feel suddenly like the third wheel. Like they both have something in common that I don’t. I’ll be a visitor in their world. I can have a taste of the high life, but not the real thing.

The music gets louder and the beat turns up. We take shots. We head to the dance floor.

A blond with black streaks and vampire teeth growls at me in a red strobe light. A werewolf busts a break-dance. Three witches hop in unison.

More shots. Dance. Shots. Dance.

I’m forcing it. My game is off.

I stumble off the dance floor, and bust open the double doors to the outside deck, overlooking the water. It’s a cool night for the Caribbean, and steam comes off my skin.

Mist wafts ghostly over the water. Distant seagulls sound like crows. The salty air smells of extra decay. The tide must be out.

There aren’t many people out on the deck.

A few old guys from downstairs in the corner smoking cigars and having a spirited old-guy discussion.

A few couples or threesomes of friends interspersed around the high tables. And four guys around 30 leaning against the wooden pillars that hold up the thick black chain railing by the bay.

I walk over to look out on the choppy water. The open ocean is out to the right, and closer–but still distant–sits Gulf Sails, in the entrance to the bay. There’s plenty of berth on either side for passing boats, freighters, and cruise ships.

Way off to the left the bay gets narrower until it becomes a tidal river. Looking straight across I wouldn’t know there was land in the distance except for the sparse lights of remote homes.

I have to think for a minute to decide if the deck is decorated for Halloween, or if it always has these 19th century London street lamps. The real flames are the only source of light, casting shadows across the weathered–but solid–wooden planks.

The moon isn’t quite full. It was full a couple nights ago. But it is a vibrant presence. Clouds block about a quarter of the moon at any given time, but quickly pass by. The moon’s usual fractal glint off the water flickers from the clouds, matching the gas street lamps.

I glance at the three men to my left.

Holy shit that’s Elijah Braze!

He’s one of the youngest Gulf of Mexico real estate moguls. He owns a tenth of Gulf Sails. And most of his platforms are downtown, hosting businesses and high-end apartments.

He’s popular because he is well-spoken, good looking, trendy, muscular, personable… he’s really a gift to us mortals sent from the heavens.

He uses all this in his marketing. He speaks for conferences, classes, and camps. He appears on advertisements, in entertainment, and at events. He teaches courses, writes books, and runs businesses.

And he just caught me staring at him. And now he’s walking over with his three-man entourage trailing.

Elijah and his friends are dressed as Alex and his droogs. He uses the cane as if it is a natural part of his everyday ensemble. In truth it makes me think of Jack the Ripper.

But the rest of his outfit is straight up the height of fashion.

He’s got the oversized vibrant eyelash on one eye, combat boots, and a bowler hat. He’s wearing black tights.

And I, unfortunately, cannot help but notice that the bulge around his crotch is in the shape of a spider–true to the book.

Their “waisty jackets” have no lapels, but quite the shoulder pads. This makes Elijah’s shoulders even broader than usual. His ruffled white cravat forces him to hold his chin especially high… or does he always look like that?

As he walks up with a sly smile I try to play it cool, and keep character, so I say, “I hope you’re not on the prowl for any ultra-violence, brothers.”

“Ah no, perhaps just a bit of the old in and out,” Elijah says, winks at me, and his friends laugh.

Oh shit. Here we go.

“I’m flattered, but–er–wrong demographic,” I say, pointing to the interlocking male and female signs on my cheek.

“Oh I noticed that,” Elijah says confidently. “But I also noticed the dollar sign on the other cheek.”

A friend chortles. I blush.

Still, I try to just smile and brush it off.

Elijah takes a step closer, and extends his right hand, leaning on his cane with the left.

“What’s your name?” he asks, and I shake his hand to be polite.

“I’m Rodigio,” I say, but when I try to end the shake, he raises my hand to his lips and kisses the back.

I know he feels me resist, but he is much stronger. I pull my hand away and try to ignore his heavy gaze. I take a deep breath and look back out over the ocean.

“Well aren’t you going to ask my name?” he says, with fake incredulity.

I chuckle and turn back to face him. “I know who you are.”

“Well the polite thing is to acknowledge that.”

“Didn’t really seem like we were doing the polite thing here…” I volly.

Elijah’s only chubby friend breaks in sounding bored and annoyed, “Can we go back in? It smells like low tide out here and this kid is boring me.” He puts his hand on Elijah’s arm.

Elijah’s eyes flash deep aggravation, compared to the intense challenge they had been imparting to me. He slowly turns his face not to look at his friend, but to stare at the friend’s hand on his bicep.

His friend pulls his hand away and takes a deep breath like he is brushing it off. He acts like he is over this tedious situation, and yet he stays right there. Though now his eyes look up towards the club’s tall stone walls.

When Elijah turns back to me, he is back to friendly and jovial. It’s too much. He is letting his costume infect his demeanor. Or maybe he’s really like this?

“So do you live on the island or the mainland?” He asks.

“Island.”

“Me too! Oh, maybe you already knew that too…”

I almost roll my eyes but manage a polite smirk. “I knew you had a platform there… wasn’t sure how much time you spend on it though.”

“I travel a lot, but that’s where I stay when we are docked at Paradisia,” he says.

“Why?” I blurt out, “Paradisia sucks. If I were you I’d go to Europe or Asia or at least stay in Barracuda.”

He gives me a tsk-tsk look, and wags his cane like he is scolding me. “You don’t like my friend Francesco’s little society?”

Wow. He would be friends with Francesco, the cult leader of Paradisia.

