#ill have to check for scholarships and things like that too

[b3ach-bunn7]

NO ONE NOTICED

You transferred to UA from halfway across the world. You’re missing home. You feel like shit and Bakugo helps.

COMPLETELY NON CANON like everyone is alive and happy and friends idgaf

Mostly based off of @/tokeniranianfriend's texposts on tik tok plzzzz go check her out!!

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You are definitely missing movie night today.

The thing is, you feel selfish to complain about your whole situation. You could name probably hundreds of young heroes from your town alone who’d kill to be in your position. To be flown out on a scholarship to one of the most amazing hero schools in the world? It’s not only ungrateful, but it’s selfish. You’re selfish.

And it’s not like you don’t like UA and Japan. You love it here. The conscience stores that are open all night. The little drinks with the huge cubes of ice are your favourite, and everything is so much cheaper here. The teachers are some of the best you've come across in your life, the facilities available to you better than any other school you’d been to. And the people were so kind, so funny and welcoming, despite the fact you joined during their third year. 

Well, there was Bakugo. You wouldn’t call him too welcoming.

Mina promises you he’s much better now than he was in third year, that he’d calmed down once they’d gotten older. You can only imagine what he’d been like when they’d all been first years. You’d been cordially invited into what was known as the ‘Bakusquad’, and the only person you struggled to get through had been him. It had taken endless days of you bugging him and never leaving him be until you’d reached a stage where you think the two of you are friends. You still struggle to break through the grumpy demeanour that he seems to always hold on his face but you make some progress. He lets you watch him cook on his nights in the kitchen, legs dangling under the table as you commentate on his diligent chopping and stirring. He gave you his number one night, and despite the fact he tends to reply with emojis more than anything else, it was progress. Mina tells you he doesn’t just spar with anyone too, so you’ve taken that into account too.

You try not to think about the fact you have a tiny crush on him. It’s Bakugo. You don’t think he feels any emotion stronger than he does rage, so you ignore it. Bakugo isn’t the issue here.

You just miss home. You miss your bed. You miss your cats. You miss your mum.

The flights home are way too expensive, so you spend most of your holidays here, the dorms so noticeably quiet once everyone is home with their families. And you haven’t minded it too much, but it’s your birthday next week and it’s only just occurred to you it’s your first one without your family and friends. There's a weird pit in your stomach because you know your stupid family tradition of cake right at midnight, your favourite dinner being cooked won’t be happening. Your usual tradition of friends treating you to dinner, opening gifts at the table. None of that now.

You’re also on your period, which does not help.

All of this is why you quickly shoot Mina a message that you won’t be making it to movie night. Her reply is almost immediate.

Mina: WHAT

Mina: WHY NOT

You: I’m just feeling a little emo rn 😔

You: And my cramps are killing rn 

Mina: okay ml :(((

Mina: you wanna talk about it?

You: Nah, I’m okay

You: But thank you bae 🙈🙈

Mina: love youuuu

Mina: ill tell the others

You don’t bother responding. You feel slightly mean, but Mina knows you best and you know she won’t see it in any bad way. You burrow under your covers, snacks on one side of your and your laptop on the other. The latest episode of Love is Blind is playing, and you commentate to nobody but yourself at the people on your screen. You’re only five minutes in when you feel your phone buzz on the bed. You ignore it at first. But then it buzzes twice more and you huff, shoving the m&ms in your hand into your mouth and grabbing your phone.

Bakugo: Mina said you’re not coming

Bakugo: Why

Bakugo: ??

You: just not feeling it today

Bakugo: Why

You: idk bro I’m just not 😭

You: ill be there next week promise

Bakugo: Youre being weird

You: ???

You: I’m just so tired 😔

You: ik ur not gonna miss my annoying commentary let’s be real

Bakugo doesn’t respond. Again, nothing surprising. It’s not the first and definitely not the last time he’ll leave you on read. You unpause your show but it’s quickly interrupted by a knock at your door. A knock is putting it lightly. You think this person might be trying to break down your door. It takes you a minute to emerge from your cocoon you’ve built on your bed, pulling the hood on your hoodie up to cover your bed head. 

“Fucking hell, I’m coming.” You huff, quickly yanking the door open.

Your words are cut off at the sight of Bakugo standing at your door. You quickly curse the fact you didn’t try to make yourself look slightly more presentable. You think it makes your not so tiny crush even worse that Bakugo is genuinely quite beautiful. Shining red eyes, arms so muscular you know you’re able to see the lines of them through his clothes, long lashes you’re honestly jealous of. And he always has this sweet smell around him you can’t seem to get enough of, always so obvious when the two of you are sparring.

“I- What are you doing here? Isn’t everyone in Sero’s dorm tonight?” 

Bakugou eyes flit down to the hoodie you’re wearing then back up to your face. He’s got an unreadable expression on his face and you’re starting to get annoyed.

“That’s my hoodie.” 

It was his hoodie. One you’d stolen on a day that was too cold when all of your own were in the wash. You’d ignored Mina’s teasing at the fact he hadn’t said a word about it. Until now, apparently.

You huff. “Okay. Is that why you’re breaking down my door? Would you like it back?” You start pulling at the sleeves but he rolls his eyes, waving you off.

“No, no. Why aren’t you at Sero’s?” He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed.

You guess it is weird. Once you’d been formally invited to attend, you hadn’t missed one of the movie nights Bakugo and his friends had. Once a week, at whoever’s dorm was cleanest and had a TV, everyone would crowd in on the floor and the bed to watch whatever dumb thing they’d picked that week. It wasn’t like you to miss it but it also wasn’t like Bakugo to show up at your room about it.

You tug the sleeves back on your arms. “I’m just- I told you. Not feeling it. I’m tired.”

He frowns. “Have you been crying?”

Your eyebrows furrow slightly. You swipe at your face. You had been a while ago and you’re surprised he even noticed. 

“No. Well. Not now. Whatever. Doesn’t matter. Are we done here?” 

Bakugo leans forward slightly and your cheeks flush. You try to shove him back but he doesn’t move as he peers past your shoulder. With a defeated sigh you let him, breathing in that smell that always follows him. You don’t watch as his eyes travel over the messy bed, the used tissues on the covers and the fact you’re clearly wearing the clothes you’ve slept in.

“Have you been in your room all day?” His eyes look back to meet yours and you turn away, slightly embarrassed at the tone in his voice and the close proximity. You push him back, shutting your door behind you.

“So what, it’s Saturday.”

“Doesn’t mean you should be sitting in bed all fucking day. Have you even eaten today?”

You fluster. “Yes.”

Bakugo narrows his eyes. His gaze is so focused on you. You kinda feel like you’re being scolded by a parent. 

“Proper food? Not those shitty snacks that you think you’re hiding under your bed?” He drawls, an eyebrow quirking up.

“They’re not shitty. It’s my stash. They don’t sell crunchie bars in Japan.”

“The fuck is a crunchie?” 

“Chocolate and honeycomb. It’s good. You want one?”

“The fuck? No.” Bakugo scoffs. He grabs your sleeve suddenly and starts dragging you down the hallway. 

You try to fight it at first, but who are you kidding? If Bakugo wants you to go somewhere you’re unfortunately going whether you like it or not. He’s not afraid to drag you there by your hoodie strings and the two of you know that. Mina said the fact he’s so rough with you is good, and it means he thinks you’re strong. You just think it means recovery girl sees you much more than she should. You shuffle down the corridors and let him drag you to the kitchen. 

“Wait, what are we doing here?” You ask, shivering at the cold hardwood floor on your bare feet.

Bakugo starts pulling out pots and pans. He silently takes off his slippers and pushes them over to you. “I’m making you some proper food. Not that unhealthy shit you’re always fucking eating.”

You frown, stepping into his shoes. “It’s not shit. It’s yummy.”

“It’s going to make you fat.” 

Your mouth gapes, and you shove his shoulder. “Don’t call me fat, you freak.”

“I didn’t call you fat, I said it’s going to make you fat. Especially if you sit in bed all day.” He grabs some veg from the fridge, swiftly dodging the second swipe you make at him.

You know behind Bakugo’s harsh words he means well. He won’t outright tell you that he’s worried about you, but the weird way he keeps glancing back at you tells you that he is. At least that’s what you hope. So you jump up onto your usual spot on the counter and watch him.

“And what is the great Chef Bakugo making tonight?”

“Curry.” His hands fly across the chopping board as he chops some onions.

“Yum. Can I help?”

“Fuck no.”

The same reaction to the same question you ask every time he’s in the kitchen. Bakugo works alone, you know this. You just like to annoy him whenever you can. 

And you’re perfectly content to just watch. The ripple of his muscles as his arm moves up and down over the chopping board. The way tufts of blonde hair fall in front of his face. The way he used his forearm to wipe the sweat off his forehead. 

“You’re being so quiet. It’s fucking weird.” He looks up at you from where he’s stirring something in a pot. 

You shrug. “Thought you’d like the silence, no?” You smile slightly, but the interrogative look on his face makes it fall flat.

“Not from you.” He turns to attend to the rice cooker that’s beeping to tell him it’s done. 

The meal finishes quicker than you’d think. You spend most of the time just watching, idly bringing up something random when the silences feel too long. Bakugo brings your plates into the living room. The dorms are surprisingly quiet for a Saturday night. The loudest of your class are all holed up in Sero's dorm right now, and as Bakugo drops onto the couch, you can’t help but notice the two of you are alone. He grabs the tv remote, immediately flicking through Netflix. 

You haven't sat down yet. This feels like something and you have no idea if you’re reading too much into this situation. Bakugo glances at you.

“What, I need to drag you here too? Sit.”

Truthfully, you’re too exhausted to care if it does mean something. You roll your eyes, sitting down on the couch next to him. “I’m not a dog.”

“Listened like one.”

You flick Bakugo’s head and he grunts. “Piss off and eat.”

The food smells amazing. You’re not surprised, everybody knows Bakugo is the best in your class. He just has to be good at everything. 

Just one spoon of the food is enough to have you almost moaning on the couch. “Fuck, it’s so good.” 

You speak through a mouthful, huffing smoke out your mouth. It’s too hot to eat, but you don’t care. Bakugo was right. You really hadn’t eaten all day, what with your cramps and the sadness that popped in your gut.

Bakugo smirks slightly. “Better than your crunchie bars?”

“Definitely. Though that’s a shout for dessert.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He keeps clicking through the channels. Todoroki had kindly lent his fathers bank card to buy Disney+ and Netflix, and Bakugo is currently on the former. He scrolls right past your favourite movie, and you nudge his shoulder.

“Wait, put on Meet the Robinsons, please.” You nudge his shoulder more intensely and he scowls at you.

“Fuck off, no. You pick this every movie night, I’m sick of it.”

“It’s good. My comfort movie. Click.”

“No.”

“Please, Bakugo.” 

You look up at him in a way you hope is convincing enough. You think you see his eyes soften just slightly before he’s sighing, cursing you and Walt Disney under his breath. He does click play, and you cheer, bringing your bowl of curry to your lap.

You’re locked into the movie too much to see Bakugo stealing glances at you throughout the whole thing. He’s silent for all of ten minutes. Which is weird, because this is Bakugo, who is known for firing explosions at the back of Kaminari's head if he starts talking too loudly.

“If all it took for you to cheer up was this shitty movie, I’m sure Mina would’ve given up her night to choose.” 

He speaks quietly, enough that you almost don’t hear him. You don’t look at him, placing your bowl, now polished clean, back on the coffee table. You don’t say anything for a moment. Bakugo doesn’t push, and it’s that unusual tenderness he’s handling you with that makes you want to cry again. You can’t believe how pathetic you must look, that Bakugo of all people is being nice to you.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think I could handle talking to all of you guys without being all sad in the corner and ruining the fun.”

Bakugo doesn’t say anything for a moment. His eyes are still focused on the screen, and you watch as the lights dance across his face. “What happened?”

You look away from him. You breathe once. Twice. Blink a couple times to curb the tightness behind your eyes.

“I just.” You sigh shakily. “I just miss home.”

You laugh wetly, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands. You try and hide the tears that pool in your eyes but he could hear them even if he couldn’t see them.

“It’s so stupid. I just. My birthday’s coming up, and I can’t fly back home, so. I’m going to be here. And like, all that stupid stuff I used to do with my family i can’t and it just got me thinking of all the other stuff I miss. Like my bed. And my cat. And I’m also running out of crunchie bars.” 

You sigh, shaking your head. “And I feel so ungrateful. Selfish. Like, I should be happy to be here. It’s such a great opportunity, and-” 

“Don’t say that.” His words are sudden and do their job in shutting you up.

“You can be so stupid sometimes. Of course you’re going to fucking miss home. Who wouldn’t? Doesn’t make you selfish. Makes you fucking normal.” His eyes never leave the screen but you’re sure he can feel your eyes on him.

“You don’t think it makes me weak?” You mumble.

Bakugo’s eyes furrow. And then he does look at you, and it’s so intese that you want to look away. But you don’t, just fiddle with the drawstrings of his hoodie instead. Red eyes pour with emotion, and if you don’t like Bakugo for anything it’s this. He’s so passionate, about everything. About his hero work, about his feeling, even this. Even you.

“You’re not fucking weak. I’d like to see one of the idiots in our class do what you’re doing. Dunce face wouldn’t last a week.”

You snort at that, rubbing at your eyes.

“Just. Just don’t hole yourself up in your room like that. It’s stupid. If you have shit to talk about, talk about it.” 

You think he wants to say we’re here, that he’s here if you ever need him to be. But he doesn’t. Instead, he makes you food and lets you slobber all over his hoodie. He tuts as you wipe at your face with the sleeve, reaching forward to grab your wrist. His fingers are warm and so much bigger than yours that they wrap around it easily.

“Stop using my hoodie as a tissue, there’s a fucking box right there.”

“Leave me alone. I’m sad, you have to be nice to me.” You pout as he drops your hand. You immediately miss the warmth.

“Shut the fuck up. Watch your shitty movie.”

BONUS:

Mina: hey babyyyyyy

Mina: u feeling better??

Mina: Sero got oizza do u want me to being u a slice

Mina: it’s got stuffed crust🤤 ik u want a bite sooo bad

You: Stfu

You: She’s asleep

Mina: ??? 

Mina: tf r u sleep texting in third person?!?

You: Stop texting raccoon eyes ur gonna wake her up

Mina: BAKUGO???

Mina: r u in her dorm rn 😉

You: Stfu

Mina: use protection 😘

You: Kys 

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guys i kinda struggle to write for bakugo?? im always writing outgoing and energetic characters, and the fact hes so nonchalant and quiet is too hard for me... that and the fact he has never interacted with a women in canon?? hes an enigma

anyways... plzzzz give me asks i have no idea what or who to write for!

[allied-mastercuntputer]

unexpected.

after your planned date with tim takes an unexpected turn, you show him just how full of surprises you are…

word count: <500

warnings: not proof read…i kinda raw dogged this :p no use of y/n

notes: omg first thing of writing on here…im an autobiographical writer, haven’t touched fanfic since i was like 10. with that being said if i proof read it i won’t have the guts to post it. there will be better writing on my blog i promise. also super late for valentine’s day but it rained when i love the day of and no other day of the week n i thought it was funny.

“You told me you checked the weather Tim.”

You had called your boyfriend to let him know that a picnic wasn’t going to work. As soon as you woke up, the noise of rain pattered on your apartment’s roof, hitting you with the reality that being outside wasn’t an option.

“I did! Today is the first time this month it’s rained! But uhhhh should we do the Mary’s?” He tried to remedy the situation with the Italian restaurant in your university neighborhood.

“We go there all the time, can we do something special since it’s Valentine’s Day baby?” You smiled into the phone receiver. You knew he melted into man pudding when you called him baby and used that tone.

“Oh uhh-“ evidence of your work, “Anything you want. Maybe the rink and then hot chocolate after?”

“It’s a date.” You smiled, perfect time to show Tim what he didn’t know about you on the ice.

❅ ❅ ❅

Tim came to pick you up, you made sure to put on a raincoat. Not only to protect yourself from getting soaked, but also to reveal your outfit to your boyfriend in the car.

“Oh look at you, expecting to get some laps in?” He joked at the expense of your lululemon attire

“I like my pink define jacket, thank you very much”

“Hey! I like it too, definitely…tight. Hugs the right pla-“ You slap him on the shoulder, “Ow! Do you even know how to skate babe?”

This was your moment. Should you lie and wow him? Or should you tell the truth and loose your novelty? You lie.

“No actually, you’ll have to teach me.”

“That’s great actually, then you can’t let go of me-“ he smiled like an idiot before you interrupted him

“Don’t push it”

“Yes ma’am”

❅ ❅ ❅

You try not to be suspicious. ‘Act like you’re nervous, get shaky the first few minutes-‘

“Hey babe, need help with your skates?” Tim is an angel. As much as he likes to talk dirty, he genuinely cares and you always know it.

“Oh uhm, yes please”

“No problem.” he got on his knees and laced your skates up, “They need to be super tight, but not so tight you can’t bend your knees beyond a certain point.” Nobody could wipe the smile he had off his face. He was just happy to be teaching his girlfriend how to skate on Valentine’s Day.

“Thank you Tim. I feel like Cinderella, only my shoe has a sharp blade on it and my prince charming doesn’t know how to check the weather.” You giggle at his expense

“Im sure I’m a much better prince charming than whatever that guy had going on. Now stand up and see if it’s comfortable.”

“Perfect! Oh! I mean uhhh-“ You can’t let the jig be up, “Ouch super tight but I’ll be okay!”