My opinion on Elijah Braze has done a complete 180 in the last three minutes. In videos and writing he gives off fastidious success. Now I am just getting creepy overconfidence.

“I just find it a little restrictive,” I say.

“Just come to a party on my platform. We can loosen whatever restrictions you have…”

The chubby friend gives a sort of amused mm-hmm snort and chuckle. This time Elijah actually closes his eyes and I can see his jaw grinding for a moment. He takes a deep breath and resumes his smile.

I turn back to face the water, but he steps up behind me and puts his hands on the chain railing on either side of me. He is now pressed against my backside.

“Maybe it’s that mask that’s getting me going so bad,” he says into my left ear.

I can’t move one way or the other without pushing past an arm. I choose the way furthest from his face. So I jerk right and actually have to put some muscle into breaking his arm free from the chain to let me out of his reach.

Unphased he watches me and his smile twists, “Feisty. I think I want to leave the mask for last when I’m undressing you.”

“Look, since you’re clearly not taking the hint,” I say, raising my voice, “Let me make it clear: I don’t care how famous or rich you are! I wouldn’t get with you if we were the last two people on earth!”

Like a shark toying with his prey, Elija’s smile doesn’t change.

He leans in close, and I recoil my head but don’t back away, not wanting to appear weak.

He whispers loud enough for his friends to hear, “If we were the last two people on earth, sweetie… who the fuck would stop me?”

A chill goes down my spine as he walks away, his droogs trailing, laughing and swinging their canes.

“See you in Paradisia,” a lanky effeminate friend says to me sarcastically over his shoulder.

I am actually shaking. I hear the rise of the bass as the chubby friend holds the door. The bass fades as the doors swing closed. I sigh and lean most of my weight on the chain railing. This is not how I pictured my last party night in Barracuda.

“Prospero!”

“Shit!” I am startled. “Where did you come from?

“Well I am a ninja,” she says, melting me with her mascara lined eyes. I manage a burst of air that substitutes for a laugh.

“Prospero?” I ask.

“It looked like your night was going about as well as his.”

I am still confused, wracking my brain. She notices and lets out a disappointed chuckle and looks to the side.

“Anyway…” she says, sort of condescendingly, “I just wanted to apologize. I felt like I might have been a little harsh earlier.” She gives a forced smile. “I hope I didn’t kill your mood.” She starts walking away.

Prospero… I’m dressed for a masquerade… Poe!

“Lenore!” I blurt out just before she reaches the door.

She stops. Turns slowly. She has a smirk on her face now.

She walks back to me and I can’t tell if she moves like that to stay in character, or if it is natural graceful stealth. She leans on the railing next to me, looking out over the water. She turns to face me.

“Majorie.”

“Rodigio.”

“Right, you told me. I’m usually the one with the stupidest name.”

I laugh, “My friends usually call me Dege. I like that: Majorie. Sounds mystical almost like…”

“A mermaid?”

“Yeah!”

“I’m pretty sure my parents just looked up mermaid names. They were obsessed with Gulf Sails but couldn’t afford a platform until I was 18. I didn’t want to get left behind-”

“In Asia?” I ask reflexively. Godammit.

After a did-he-really-just-say-that chuckle she responds, “I’m gonna let that one go on account of the fact that I can smell enough alcohol on you to make me concerned about your proximity to these gas lamps. I’m from Florida. Well at least that was the last stop before Gulf Sails. What’s your story?”

“Grew up on the platforms. I think my parents made up my name… never met another one at least.”

“Sounds Spanish. Are you…” she stops abruptly and looks away. Is she blushing?

“Am I what,” I laugh, finally feeling like I got the upper hand, “Latino? Mexican?”

She just looks at me recovering her confident smirk as if to acknowledge my first score in a match.

“I don’t know what I am. A true mutt. A perfect balance if you ask me…”

“I didn’t,” she winks.

“Okay so you read Poe, and you don’t like your name. I’m getting nihilist vibes… What else?”

“It’s not so much that I don’t like my name,” She says, taking mock offense at my nihilist jab, “It’s just… well for one thing, everyone who reads it first calls me MARJ-orie! So every new interaction has to start off with me correcting someone and making them feel like a dumbass.”

“Ah, that’s why you’re so good at that,” I say.

She laughs.

Silence except for the light splash of waves on the dock, and the distant toll of a buoy bell.

“So you still live with your parents on the island?” I immediately regret asking. This will clearly just bring attention to the fact that I still live with my parents on their platform.

“Yep.” She sighs, “Next stop Paradisia.”

My heart does a weird little flutter.

“Right, I guess I’m not the only one who thinks Paradisia sucks.”

Another silence. But now I get the feeling that she’s thinking what I’m thinking… Maybe it’s not going to suck so much after all, given the new company.

The club doors bust open and a burst of loud bumping floods out with Dean and Craig. The lasers slash through the escaping mist.

“Deegie-cakes!” Craig calls, arms in the air as an aftershock to his thrusting of the doors, “Oh hello,” he says eyeing Majorie lecherously.

She gives a bored eyebrow raise as acknowledgment.

“Oh God, Dege, are you tricking this poor girl,” Craig says, “You haven’t seen under the mask yet, have you?”

“Actually…” Majorie laughs, realizing she hasn’t.

“Hey, I haven’t seen behind your mask either!” I protest.

“Let’s dance!” Dean shouts, letting out a thick cloud of vape smoke.

“Is that THC?” Majorie asks.

Dean holds out the vape. She takes it, breathes deep, and lets out an even bigger cloud. She grabs my arm, and leads me back to the dance floor.