Tim looks at you funny, but thought nothing if it, “Alright let’s go.”

❅ ❅ ❅

You can’t even stand it. You’ve been pretending to be awful at skating for almost 30 minutes. The real truth? You were on a figure skating scholarship just like how Tim was on a hockey one. You’d been skating since middle school and it had become a sport you loved deeply. You and Tim had been together for eight months, but the topic never really came up due to you thinking there were far more important things to your character.

“Can I try by myself?” your posture was awful, but it as about to be perfect in about 5 seconds

“Remember what I taught you about falling on your butt and not your face?”

It took so much not to roll your eyes, “Ill try not to fall because you like both of those things about me. think I’m okay.”

“Great! Let’s see you do 5 feet ahead. Go at any pace you want.”

You nodded, kissing him on the cheek. You immediately shifted into better posture, stopped shaking , and started skating at the pace you wanted, like he said. You begin with fluid crossovers, transitioning into quick footwork. With a push, you launch into a simple jump, landing with precision. You could feel the air whipping past your face as you gained speed. Your body twists and turns effortlessly, soon you’re skating circles around your boyfriend, who couldn’t do anything but look at you in shock. You stop right next to him.

“Was that okay?”

“Was that okay?? What are you doing studying here! People get injured all the time at the olympics I’m sure you could fill in and it would make no difference” He laughed in complete shock, “How long have you been skating for?

“More than 10 years”

“We should definitely take this to my place. You’ve won my heart. Not that you didn’t before I just- let’s go babe.”

“No I’m actually having so much fun!”

[alchemistc]

goon | bucktommy | chapter six

check out the hockey glossary here (updated through chapter six)

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

read Chapter Six on ao3

Tommy nearly hadn’t made it here.

Not in terms of mortality — four years ago, he’d blocked a shot with his skate, and felt the twinge of it for the rest of the game, but it wasn’t until he’d taken his skate off and seen his foot swell to three times it’s normal size that the adrenaline had worn off.

The force of the puck had broken his foot in three places.

He’d spent almost a year rehabbing that injury, and there’d been a month or so there when the numbness of the pain meds they’d prescribed him had been preferable to thinking about the trajectory of his career — getting into junior leagues far too old to really make waves, paying for travel teams off the pity of his aunt; the scholarship that had barely covered his tuition as he worked his way through a degree, sleeping three hours a night and housing enough coffee to keep a South American country’s economy alive, mornings and evenings devoted to a hockey team that hadn’t made a D1 playoff appearance in years and days spent reading and rereading his lecture notes like if he somehow stayed a good student, the scholarship might cover his meals by the time he was a senior; drafted by Toronto in the fifth round sort of as a throwaway, and spending the next two years bouncing from AHL to ECHL teams without even a glimpse of a shot at the show; a trade to an on-the-rise Pittsburg and an injured Penguin who no one else on the farm team had enough knowledge of both defensive and forward positions to fill his spot; a year and a half riding the bench with the brightest fucking star this league had seen since Gretzky, and realizing that for all that he and Sidney Crosby had had incredibly different life experiences, at the end of the day they were cut from the same cloth; ten more years of bouncing from team to team, mentoring every mentally ill first round draft pick that latched on to him day one, learning half the leagues dirty laundry without ever once airing his own.

The day he’d rolled out of bed and popped three oxy before he’d been awake enough to assess his pain levels, he’d spent six hours researching therapists and flushed the rest of the pills down the drain.

Therapy had taught him plenty. About himself, about the world at large, about how to manage every Big Feeling he’d ever repressed just to make it through the next few hours.

He wouldn’t call himself a paragon of mental health. He’s still never said the words aloud to Harold, even though they’ve danced around that issue as much as they possibly can. He’s subsisted on hookups and beards for most of his life, and he’s never let himself imagine a world where the things he desires most want him back.

It’s a lonely way to live, according to Harold, and sometimes he wonders if the people in his life who know pity him for it.

Buck brushes past him into his hotel room, and Tommy takes five steadying breaths, presses his heels into the floor, and turns to stare at the back of Buck’s head while he stares around the room like he’s not set up in a carbon copy of it, six doors down.

Tommy shuts the door, and doesn’t let himself think about who might have been poking their head out at just the right time to see Tommy let him in.

(It’s a ridiculous thought. They’re friends. They play on the same team together. Maybe Buck is just here to lay into him the way Bobby hadn’t about how fucking stupid a risk it was to get himself thrown in the box with ten minutes left in a game.)

Buck makes a move towards the bed, then seems to second guess it. There is a painting on the wall that is likely an exact match for the one in every room on this floor, three uneven black lines splashed across a background of ocean-blue. A television taking up the entire length of the chest of drawers, a desk with an ergonomic chair tucked into a little alcove, and two uncomfortable looking chairs around a tiny table, cast in the orange glow of the city below them, framed by curtains Tommy hasn’t even been here long enough to close.

No distractions. No trinkets, nothing to draw the eye that Buck hasn’t seen a million times before, unless Buck is suddenly extremely interested in the airport bodice ripper cracked open and balanced on the pillow next to where Tommy had been lounging, before the knock.

Buck eyes it for a moment, shockingly blank faced, before he turns to Tommy and takes a deep, steadying breath.

Tommy doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“I need to apologize,” Buck begins, once the air in his lungs has been blown back out, and Tommy’s eyes snap to his. Pockets. He has pockets.

Christ, he’s in the most threadbare sweatpants he owns, the pockets were a bad idea.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Buck.” Not to him, anyway.

“Evan,” Buck interrupts, and time stills. He feels like they’re threading a needle, frayed edges that refuse to line up, but if they just snip off the ends... “When we met, I told you to call me Evan, but you never did.”

His smile is wry, and he wrings his hands, nerves on full display as he takes yet another weighted breath. In contrast, Tommy feels like a marionette who’s master has pulled all his strings tight and wandered off to parts unknown.

“I do need to apologize,” he continues. “I’ve been — I haven’t been fair to you, or Eddie, but right now I’m... I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I’ve been a dick, and it’s not your fault.”

“Everyone has bad days.” And why is Tommy crossing his arms, now? What astronomically horrible thing is Buck about to say to him that he feels the need to guard himself from it? Sorry, I hope we can be friends.

“It’s been, like, weeks, man, you don’t have to sugarcoat it. Not my proudest moment. Series, of moments.”

Something loosens, in his core, a slow unravelling as Buck stares at him imploringly, and Tommy feels one side of his mouth tilting up. Buck’s gaze follows the little twitch, head tilting (always the fucking head tilt, with him) his own serious expression melting, just a little. “Noted.”

“Did I ever tell you my sister used to take me to Bears games, every year?”

The non sequitur throws him for a loop. Tommy rolls his lips in, bites at the flesh of his lower one and raises a brow, not bothering to pretend he has any idea where this is going.

“Travel leagues always made it difficult, but — every year we’d find a way to make it to the the teddy bear toss. We’d go with, like, ten stuffed animals a piece, and she’d always get the good seats — close enough to the glass that during that first toss, we’d get buried under all the ones that didn’t get thrown far enough to make it to the ice, so I’d spend twenty minutes getting all mine over the glass, and then all the ones that didn’t make it.”

Tommy remembers his time in Hershey fondly. He’d been down with the flu, for the first charity game, and halfway out the door for the second, but when that goal buzzer sounded and the stuffed animals rained down, he’d done the same thing as every other player on the ice, a time honored tradition of diving at the piles of them like kids jumping into freshly raked leaves.

“The last time she took me, I was fifteen. Too cool for school, by then, and I spent the whole game kind of hating her for making me go.”

Tommy blinks, doing the math while Buck’s smile goes a little wide.

“There was this player, though, that I hadn’t seen the year before. I was so scrawny, back then, and just, like, obsessed with goons. Just the idea of them. Big tough guys, whose only real job was to make sure if someone messed with their teammates they’d pay for it.”

Tommy’d played that game with three bruised ribs he’d re-injured jumping into a pile of kids toys.

Buck’s head tilts from one side to the other. “When that first goal got scored, and everyone started throwing bears, I was — I was up almost up against the glass, pouting about it, arguing with Maddie, trying to hand her all the ones she’d brought for me to throw. And this guy — this guy I’d nearly lost my voice cheering for every time he laid a filthy hit, right? He skated right up to the glass and started giving me shit for not helping my neighbors clear out all the stuffed animals stuck on the wrong side of the boards.”

Tommy doesn’t know when he’d let his arms fall loose at his sides again, or when they’d started to drift closer, but he’s close enough to smell the pomade in Buck’s hair when the memory surfaces.

“I had to barter my fucking stick to get you to start throwing bears.”

Buck’s laugh is quiet, soft and bright while his cheeks dance up. “I still have it,” he admits, eyes dipping to the floor, like he’s nervous. “Your rookie card, too. I mean, I have, like, hundreds of rookie cards, but when I found out we were trading for you I had Maddie pull that box out of storage, and for three months now I’ve been trying to figure out why.”

Tommy swallows, shifts his weight. Harold is gonna have a fucking field day, trying to help Tommy unpack all of this. Buck is smiling, wide, eyes catching the light as he chases Tommy’s gaze.

“My sister says there are better ways to get someone’s attention than maiming my best friend about it.”

Tommy has spent twenty years being overly cautious. The first and only time he’d attempted to hold down a relationship, the guy had decided to surprise him by buying tickets behind the bench for an away game three thousand miles away, and rather than enjoy the win and whisk him off to his hotel room before the rest of the team realized he’d left dinner early, he’d refused to look beyond the glass all game, and sent him a confirmation for a return flight, hiding in the bathroom between the second and the third.

Tommy wants to kiss him.

Say fuck it to the last twenty years, throw it down the drain, ignore every precaution he’s ever taken for the silver-blue shine in Evan Buckley’s eyes as he says too much and not enough at the same time.

He has great fucking lips. Pink and plump with a nasty habit of going a little pouty, when he’s at rest, and Tommy doesn’t need to look down at them to confirm, but he does anyway, and follows the line of his jaw, the stretch of tendons in his neck as he swallows. He can just make out the silvery line of the scar tucked next to the bunched up fabric of the hoodie he’s wearing.

“I don’t have your rookie card,” Tommy admits between breaths, and Buck’s laugh catches and falters just before he leans in and captures Tommy’s lips between his own.

It’s quiet, at first.

Tommy’s hand, with a mind of it’s own, slides up, two fingers pressing to the meaty underside of Buck’s jaw to improve the angle. Lips against lips, and the quiet breath that escapes Buck when Tommy is satisfied with the tilt of Buck’s head and drops his hand to Buck’s waist, fingers just ghosting over the fabric there before he presses his palm in.

Buck takes that for a green fucking light, surging in with a tilt of his head, nose pressed to Tommy’s cheek as his tongue slides along the seam of Tommy’s lips, half a step closer as one hand comes up to cradle Tommy’s jaw, the other smoothing over the fabric at Tommy’s shoulder, fingers digging in to the meat of his muscle for the span of a moment before he slides the hand down to cup his elbow.

Tommy gasps into his mouth, and Buck just dives right in.

When Tommy was twelve, one of the kids on the cul de sac, Terry Waters, had spent an hour complaining about his mom while they all practiced The Michigan, oblivious to Tommy seething in silence, barely keeping a lid on the urge to remind them all that at least they had moms. The only one of them who’d gotten close to nailing it was an eight year old girl on her pastel-pink roller skates, and Tommy can still remember the way she’d looked, for all of a moment, with the whiffle ball tucked against the blade of a stick half-a-foot too tall for her, right before Terry Waters had knocked a knee against her stick and dislodged the ball.

Two years later, he’d kissed Terry Waters under the bleachers in the gym of their high school, and when they’d broken apart Terry had wiped his whole forearm across the lower half of his face and threatened to tell Tommy’s dad if he ever told another soul what they’d just done.

Buck’s thumb slides across his jaw, tucks itself neatly into his cleft and presses down, just enough pressure to force Tommy’s mouth a little wider.

Tommy needs a minute. They both need a minute.

They both need to get a fucking grip, is what they need to do.

Tommy exerts some forward momentum on the hand that is currently fisted in the fabric of Buck’s hoodie, bunching it at the waist, and Buck whines, high and reedy, lips twisting up against Tommy’s, and though his torso follows the direction of Tommy’s hand, his head and neck don’t move.

“Buck,” Tommy murmurs across his lips, and doesn’t fight the feeling of Buck’s hand curling around the side of his neck, or the way Buck uses the fulcrum of his gentle shove to swing his hips and press his weight right back into Tommy, and — fuck, they need to think about this, they need to talk about this, they need to get further away from the bed that is right behind Buck.

Buck nips at Tommy’s lower lip and Tommy groans, desperately searching his mind for anything that could derail this without sending Buck running out the door.

“Evan,” Tommy says, and Buck stills against him, breath coming in heavy pants as he pulls just far enough away to catch Tommy’s eye. There’s a rosy tint to his cheeks, and a heavy look in his eye, mouth still open and an obscene little curl to his lower lip. Buck blinks, gaze taking a leisurely little stroll from holding Tommy’s gaze, down over the slope of his nose, right back to Tommy’s lips, and when he sways back in Tommy lets him, for just a moment.

Unfurling his fingers from the fabric of Buck’s shirt, he straightens his palm and tucks it up against Buck’s ribs, which earns him a breathy sigh and a squeeze at his elbow, followed closely by a groan of protest when Tommy presses, gently pushing him back half a step.

He blinks, again, a second before the grin begins to overtake his expression once more. “Tommy,” he intones, slightly mocking, and Tommy can’t quite hide the twitch of his lips as he tries desperately to keep a straight face. “Say it again.”

They need to talk about this. Tommy still has an apology of his own, fully scripted with contingencies for whatever reactions he’d anticipated Buck having. This hadn’t factored in to a single one of his scenarios. Tommy takes a moment to straighten out the bunched fabric of his hoody. “It,” he quips, shifting just his eyes up, staring through his lashes as Buck purses his lips in faux-irritation. Buck shifts his weight back, and Tommy nearly loses his balance without Buck’s hand to steady him. “Evan.”

He laughs, bright and happy in this sensibly decorated hotel room, with the lights of Boston casting the side of his face in an orange glow that makes the shadows of his laugh lines stand out starkly against his skin. “Yeah, I know why I introduced myself like that, now.”

Tommy would like to point out the utter insanity of the last ten minutes. Maybe see what he remembers of the Microsoft Office suite, set up a PowerPoint presentation with clipart and horrible transitions for each slide. Write a paper on how fucking batshit this is.

Buck slides his hand around Tommy’s hip, thumb rolling neatly and eagerly under the hem of Tommy’s shirt to shift against bare skin, and he looks a little smug when Tommy’s breath catches. Tommy attempts a stern expression, but he’s pretty sure all he manages is fond. “I am not sleeping with you tonight, Evan Buckley.”

“Presumptuous,” Buck murmurs, sliding back into Tommy’s space, two fingers in the pocket of Tommy’s sweats and the meat of his cheek sucked between his teeth. “I am gonna kiss you again, though,” he warns, and Tommy decides they’ll have plenty of time to talk, later.

---

Buck hitches a leg up over Tommy’s thigh, as the sun tips out over the horizon.

Somewhere between frantic make-outs number three and four, they’d stumbled their way over to the bed, and despite the hundreds of sirens and bells and gongs going off in his head, he’d let himself be tugged down over Buck, tongue sliding to the roof of his mouth while Buck snuck a grab at handfuls of his ass.

But he hadn’t pushed it any further.

It was only when their jaws had started to ache that he’d wheedled an invitation to stay out of Tommy, puppy-eyed pleading out in full force as he rolled his head against a pillow, glowering at the paperback in his way (how they hadn’t disturbed it, Tommy has no fucking clue) before tucking the thumb he’d had in Tommy’s mouth five minutes earlier in between the pages to hold his place while he scrambled up on his stupid long legs to grab a spare piece of paper from the notepad on the desk to use as a bookmark.

“I’ll keep my hands to myself and everything,” he’d promised, which had been a flagrant lie.

But he hadn’t pushed — fingers tracing the hills and valleys of Tommy’s abs while he admitted he’d had himself a nice long fit over how much Sidney Crosby seemed to know about him, lips ghosting over the arm of Tommy’s t-shirt as he told him about the enlightening conversation he’d had with Maddie, two days earlier, palm a steady weight against Tommy’s ribcage as he confessed to wanting to slew-foot his best friend for monopolizing all of Tommy’s attention, the last few weeks.

Buck’s half-hard, against the seam of Tommy’s sweats, but even as he readjusts the angle of the leg he’s thrown over Tommy’s, there’s no effort to ramp things back up. He’s been yawning between rambles for a good hour, now, and Tommy’s been too caught up in trying to memorize the exact color and shape of his birthmark to call him out on it. But his words have begun to slow, his eyelashes shifting against Tommy’s shoulder as he keeps trying to blink himself awake, and despite no longer having any plans for this morning, they’re both going to regret staying up so late when they have a game in a day and a half. “We should sleep,” Tommy says, and Buck digs his nose into Tommy’s shoulder in protest, shaking his head while he yawns into the meat of Tommy’s bicep.

“I’m — not even —.” His breath blows out hot against Tommy’s arm. “Not even tired,” he promises, fingers stretching out over Tommy’s ribcage.

Tommy’s hand makes a pass through the close-cropped hair on the back of Buck’s head and his lashes flutter closed. “Well, as you so deftly pointed out earlier, I’ve got almost a decade on you. Old man bones need rest.”

Buck snorts into Tommy’s armpit. “Thought we weren’t talking about your old man bone, tonight.”

There’s something achy and warm blooming beneath Tommy’s ribs that he absolutely refuses to acknowledge until they’ve both slept on this. He grabs the spare pillow from behind his head and whacks Buck’s thigh, instead. “Weak, three out of ten, I know you can do better.”

“Guess I need to rest and recuperate my flirting skills.”

Tommy hums, and lets his eyes tip closed as Buck fluffs up pillows and rearranges his limbs. He’s asleep before Buck’s even fully settled.

---

Tommy scrambles out of bed at the knock on his door, blinking sleep out of his eyes as his hand slides across the opposite side of the bed, which is rumpled and cool.

He takes a beat to wonder exactly how much of the previous night he’s going to regret, when a cursory glance around the room reveals no signs of Buck.

The knocking starts up again, and Tommy runs a hand over his face, checks the time.

9:45

Four hours of sleep, and still the latest he’s slept in in about ten years.

A third round of knocking interrupts his muddy thoughts, and he levers himself up out of bed with a groan, fully prepared to slam the door back in whoever’s face once he’s given them a cursory greeting and the stink eye, but when he swings the door open he’s met with the smiling face of Eddie, who is holding up a take-out bag with a raised brow.

Christ.

He hadn’t even looked in the mirror before he’d opened the door. He wonders how likely it is that Eddie will believe him if he plays off the hickey he knows Buck had been aiming to mark into the side of his neck as a bruise from Johnston’s chokehold, yesterday afternoon.

“Hey,” he says, and freezes a moment later when the toilet flushes in the bathroom.

Eddie tips his head from side to side. “So I guess you and Buck made up, too.”

(Teeth sliding along his lower lip, a hand around the back of his neck, Buck smiling bashfully against Tommy’s lips as he told him he’d apologized to Eddie before knocking on Tommy’s door.)

“Mm, yeah. We talked.”

Eddie squints at him. “Clearly.”

Tommy has no idea what the fuck that means, and he’s terrified to ask. They hadn’t talked about shit last night. (They’d talked about a million things, actually, the same shit they did with walls between them and phones tucked to their ears, but not this. Not exactly what either one of them were willing to let anyone else know.)

He’s saved the burden of responding by the bathroom door swinging open. Buck’s in the same jeans he’d worn the previous night, but he’s wearing one of Tommy’s t-shirts, and Tommy spends thirty seconds waffling between full-blown panic and a steady thrum of lust.

Buck snags the bag from Eddie’s outstretched fingers, and Eddie reels back, a practiced look of offense on his face.

Tommy is suddenly remembering the rumpled sheets and the indent on the pillow that is fully visible to Eddie from his position in the doorway. He doesn’t seem to notice, too busy staring at the bag Buck has cradled carefully to his chest. “What’s up?”

“Josh asked me to tell Tommy to, and I quote, ‘answer his goddamn texts and stop pretending to be a dinosaur, I know he knows how to use his phone’. End quote.”

“Well, you’ve told him.” Buck nods, and Eddie’s lips purse.

“Are you punishing me right now?”

“No.”

“Because it feels like you’ve made up with Tommy and now you’re trying to even out the time I spent with him solo by sharing our favorite food in this city with only Tommy.”

Which explains exactly why he’d been completely unsurprised to see Buck wandering out of Tommy’s bathroom at a completely reasonable hour of the day to find a teammate in another teammates room.

“If I give you half my sandwich, will you go back to running errands for Josh and leave me alone?”

Eddie rolls his tongue over his teeth, and tips his head side to side. “I want a full sandwich. I know you ordered an extra one.”

They have an intense little staring contest, right there in the doorway. Buck gives in with a dramatic sigh. “Fine.”

“And a pickle, just for the implication that I do anything for Russo of my own free will.”

Buck’s already tearing into the bag, reaching in to grab what Tommy assumes is the aforementioned sandwich, wrapped up in crisp white paper, which he slaps into Eddie’s hands before digging back in, in search of the pickles, most likely.

Tommy just stands there, head spinning, hyper aware of every muscle in his body while Buck piles more paper-wrapped items on top of the sandwich.

“Go away, now,” Buck says, shooing Eddie back away from the door, out into the hallway. “Let Tommy enjoy his apology sandwich in peace.”

“With you in the room? What sort of peace is he gonna get that way?”

“Goodbye.”

Tommy gets a last good look of Eddie’s bemused expression, right before Buck slams the door in his face.

A beat of silence. Then another, as Tommy listens to Eddie’s footsteps drift off down the hallway.

“Hi,” Buck says, and leans in for a kiss.

Tommy catches his jaw before it lands, and tries desperately to calm the swirling thoughts and not get distracted by the gleam in Buck’s eyes, or the subtle roll of his lower lip as it begins to jut out, pre-pout.

“I’m not out,” is the first thing Tommy can think to say, and Buck’s expression softens.

“Okay.”

“That — with Eddie —.”

“Tommy,” Buck says, voice low, the hand not holding the food curling over Tommy’s forearm. Tommy breathes, and wonders if this is how it’s always going to be. First sign of something good, and Tommy’s booking a one way ticket to the other side of the country. “Okay. That’s fine. I haven’t said anything. I - I wouldn’t.”

Tommy shoves his hands into his pockets and aims a glance at the bag. He’s fine. He can bury it. Let this all settle, and figure it out from there.

He should have sent Buck back to his room, last night, the moment he’d said his name.

“I’m — do you — should I go?”

You seem to do fine with relationships, right up until they feel real to you, Harold had told him, eight months in, after Tommy admitted he preferred it when Harold was a bit of an asshole getting his point across. Lets explore that.

Buck, who’d just spent two weeks quietly seething that his best friend was taking up all of Tommy’s time, looks back at Tommy with nothing but vague concern in his eyes, and Tommy spends a long, long moment reminding himself that he’d spent a good fucking year working his way up to admitting that he’d internalized a lifetime of keeping his feelings to himself and wrapped that up in a romanticized little bow he first time he’d watched Andrew Lincoln scramble to stop Keira Knightley from seeing her wedding film.

It’s self-preservation, he’d quoted to Harold, while Harold jotted something down in his notebook. Tommy liked to think he just kept a running list of all the stupid movie quotes he heard in their sessions.

“I don’t want you to go, Evan,” Tommy admits, and for once in his fucking life just lets himself enjoy the wide smile that brims across Buck’s face a moment before he leans in to press his lips to Tommy’s.

[alexihollis]

Same Face (pt. 2)

Part One

*CW: illness/disease, beginnings of epidemic (AIDS), referenced child abuse*

Ajax refused to talk about her sister. This, in and of itself? Not a new development. Not in the slightest. The last time Rembrandt remembered actually having a full conversation about Jade that went beyond the stilted updates that Ajax somehow always got occurred that first night they ran away. After Ajax shoved her into the third subway car of the night and it seemed like they might stay longer, Rembrandt finally asked.

"What about Jade?"

Ajax hesitated. Her eyes darkened and her jaw shifted a bit. "Jade'll be fine."

The words rankled, but Rembrandt was too tired. Too tired, too numb...too bitter. Jade would be fine, after all. Jade was the one who was going to make it out, the whole building knew - the whole block. Clever Jade, mature Jade, sweet Jade, helpful Jade. The Gray sister who could always be counted on to help you to your apartment with your groceries, who tried her best to contain her wild sister and help out her veteran father. Nothing like that tomboy of a sister, the one always getting into fights. Nothing like that other strange slip of a girl, the vandal. Jade graduated with honors, Jade got a scholarship to college.

Jade was worth something. The underlying unlike that sister and her friend went barely unsaid.

Years later, Rembrandt could admit that seventeen-year-old Rembrandt felt a bit bitter at being tossed aside in a way that Jade wasn't, furious at the disparity in treatment between Jade and Ajax. From their father, from the teachers at school - everywhere. Everywhere they went: Jade the Golden Child and Ajax the Fuck Up. Jade was getting out and Ajax would be found in the gutter somewhere.

So after that night, Ajax didn't talk about Jade and Rembrandt never pressed the issue.

Rembrandt did expect Ajax to have a bit more of an opinion when Jade explosively reentered their lives, when Jade suddenly announced she had a girlfriend - Prim, leader of the Snipers up in Washington Heights. That was more than a bit of a surprise, Ajax's goody-two-shoes sister bagging a gang leader, and not even one playing nice with the Riffs' alliance.

Masai let Cleon off the hook for that one, though rumor on the street was that Riffs soldiers kept hanging around the edges of the Heights.

Regardless of rumor or surprise, though, Ajax said nothing. At all. For a solid month. Cleon must have made some secret rule, because even Cowgirl didn't badger Ajax about it.

Then...it started happening.

First, it was in Union Square, after another meeting with the Riffs. They were standing on the platform, Cowgirl complaining about something or another, when a man started yelling.

"Cheerio! Cheerio, wrong platform!"

The only reason Rembrandt even noticed the call was her brain acknowledging that 'Cheerio' was a weird name. Then, suddenly, a man in the wrong colors was checking Ajax's shoulder.

Multiple things happened at once.

The man's eyes widened as if he realized he had made a mistake.

Ajax went to deck the man firmly in the face.

A woman in similar colors - dark green and brown, like camo - pulled the man back in time for Ajax to miss and give Swan enough time to pull Ajax back.

"Ajax, stop!" Swan barked, before Cleon had even registered what was happening.

"The fuck? He just-" Ajax reeled on Swan, eyes blazing.

"Sorry! We're sorry, wrong person!" The woman apologized, then looked to Cleon. "Real sorry, Warriors. Reynolds an idiot." Her attention turned to the man, "The clothes didn't give you a fucking clue?!"

"I wasn't looking at her clothes! Goddamnit, Prim's gonna kill us if we don't find her," Reynolds muttered the last bit, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking around the platforms. "You guys see a girl in scrubs? Looks exactly like that one?"

They didn't. Ajax and Jade looked similar, sure, but they looked different, too, enough that it always bothered Rembrandt when people said shit like that.

"No. We haven't," Cleon said. "You make a habit of jumping her, too?"

Reynolds blanched. "Jump-? No! No, we're- Uh-"

"We'll just be getting out of your hair now," The woman smiled thinly, before physically pushing Reynolds away from their crew and up the nearest flight of stairs. As they disappeared, Rembrandt could faintly hear her yelling about him being an absolute nutcase.

"You should've let me deck him," Ajax told Swan.

"Yes. Because getting into a war with the Snipers is exactly what we need right now," Swan deadpanned.

Ajax scowled, but even she couldn't argue that any violence was not in their best interest right now. Not since the Orphans decided to meld with the remnants of the Rogues and wreak havoc in the Bronx, the center of this latest meeting. The leaders hadn't decided what they wanted to do yet, but it was getting tense. And it seemed like this new Orphan crew was trying to form their own alliance with the crews that hadn't agreed with the Riffs.

Like the Snipers.

"What kind of name is Cheerio?" Cowgirl asked after a moment.

"The exact kind of preppy shit she'd go for," Ajax muttered just as their train pulled up.

If any of them were hoping for any more than that, Ajax wasn't giving it to them that day.

Rembrandt truly thought this would be the end of the confusion. After all, Ajax nearly started a fight over it, that had to send a strong message to pay more attention to who you were talking to.

Apparently not.

Because a few weeks later, on one of the rare nights Cowgirl and Cochise convinced them all to go out in Manhattan as opposed to hanging around Coney, it happened again.

Rembrandt and Ajax were taking a break from dancing, leaning against a back wall. Ajax was leaning against the wall, at least, while Rembrandt leant against Ajax, Ajax's arms around her shoulders, hands clasped in front where Rembrandt held them. Rembrandt was laughing at some dumb joke Ajax had whispered in her ear, when, suddenly, someone was there.

"Cheerio, Prim, I was thinking- You are not Prim," the woman, not the same woman as the station, but in the same colors, took a step back. Looked at Ajax. "Wanna explain something?"

"I'm Ajax." Deadpan, but also full of stony violence.

"Ooh, shit, yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. Didn't think Warriors partied in Manhattan," she said. Not leaving.

"We go where we want in Allied territory," Rembrandt said. "Do Snipers?"

The woman's eyes narrowed. "We got a deal for the island, long as we don't cause trouble."

Huh.

Interesting.

Masai hadn't mentioned that before. Free movement outside of one's territory was a big benefit of the alliance, after all.

The woman left not long after that, likely in search of Prim and Jade.

"This is getting annoying," Ajax muttered.

"They'll figure it out," Rembrandt said.

"Maybe if I go find a bow and staple it into her head the way she wore it in high school."

Rembrandt had almost forgotten the bows. Jade started wearing them in high school when she got on the-

"Oh, my God," Rembrandt laughed, not even meaning to, as the realization dawned on her.

"What?" Ajax asked.

"Guess someone found out she used to be a cheerleader," Rembrandt said.

It took Ajax a moment. Then, "No way. There's no fucking way she got her name from that."

"Its either that or the cereal."

"Jesus Christ," but Ajax was chuckling at the thought, too, though she muffled it in Rembrandt's curls as she rested her face on top of Rembrandt's head.

Overall, subway platforms seemed to be the biggest cause of confusion, since trains meant cops and cops meant wearing colors wasn't the best of ideas. It didn't used to be as much of a thing, Cleon didn't have a rule and Ajax rarely took off her vest, but, after Fox, Cleon made her preference clear and even Ajax didn't push it. One time, Ajax stormed off as soon as she heard Jade's new name being yelled, muttering something about getting chips from a kiosk, and it took the woman yelling until reaching the Warriors to realize her mistake.

"Sorry," she winced when she saw Rembrandt. "I swear, Cheerio went this way. Can you tell her that?"

Rembrandt eyed the woman. "Is it just Ajax dealing with this crap or is...Cheerio getting this, too?"

"Oh, uh, hmm," the woman's eyes darted around the gathered Warriors. It wasn't many of them, just Rembrandt, Cowgirl, and Mercy. Cleon, Swan, and Cochise were off with Masai. "Yeah. Kind of."

Rembrandt raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean kind of?"

"I really shouldn't say," the woman said.

"Okay, but now you have to, actually," Cowgirl said. "Girl code and all that."

"...this about the Orphans?" Mercy asked. Caught Rembrandt off-guard, how serious Mercy sounded suddenly.

"Whatchu know about that?" The woman asked, suspicious.

"Mercy. Used to run with them, been keeping tabs on the situation, and one of the old girlfriends was asking me the other day about why the Warriors kept pushing their territory. That it was making it worse," Mercy said. "Said the Snipers might got to war with them."

"...Have you told Cleon about this?" Rembrandt barely heard Cowgirl hiss to Mercy.

"That's what they're doing today," Mercy responded, also quiet.

The Sniper woman sighed, rocked on her feet a bit. "It took us a minute to figure it out and the Orphans won't listen to us. Cheerio keeps getting jumped. They think she's Ajax, colors or no colors."

Oh, shit.

"Also, Prim might be calling you guys to ask if there is anywhere else Ajax is banned, because there was also some bar that Cheerio almost got trespassed from, but that was actually kind of funny," the woman said.

"Where the fuck did Ajax get banned from?!" Mercy looked to Rembrandt.

"A lot of places, don't act surprised," Rembrandt said. Then, to the woman, "Is she okay?"

"Pissed, but alive," the woman shrugged. "More annoyed that Prim keeps making us escort her to and from work, which is why she keeps disappearing on us like an asshole, Cheerio!"

"Stop yelling. I told you I was getting a snack," Cheerio shoved a bag of chips at the woman. Nodded at Rembrandt. "Nice to see you. Ajax said she'll meet you at Coney and not to wait for her. I definitely pissed her off."

"How did you do that in two seconds?" Rembrandt asked, the old annoyance flaring. Cheerio had this way of speaking - like she didn't care about anything, like nothing rattled her, ever, like it was your fault if your feelings were hurt by something she did or said.

"It's Ajax," was Cheerio's only response.

Ajax didn't show up at their apartment until late, late enough that Rembrandt almost pulled on her boots to go back to Cleon's. She hated sleeping in the apartment alone.

"You okay?" Rembrandt asked, sitting on their bed as she watched Ajax change.

Ajax shrugged.

"Did she say something?" Rembrandt asked.

At that, Ajax sighed. Leaned her forehead against the wall. "I know you don't like her."

"I don't not like her," Rembrandt said. "We just...never got along."

Ajax was quiet for a moment. Then, "She said I needed to watch out for myself more."

What? "What does that mean?"

"...she said that I couldn't protect you if I didn't watch out for myself. And that if I wanted to keep you safe, I needed to watch out for myself more than I do."

Damn.

Damn, that was good, if manipulative as fuck. "Why would she say that?"

"Who the fuck knows," Ajax sighed, straightening and pulling her sleep top on over her head. As she moved over to the bed, she continued, "Also, apparently, she keeps getting jumped by people who think she's me, so she also told me to be less of an ass to the Snipers who fuck up."

"I'm still gonna be an ass, you two don't look that alike," Rembrandt grumbled.

"Yeah, yeah," Ajax kissed her forehead. "You've always been creepily good at telling us apart."

Because they were different, Rembrandt wanted to yell, but this was a losing battle.

"You'd think being literally color-coded would be a bit of a fucking hint," Rembrandt snarked instead and Ajax laughed as she turned off the lamp.

That time should have been the warning, though, for the Warriors. Rembrandt would kick herself later, for not taking what Mercy said, what the Sniper woman said, seriously.

The news first came through the radio, from DJ Lynne Penn.