Dance. Grind. Shots. Dance.

Breather.

Food. Public drunken shenanigans. New club. Turn up. Shots. Dance.

She turns around and drops low with the beat. My hand is on her hand on her thigh–the one not covered by her God-damn-so-sexy dress. She turns back around. Her hands are on my chest. My heart’s beating out of my chest. Did she just notice?

She lifts my mask. I lift hers.

Kiss.

“See you in Paradisia,” she winks, hopping into her drone with the remainder of her friends as the sun rises over the Atlantic.

submitted by /u/joejarvisme [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2LJ0D07

[lilac-milk-moon]

Best Jobs for 15-Year-Olds

Note from Mr. SR: Finding the right first job as a teenager can be challenging, especially if you’re not yet 16. So, I’m excited to share this post from my friend Nathan at Millionaire Dojo! He breaks down regulations you need to be aware of, as well as several great part-time job options for teens looking to start working.

If you’re looking for additional part-time work ideas (for any age!), check out this post with over 45 part-time and semi-retirement jobs you might enjoy.

When you’re a teenager, coming up with the money to do the things you want can be tough. In reality, it can seem tough to find jobs for 15-year-olds. Here’s what you need to know.

You might be in a situation where your parents can’t afford to pay for the things you want, or maybe you’d just like to earn your own money and be more independent. Developing new skills and becoming a strong, independent person is a good idea no matter how wealthy your family is.

Heck, you might even need to help pay some bills at home.

Whatever your case may be, the earlier you start earning an income, the longer you have to accumulate wealth! If you take the right financial steps in your teenage years, you can become really wealthy early on in life and be way ahead of the game.

Why should you work when you’re 15?

Being broke isn’t fun regardless of how old you are! There’s no shame in looking for jobs for 15-year-olds. Everyone’s goals are different, but here are a few good reasons to work when you’re young:

Saving up for a car

Saving up to pay cash for a car when you turn 16 or older is a great reason to start working when you’re 15. Going into debt to pay for a car is almost never a good financial move because you will be paying interest on a depreciating asset.

Let’s say you bought a new car for $20,000 on a 6-year loan. By the time you’re done paying off the loan, the car would probably be worth less than $15,000 and you would have paid thousands in interest (on top of the $20,000) over the life of the loan depending on your interest rate.

If instead, you buy a used car for something like $7,000 with no loan, it will probably have already depreciated mostly and the value of the car won’t drop much for several years. No matter what option you choose, owning a car is an expense and you’re guaranteed to lose money regardless. But if you can find a dependable car that you can pay cash for, you should save a lot of money by not going into debt.

Saving for college

College is expensive. REALLY expensive. Hopefully, you’ll be able to fund college expenses by doing good in school and getting scholarships, but even if you somehow get a free ride through college, there will surely be expenses that you will have to cover.

Nights out, football games, and other extracurricular activities.

Saving just to save

One of the best reasons to start working when you’re 15 is to set yourself up for financial success early on in life. Staying out of debt will put you on the fast track to becoming wealthy and in order to stay out of debt, it’s important to have an emergency fund.

Life is full of surprises and an unexpected expense is certain to pop up eventually. If you can establish an emergency fund in your teens, you will likely never have to worry about paying cash for emergencies. Think about all of the hard times you could avoid just by having some cash in the bank to cover emergencies!

Once you’ve got a few thousand set aside for emergencies, you could start saving cash to invest in the stock market once you reach age 18. You could even get your parents to create a custodial account for you and you’d be able to start investing right away! The longer you invest money, the more time it has to grow. So starting as early as possible will only boost your investment growth over the years.

Saving up for a down payment on a house

I know it may sound crazy and not many people go around telling 15-year-olds to save up for a house, but it’s never too early to start saving for your first down payment. If you were able to save up enough money for your first downpayment by age 18, bought a house and started renting out some of the rooms to friends, you will be extremely well off at a very young age.

Housing costs are usually a person’s biggest expense and if you could get your first house at age 18 and rent out the rooms to cover the costs of the house payment, you can live for free and build equity in the home. Keep buying homes over time to rent them out and you’ll be well on your way to becoming a millionaire by age 30!

Maybe you just want to have fun?

I know doing the smart thing with money doesn’t sound all that fun. But if you step back and take a long-term look at why you’re going to start working, doing smart things with your money just makes sense. You go to work to make money and if you’re thinking about starting to work when you’re 15, you’ll be doing yourself a huge favor to get your finances set up properly in your teens.

With that being said, maybe you just don’t want to do anything with your money except have fun! That’s a perfectly fine option at such a young age and you have plenty of time to get your finances in order later on – like maybe at age 18? :).

Non-Monetary Reasons To Find Jobs For 15-Year-Olds

Learning the value of money

There are a lot of good reasons to start working other than just making money. When you start earning an income and go to buy things with the money you make, it hits you in a different way than buying things with money that was given to you.

You begin to realize that you don’t just trade money for things, you trade the time it took to make the money as well. If you want something that costs $500 and you make $10 an hour, you will have to work over 50 hours to make the money in order to pay for the item after taking taxes out of your earnings. You might think twice about buying it when you realize how much time and work you’ll have to put in!

Building character

Most of the jobs for 15-year-olds are on the lower end of the career spectrum. You probably won’t be doing very glamorous tasks, but doing grunt work can be a great way to develop a good work ethic. You’ll be more grateful for the job you have when you rise into higher positions because you’ll remember past positions and realize you’re in a better position than you could be.