Snipers officially declared war on the Orphans.

Cleon's phone rang, not long after. She closed the kitchen door, so they couldn't hear. When she came out, she looked at Ajax.

"Kitchen," Cleon nodded her head, but Ajax didn't move. "Ajax-"

"Is she dead?" Ajax asked.

No one wondered who she was this time.

"No," Cleon said. "She's hurt, but she's alive." Then, looking out at all of them, "The Snipers want a meeting with us and the Riffs."

"Where?" Swan asked.

"The Heights. They aren't leaving their terf while this shit's going down." Fair enough.

It was a tense ride over to the Snipers and an even more tense walk up to their apartment, flanked by two Sniper soldiers, even with Masai and a few of his crew.

"Prim," Masai greeted when they entered the living room of the apartment.

"Masai. Cleon." For a gang member, Prim was small. Barely two inches taller than Rembrandt. Thin and lanky. Gun to her head, Rembrandt would have said scout or tagger. Not Warlord.

Then again, the confidence she held herself with? The crossed arms and shrewd eyes? It didn't take much to be convinced.

"Sorry to hear about Cheerio," Cleon said. "Orphans say why?"

"Still don't believe that she's not her," Prim jutted her chin at Ajax. "At least, that's what they claim. They want our territory and I believe they think that if Cleon and Ajax had a falling out, then maybe the Warriors might be more willing to come after us as well."

"For fuck's sake, they are so stupid," Mercy muttered under her breath in the way she did when she was questioning her past life choices. Many of these instances revolved around men she had dated and ever wearing Orphan colors.

"So you are asking for our assistance?" Masai asked.

Prim's jaw flexed and she rolled her lips. "I have been considering your earlier proposition.

"How do we know you'll keep your word after we fix this mess?" Cleon asked.

"We don't need you to," Prim said. "We can handle this. But I would appreciate the extra help and had been considering your offer prior to this." She glared, slightly, at Masai, "Which I had also been considering before you decided to threaten to revoke the Island Agreement."

Damn. Cleon hadn't mentioned she'd passed along Rembrandt's scheme to Masai.

"We're trying for peace," Masai said. "It seemed you needed the extra encouragement."

"What's making you hesitate this much anyway? You clearly want in," Cleon said this time. Always the charmer.

"We're the Snipers. I'm not comfortable giving up my crews' guns. Simple as that," Prim shrugged.

...where the fuck did that come from?

"Who said anything about giving up your guns?" Masai asked. At least he also seemed confused.

Prim's brow furrowed. "Isn't that part of it?"

"No." Masai looked pissed. "Why did you think that?"

"Every crew not apart of your...alliance thinks that," Prim said. "Not sure who started it, but it seemed credible. No chrome, right? That first meeting? That we weren't invited to?"

"It wasn't meant to be a slight," Masai said, like he had said it a thousand times already.

"Sure. But we keep our guns?" Prim asked.

"Yes, one hundred percent," Cleon said. "You just can't use them on allies."

"Yeah, no shit. Awesome. Will you help us squish the Orphans, then, or does this have to go in front of some council and I have wait until we've already handled it to hear back from you?"

Masai looked at Cleon, who nodded. "You've got the Riffs and Warriors at the least. You have a plan?"

"I do. Prim is sitting out of this one for now, because she went nuclear," a woman, the one Rembrandt recognized from that first mix up with Reynolds, kicked off the wall she leaned on. "I'm Wren. Number Two."

"Yes, Wren, please take over this situation, that is entirely helpful," Prim drawled in a very familiar, deadpan tone.

"Blegh, just cause Cheerio isn't here does not mean you have to mimic her like a creeper. Anyway, plans are in the kitchen," Wren gestured for them to follow her.

The battle plans were simple enough, set to start the next morning and the Snipers would let them all crash in the Snipers' apartment that night. Cleon made a few calls to get some more soldiers up by morning. Later that night, Ajax found Rembrandt and grabbed her hand, leading her down a hall.

"Where are we going?" Rembrandt asked, confused.

Then, realization when they approached a door. Prim stood outside that door.

"Is she...?" Ajax didn't finish the question.

"Awake. She's fine with seeing you," Prim said, her heavy tone of voice implying how much she did not agree with this. "She's still recovering."

"I just want to check on her."

Prim stared at Ajax for another moment, before sighing and opening the door, letting Ajax and Rembrandt through. She came through as well, closing the door and leaning on it.

It was pretty clear that this room wasn't anyone's bedroom. The walls were bare and the bed was small. A beat-up dresser held pill bottles and med equipment, things Cochise would kill to have access to.

For all the bandages, Cheerio wasn't laying down when they came in, propped up, instead, on the headrest.

"You look like shit," Ajax said.

"Yes, well," Cheerio hissed as she moved slightly, pausing before continuing. "You were always better with your fists."

"Heard this has been happening a lot." This was how they always communicated, for as long as Rembrandt knew them. Pointed statements and barely veiled accusations.

"Here and there," Cheerio hedged with a shrug. Her usual nonchalance didn't work when she winced at every movement, though.

"No one else got hurt, though," Ajax said, eyes darting to Prim, who scowled. "Snipers can't protect their own?"

Oh, Jesus fucking-

"That was my fault," Cheerio interrupted. "Prim, she's pissed at me, okay? You don't have to be here."

"The fuck I don't," Prim looked at Cheerio like she had lost her mind.

"Awesome, this is going to go very well for me. I fucked up, okay? There was a clinic up north that needed a nurse, I volunteered to go after my shift, and I didn't wait for anyone," Cheerio said.

Ajax shook her head. "I don't understand. This has never been a problem before. Now you're running with the Snipers and trying to say you're getting jumped because you look like me?!"

"I was staying in Queens," Cheerio shrugged.

"It also isn't helping that you keep walking into drug dens," Prim said.

"You're what?!" Ajax yelled.

"Oh, not this, again," Cheerio grumbled, tilting her head back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. "I am going for work."

"How does that have anything to do with you being a nurse?" Ajax demanded. When Cheerio didn't say anything, Ajax turned to Prim. "Do you know anything about this?"

"...yeah," Prim said after a minute. "It's how we met, actually."

That was't ominous at all.

Cheerio rubbed at her face, wincing when she accidentally pulled at the stitched above her eyebrow. "...you guys know anyone who got really sick out of nowhere? Probably a guy, completely healthy one day and then suddenly, death's door, the next? And I mean, literally, death's door, dies out of nowhere?"

And, at first, Rembrandt would say no. She didn't. But then she looked at Ajax and she thought...

Yeah. Yeah, there had been that bouncer at the bar in the Village. The Hurricanes soldier a few months back and his partner not long after - some weird flu, they'd thought.

"Yeah. Why?" Rembrandt asked.

"There's something going on. No clue what yet, but- some sort of...illness," Cheerio shook her head. "A lot of nurses are getting freaked out. They won't treat these patients when they come in, even though the doctors keep saying it's the flu, its pneumonia. It isn't."

"It took out half of the first Snipers," Prim said. "All within a year, but the doctors wouldn't listen. Said that it was some complication of drug-use, which- Okay, fine, some of them used drugs, but some of them were sober besides alcohol. Or pot- pot doesn't fucking kill you like that."

"Why haven't you brought this up to anyone?" Ajax asked.

"I tried, but no one wanted to listen. I'm not Cyrus, I'm not Cleon, no one gave a shit about us until Cheerio came along."

Which...fair enough. The Snipers weren't considered much of anything. Not a threat, not a strong ally.

"And even then, that had everything to do with you apparently pissing off every single gang in Manhattan. And half the bars - thank you, by the way, for those lovely conversations with bar managers and the cops. You beat up a cop?" Cheerio smiled tightly at Ajax. "Why?"

"I didn't know he was a cop," Ajax said. "He was undercover and being an ass-"

"And water's wet, he's a cop."

"When did you suddenly start thinking cops are assholes?" Ajax demanded.

"Excuse me, when did you ever think I liked cops?" Cheerio asked incredulously.

"When you were flirting with them when we were teenagers!"

"To get you and Rembrandt out of jail!" Cheerio exclaimed and, holy shit, Rembrandt never heard her yell like that before. "I'm sorry, did you think dad was going to bail your sorry ass out?"

Rembrandt remembered that. Remembered the times she and Ajax got picked up for spray painting or shop lifting or jumping the turnstiles. They were rarer than the times Ajax would fall behind, distract them and let Rembrandt get home, but they happened. When they did, they typically ended with her and Ajax being led out of holding to Jade in the waiting room. Usually in her cheerleading uniform, smiling and laughing with the cops, twirling the end of her pony tail and promising, "This will never happen again, Officers, I'll keep an eye on them!"

"I didn't ask you to!" Ajax yelled.

"And I didn't ask you to keep dad away from me so I guess we're even!"

Then, it went silent. The two of them staring at each other, breathing heavily and- Huh.

Ajax crossed her arms. Looked at the floor. Shifted her weight between her legs the way she did when she started getting self-conscious. "He just wanted to be mad at anything. You didn't deserve that."

"Yeah. Well. You didn't either."

Ajax barked out a harsh laugh. "Sure."

"I'm serious," Cheerio said. "You didn't. That's why I always got mad at you when you did that shit. You got hurt enough protecting her."

...Ouch.

"Leave Rembrandt out of this," Ajax's words were sharp. Pointed, once more.

"I didn't- Hm." Cheerio's eyes closed and she took a breath, before looking back at Ajax. "I didn't say it was a bad thing. You figured it out anyway."

"Figured what out?"

"That you had a limit. That you couldn't protect her and me and you made a choice."

"You were supposed to leave," Ajax's voice broke on the last word. "You were going to move into the dorms!"

Rembrandt watched realization dawn on Cheerio, though she didn't say anything.

Prim did, after a moment. "She lost her scholarship. Couldn't afford it."

"You lost your scholarship?!" Rembrandt exclaimed.

"I busted my shoulder," Cheerio said. "Doctor said no cheerleading and no cheerleading meant I lost my athletics scholarship and the merit scholarship didn't cover enough to afford the dorms. So I commuted. It wasn't that big of a deal."

"That's not how you described it to me," Prim muttered, under her breath but everyone could hear.

"Thank you, Prim," Cheerio said, sarcasm heavy.

"What do you mean you busted your shoulder?" Ajax asked.

Cheerio shrugged, wincing again. "Dad busted my shoulder."

"When?"

"...About a week after you left." Ajax stared at Cheerio, hard. "When he realized you weren't coming back. He wasn't too happy."

Double ouch. Rembrandt hadn't even thought about how their dad would react to...

Fuck.

"Motherfucker," Ajax swore, scowling at the floor.

"Look, I'm sorry about what I said to you at Cleon's," Cheerio said, looking like she was eating something particularly unpleasant. "I was a bitch. I was tired and I wasn't feeling well and I was really not expecting to run into you. I took it out on you and that wasn't fair."

"I didn't want to leave you," Ajax said.

Which was the first Rembrandt was hearing about this.

Cheerio looked almost ill at her words. "Amber-"

"I didn't, you have to believe me, but I couldn't-" Ajax cut herself off, a choked sound. "I knew that we were going to Coney. Cleon was my only plan and I didn't want you to go through this shit."

"I know. I know, I promise, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry," Cheerio said.

Ajax stared at Cheerio, lost. "So now what?"

"I don't know," Cheerio said.

And it felt like something mending and shattering simultaneously in that moment.

-----------

Listen.

Listen: Cheerio is a fantastic name and I will die on this hill. I made myself laugh so hard with the idea of "what if Ajax had a sister who was a cheerleader in high school" this is for me.

Ajax having a cheerleader twin is so special. to me.

[dumbestthingiveeverheard]

Dumbest Thing I've Ever Heard: 8/11/2023

Fifth Place: Charlie Kirk

It's always refreshing to see Republicans go back to their old talking points, like Charlie Kirk saying on his show today that Democrats--gasp--want the government to improve the lives of the people:

The Democrats, they are a temporary coalition between permanent, resentful, government addicted minorities and people that want government benefits, Xanax and chardonnay wine moms, and resentful college educated white, liberal women who complain about everything with single women, and oligarchs. That's the Democrat Party. 

I know, how dare people want a government which gives them benefits. I always love how the Republican attacks on Democrats so often come down to "They believe this institution that we pay taxes too should represent us in some way." Yeah, that seems like the entire point of having a government in the first place, honestly.

Fourth Place: Jesse Watters

Vivek Ramaswamy is currently proposing a Constitutional Amendment which would require those between the age of eighteen and twenty four to pass a civics test before voting (one wonders why it should be those ages specifically, but that's another topic). Jesse Watters of Fox News has endorsed this idea, and I remind everybody one of my favorite facts of all time: Those who get their information from Fox News have been found to be less informed than those who watch no news at all.

Third Place: Anthony Sabatini

Yes, Sabatini is running for Congress again, and The Daily Beast has a rather interesting report about his college thesis: It turns out large chunks of it were plagiarized from Wikipedia. The main reason it wasn't caught is because the thesis is so filled with typos that checking if Sabatini actually wrote the lines himself became much harder.

I should also note that his thesis is just--really bad. It's a grand total of forty typo filled pages, and is about as good as a piece of scholarship as the doctoral thesis of Kent Hovind. Although, given Neil Gorsuch plagiarized large chunks of his doctoral dissertation--you don't think--nah.

Second Place: Michael Knowles

A new diet pill was recently announced, and this angered Michael Knowles because of Aristotle or something:

Quacks have sought quick fixes to the ills wrought by concupiscence since time immemorial. Wise men since at least the days of Aristotle have understood that a quick fix will never work because the natural remedy to vice is virtue. Natural happiness, then, comes by way of excellent rational activity in accordance with virtue. 

People in his time also believed there were only five elements, things fell at a speed determined by how much they weigh, and that the sun orbited the Earth as opposed to the other way around. Nothing against Aristotle, the dude was pretty smart and certainly said a large amount of intelligent things--but he was flawed, like all men of throughout all of history, and I highly doubt he would have taken issue with diet pills of all things.

Winner: Merrick Garland

The fact Joe Biden allows a man who just announced a special counsel investigation into Hunter Biden because of a nonsensical scandal thought up by Republicans to remain his Attorney General is evidence of either his generosity or stupidity. The Hunter Biden "crime" claim is utterly nonsensical and if the Department of Justice wants to turn a blind eye to the much bigger crimes of Donald Trump while doing this--well, one has to wonder if Garland isn't just working for Trump's re-election campaign.

Merrick Garland, you've done the dumbest thing I've ever heard.

[sagexmackenzie]

[ciswoman she/her] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [SAGE GRAYSON]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [SAMANTHA LOGAN]. You must be the [TWENTY-FOUR] year old [STUDENT AND WAITSTAFF AT TEJAS]. Word is you’re [HARDWORKING] but can also be a bit [WORKAHOLIC] and your favorite song is [QUEEN BY LAUREN GRAY]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [FISHER'S COVE]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

tw: cancer

The Grayson’s didn’t have a lot of money while Sage was growing up, and she often complained that she couldn’t have everything the other girls did in her class. Sage never had anything of her own for the longest time. She wore Sydney’s old clothes, every piece of jewelry she owned was something that had once belonged to her mother or grandmother, and she often voiced her complaints of these things. Sage wanted her own things that she could express herself with, and she typically let those materialistic things get in her way of seeing the big picture. Money was tight because life was hard for her family. So, she found her one way of expressing herself in her love for soccer.

When Lance was first admitted to the hospital for his cancer, it only made things harder and honestly lonelier. Nina was no longer a stay at home mom since she started working two jobs and Sydney was even going to work after school to help pay bills, which left Sage home alone often and feeling terrible for how selfish she’d been the years prior.  Money became a topic of discussion far too often, and it did nothing but make her worried sick, especially since she wasn’t old enough to do anything to help. 

Sage remembered even after Lance was in remission, money was still something on everyone’s minds since the hospital bills didn’t go away with the cancer. As soon as Sage could get a job, she got one! 

Sage almost skipped soccer tryouts in high school because she didn’t want her parents to have to worry about the money it would cost, but Lance told her how badly he wanted to see her play, and considering he’d been through so much shit, she thought she could at least give him that. Sage tried out and she made the team, even becoming a team captain eventually! 

Sage remembered one game in particular for all the wrong reasons. Lance had promised to come and cheer her on like he’d always done. But as the game went on and she kept looking for him in the crowd, she couldn’t find him. Her team won that night, Sage making the last winning shot, and she had that high she always did after a game like that… but when she checked her phone, she had countless missed calls and texts. Lance was back in the hospital.

Sage was ready to quit the sport after that but Lance begged her to keep going, to keep working on it. He told her seeing her fight for what she wanted helped him to fight too. It was a silly thing to say because he only told her that so she wouldn’t grieve his illness too much. But it made her work harder because she was working to make her father happy– to help him keep going. 

As time went on, Sage got even better and she was given a full ride scholarship to Aurora Bay College. It was all she’d ever wanted, and she was so happy. But again, Sage worried that she may be too selfish because around the time Sage graduated high school, Sydney found out she was pregnant and Jameson was in jail. Now Sage felt she had to choose between herself or helping her sister, but Sydney was adamant that she went. So she did. 

Now Sage is going to school full time, training for soccer, and working at Tejas Cantina as a server, helping her sister and parents as much as she can.

@aurorabayaesthetic

[saralayne]

This Love ~ Part 8 🩵💜

In Sickness And In Health

Tim is working around the clock on a special Metro Operation. Lucy falls ill which she plays off as no big deal. Until it wasn’t.

A lot had been going on in the Bradford house. Wedding plans were now set in stone. There was just little things here and there. Tamara was now officially a Bradford. Tim and Lucy had formally adopted her. Tamara had decided to live with her Mom, Dad and Kojo for the remainder of the school year. She was contemplating living on campus next year. However, Tim and Lucy wanted her to continue living with them. Tim wanted her to fully concentrate on school and not feel stressed with finances. Tamara was on a full scholarship. Tim was more than willing to help with any finances that she had so she wouldn’t have any extra stressors. Tamara had always been independent, working many jobs but it was getting to be a lot. After many conversations, Tim and Lucy made her realize she is not a burden, she is not alone anymore. She is their daughter. They wanted the absolute best for her. She finally came around and allowed her parents to help her out financially just like any loving parent would do for their child. She still demanded to keep one part time job to feel like she was contributing. She was right at the end of her semester before winter break. She was spending a lot of time at the library, but given what had happened with her attack a few weeks prior. She promised both Tim and Lucy she would return home before dark each night and do any night studying done at home.

Tim was right in the middle of a huge operation that Metro was heading. As he was the Metro Sergeant, some nights he was literally at the station or in the field on stakeouts around the clock. He had a couch in his office where he could catch little cat naps. Tim hated being away from Lucy. This was part of the job, unfortunately. Pine had given him a few hours off to go home and check in as he had spent the better part of a week working on this op. Tim and Lucy had a nice dinner together and were catching up on some top chef episodes. Tim had noticed something was off with his fiancée. For years now, he always noticed when things were off with her. Especially, the aftermath of her being kidnapped and trapped alone in that barrel. Tim still and probably would always carry a little guilt over the trauma she endured. Tim still felt he pushed her right towards Caleb even knowing full well he could have never foreseen what could have happened. Since that time, Tim would see when Lucy was feeling off in any way even through the years where they were denying their feelings and in the friend zone. Now, even more so that they were together and about to get married, that intuition was even stronger. As he was snuggled with the love of his life. He could see her physically struggling. She was congested and on a few occasions he could hear her breathing was a little laboured. She looked pale and seemed fatigued.

“Luce, baby. Are you ok? I can tell you aren’t feeling well”

“Tim. I’m fine. I think with work and the wedding planning, I am just run down. It’s just a common cold. I promise babe, I’m ok”

“Luce. I’m just worried. I never like to see you feeling like this. Especially, when I can’t be here to take care of you”

“Tim. If something serious come up. I assure you. You will be the first to know”

“OK. I will let this go, FOR NOW. I love you”

“I love you too, my fiancée”

“I CANNOT wait for you to become Mrs. Bradford”

Just as they were almost asleep in each others arms when Tim’s phone started chiming on the coffee table. “Ugh” Tim knew who exactly was interrupting them. As he picked up his phone and saw that he was in fact right. Pine was summoning him back to the station as they had a lead.

“I’m sorry, my love. I have to go”

“I know, babe. Stay safe and I love you”

“I love you too, beautiful. Take care of yourself. Promise me? And if you start to feel any worse, I want a call”

“I promise. Now get out of here and go save the world”

Tim grabbed his bag and keys. As he opened the door and looked back, he had a tear escape his eye. He never liked leaving her. Especially, when she wasn’t feeling well. All he wanted to do was take care of his girl. In that moment, he felt like he was failing her. This was the job and they both understood the sacrifices but it still never got any easier.

Tim pulled his phone out to make a phone call to their kiddo.

Tamara answered “Hey Dad. I’m just leaving the library and on my way home. Promise”

“Good. Hey kiddo. Listen. Luce isn’t feeling well and I have been called back into work. The last thing I wanted to do was leave. Of course, your mom is being well your mom. She is downplaying how she is feeling so I won’t worry. Can you please keep an eye on her? If anything seems even a little off, please call me right away”

“Of course I will. I will stay by her side. If anything seems off I will bomb your phone”

“Thank you, kid. Get home safe and text me when you get home. And…T? I love you”

“I love you too, Dad”

Tim had been staking out a situation for a few hours. He had headed back to the station to give an update to some of the team, catch a little rest. As Tim was sitting at his desk working on some paperwork, his phone started ringing. Seeing his daughters name flash across the screen.

“Hey, kid. Is everything ok?”

Tim could hear the panic in her voice.

“Dad. Something is wrong. Mom was having trouble breathing. I found her propped up in bed. Her breathing was wheezy and she was gasping. I called an ambulance. I don’t know if that was the right thing to do but I was scared”

“NO. T. You absolutely did the right thing. They didn’t want me to come in the ambulance. I am in my car about to go to the hospital. They wouldn’t tell me anything”

“T. Listen to me. I am heading to the hospital. I will be there as soon as I can. You just wait for me, ok?”

“Ok. I will see you soon”

“Kiddo. She’s gonna be fine. I promise you. I love you and will see you very soon”

Tim found Pine in her office. Telling her the situation with Lucy. Pine didn’t even hesitate and told Tim to go. He had been on this op around the clock and somethings matter more. She assured him they would cover the op in his absence. Ordering him to go and be with his family.

Tim raced to Shaw Memorial. He put the pedal to the metal like he was in a high speed chase all to get to his family. Tim bolted through the doors where their daughter was waiting for him.

Tamara’s face was puffy and red. She had been crying and full of worry.

“They won’t tell me anything. She has been back there for almost an hour”

“Come on, kid. Let’s go get some answers”

As they approached the nursing desk.

“My name is Sergeant Tim Bradford. This is our daughter and we would like to see my fiancée, Lucy Chen…NOW”

“Ok. Sir. Let me go and see what I can find out for you”

Ten minutes later, a doctor emerged from the back.

“I’m Dr. Brody. You are Lucy Chen’s family?”

“Yes. I am her fiancée and this is our daughter. I-Is she ok?”

“So. Firstly, your daughter did absolutely the right thing getting her here. Secondly, Lucy has pneumonia. After a chest X-ray, it was found there is a significant amount of fluid surrounding her lungs. There is extensive wheezing in her breathing. Her O2 sats were very low. We now have her on IV steroidal antibiotics. This will overtime, attack the infection. She will need to stay here for a few days on a strict medication protocol. I fully expect her to make a full recovery”

“Thank you, doc. When can we see her?”

“I will send a nurse to come and escort you shortly. She is being moved to a room now”

Tamara gasped out a breath of relief. Tim swiftly grabbing her into his arms.

“You did so good, kiddo. We are so lucky to have such a smart daughter”

“Thank you, dad. That was scary. You were right to be concerned. You knew something was off with mom”

“After so many years, I tend to see things with her that she doesn’t even see or because she is so stubborn refuses to see”

“Dad, you are in a for a crazy ride”

“Am I ever. I wouldn’t change a thing. Let’s go see your stubborn mom”

Tim and Tamara entered Lucy’s room. She had an IV running from her arm giving her medication. Oxygen prongs in her nose to keep her O2 sats elevated. She looked pale and tired. Lucy hears footsteps, opening her eyes and giving a vague smile. Tamara ran over to her beside.

“T. I’m ok. Thank you for getting me here. I am sorry for scaring you”

“I was terrified but I’m just glad you’re gonna make a full recovery. You know, dad knew. He ordered me to get home because he couldn’t be there. He didn’t believe your ‘I’m fine’ bit for a second”

“Oh, I am sure that’s true. I should really know by now that I can’t get anything past him”

“Yeah, you would think after all these years. You would just stop fighting everything and reside in that fact” added Tim.

“Ok. I could use some coffee. I am going to give you some time with dad”

Tamara passed Tim “Take it easy on her”

“No promises” Tim smirking

Tim made his way towards Lucy’s bedside. Interlocking his hand with hers.

“Baby. You scared me AGAIN. This has to stop”

“I know. I am sorry. I honestly knew I didn’t feel well but I never thought I was this sick”

“Uh huh. I should’ve never left you. I knew something was wrong and every part of me hated leaving”

“Babe. You could have never seen me becoming this sick. Of course, you called for reinforcements. We do have an amazing daughter”

“We sure do”

“I’m gonna be just fine. I will follow all doctors orders and more importantly yours”

“Have I died? Are you really gonna listen to me?”

“Oh, stop”

“Luce. You have been going non stop. Work, wedding planning. It’s been too much. I am going to do a better job of helping you. Whether you want me to or not. We are a team and I am going to offload any stress. I never want to see you sick like this every again. I was trying to keep it together for T. I was terrified. I love you so much”

“I love you, Bradford. Kinda ironic the vows in regards to ‘in sickness and in health’ rings even true before we are officially married”

“Yeah. The irony is not lost on me. How about we just concentrate on the health and not the sickness for the foreseeable future”

“Sounds good to me. I am tired. I am gonna try and get some rest”

“It’s about time. You sleep, gorgeous. I will be right here when you wake up”

Tim sent Tamara home. She had finals to prepare for and needed rest. He was not only in husband (almost) but also dad mode. He promised to give her play by play updates. Tamara reluctantly left. Tim sat beside Lucy’s bed. Feeling such relief and also pure love for his perfect family. Only four weeks until Lucy would officially be Mrs. Bradford.

[tera-91]

Not quite Mid-August rant

I know I haven’t written much in a while. A lot of things are going on.

Against my better judgment, and Im not even sure how it happened I still have my job. I put my two weeks in and didn’t work in my department for like 5 weeks but some how got back in.

The “full house” the manager said was there was shockingly a lie. Or at least not in the way it was stated to be for me not to be able to return. As you can probably tell, it wasn’t really a shock at all. I don’t believe 99% of what is said.

I am having schedule problems again. I should’ve seen it coming. I asked for time off, didn’t get it but I have tickets to be out of town so if I have to call out that is what Ill have to do. Its been in the system for nearly 2 months. Its not like it was a last minute ask. I know time off is not a guarantee when its put in but idk who would wait to buy tickets. I mean even today its still “pending” in the system while the schedule for those dates has been made.

Then to better myself Im going back to school. It looks like I will have to pay for it myself unless I can get a scholarship next year. But for now its all on me. So having a job is good right now. The first semester is like $600. So far for the first 2 weeks that class will be in session I am scheduled to work the one solitary day of the week that I have class, during the time frame Im in class.

I plan to bring it up to the manager. I was going to bring it up the last time we worked together. I didn’t get a chance to because all the stress triggered a medical thing in a way that I had NEVER experienced before. It sent me into a panic attack. I ended up leaving work and had to be driven to the doctors office by a family member.

The manager checked on me the next day but Im not sure as it was in a text if it was genuine or if the manager was just fishing to see if I was going to be calling out for my next shift.

Since it occurred on a Friday the specialist doctor was already closed so I have no clue when I will be able to see them. My friends have been amazing. All of them have experienced what happened before and without going into too much detail said it sounded exactly like what the doctor said it was. That its usually caused by stress.

So I took some time to reflect on it. I think I found my stress points. Unfortunately, they’re points I’ve known about for a while.

I took the next day to mostly relax. Started to catch up on a tv series with a family member. I recorded some stuff for my youtube channel.

That’s a definite stressor for me. I had a good chunk of stuff saved up but I used almost all of it. I didn’t have the opportunity to record more to keep the amount of videos saved up the same. I was on a good release pace. Having a video out every 2 to 5 days. I have probably a good 5 to 7 hours of stuff recorded but I haven’t sat down to edit any of it.

Logically in my brain I know I should probably do that today. To get a good bank of videos. I could easily get, if my memory of what I recorded is right, 10 to 15 videos and around 5 more shorts. I just don’t know if I have the mental capacity to edit today.

More than likely I will record another 2 hours at least maybe up to 5 more hours of video before I would have to stop for the day.

For now, I am taking the time to type. My book is another stressor for me.

One bit of advice I got, probably a year or 2 ago now was that I needed to step away from it. To bury my book, to focus on other things before coming back to it. To write a million words between putting it down and reviving it from the great beyond.

Two weeks ago, however, I got to talk to two authors. One had worked on their book for over 10 years before it was ready to be published. How we are kind of similar in that jobs took up the bulk of the time. So I want to dive back into my book. Their advice was momentum. Start something and see where the momentum takes you. Then go back and fix things. A book doesn’t have to be written as it is read. Its ok to write chapter 10 before chapter 2. Write what you’re inspiration is for at the time. You might have to slog the in-between sections but don’t slog and weaken or extinguish the inspiration before you get to where the inspiration is for.

But also take care of yourself. To refill your creativity need. Its ok if you spend hours, days, even weeks doing something mindless, something “unproductive” that need needs to be fulfilled before you have any creativity to give.

For me oddly enough is shows. So Ive spent several nights up until 11 or 12 watching at least 3 episodes of a show. I watched probably 10 episodes of another show yesterday alone. The first show Im not sure how many episodes I have left of that but the second one I have about 8 remaining in the season im in and then another 8 in the next season.

But momentum is my objective. If it wasn’t very obvious I am doing very little editing for this. It is basically a stream of consciousness write. Im going to finish this up, post it and then I will either finish the episode of the show im watching or I will go record some more. It depends on what the family member wants to do that I am watching it with. They have errands to attend to so if they opt to do that today and not push it off we will probably finish this episode, maybe watch one more before I go to record.

I might get to editing today. I need to kick things up some. Im not close to being monetized on my youtube channel. Im climbing but not quite there yet. One needs 2 out of 3 things to get monetized. Im at ~5% on one ~1.5% on another and the last one well im not even at 1% probably not even at 0.1% .

If I can get up the nerve I will text the manager today too. Try to get the schedule taken care of.

I would like to stay at my job despite its dysfunctionality. I need money to take care of some of my stressors.

Where I live needs to be fixed up. I need a bit more of a savings to make sure I can afford school in the event I cant get a scholarship, and there is a family member that lives out of state and I would like to be able to afford a local place for them to stay if nothing else at least part of the year. I worry about them and the latest visit I had with them didn’t help in the slightest.

[animegirltoes]

I have never participated in r/196 in my life, but ill do my best! 1. Uuuh.. Sock. Sock is a good name. Toes? Sock.. Anime. Uh. Wheatley. Wheatley is a good name. 2. anything, transfem 3. Uuuh.. Bi? Bi..c pen? I dunno, I experience a lot of things and Im not sure what it falls under. 4. What are you, a cop? 5. Does Imaginos have a fandom? I mean, Blue Oyster Cult does, but specifically the work known as The Soft Doctrines Of Imaginos. Then prooobably NGE, Sonic, the whole sorta furby/gigapet/mechanical animatronic whatever pet, and Transformers, of course. 6. I want to just shove an entire furby in my mouth and have its cries echo out my face holes like that one episode of spongebob where he finds the giant eldritch statues of himself and becomes violently depressed and nigh-suicidal. 7. Uuuh.. Ladybug, probably? Id pet a ladybug if it were like, cat sized. 8. I once cost my entire school a scholarship as a child by violently jeering and mocking the visiting deans sports team, and then kicking him in the nuts. Not proud of it. 9. Blue tastes like blue. But more specifically, like.. Thick Blue Gatorade. A sludge, almost. 10. I saw the face of god in a dream, and I woke up crying. 11. I once tried to download Imgburn and gave my poor Compy a horrid piece of rogueware that killed it, 365 days from when it was installed. Literally had a kill timer and everything. Also, I once threw a bowling ball into a crowded group of people as a child, and broke somebodies hand. 12. One of my childhood friends constantly flaunted his "wealth", claiming he lived in a mansion and had maids and everything. When pressed on this, he ended up showing up at school with fifteen fat stacks of monopoly money. And hey, honestly, if he can afford that many boards, hes probably rich. Also, he tried to stab me in a church bathroom six years later, because I pointed out his sharpied-on moustache. That was also pretty stupid. 13. Blue Oyster Cult, by Blue Oyster Cult. I suppose "Subhuman" would be the more popular version of the song, but it goes too fast for my liking. I prefer the almost operatic, somber rendition from the Imaginos album. Go check out all of Imaginos honestly, its utterly fantastic, just make sure you get a proper listening order for it. 14. Honestly, not really? I just thought it would be funny to make something that would totally not fly on Reddit. 15. Game Tester! 16. Please resurrect Richard Williams from the dead so I may serve under him as an apprentice/worship him. Barring that, something in the field of animation. 17. I like it, I think! I dont know if Ive ever had anything with it in, but Im sure Id like it if I tried it! 18. A bowling alley that no longer exists for the crime of ball throwing, a church for being too loud as a child, a school for accidentally inciting a riot and involving the cops, a comic book store for asking for help, another school for headbutting a teacher, and a museum for putting my mouth on an ocarina in the gift shop. 19. i used to combine all the fruit drinks in a hotel breakfast nook until it was pitch black and chug it like vodka. Tasted great, by the way. 20. trans rights @angenericaccount @the-blueberry-sage @a-shard-of-ace @phantomband

“I just came from r/196” ask game

Saw another post. I think I should invite y'all to one of our longstanding traditions. Answer the questions then tag 10 (or more) people. I'll go first.

Name? Frankie

Pronouns and gender? he/they/it, transmasc

Sexuality? Lesbian

Country? USA

Top 5 fandoms? Bungou Stray Dogs, Cosmere, All for the Game, Fundiesnark (not a series but I'm too deep in it to not consider it a fandom), .....the tornado fandom? (they're my special interest)

What is your Most forbidden snack? The preserved bones at the Atlanta Bodies Exhibition. They looked so crunchy...

Would you pet a bug? If it's big enough, it is pettable.