Working entry-level jobs is also a good way to develop discipline by taking orders from your supervisors. Just like doing smart things with your money early on will put you on the fast track to wealth, becoming humble and developing a work ethic when you’re young will help you rise in your career later in life.

Becoming a team player

If you get a job with a company at age 15, you will most likely be part of a team and will have to learn how to work with others. Learning how to work well on a team and work towards a common goal with your coworkers will make you a valuable individual that any company would love to have. Being likable is so import in life and learning how to work as a team player will make you more likable. While having to look for jobs for 15 year olds might not be the most fun thing in the world, it’s clear that there’s some major benefits.

Learning what you like to do

Sometimes the best way to learn what you want is to learn what you hate. It isn’t surprising that most people don’t like their first jobs, but doing things you don’t like gives you a better perspective when trying to figure out what you do like.

A lot of people make it all the way through college and realize they’d like to do something other than what they studied for. By starting work when you’re 15, you will open yourself up to more opportunities and have a better chance of finding a job that you really enjoy. If you can find a job you enjoy at a young age, you can focus on becoming the best you can be at it and rise to the top when you’re still young.

Laws for working when you’re 15 Years Old

At the federal level in the US, under the Fair Labor Standards Act (FLSA) there are some rules in place for working at age 14-15. The rules mostly apply to the hours worked and consist of the following:

Work can’t be done during school hours.

You can only work 3 hours a day on school days.

Only 18 hours a week during a school week.

Only 8 hours on a non-school day.

40 hours during a non-school week.

Work can only be done during 7 a.m. and 7 p.m. (except from June 1 through Labor Day, when evening hours are extended to 9 p.m.)

There are some exceptions to these rules depending on what state you live in, so you’ll need to find the rules for your state. The rules are also different in the agriculture industry and you can potentially work at a younger age.

You will most likely need a work permit to work when you’re 15. Most of the time, you’ll need to get the work permit after getting a job, so be sure to ask your employer about it once they hire you.

Ideal jobs for 15 year olds

It isn’t a guarantee that all of these companies will hire 15 year olds at every location, but generally speaking they will.

Restaurants

McDonald’s

Dairy Queen

Chick-fil-A (go to your local restaurant to apply)

Arby’s

Baskin-Robbins

Culver’s

Boston market

Zaxby’s (go to your local restaurant to apply)

California Pizza Kitchen

Taco Time

Grocery Stores

Safeway

Publix

Wegmans

Winn-Dixie

King Soopers

Giant Eagle

Other jobs for 15 year olds

If you look around, you might find retail stores in your area that hire 15-year-olds. A lot of movie theaters and entertainment venues such as theme parks will hire 15-year-olds as well. If the movie industry is strong in your area, you could potentially and a role as an extra and get paid to work with famous actors!

If your parents or a family member own a company, it could be a great opportunity for you to help them out and earn some money at the same time. You’ll probably be treated a little better than you would if you worked for a large company and you might be taught more since your family is closer to you.

Lastly, consider checking out other local businesses like car dealerships. According to Camilo Maldonado owner of The Finance Twins blog, “The detail department of a car dealership can be an ideal place to work as a fifteen year old. That’s where cars are cleaned and prepared for new owners. I started working at the local VW dealership when I was 15 and I loved my job!”

Businesses you can start at 15 years old

Working for a company is a good way to make money when you’re 15, but starting your own business is probably the best option. Working for yourself allows you to have more freedom and you can potentially earn more money than you would working a regular job.

Here are a few business ideas you can start when you’re 15:

Babysitting

If you enjoy being around kids and caring for them, babysitting can be a great way to make money when you’re young. This is probably the type of job that comes to mind when you think of jobs for 15-year-olds.

Taking care of kids requires a lot of discipline and maturity, so you’ll need to keep that in mind when considering this option.

You can probably make a good bit more babysitting than you could working for a company, so if you’ve got the knack for it, babysitting could be one of the best options to make money.

If you decide you want to pursue babysitting, come up with an hourly wage you’re comfortable with before you start advertising your services. The more kids a person asks you to watch, the more you should be able to charge.

If you really want to be able to charge a premium, make sure you get CPR certified and have solid references lined up.

Once you’ve got your hourly rate figured out, start asking around on social media and tell anyone you know with kids that you’re looking for work. If you live in a neighborhood, you could make fliers and hand them out to every house.

Pet sitting and dog walking

If taking care of kids doesn’t sound appealing, you might enjoy dealing with animals better. Pet sitting is basically the same concept as babysitting but with pets. Sometimes people go out of town and need someone to look after their pets when they’re away.

If someone asks you to take care of their cat, you might only have to check in on it once a day. If you’re looking after a dog, you might have to keep it at your house to take care of it. Make sure your parents are okay with this before advertising your services.

Walking dogs is another good option. You get a little exercise while making money and get to hang out with some furry buddies in the meantime!

Flip items on eBay

You will need to get your parents to setup an eBay account for you, but you can make a lot of money buying things at yard sales and thrift stores and selling them for more on eBay. This is actually a business that you could grow into a full-time income if you kept at it for a few years.

There are loads of videos on youtube that share what items sell well on eBay and you can learn everything you need to be successful for free. I’m currently making a little under $1,000 a month selling things on eBay myself.

Yard work

Cutting grass and doing lawn maintenance is one of the more popular business ideas for teens and for good reason. A lot of people don’t have the time to keep their yards looking nice but have enough money to pay someone to do it.