Share a weird fact/story about yourself with the class. I like to drive around rural areas and photograph old, sometimes abandoned locations in the dead of night. I have been literally chased out of towns by foot and by car on two separate occasions. The second time this happened, "See You Again" by Miley Cyrus came up on shuffle and that's the soundtrack my friend and I tore out of town to. Also every "guy" I've dated except for my most recent ex (who has big egg energy) is a lesbian now.

What does the color blue taste like? Creme brulee

What is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen? The appalachian mountains of Tennessee in the middle of summer. There's kudzu everywhere. On the backroads, there were several old, dilapidated Baptist churches barely hanging to the side of the mountain. I wonder how many of them were still in use.

What is the stupidest thing you've ever done? Short version: my friend's house almost got broken into by this dude who'd been stalking us for months while we were home alone. Instead of calling the cops, we decided to confront him with a bow and arrow (me), a hatchet, and a baseball bat (him). The plan was that if it went badly, we would simply throw his corpse into one of the many lakes in the neighborhood and let the alligators eat his remains (this was Florida). Why? Because we were afraid of having our home-alone privileges revoked. Luckily for us all, the guy fucked off and we never saw him again.

Stupidest thing you've seen/heard someone else do/say? My ex thought that Jackalopes were real. Also, a nurse I was doing rotations with apparently thought that "Witness Protection" was for Jehovah's Witnesses.

Hyperfixation song? Young Enough + Bleach by Charly Bliss

Is there any meaning behind your profile picture and/or username? Profile pic; I'm transmasc and I'm currently obsessed with TriStamp. Username; It was my fake internet name when I was like 13. I won't change it because I want my mutuals to recognize me, and because I do have a viral post associated with this name.

Dream career as a child? Doctor (funnily enough I'm now in nursing school)

Dream career as an adult? Professional Jester. Not a comedian. I just want to be some weird little guy who dresses silly and you can hire me to roast your boss at work parties.

Thoughts on cilantro? Delicious

Have you ever been banned from a location and if so, why? I honestly can't remember? Probably... but in recent memory I've mainly banned people from places.

What is your cursed food combination? Pineapple on a hotdog with grilled onions. It Slaps.

Trans rights? TRANS RIGHTS

Tagging: @rocket-mankoi @mostlymarco @atleast8courics @jazzlike39 @gemsweater72 @limbobilbo @ameliaaltare @redcrane112 @theoneofwhomisblue @twinkenjoyer @theultimatecarp and anyone else who wants to jump on

[isa-crossing]

I’m the applied physics anon from earlier; American healthcare is definitely not free, however most American grad programs do provide health insurance! Which can still require a fair bit of out of pocket, unfortunately, and the compensation is pretty meager ($24000-$26000 a year.) I went to Christopher Newport University, which is right next to the Jefferson Lab that I mentioned, but it’s a liberal arts college and does not have the best STEM grad programs. Old Dominion University is maybe 30 minutes or so away from CNU/JLab, and it actually has a (mini) particle accelerator on campus. They have some planetary science/astro stuff too because of their proximity to NASA Langley, but I think the majority of research focus is on Nuclear/particle. One of my peers who interned at JLab actually used that connection to end up working at CERN, so a detour through the American education system might just bring you to Switzerland! :)

Grad school covers your health insurance? That's very cool! By compensation do you intend the total yearly costs that they are willing to cover for you? Also I was inspired this morning and went googling around some american grad schools and wow they are so unbelievably expensive?? Like as of today I have in my moving out + grad school saving fund 4k and I started saving at 17

[jungk0oksthighs]

Pi Gasu | Divine Sinner pt.2

Pairing - jungkook x reader

Genre - smut, angst, E2L, vampire!jungkook

Word Count - 5.5k

You need money and Jungkook needs you. Warnings: swearing, mentions of terminal illness, blood, vampires, violence, threats, needles, smutty / sexual undertones, non-descriptive smut, f. masturbation

SERIES COLLECTION

This is the time of week you dread the most, a Saturday afternoon at 2PM when your mother calls from your hometown. You moved away for college, and your family couldn’t argue with that decision since you’re a full scholarship student with top grades and a promising future in Nursing. You’ve always loved helping people, so nursing seemed like the obvious career path for you to go down. And your family were nothing but supportive of that decision, until your twin brother got sick.

“How is he doing today?” You sigh, legs crossed on your modest grey fabric sofa with your phone tucked between your shoulder and chin, using your hands to stir a freshly made instant ramen pot.

“Today is a good day… He keeps asking when you’re coming home to see him.” Your mother’s voice is soft, whispered as though she doesn’t want to wake your brother Eddie. She’s probably at his bed side right now, as she usually is.

The guilt trip tugs at your heart strings but you have to be honest with your mother about your finances. You inhale, preparing for her to spark another argument. It's always the same.

“I can’t afford to come back home this month, hopefully next month if I can pick up some more shifts at the care home—”

“Y/N.” Her voice is stern and you wince on instinct alone. “You said the same thing last month. What happened to that new job offer you had?”

Ah yes. That job offer. Your stomach churns at the thought.

“It… It fell through last minute, I promise I’m trying. I want to see him too.”

“Weren’t they supposed to give you a down payment or something?” Your mom reminds you and you click your tongue, cocking your head to one side when you grab your phone. They were supposed to give you a down payment. One thousand dollars for telling the truth about your medical history.

But it’s been two weeks and you’re yet to receive it.

“Uh, yeah… I’ll chase that up actually. I’ll call again later I really have to go, give my love to Eddie please, tell him I miss him and love him more than anything.”

Your voice wavers with disappointment directed at nobody but yourself, but truthfully every phone call with your mother is a struggle. Her guilt trips, constant reminders of Eddie’s rapidly declining health, the questions, the judgments, all of it.

“Bye Y/N.” She abruptly ends the call, and you groan in frustration before chucking your phone onto the sofa.

It’s the exact same conversation every single time. You wish there was something you could do to help Eddie, ever since he was diagnosed with a terminal illness one year ago you’ve tried your absolute best to find a way to come up with money.

Money to see him. Money for his treatments. Money to help your single mother. People who say money doesn’t make the world go round are clearly the people who have it. You may be the top of your class in college but you’re broke, arguably a terrible daughter and sister, and you’re at a dead end.

You need money… Now.

Which is what leads you to unlock your phone and begrudgingly text Namjoon, no messages have been exchanged since that fateful night you were taken to, and quickly removed from Euphoria. The vampire strip club you almost worked at.

Y/N: Hey… I really need that money from my medical records check, message me when you get this. It's Y/N.

But of course, no response.

It’s a little after eight pm when you go for a walk in the city, you’re all caught up with college work and can’t possibly imagine studying any more today. A well deserved brain break is what you need, with fresh air and maybe some cola from the convenience store a few blocks over.

It’s mid-October and the weather is bleak and uninspiring. You’re a little cold because of the wind, wrapping your yellow puffer jacket round your frame and keeping your arms crossed as you walk. The sky is darkening, stars beginning to sparkle and shine which finds a way to comfort you.

It’s strange really, most women your age would never risk walking alone at night fearful of what lurks in the shadows. Be it bad humans or bad vampires. But not you, thankfully you’ve never had an issue with solitary strolls in the dark. They’re tranquil. They’re therapeutic. And as the sky starts to sprinkle the ground with the faintest hint of rain water you sigh contently.

A little slice of peace in your simultaneously overwhelming and underwhelming life.

“Can I get two cans of cola please?” You ask the elderly man behind the counter, receiving a small nod and your items in a dark blue carrier bag once you’ve paid. “Thank you.” You smile, turning in place before your body crashes into another.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry!” You blurt, peering up with apologetic eyes at the person you bumped. But when you realise who it is your heart stops beating. This can’t be happening right now.

“Y/N...” Jimin grins, wetting his lips before he chuckles. “You know it’s dangerous for people to be walking the streets alone at night, right? We wouldn’t want something to happen to you now, would we?”

You’re panicking, at a total loss for words when your brain tries to scramble a response. Jimin brushes past you with a smug expression, his leather jacket making contact with your arm when he does so. He asks the cashier for something you don’t quite hear – since you’re already pushing your way out the door in a hurry.

“Wait there.” Jimin’s voice is quiet and calm, as are his footsteps when he catches up to you outside the building. “Let me give you a ride.”

“It’s okay, thanks though.” You offer him a weak albeit very phoney smile, one that he doesn’t accept.

He’s shaking his head with amusement, burying his hands into the pockets of his ripped jeans with a smirk. “I’m not going to hurt you Y/N, if I wanted to kill you you’d be dead already. It’s raining, you could get sick.”

“Really it’s okay I happen to like the rain—” Your words are cut short by Jimin gripping your elbow and forcibly shoving you into the passenger seat of his car parked up out front.

“Don’t forget your seat belt.” He winks before slamming the door shut. Trapping you inside.

Over the course of the past two weeks memories of Euphoria and all its staff members have become hazy to you, distant. As though none of it really happened.

But now you’re in the presence of Jimin, sitting smugly beside you as he starts the engine to a car you've sat in before. He looks just as dangerous as you remember him, his features are sharp and skin dewy. Dark hooded eyes trained to the road in front of him, sitting in complete silence until a low chuckle escapes him.

You clear your throat uncomfortably, not daring to look him in the eye, stare fixed to the collar of his black leather jacket instead, “Is something funny?”

“I’m not going to kill you.” He reiterates with a grin, rolling down his window with the push of a button. His head leans in the direction of the wind, inhaling the fresh air through flared nostrils.

“I didn’t say you was—”

“Your heart.” He turns to face you with a charming smile, wetting his lips again, “It’s racing.”

Oh. Well he’s not wrong… You are locked inside a car with a vampire, one on one. You’re not sure if you can trust him because the last time you were with him he blindsided you, if it wasn’t for Namjoon stepping in god only knows what would’ve happened.

“Sorry.” You mumble, slouching in place.

At this he laughs, rolling his eyes into the back of his skull before returning them to the streets ahead, “You’re so human.”

You can’t help but scoff, brows raised, mouth opening before giving what you say a second thought. “And you’re so vampire.” At this Jimin tuts as though he's offended, but he’s still smiling.

When you look out the window you realise you’re nowhere near your apartment, in fact you don’t recognise the surrounding area at all. It’s dark, the street lights are moving too quickly for you to focus on anything specific but you think you’re in a rural part of town. A long, long a way from home. With a vampire.

“Jimin…” You’re breathless, already fearing the worst, “I-, I don’t live around here.”

“I said I’d give you a ride, never said I was taking you home.” He hums, proud. “Boss wants to see you, and before you ask...nope. He wouldn’t tell me why. Jungkook’s not exactly the sharing type.”

Your heart stills, eyes wide and palms clammy, “J-Jungkook wants to see me?”

“Did I stutter?” Jimin snorts, turning a particularly harsh corner that has you gripping the passenger door handle tightly until your hand cramps, “That’s what I said.”

“Did you follow me just so you could take me to him?” Your voice is raised and confused. Your facial features pinched and panicked. “Have you been following me all night?!”

The driver’s expression drops into something amused, maybe even a little bored looking when the tyres of the vehicle drive over gravel – signalling your arrival. “It's cute that you thought we just happened to bump into each other. Why would I be at a convenience store? To buy a vegan meal for one?" He snorts, "We’ve had a close eye on you since the moment you left. Bosses orders.”

Your voice is merely a whisper when it rolls off your tongue, uncertainty evident in your tone. "Why? He... he didn't want me to work here so why would he want...?"

Jimin shrugs, toying with his silver bangs in his rear view mirror with a pout. "Like I said, Jungkook isn't exactly the sharing type. All I know is he wants to meet with you."

You feel violated, disgusted, kind of ashamed. How much do they know about you? About your life? Why would Jungkook order his staff to watch you if you weren’t good enough to be a donor for him in the first place? Your heart hammers in your chest, something you’re certain Jimin must’ve picked up on. It’s when you see the red neon Euphoria sign that reality comes crashing down on you. This isn’t a sick, twisted joke – this is really happening.

And it happens fast. Jimin is tugging you out of the car, not that you’re kicking and screaming in protest – no. You’re too shocked and scared to do any of that. You feel numb, very numb. Everything happens in a blur, whether Jimin intentionally rushed you through the building with his inhumane speed or you blacked out during your way upstairs you’ll never know. But you’re here, standing outside Jungkook’s office within the blink of an eye.

“Nice seeing you.” Jimin winks, knocking his ringed fingers three times on the solid oak door before he disappears quicker than you can register.

Jungkook’s voice is muffled by the door but it’s undoubtedly his. Oozing with seduction and pride, making every hair on your body stand to attention with a deadly cocktail of terror and desire when it falls on your ears.

“Come in.”

Nothing could’ve prepared you for what's behind the door. When you push it open you’re greeted with heat, lots of it, pouring from the open fire that Jungkook sits in front of on one of the leather sofas.

His raven hair is damp and messy, parted in the middle just enough to reveal his hooded eyes and the dark script tattoos that lie beneath. His black silk shirt messily hangs from his body, open, revealing the most taught and toned six pack you’ve ever seen. His thick legs are spread wide, the leather pants he wears struggling not to tear as they attempt to conceal his thigh muscles. In his right inked hand he loosely grips a crystal glass half-full of a thick crimson liquid. You know exactly what that is, the slight stain it’s given his plump lips makes it all the more obvious.

Blood.

“You wanted to see me...?” You don’t dare to step over the threshold of the door, instead choosing to stay put with arms tightly crossed over your chest. You feel severely underdressed right now. Jeans, Converse, a plain white t shirt, and your bright yellow puffer jacket. It’s almost comical the way you look in comparison to… that.

Jungkook lifts his chin, averting his fierce gaze to your frame with a sinister smile. His white fangs are prominent, a not-so-gentle reminder of what he truly is. When his glossy tongue swipes over his teeth in an obnoxious display of seduction you have to peel your eyes away from him, which only seems to entice him more because now he’s chuckling to himself.

“I did.” He nods once, slowly, “Please come in.”

“Are you going to kill me?” You blurt before you can stop yourself, and he laughs, loudly at your boldness.

“If I wanted you dead you would be by now.”

You sigh, finally stepping into his office and closing the door behind you. “That’s the second time I’ve heard that tonight.” You mumble, swallowing thickly as if to battle your nerves.

When you edge closer to him you don’t miss the way the Adam’s apple in his throat bobs up and down, nor does the way his nostrils flare go a miss. He’s dragging his gaze up and down your body when you sit in front of him on the other sofa, suddenly very warm due to the roaring fire beside you.

“If you’re too hot why don’t you take your jacket off?” He suggests with a wicked smirk, can he read minds? Or is he just good at reading people? You wonder, awkwardly shifting out of your lemon coloured coat and placing it beside you with a huff.

“You know you still owe me one thousand dollars.” You don’t know where you’ve mustered the bravery from to say that, but he simply grins, gesturing to a white envelope beside him.

“I’m aware. It’s here, you can count it if you don’t trust—”

“Why am I here?” You cut him off, simply because his presence is overwhelming you. The way he looks, how he’s dressed, his scent, his smile, his ridiculously beefy body on full display. Your voice is thick with venom and laced with sarcasm, “You said yourself I don’t belong here, so why am I here?”

At this Jungkook tongues his cheek, but it does little to rid him of the impressive grin tugging the corners of his tainted lips, “I have a proposition for you.”

Your eyes widen, mouth quickly drying of any saliva, “A proposition? You mean like a job?”

“Of sorts.” His head tips to the left, exposing more of his thick neck. “I want you to work for me.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said,” He cuts you off with a raised digit and a warning stare, “And under no circumstances will you be donating to anybody else, just me.” He chuckles, watching the way you’ve turned visibly uncomfortable, “I don’t drink from the vein, you won’t be harmed. And you’ll be compensated financially of course, every time you make a donation.”

You do need the money right now, but can you trust Jungkook? Definitely not. Everything about him should have you running for the hills – he’s terrifying. But you think back to Eddie, his treatments, visiting him, supporting your mother… You’d be a fool to turn this down, no matter how morally corrupt it may be.

“Say I’m interested…” You find the strength to look into his eyes, they’re already staring right back at you intensely and he almost smiles. “How much money would I make per donation? And if you don’t drink from… I-, well how do I donate?”

His gaze doesn’t falter, fiery and fixated on you, “Five thousand dollars per donation, and just like you’d donate at the hospitals. Except you’ll be getting paid for it.” His smirk is dark and drips with desire, “I do have a few conditions though.”

At this you click your tongue to the roof of your mouth with a small nod. Five thousand dollars is a lot of money. You'll do anything. “Understandable. What are they?”

“Keep a healthy diet, no vigorous exercise on the days you donate, no drugs, no alcohol in the five days leading up to the donation...” He lists as though this is the most mundane conversation on earth, “And most importantly you need to touch yourself within an hour of donating.”

Your eyes bulge from your skull with a scoff, “I’m sorry, what was that last one?”

“Touch yourself. Make yourself come.” He repeats with a straight face, “You do touch yourself, don’t you Y/N?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business or why I’d need to—”

“I’ll take that as a yes then, shall I?” His brow quirks, the smug smile he wears both enticing and petrifying. And very salacious. “Arousal makes the blood…” He inhales through his nose, deeply, enough for his strong chest to rise and grab your attention, “Sweeter. And I imagine yours is…” He trails off to nothing, lost in thought when he licks his lips.

“Why do you want my blood in the first place?” You deflect, heat growing in each of your pressure points at the way he ogles your frame with eyes blackened by lust. “I thought I wasn’t good enough to work here.”

“On the contrary.” His pupils dilate instantly, his large free hand roughly palming his thick thigh, “The vampires who come here aren’t good enough for you.”

You’re biting your nail nervously as you digest what he’s saying, still unsure of what it means. “But—”

“You seem to have an effect on me Y/N. Something that has never happened in all of my years, and it’s not just me. The others here sense it too, the reason I don’t want you to work here is because I fear you have a similar impact on all of my kind. To put it simply you'd end up dead pretty quickly if that's the case. I’d like you to donate so I can test your blood for any anomalies, to find out why I’m… drawn to you, as it were.”

It all starts to make sense. Jimin and Namjoon’s reaction to you, Taehyung… All of them. The comments about air freshener, the opening of the car windows. How Taehyung had mentioned your smell… You’re nodding slowly as you mull over the facts. Truthfully you’re intrigued to say the least, what makes you so special? You exhale shakily, gaze flickering up and down everything the monster in front of you has to offer. Why does he have to be so damn attractive? You physically shake the crude thoughts from your mind.

“So you’re just testing my blood? You won’t even be drinking it?”

He smiles, holding up his glass as if to make a toast, “That’s right.”

You swallow, “Then why… Why do you want me to touch—”

“Like I said… It makes the blood sweeter.”

“But you said you won’t be drinking—”

“You know you’re a very brave little girl picking a fight with a vampire. Are you always this argumentative?" He chuckles sinisterly, "Just do as I say and in return you’ll be paid. Do we have a deal?”

Eddie. Eddie’s medical bills. Your mother. Travel expenses.

You’re nodding gently, maybe a little hesitantly, “We do.”

At this Jungkook’s grin widens, exposing his white teeth, “Perfect. I’ll leave you to it then, shall I?” He stands, “I’ll be right outside, let me know when you’re finished.”

“Wait what?!” Your jaw drops to the floor.

He makes his way over to you, until your face is level with his leather clad crotch directly in front of you and you have to look somewhere else, somewhere that isn't his taught stomach flexing under the dim lighting. “You’re already here... it would be a waste to not donate tonight, would it not?” He’s peering down at you with a sharp profile riddled with amusement, endeared by the way you can’t physically look at him.

“I-, I’m not exactly in the mood to…”

“Could’ve fooled me.” He sighs knowingly, dropping to his knees in front of you in the blink of an eye, tattooed hands slowly spreading your thighs. “Since you’ve been staring at me all night and think I’m so damn attractive.”

You’re more affected by his touch than you anticipated, your skin is hot beneath your jeans under his palms. It doesn’t feel real, how turned on you are, how your nipples are already hardening under your bra. How your panties are already growing damp. Your mouth dry. You should be embarrassed right now, and usually you would be absolutely mortified that you’re so aroused at the slightest touch. But something about the power he has over you only entices you more.

“So you can read minds…” You breathe, innocent whisper stained with desire.

“Mmm.” He smirks, neither confirming nor denying your statement. His hands slowly slide up your thighs, until there’s no thigh left and his thumbs are dangerously close to your throbbing core. “Tell me Y/N, do you need any toys? Or can you make yourself come with these?” Suddenly your fingers are laced with his, pinned either side of your head against the back of the sofa.

You gasp, “I-, I don’t… I don’t need toys.” If you’re being honest you’d rather he be the one to push you over the edge, vampire or not he’s so fucking sexy… His hands, his tongue, his cock… You want all of it. On you, inside you, pressed against you, fucking you senseless. You’re in a daze, mind clouded with a carnal lust you've never experienced in your life.

He makes a tsk noise between his teeth that has every nerve in your body aflame, “You need to keep your thoughts to yourself little girl. Before someone gets hurt.” His eyes are black, boring into the depths of your soul for what feels like a life time until he snaps away from you, somehow already standing by the door. “Take as long as you need, I’ll be out here.”

In one incredible display of self-restraint Jungkook calmly closes the door behind him before frantically covering his nose and mouth with his palms. Chest heaving up and down with every ragged breath he takes, throat burning, yearning for your body and blood. He can’t think straight, your scent is clouding every single one of his senses. He’s never known anything like it before, he even made sure he fed before your arrival – but still it wasn’t enough.

Things could’ve escalated into something sinister if he hadn’t stopped himself when he did. The way you looked at him, the things you thought of him, the way your thighs tensed and then melted under his touch, welcoming him.

He’s never had sex with a human before, not since he turned all those years ago, because he knows he’d lose control and kill them in an instant. That and because up until he saw you no human was even worth the risk of execution. He could fuck as many vampires and witches as he wanted, why waste his time on a fragile little human?

He presses his back to the door, attempting to slow his breathing. If his heart still worked he’s certain it would be racing right now. He has to find out why he’s so affected by you, your presence, your smell, your body… He wants all of you, every inch of skin, every piece of arousal, every drop of blood.

A frustrated sigh leaves him, even through the oak door your thoughts are so fucking loud. Thinking of him while you touch yourself, imagining it was his fingers inside you instead of your own. This was a bad idea, it’s taking everything in him not to smash the door down and rush to your side right now.

A soft moan through the wood makes his balls hurt. Not pulse, not tighten, no they hurt. His cock longing to plunge itself deep into your sopping pussy. His fangs itching to plunge straight into your jugular. He’s a total wreck and he despises it, usually he’s calm and collected, but more to the point he’s always in control. But with you around? An impossible feat. A louder noise, maybe a whimper, has him pulling the hairs at his scalp. He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out for, but he needs your blood to be at its best.

From the other side of the wooden door you’re panting, mouth wide open as you ride out your high on the leather sofa. Did you really just fuck yourself to an orgasm in front of a roaring fireplace in a vampire’s den? Yes. And you feel better for it, most of the tension has lifted from your body and you can finally think straight again. Five thousand dollars is a lot of money, money you desperately need for your family. And getting paid for an orgasm doesn’t seem too undesirable. While a part of you feels cheap and dirty, things could always be a lot worse.

As soon as you’re dressed you head over to where Jungkook is, shyly opening the door.

“I’m-, I've-, it’s done.” You can’t look him in the eye, nor does he give you the option because he remains with his broad back to you when he speaks.

“Good. I’ll go get the supplies.”

It’s twenty minutes later when you’re giving your first donation, the needle stung a little when it pierced your vein but Jungkook was careful and surprisingly gentle with the preparation. As a Nursing student you know that what he's doing is medically correct at least.

You watch blood drain from your arm and into long test tubes, ten to be exact. After the final one you start to feel woozy and lightheaded, sinking further back into the sofa with heavy eyelids.

“We’re done. Are you okay?” He asks, sounding genuinely concerned. The fact he’s taking your donation himself instead of asking someone else to doesn’t go unnoticed. You can’t help but wonder if this is difficult for him, but judging by his tight set jaw and heavy breathing you already know the answer.

“I’m fine.” You nod lazily, noting the bandage already sitting neatly in the ditch of your elbow. “Are you okay?”

At this he frowns, his features intense and brooding when he looks you dead in the eye, “What do you mean?” He looks a surprised, maybe a little shocked, and you question if anybody has ever asked him such a basic, such a human question before.

“The blood. Doesn’t it do something to you?” You half-smile, well aware of the fact he’s biologically programmed to kill you any second now. You’re weak, defenceless, and truthfully you wouldn’t put up much of a fight knowing the outcome would be your death regardless. “I learned about vampires in high school, I know that once you smell blood—”

“You don’t know a single thing about me.” He snaps, voice oozing threat, “Like I said… If I wanted you dead—”

“You would’ve done it by now.” You can’t help but chuckle, every part of you knows you should be terrified right now, and maybe in the depths of your being you are. But part of you takes his word at face value. The fact of the matter is you’re unharmed, just like he said.

Jungkook smirks, shoving your blood samples into the back pocket of his leather trousers, “Exactly. I’ll drive you home, you’ll recover more comfortably in your own space.”

Your brow quirks, “What about Jimin?”

The low possessive rumble in his chest is undeniable, as is the flicker of disgust in his hooded eyes. “I’m not going to risk leaving you with another vampire when you’ve just-, when you smell… like that.” He swallows, turning away from you completely.

Your cheeks flush when you realise what he means, “O-okay…”

It's after a painful car journey to your apartment building and back that Jungkook finds himself in one of the dark VIP rooms back at Euphoria, some nameless woman in lingerie gyrating and grinding against his spread thighs.

Her physique glows under the devilish lighting, flaunting her curves and crevice’s and emphasising her bright smile. While his gaze is fixed to hers and he and visibly looks as though he’s enjoying her private dance, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

It’s nothing but an experiment to him, she’s one of his few human dancers at the club and her presence doesn’t affect him in the slightest. He can’t even remember her name any more. When he watches her he feels… nothing. No desire to hunt, no desire to kill, to kiss, to fuck, to feed from. Nothing. All he can think about is you.

That’s what leads him back to his office not even thirty minutes later, popping open one of the test tubes filled with your blood. His eyes glow red and frame with dark bruising and veins immediately, fangs extending at least an inch longer than his other teeth, nostrils flaring when he inhales the scent of your donation. It’s the sweetest, most addicting thing he’s ever encountered in his entire existence.

“Fuck.” He growls, cock already straining against his leather pants and chest heaving up and down in sync with his heavy breaths. Without giving a second thought he knocks back the vile as though it’s a shot of alcohol, groaning in pleasure after he swallows, scrambling to find the other tubes because he wants more. He needs more. Just as he expected, you're the best thing he's ever tasted. From the moment you met he knew you were his new obsession.

And unbeknownst to you, there are no tests.

Just thirst.

x

[septembersghost]

Hi, Jess! Just wanted to say your voice is ABSOLUTELY beautiful and breathtaking, wow! May I ask, do you have vocal music education or is it self-taught? You sound like a professional singer amd the way you're using and working with your voice is so impressive! Your voice is mesmerizing and unique and it also reminded me a little of Susanne Sundfør, who is one my abslute favorite female singers, and if you ever do a cover of Christine Dae's parts, I think you will nail it. I cried when I heard your cover of Safe and Sound, the words along with your singing leave such a sharp, evocative feeling, it's so comforting and painful at the same time, and I love this. "Don't you dare look out your window, darling, Everything's on fire. The war outside our door keeps raging on. Hold on to this lullaby, Even when the music's gone{...} Just close your eyes, You'll be alright. Come, morning light, You and I'll be safe and sound" I'm truly shaken. It hits close to home and it's such a masterpiece of a song. I'll listen to Taylor Swift version as well, but you singing it absolutely blew me away! Thank you for sharing this with me and making me feel all of this. And thank you for you being you. Hugging you❤️

ELLIE 🥺😭🥺😭💖💞💖💞 this is immensely kind of you and the sweetest thing, thank you so much.

my music education is admittedly limited to being in choir throughout school, music theory 101, and some very limited voice lessons (we couldn't afford them independently when i was a kid, but when i started college they were offered/covered by my scholarship, so i had them for a little while. it was something i'd planned to pursue further though!), otherwise it's self-teaching and just the hobby of singing recreationally all the time since i was little. i know i could've benefited from more real training. my favorite dream was always musical theatre (then there was my dad, who wanted me to be a country singer 😂), but even if i hadn't ended up as a performer at all, i still wanted to do something with music as a part of it, like education, or music therapy. being separated from that due to the constraints of illness was one of my deepest heartbreaks, so when i (a decade ago?! HOW) started singing for fun in my little lq voice memos on tumblr, it was so consoling and made me feel closer to that again.

Your voice is mesmerizing and unique and it also reminded me a little of Susanne Sundfør ohhhh i will have to look her up! that's an honor to remind you of a singer you love.

the way you phrased this is SO lovely, and that's how i feel when i listen to safe and sound. it's so comforting and painful at the same time exactly, it's that mix of heavy sorrow and unbreakable hope. it's such a beautiful song. recording that with my friend hannah was one of my favorite things, i remember hearing her vocals and feeling the tug of that melody in my chest. and of course i always recommend checking out taylor's originals of any song, but i'm very grateful and touched that hearing my rendition of it moved you like this. 🥰

thank YOU for your thoughtfulness and for making me feel heard and encouraged, and for being who you are too, ily so much. *HUGS YOU CLOSE* 💕🎵💕🎵

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

A Deafened Bard (Stephen Strange x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Doctor Strange and y/n confide their tragic backstories in one another. Y/n struggles with her feelings for him.

Trigger warnings: abusive parenting, use of firearms, discussion of death and grief, mention of alcoholism

"On the outside, always looking in

Will I ever be more than I've always been?

Cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass-"

You stopped yourself before you could indulgently belt out the titular lyric.

"Ew, why was I singing that?" You muttered to yourself. "I don't even like that song." 

You knew, subconsciously, that it was because you were trying to avoid what you really wanted to sing. For the first time ever, you had an audience. Someone was paying attention. 

"Love of my life, you've hurt me-"

"Oh, come on, butterfingers." He interrupted. "Love of my Life by Freddie Mercury. Give me something hard." 

"I wasn't aware it was classic rock trivia night." 

"Then why were you staring straight at me while singing?" He smirked. 

"Was I?" You cocked your head, expertly deflecting his implication. "I'm so spaced out I don't even know where I'm looking." 

"It's Freddie Mercury." He insisted.

"Uh, yes and no." You corrected, drawing on your encyclopedic knowledge of Queen from one particularly weird summer in high school. "While Freddie Mercury wrote the song, it was recorded on a Night at the Opera. Which was accredited to the whole band." 

"That's a nitpick," he shook his head. "I'm still right." 

You couldn't wear your heart on your sleeve anymore. You could only distract him with 70s glam rock trivia for so long before he started to notice a pattern. Although a sappy love song was in your heart, you sang the anthem of the depressed theater kid. 

You were staring straight at him, though. But who wouldn't? You studied his features only for artistic inspiration. His sharp jaw and high, high cheekbones were… inspiring. 

You couldn't lie to yourself. You fell and fell hard.

"Butterfingers!" Master Strange called out from the other side of the sanctum. "I need you!" 

You dropped your pencil and pushed yourself out from the chair. "Coming!" 

You followed the voice into his chambers. This was a new development, you thought. Out of respect for his privacy, you'd never dared to snoop around in his bedroom. But this was practically a written invitation. 

The room was spotless. Not a book or a scrap of paper out of place. Nor was there much to look at at all. A handful of picture frames, some magazines from when he was a surgeon, all featuring himself on the cover. 

"Butterfingers!" He called again, as if he knew you were about to snoop.

"I'm here!" You yelled back, eyes wandering around the room. "What do you need?" 

"I left my watch somewhere in the library!" He sounded disproportionately panicked for what was just a minor inconvenience. "I need you to go get it for me." 

"What does it look like?" You asked. 

"It's a $27,000 watch." He snapped impatiently. "It looks like one." 

"Jesus." You cursed.

"Don't give me that shit, [F/N]." He ordered, slamming his fist down against the sink. "Just do what you're goddamn told." 

"Alright, alright!" You put your hands up. "Fine, I'll get it." 

You hurried down the stairs and into the library. On the floor between his favorite chair and a stack of musty old books was a slim, silvery watch with a plain black band.

You picked it up and examined it. Apart from the price tag, was there really any reason for him to be so worried about it? He knew exactly where he left it. Did he have reason to believe it wouldn't be there when he returned? 

All you needed to do was flip it over to get your answer. You read the inscription on the back. 

Time will tell how much I love you -- Christine 

You should have known that his massive ego wouldn’t keep the women away forever. Hell, it certainly didn’t deter you. Much uglier douchebags have gotten far prettier girlfriends than they deserved.

You closed your fingers around the watch and sighed. The fantasy you created for yourself, of slowly, deliberately earning his love was shattered. Christine already beat you to it, it seemed. You tried to smother the part of you that resented this person for her exclusive right to Master Strange's affections. You didn't know her, but you loathed her. And you felt filthy for it.

With a heavy heart, you brought the stupid, criminally expensive little timepiece back to its rightful owner. 

"Here's your all-important watch, master." You mumbled, placing it on the bedside table. 

"I know I told you I would give you space to question things," He said, swiping it from the table and expertly affixing it around his wrist. "But I'd really appreciate it if you didn't question this." 

You tried to sound as non-passive-aggressive as you could. You attempted a more forgiving tone, but you couldn't hide your hurt. "It's fine. I don't care." 

"I didn't mean to get short with you, [F/N]." His voice softened. "I'm sorry. But this watch-" 

"It's fine." You cut him off, peering at the floor. 

"It was a gift." He finished anyway. 

You felt the lump in your throat rising. You knew what the watch represented and you wanted to smash it to pieces. Along with the sting of rejection, you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. "I know. I saw the engraving."

"She died two years ago." He lowered his head. 

Suddenly, all your ill will towards this woman turned into guilt. 

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose someone who loved you so much." 

"She had agreed to come to a speaking engagement with me. As a second chance, and-" Pain wrapped his voice. He closed his hand tightly around the watch and held it close to his chest. "Have you ever been in love before, [F/N]?"

From the way your heart ached, and how easily the thought of never being with him made you cry, you knew the answer. You'd been avoiding speaking it into being thus far, but you couldn't lie to yourself anymore.

"Yes." You whispered. 

"You'll learn soon enough." He muttered. "It only brings more suffering." 

The tears finally breached and you tried to blink them away. You didn't know what emotion was causing them: guilt, shame, contempt, anger, sadness-- they were all present.

"Master Strange, I-" you stuttered, tripping over your breath. "I respect what you've gone through, I really do, but it's not fair to take it out on me." 

"You're right." He conceded. "I'm sorry. Please, go get some sleep.”

You nodded. “Right.” 