If you can use your parent’s lawnmower or buy your own, you can make good money cutting grass. Just like babysitting and pet sitting, advertise your business on social media and make fliers to give out in your neighborhood.

Using a skill you have

Maybe you’re really good at playing an instrument or know a lot about computers. If you have a valuable skill, you can charge people to provide this skill. You could teach someone how to play an instrument, learn a language, setup a home network and any multitude of other skills you may have.

You could also start a website or youtube channel teaching people how to do whatever it is you’re good at and the potential to make money doing that is very high. It all depends on the amount of work you’re willing to put in and whether or not you have the persistence to keep doing it.

Summary of jobs for 15-year-olds

These are just a few ideas for jobs for 15-year-olds. The good news is that there has never been more ways to make money and the ideas you can take action on are limitless!

With the right mindset and skills, you can potentially make a lot of money in your younger years. Even if you just want to work a job and make a little extra money to do the things you enjoy, making money when you’re 15 is a realistic thing for almost anyone to achieve.

If you’re under 16 and looking for work, look into one of the opportunities listed above or maybe pursue something else you’ve thought about. As long as you’re sticking to the FLSA guidelines, you should be fine.

This article was written by Nathan Clarke from Millionaire Dojo and originally appeared on The Money Mix. It has been republished here with permission.

The post Best Jobs for 15-Year-Olds appeared first on Semi-Retire Plan.

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[meraenthusiast]

Jobs For 15 Year Olds: Making Money As A Teenager

Jobs For 15 Year Olds: Making Money As A Teenager

[Editor’s Note: The following guest post was submitted by Nathan Clarke who can be found over at The Millionaire Dojo. Not only is he a black belt in karate, he also personally shows you his journey to achieving a net worth of a millionaire dollars.]

As a parent of a teenager and pre-teen, I feel it’s our duty to teach our kids about money. If we don’t do it, they’ll get it from somewhere, right? So it’s super important to start our kids off as early as possible teaching them where money comes from (work) and the handful of ways we should use it: spend, save, and give.

Nathan’s article is chop full of great ideas for all kids.

Take it away Nathan……

When you’re a teenager, coming up with the money to do the things you want can be tough. In reality, it can seem hard to find jobs for 15 year olds.

Here’s what you need to know.

You might be in a situation where your parents can’t afford to pay for the things you want, or maybe you’d just like to earn your own money and be more independent. Developing new skills and becoming a strong, independent person is a good idea no matter how wealthy your family is.

Heck, you might even need to help pay some bills at home.

Whatever your case may be, the earlier you start earning an income, the longer you have to accumulate wealth! If you take the right financial steps in your teenage years, you can become really wealthy early on in life and be way ahead of the game.

Why should you work when you’re 15?

Being broke isn’t fun regardless of how old you are! There’s no shame in looking for jobs for 15 year olds.

Everyone’s goals are different.

So here are a 5 good reasons to work when you’re young:

5 Reasons Teens Should Work

1) Saving for a car

Saving up to pay cash for a car when you turn 16 or older is a great reason to start working when you’re 15. Going into debt to pay for a car is never a good financial move because you will be paying interest on a depreciating asset.

Let’s say you bought a new car for $20,000 on a 6-year loan. By the time you’re done paying off the loan, the car would probably be worth less than $10,000 and you would have paid thousands in interest (on top of the $20,000) over the life of the loan depending on your interest rate.

If instead, you buy a used car for something like $7,000 with no loan, it will probably have already depreciated mostly and the value of the car won’t drop much for several years.

No matter what option you choose, owning a car is an expense and you’re guaranteed to lose money regardless. But if you can find a dependable car that you can pay cash for, you should save a lot of money by not going into debt.

2) Saving for college

College is expensive. REALLY expensive. Hopefully, you’ll be able to fund college expenses by doing good in school and getting scholarships, but even if you somehow get a free ride through college, there will surely be expenses that you will have to cover such as:

Nights out, football games, and other extracurricular activities.

3) Saving just to save

One of the best reasons to start working when you’re 15 is to set yourself up for financial success early on in life. Staying out of debt will put you on the fast track to becoming wealthy and in order to stay out of debt, it’s important to have an emergency fund.

Life is full of surprises and an unexpected expense is certain to pop up eventually. If you can establish an emergency fund in your teens, you will likely never have to worry about paying for emergencies. Think about all of the hard times you could avoid just by having some cash in the bank to cover emergencies!

Once you’ve got a few thousand dollars set aside for emergencies, you could start saving cash to invest in the stock market once you reach age 18. You could even get your parents to create a custodial account for you and you’d be able to start investing right away!

The longer you invest money, the more time it has to grow due to compound interest. So starting as early as possible will only boost your investment growth over the years.

4) Saving up for a down payment on a house

I know it may sound crazy and not many people go around telling 15-year-olds to save up for a house, but it’s never too early to start saving for your first down payment. If you were able to save up enough money for your first down payment by age 18, bought a house and started renting out some of the rooms to friends, you will be extremely well off at a very young age.

Housing costs are usually a person’s biggest expense and if you could get your first house at age 18 and rent out the rooms to cover the costs of the house payment, you can live for free and build equity in the home. Keep buying homes over time to rent them out and you’ll be well on your way to becoming a millionaire by age 30!

5) Maybe you just want to have fun?

I know doing the smart thing with money doesn’t sound all that fun. But if you step back and take a long-term look at why you’re going to start working, doing smart things with your money just makes sense.

You go to work to make money and if you’re thinking about starting to work when you’re 15, you’ll be doing yourself a huge favor to get your finances set up properly in your teens.

With that being said, maybe you just don’t want to do anything with your money except have fun! That’s a perfectly fine option at such a young age and you have plenty of time to get your finances in order later on – like maybe at age 18? :).

4 Non-Monetary Reasons To Find Jobs For 15 Year Olds

1) Learning the value of money

There are a lot of good reasons to start working other than just making money. When you start earning an income and go to buy things with the money you make, it hits you in a different way than buying things with money that was given to you.

You begin to realize that you don’t just trade money for things, you trade the time it took to make the money as well. If you want something that costs $500 and you make $10 an hour, you will have to work over 50 hours to make the money in order to pay for the item after taking taxes out of your earnings. You might think twice about buying it when you realize how much time and work you’ll have to put in!

It teaches you how to THINK about money.

2) Building character

Most of the jobs for 15-year-olds are on the lower end of the career spectrum. You probably won’t be doing very glamorous tasks, but doing grunt work can be a great way to develop a good work ethic. You’ll be more grateful for the job you have when you rise into higher positions because you’ll remember past positions and realize you’re in a better position than you could be.

Working entry-level jobs is also a good way to develop discipline by taking orders from your supervisors. Just like doing smart things with your money early on will put you on the fast track to wealth, becoming humble and developing a work ethic when you’re young will help you rise in your career later in life.

3) Becoming a team player

If you get a job with a company at age 15, you will most likely be part of a team and will have to learn how to work with others. Learning how to work well on a team and work towards a common goal with your coworkers will make you a valuable individual that any company would love to have.

Being likable is so important in life (it’s actually one of the 6 principles of Influence) and learning how to work as a team player will make you more likable. While having to look for jobs for 15 year olds might not be the most fun thing in the world, it’s clear that there’s some major benefits.

4) Learning what you like to do

Sometimes the best way to learn what you want is to learn what you hate. It isn’t surprising that most people don’t like their first jobs, but doing things you don’t like gives you a better perspective when trying to figure out what you do like.

A lot of people make it all the way through college and realize they’d like to do something other than what they studied for. By starting work when you’re 15, you will open yourself up to more opportunities and have a better chance of finding a job that you really enjoy. If you can find a job you enjoy at a young age, you can focus on becoming the best you can be at it and rise to the top when you’re still young.

Laws for working when you’re 15 Years Old

At the federal level in the US, under the Fair Labor Standards Act (FLSA) there are some rules in place for working at age 14-15. The rules mostly apply to the hours worked and consist of the following:

Work can’t be done during school hours.

You can only work 3 hours a day on school days.

Only 18 hours a week during a school week.

Only 8 hours on a non-school day.

40 hours during a non-school week.

Work can only be done during 7 a.m. and 7 p.m. (except from June 1 through Labor Day, when evening hours are extended to 9 p.m.)

There are some exceptions to these rules depending on what state you live in, so you’ll need to find the rules for your state. The rules are also different in the agriculture industry and you can potentially work at a younger age.

You will most likely need a work permit to work when you’re 15. Most of the time, you’ll need to get the work permit after getting a job, so be sure to ask your employer about it once they hire you.

Ideal jobs for 15 year olds

It isn’t a guarantee that all of these companies will hire 15 year olds at every location, but generally speaking they will.

Restaurants

McDonald’s

Dairy Queen

Chick-fil-A (go to your local restaurant to apply)

Arby’s

Baskin-Robbins

Culver’s

Boston market

Zaxby’s (go to your local restaurant to apply)

California Pizza Kitchen

Taco Time

Grocery Stores

Safeway

Publix

Wegmans

Winn-Dixie

King Soopers

Giant Eagle

Other jobs for 15 year olds

If you look around, you might find retail stores in your area that hire 15 year olds. A lot of movie theaters and entertainment venues such as theme parks will hire 15 year olds as well. If the movie industry is strong in your area, you could potentially get a role as an extra and get paid to work with famous actors!

If your parents or a family member own a company, it could be a great opportunity for you to help them out and earn some money at the same time. You’ll probably be treated a little better than you would if you worked for a large company and you might be taught more since your family is closer to you.

Lastly, consider checking out other local businesses like car dealerships. According to Camilo Maldonado owner of The Finance Twins blog, “The detail department of a car dealership can be an ideal place to work as a fifteen year old. That’s where cars are cleaned and prepared for new owners. I started working at the local VW dealership when I was 15 and I loved my job!”

Businesses you can start at 15 years old

Working for a company is a good way to make money when you’re 15, but starting your own business is probably the best option.

Working for yourself allows you to have more freedom and you can potentially earn more money than you would working a regular job.

Here are a few business ideas you can start when you’re 15:

5 Business Ideas For Teens

1) Babysitting

If you enjoy being around kids and caring for them, babysitting can be a great way to make money when you’re young. This is probably the type of job that comes to mind when you think of jobs for 15 year olds.

Taking care of kids requires a lot of discipline and maturity, so you’ll need to keep that in mind when considering this option.

You can probably make a good bit more babysitting than you could working for a company, so if you’ve got the knack for it, babysitting could be one of the best options to make money.

If you decide you want to pursue babysitting, come up with an hourly wage you’re comfortable with before you start advertising your services. The more kids a person asks you to watch, the more you should be able to charge.

If you really want to be able to charge a premium, make sure you get CPR certified and have solid references lined up.

Once you’ve got your hourly rate figured out, start asking around on social media and tell anyone you know with kids that you’re looking for work. If you live in a neighborhood, you could make fliers and hand them out to every house.

2) Pet sitting and dog walking

If taking care of kids doesn’t sound appealing, you might enjoy dealing with animals better. Pet sitting is basically the same concept as babysitting but with pets. Sometimes people go out of town and need someone to look after their pets when they’re away.

If someone asks you to take care of their cat, you might only have to check in on it once a day. If you’re looking after a dog, you might have to keep it at your house to take care of it. Make sure your parents are okay with this before advertising your services.

Walking dogs is another good option. You get a little exercise while making money and get to hang out with some furry buddies in the meantime!

3) Flip items on eBay

You will need to get your parents to setup an eBay account for you, but you can make a lot of money buying things at yard sales and thrift stores and selling them for more on eBay. This is actually a business that you could grow into a full-time income if you kept at it for a few years.

There are loads of videos on youtube that share what items sell well on eBay and you can learn everything you need to be successful for free. I’m currently making a little under $1,000 a month selling things on eBay myself.

4) Yard work

Cutting grass and doing lawn maintenance is one of the more popular business ideas for teens and for good reason. A lot of people don’t have the time to keep their yards looking nice but have enough money to pay someone to do it.

If you can use your parent’s lawnmower or buy your own, you can make good money cutting grass. Just like babysitting and pet sitting, advertise your business on social media and make fliers to give out in your neighborhood.

[Editor’s Note: I started mowing yards when I was 12 and grew it to the point that it supported me during high school, college, and a few years of dental school.]

5) Using a skill you have

Maybe you’re really good at playing an instrument or know a lot about computers. If you have a valuable skill, you can charge people for it. You could teach someone how to play an instrument, learn a language, setup a home network and any multitude of other skills you may have.

You could also start a website or youtube channel teaching people how to do whatever it is you’re good at and the potential to make money doing that is very high. It all depends on the amount of work you’re willing to put in and whether or not you have the persistence to keep doing it.

Summary of jobs for 15 year olds

These are just a few ideas for jobs for 15 year olds. The good news is that there has never been more ways to make money and the ideas you can take action on are limitless!

With the right mindset and skills, you can potentially make a lot of money in your younger years. Even if you just want to work a job and make a little extra money to do the things you enjoy, making money when you’re 15 is a realistic thing for almost anyone to achieve.

If you’re under 16 and looking for work, look into one of the opportunities listed above or maybe pursue something else you’ve thought about. As long as you’re sticking to the FLSA guidelines, you should be fine.

This article originally appeared on The Money Mix, and has been republished with permission.

The post Jobs For 15 Year Olds: Making Money As A Teenager appeared first on Debt Free Dr..

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Written by R. Ann Parris on The Prepper Journal.

Static square ranges and competitions are commonly the only firearm practice available to preppers. Sometimes, those square ranges and competitions – and even classes – actively or accidentally build dangerous mindsets, habits, and complacency.

Knowing it, we can amend our maintenance and practice to get the most out of our gear, time and gunpowder and be more ready for real-world needs.

Home Range

Eventually we have to burn some gunpowder, but the majority of skills can be developed and refined without it.

We’re actually best served if at least some of our training time is devoted to the places we’re most likely to deploy a firearm – home, entering and leaving vehicles, workplaces, etc. House and yard can also amply accommodate training time with our battle rattle.

Get Fit

Core body strength, cardiovascular strength, and drills to strengthen leg joints and arms against sudden movement and – in our case – shifting terrain makes for a better gunfighter. It creates resilience to injury while increasing our accuracy and stamina.

Being able to move is big all on its own. It’s not actually practiced much in classes, but it does get verbalized: Move. We hear it different ways, but frequently.  

A moving target is harder to hit.

Move backward to gain and maintain distance from an attacker. (Remember the ol’ nuggets: “Distance favors the ranged weapon” and “greater distances favor the better shooter.”)

Find and hug cover, and then move from cover to cover while jockeying for advantageous position.

Move to the X, and move the hell off the X when necessary.

The ability to pop up and down behind cover, slide along cover to engage from a slightly different place, advance or retreat, and find an angle where we can end the threat relies on having bodies that will respond to our commands.

Physical Limitations

Age and injuries are among the many things that affect just how much we can move. The same-ol’-same-ol’ information that gets passed around isn’t as effective for us. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t bother.

If we’re stuck in a chair, we’re stuck in a chair. The shifting center of gravity in late-stage pregnancy is huge, and affects a lot of our abilities. If we need a cane or crutches, we’re not bouncing all over.

If anything, it means we need more exercise – retaining current mobility and working the details on how and where we carry.

String It Up

A holster or sling isn’t 100% required, but, gosh, they’re handy – especially if we’re preparing for Big-Time Badness. Even if we start with a shirt-sleeve pouch, doctored purse, and a DIY sling, find a way to get the gun out of our hands but on our person.

Otherwise, the chances of having it and getting it into play when we need it are pretty grim.

Get Off The Bench

Most of us need more work on unsupported shooting. Take a few braced or perfect-stance shots to develop and check zeros. Then shoot however you’ll most likely be firing that gun. If you can’t stand long, sit on the edge of a seat.

Absolutely be aware of opportunistic rests, lean against the vertical divider/post for that hunter’s shot, and develop/maintain knee-braced and – if you’re spry yet – prone stances (for pistol, too).  

Just don’t practice like there will always be something to lean on.

Standing Still

Even in classes, most shooting time is spent upright and static. Since in both defensive and combat scenarios, we’re ideally hugging cover like a long-lost favorite lover, and not all cover lends itself to adults ranging 5’ flat to 6’6”-plus standing squarely upright, work around the restrictions.

Building muscle memory for the ideal shot is great. However, after achieving basic accuracy (hunting and DM work are the only time you need hits tighter than a dessert plate), start moving around.

You can get away with side shuffles and a step or two forward and back at almost any gun range, and crouching at varying heights. Leaning around may look odd, but do it. Hunch (high enough to clear the bench), close your eyes, and open them as you bob up for a shot.

This one is ideal for off-range dry fire practice, but get in some live fire with typical carry gun(s), too.

Guns Move, Too

Rifle and shotgun don’t have quite as much movement as pistols, but there’s some. We’re leaning to check areas, changing grip and position to open a door or pass, lowering our profile/protrusion if we’re slow-checking corners, using cover, etc.

Our carry changes more still when we’re working with partners and teams.

Pistols are even more active. We’re still leaning all over finding exploitable windows or maximizing cover, we move the gun in and out, we go on and off the trigger, we tilt the gun. That puppy is almost never still – or, it shouldn’t be.

That’s something we can and should be working on in our usual spaces.

And, on the pistol-in-motion topic…

Practice Multiple Ready’s

We typically see very few ready positions, but there’s plenty of reason to have others that are equally second nature.  

The “safe” downrange location for pointing the gun changes. It’s not always the original target’s direction. Nor is it always down or up.

We also don’t always have two hands for it.

If we do have two hands, we may be giving directions or instructions to someone with the other, holding a child or animal reins/collar, dragging a victim clear, pausing to perform must-have lifesaving, unlocking or opening a door, sliding over something, or bracing a hand on something.

There are numerous circumstances when we’re not engaged just this instant but don’t want to holster or bag a firearm and don’t have anything that needs to die to point it at just now. Practice for those moments.

(Conditional readies are a good one for even just a mental exercise going through stores/workplaces/homes, too.)

Scan & Assess Requires Thought…

…Particularly the act of immediately snugging a gun all the way up against your sternum for Search/Scan and Assess phases of an engagement.

Scan and assess needs to be nigh-on constant and the act of deciding an engagement is over should be a multi-step process determined by the evolving circumstances, with a ready determined by that situation.

Neither should be trained as some one-size-fits-all habit.

Combat or defense, we stay aware so we can engage a target of higher priority if necessary.

Combat or defense, when our target(s) are down and no longer a threat, that gun should remain at least mostly presented – off the trigger and tilting up-down as needed for non-targets in the area, but at an active, usable state of readiness that allows for discretionary fire.

Combat or defense, with some few exceptions, that gun should really be at least mostly moving with our head and eyes.

Depending on the circumstances, straight and level ahead of us or in the original direction of fire may not even still be the best place to point a gun, even immediately after engagement (household construction standards, other responders and bystanders, limited visibility in that direction).

This is a problem at ranges where “safely downrange” only exists in one direction. That range-safety limitation may be the origin of so many people teaching it that way. Who knows.

Just be aware so you can practice practical responses at home, and mentally work it while out and about in public places. (Little hand motions at most, don’t tactical air-guitar your way through Walmart.)

While we’re talking about awareness…

Look Everywhere

Anytime we practice, and while we’re out and about, change your focal depth.

Our target is somewhere. Without even moving the eyes really, observe what’s between us and beyond it. Lift eyes, just a little left and right. Make sure nothing’s entering the frame. Depending on engagement scenarios, glance around.

It prevents habit-forming, blinding focus on our current target and only our current target, which keeps threats from sneaking into play and others from entering the frame and becoming accidental casualties.

And when it comes to staying aware…

Watch Where You’re Going

Really. It’s not only okay, it’s highly encouraged that you glance around as you maneuver.

Ranges are usually fairly smooth concrete, gravel, clay, and mown fields. (Pretty sure it’s a big time insurance thing that your shooters not be tripping constantly.) In action sports, it’s non-shooting personnel’s responsibility to make sure they’re not in our way. In training, we usually have plenty of room between moving shooters.

So we learn to not look.

I can think of very few spots in my yard and very few sidewalks, streets, medians, and parking lots where there is nothing to trip over inside 3-10 yards. If things go sideways in a school, store, or some other venue, count on them turning into a minefield of hazards, to include people bouncing all over.

If I’m on the ground because I tripped, I am a static target (AKA: easier to hit).

My response capabilities are severely limited until I get up. If I hit hard enough or got run over, I may not be able to recover or respond at all.

If I do not get my finger clear or jerk a shot, I may take out a bystander or another responder. (Making the situation worse is a big time no-no).

So, for real, dude, especially when moving backwards, watch where you’re going. It only takes a glance.

*Psst… That’s one of the exceptions to a gun staying pointed at the target instead of moving with the eyes.

Move Differently?

Yes, we move a little differently in some situations. We can hunker and run if we’re exploiting cover. We might practice off-road or parkour-style running so we can catch ourselves if footing gives way. Some team tactics work best with smaller, non-extended steps, because staying tight is important up until that minute we fan.

And, yeah – I mean, if it has to be said – you hold onto your gun instead of fully swinging both arms.

Mostly, though, no.

Just go, move, as fast as possible. Again: Moving targets are harder to hit. The zippier you are, the better.

Get Training

By no means should any of this suggest that I dislike shooting sports, square ranges, or classes as training aids. They’re vital. Training is the best investment a shooter can make. Ranges and sports allow relatively inexpensive maintenance and development.

Just be aware of the mindsets and habits that are sometimes instilled, and practice to prevent it from becoming a liability in the real world.

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