You slept as late as you could get away with the next morning. In apprentice terms, that only meant sleeping until eight thirty. Your dailies could wait an extra hour while you laid in bed, feeling like garbage. 

You stumbled down the spiral staircase in your pajamas. No bra, no makeup and no effort. You didn’t even run a brush through your hair. Why try, you thought. Why make an effort for the man who would never see you as anything but the help? 

When you saw the piano, though, you did a full 180.

In the living area was a French cherry baby grand piano that definitely was not there before. You certainly would have noticed it before. You placed your phone on the counter and approached the new addition. 

As if the memories were woven into the very muscles and ligaments of your fingers, you ran down a few octaves of C Major. The keys were smooth as porcelain and the sound that emanated from the instrument was next to heavenly. 

A bright orange post-it note was stuck to the music rack. 

“Love of my Life”, Queen, A Night at the Opera. 1975 

Was this a request, or an admission of wrong? Whatever the case, it made you smile. 

"You weren't being entirely honest with me, Butterfingers." He said, randomly materializing behind you. 

You turned around on the piano bench and looked up at him. "What was I not honest about?" 

"I'm so glad you asked." He sat down on the bench next to you, phone in hand. "Because when you said you used to play piano, you didn't specify you were actually a student prodigy." 

Sure enough, on his phone, he was scrolling through your Instagram. Dozens of videos of a much younger [F/N] playing hundreds of different songs, singing with too many vocal runs and doing so with the entire content of her soul behind the music. 

"Student prodigy is a bit strong." You turned your head to hide your blush. 

He scrolled up and found a picture of a young, zit-faced teenage [F/N] holding an acceptance letter. "Last I checked, Juilliard doesn't give full-ride scholarships to just anyone." 

You covered your face with your hands, smothering an embarrassed smile. "God, please. I'd rather you'd found my OnlyFans." 

He raised his eyebrows. "As tempting as that sounds, I'd still rather hear your explanation on this. Why did you give up on something you loved?"

You looked at him in surprise. "You really want to know?" 

"Well, I told you mine." He playfully nudged you in the side. 

You took a deep breath in. "Well, it was about two years ago, now-”

"Cheers to you, [F/N]!" Your best friend Holly raised her glass of champagne in your direction. "Juilliard ain't gonna know what hit ‘em."

"I'll drink to that." You said, bring your own flute up to your lips and taking a swig. You wretched in disgust as the vile liquid ran down your throat. "Or maybe I won't."

"You're gonna have to get used to it." Holly nudged you with her elbow. "I think most professional musicians are alcoholics."

You narrowed your eyes at her. "I don't think that's right."

"Is too." She smirked. "Conductors are mad strict. Abusive even. Drive musicians to drink all the time."

You laughed. "Is everything you know about the world of music from Whiplash?"

"And The Perfection." She added.

"Thank you, Holly." You said, attempting to take another sip of champagne, purely for dramatic effect. "Very cool."

You felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. "Hi, Holly. Enjoying the party?"

Holly took a step back. "Hey, Mrs. [L/N]. Yeah, it's great."

"I hope you don't mind," Your mom said, her fake nice voice eeking through her clenched teeth. "I need to borrow [F/N] for a few minutes."

Holly's face fell. "Sure. I'll catch up with you later, [F/N]."

Your mother tugged you off to the side. With a stressed huff, she began. "Jason is out in the fields with his ROTC friends."

"And what do you want me to do about that?" You asked, knowing her drunk self couldn't read your sarcastic tone.

"Could you go get him and bring him home?" She said, squeezing your upper arm.

"Are you kidding?" You spat.

"[F/N], he's drunk." She scolded. "Do you want him to get another strike on his record?"

"I don't care." You mumbled under your breath. "Have him call an uber. Hell, let him sleep it off in the field. Not my problem."

"You know what he's like when he's drunk." She rationalized. "He gets rowdy. It had better be you."

You tensed up. "No. Holly and I are going to the French Quarter. I don't have time to babysit Jason."

"Just pick him up on your way there?" She pleaded. "It won't take long."

You knew this wasn't going to stop. "Fine, but this is the last time."

You were both dressed far too well to be trekking through the swampy ass nowhere when you should have been fucking your way through the French Quarter. Luckily for your evening plans, all you needed to do was follow the sound of gunshots.

You slammed the car door shut and Holly followed suit. Finding him was the easy part. The hard part was hauling his drunk ass back home.

"Fun's over, shithead." You announced, heels sinking into the sod as you spoke. You didn't have much trouble projecting over the gunfire and getting their attention.

"Shit, [F/N]?" Jason sputtered, so drunk he could barely keep his head straight.

"Holy shit, I didn't even recognize you in that dress." One of his dumb fuck friends added. He jabbed Jason in the side. "Why didn't you tell me your sister's hot?"

"Buster, I-'' You clenched your teeth. "I don't care if you live or die, but my mom needs me to bring Jason home."

"If you get in the car now, we won't have to use the chloroform." Holly added.

Jason scratched the back of his head with the barrel of his gun, then pointed it at you. "You're gonna have to make me."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You exclaimed, hitting the deck. "What the fuck, Jason!?"

Jason and his dumbass friends laughed. "You should have seen the look on your face, [F/N]!"

"Put down the fucking gun-" You seethed. "And get in the fucking car."

He lowered the gun and looked like he was going to concede. Just when you thought he would cooperate, he stuck it up again. He keeled over in a fit of laughter when you and Holly panicked again.

"Look at them!" He shouted. "They're so fucking scared!"

You knew out in the middle of the swamp, nobody could hear you scream. So you used it to your advantage.

"Jason, you're going in the car, or under it." You raised your voice. "I will mow your drunk ass down like eight day old roadkill right here in this field and you will be LUCKY if anyone finds your bloated, shit-covered remains before the crocodiles get a whiff of you."

That seemed to get his attention.

"Sorry, boys." He pouted. "You heard her."

He had to 'get you' one final time, though. Only that time, the gun went off. Just centimeters from your ear. You clutched the side of your head, trying to drown out the deafening ringing with your screams.

You vaguely remembered Holly pistol-whipping Jason before loading you into the car to drive you to the hospital, leaving him desolate and drunk in the field.

"It was a one-in-a-million shot." The otolaryngologist tried not to sound impressed at what was clearly some kind of anomaly very few got to witness in a medical career. "When the bullet fired, the gunpowder traveled down your ear canal, burning the cells of your auditory nervous system and... singing your eardrum... clean off."

Your eyes widened. "Off?!"

The doctor lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Miss [L/N]. I'm afraid you'll never return to full hearing again."

You didn't want to kill the messenger. You knew she was only doing her job. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"If we could do a tympanoplasty, which, given the condition of the drum, is unlikely-" she began. "There would still be no way to fully repair the hair cells along the ear canal."

You took deep breaths to try and quell your simmering rage. "I'm leaving for Juilliard in three months."

"Hearing aid technology has improved significantly over the last decade." She said, a somewhat hopeful upturn in her voice.

That was when your mother decided to join in on the conversation. "Oh, we can't afford that."

You thought you were going to crush your teeth into bits from how tightly your jaw was clenched in fury. "Take it out of Jason's college fund, then."

"Oh, [F/N]." She said as if you had just told the funniest joke imaginable. "Please. That wouldn't be fair to Jason."

"You can afford to send that blithering idiot to the Citadel." You hissed. "You can afford to buy me a hearing aid so I can play piano."

"Beethoven was entirely deaf." Your mom pointed out. "And he became the greatest composer of all time. It's really just mind over matter, sweetie-"

"Sure, that makes perfect sense!" You plastered on a deranged smile, feeling driven to the brink of madness. "I can repair my destroyed eardrum with the power of positive thinking! Jason gets thirty-five thousand dollars a year to play soldier, but I have to just use my imagination."

She covered her face with her hands as if she was being attacked and went into kicked-puppy mode. "Don't be mad at Jason, [F/N]. He didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Fuck this." You said, releasing all your tension in those two words. "Fuck all of this. I'm tired of you defending that chauvinist asshole. The next time you see me will be when one of us is dead."

"Where are you going?!" She wailed.

You snatched your purse from the table and threw it over your shoulder. "I'm moving out."

“Disgraced at age nineteen?" Master Strange said, leaning back on the piano. "Let me guess, you turned to alcohol to cope?"

"You'd think, but actually no." You shook your head. The tone of the conversation had taken a sharp left turn from sadness to dry, apathetic amusement. "I probably would have if I could have afforded it."

"You missed out." He said. "Drinking a whole bottle of eighty year old scotch was definitely the highlight of my grieving period."

You'd never joined the clauses 'Master Strange' and 'drunk off his ass' in the same sentence before then. It was an odd mental picture for sure. One you needed to see to believe.

"I got desperate." You admitted. "Luckily, New Orleans had a lot to offer someone like me, so I didn't have to go far to find people claiming to have answers. But it was all essential oils, incense, binaural beats-"

"I'm sorry," he cut in. "What kind of dickhead suggests binaural beats to someone with only one functioning ear?"

You threw up your hands. "Right? Doesn't make sense. Anyway, I came across a woman named Mistress Fantina and she pointed me in the right direction. How to heal my body through control of my spirit."

He looked at you with that fascination of the human body characteristic of those in the medical field. "It worked, I assume?"

"I figured it out." You shrugged. "But I got so invested in the Mystic Arts that I forgot all about Juilliard. Became a full-time student. Ever since, I never once thought about returning to my old life."

"I suppose if I'd discovered this world because I had lost, say, my ability to perform surgery, it would be hard to leave it behind and return to the operating room." He thought out loud. Sighing, he closed his hand over his watch. "But no matter how medical science evolves, you can't reverse death."

You let the quiet linger for a moment.

[tubefullofdemons]

I am so desperate, I've tried selling things, I've applied for loans but I'm getting nowhere. I am autistic and severely depressed and my mom is disabled, a cancer survivor with heart illness. Usually she's the one who brings in money to help us get by. She gets scholarships and student loans but her health is like a Rollercoaster, we have good days and we have bad days. Lately it's been bad days, she's been getting better and getting treatment but it will be a month before she gets back to school which is why I'm asking for help.

Morale is so low in this household with prices going up for everything. We can barely buy food for ourselves with the foodstamps we get. But here's the thing, I'm honestly used to struggling. I know my mom and I can endure but we care the most for our pets. All my pets are elderly. I'm talking 8 years plus. My oldest being 17 years old. They are special needs, have special diets and medications and it's what hurts us the most financially.

Our combined disability checks aren't enough to sustain us which is why I'm asking for help. Rent is due but we have nothing. Our relationship with our landlords is already strained and I'm in the process of applying to some rental help agencies but I know our landlords are impatient. I need the money as soon as possible.

I need your help. I understand the state of the economy right now. Everyone is struggling one way or another but any little bit helps. No donation is too small, if you cant donate that's fine too but please reblog. I need to at least get this out there so we could have a chance. I don't have any other family to rely on so please help. I also have other means you could donate to. Theyre at the bottom of this post. Thanks for reading. Lots of love. ❤

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[an-annyeoing-writer]

vulnerability. – chap. 1.

Read the prologue here

Story info:

Pair: Byun Baekhyun x Reader

Rating: +18 for mentions of s*x and violence (future chapters)

Genre: angst, smut

Chapter info:

Release date: 16th May 2021

Word count: 3 727

Warnings: mentions of trauma (nothing descriptive)

Vulnerability Masterlist || Fanfiction Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Taglist:

@shesdreaminginoverdose @mybiasdashboard @marimsun @byuns-asscheeks @multi--kpop--fanfics @vunv @making-me-blush @skittlez-area512 @bloopbloopkai @byuns-asscheeks @baekyeonoreo @kimcarinaa

Please, always comment on the newest chapter if you wish to be added to/removed from the taglist. I will be also checking the tags, so if you're shy – feel free to leave a note this way.

Previous (Prologue)

Chap. 1.

Living in a small apartment close to the city center was not always convenient.

You regretted you couldn’t buy all the pretty things that you saw in stores or on Pinterest, because they’d easily overwhelm the limited space. Your neighbors constantly reminded you that they’re a few meters away from you, with screams, children’s cries, music, or chopping meat at 2 AM if that’s what a particular neighbor decided to do.

Fortunately, as the time passed, you got used to most of it and started to appreciate the small space, almost effortless to keep clean, close to both your university and the workplace, and the city center – an area that was always restless during the long days and nights that you spent watching it through your tall window, as if waiting for someone to look back at you.

Despite the comfort of living alone that you tried to indulge in, you couldn’t help growing lonelier and lonelier with every passing day. At the very least, your job and university often took the worries off your mind, and they eventually became your whole life, an existence that focused on never-ending effort in the name of better future, as though there was nothing in the present worth fighting for.

You studied finance; you didn’t give it much hope at first, but it ended up becoming interesting as you started connecting the dots and realizing how broad and important this topic was. Yet, as any newborn financier, you used your secret knowledge in the mysterious field of retail. In other words, you worked part-time as a cashier in a convenience store. Twenty four years old, on your way to getting that famous Master’s degree, already more than halfway through the process, yet – education without experience mattered nothing, as you realized the very moment you started looking for your first job, unable to keep counting on your parents. Not like you wanted to stay in touch with them, anyway.

Adulthood was difficult; the small apartment, due to its location, costed more than your whole family’s used to in your hometown. A small scholarship kept you set up with electricity and water fees, but for WiFi you needed to depend on a close-by library with a good signal; it turned out to have the connection good enough to reach from at least one place in your apartment, the one you coincidentally used for occasional observations. You weren’t sure whether you discovered the WiFi while sitting or if you developed the observing habit upon having to spend your time there over any other place. The only downside of this solution was that some sites were blocked after a scandal over men in the library performing actions other than polite studying, with the help of library computers. The event was outrageous to some, but primarily it became an object of jokes and memes all thorough the city, and maybe even country-wide to some extent. Either way, in times of need, your phone still had its meager data transfer. Good enough.

It was Saturday now; Saturdays were good but busy, because you worked at nights, then slept the shift off, and after you woke up, you could go and study all that you missed throughout the week, if for any reason the classes didn’t sound appealing enough or something else happened, distracting you from them. You spent Saturday afternoons either by the window of your room (where the WiFi reached) or just went straight to the library – a place way more spacious than your own apartment, and quieter as well. The only issue was, that you couldn’t snack in there and you ought to stay quiet. You decided to go with the latter and set foot towards the library.

Therefore, when your phone suddenly rang there, a few faces snapped towards you in obvious disapproval; you cursed internally, before you even managed to pull the phone out of your pocket, because you panicked so much that your hands shook at the initial attempt to do so. You got up from your seat and quickly disappeared between the bookshelves, where the people staying by the tables wouldn’t hear you so well anymore.

“Hello?” you whispered into the phone.

“Hello. Am I disturbing you?”

Your heart dropped as you recognized the voice, although you weren’t completely certain if you recognized it well, it sounded a bit different through the phone. The number was unknown on your phone, but there was only one person that could be calling you today.

You took a few seconds to compose yourself; less than you actually needed, but just enough so that the silence would not turn awkward.

“Um… I can’t talk loudly, but that’s okay.”

“I can call you later.”

“N-no need to, I’ll just whisper.”

“Okay, then.” He was quiet for a few seconds, but you heard some shuffling on the other side. “Do you have time tonight?”

The question was sudden, so you weren’t completely sure, if you did. But your mind felt too empty to figure that out, anyway.

“No. I mean, yes. Sorry, I meant I don’t have plans. So, um, yes, I’m free.” This didn’t sound professional at all. However, you heard quiet laughter on the other side and exhaled almost audibly in relief; it was the first time you heard him laugh with you, and it served to calm your nerves like a wave of calmness coming over you.

“Well, do you want to meet? I’m going to a museum and I don’t feel like going alone. What about that?”

“A museum? That… sounds nice.” When was the last time you’ve been to one? What a perfect opportunity to make a fool out of yourself. “What time?”

“Around six? If that’s okay with you.” If you remembered well, it had to be around three now.

“Sounds alright, where should we meet?”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“Okay. Thank you.” What were you exactly thanking him for? Hard to tell. But you heard him laugh again; you felt like he’s mocking you, but you quickly realized it couldn’t be the case – a warm voice like this couldn’t be ill-intended.

“Sure thing, you’re welcome. We’re set up, then?”

“A-actually, I have a question, if it’s not a problem.” You bit on your lip, knowing than in less than ten seconds, you were going to probably embarrass yourself in front of an educated and serious adult.

“What’s the matter?” he asked politely.

“So, um… What should I wear?”

* * *

You were grateful for the few tips given by Byun Baekhyun at the end of your conversation, because otherwise you’d either be underdressed or overdressed. You ended up wearing a more elegant university attire, something you usually wore for exams, but which didn’t make you appear too formal; a long, woolen skirt that was your private treasure due to its ability to keep you warm even in winter (and it was still spring; the weather was questionable), as well as leather shoes, a beige shirt and a thick, knitted cardigan. You felt quite modest; something told you that it wasn’t a regular date. You didn’t feel a need to reveal anything, or to focus on your feminine attributes. You just felt like it wouldn’t serve any purpose. As long as Baekhyun was concerned, you had an impression that he’s more interested in your mind than in the way you look – the clothes you wore last time, just a little bit revealing and suggestive, had done nothing to save you. You wanted only to look appropriate, and you were sure you managed to achieve at least that.

As you found out soon enough, he wasn’t particularly dressed up, either. A button-up shirt without without a tie – bow or neck type – and jeans, made of high-quality denim, not like the ripped through or worn out ones people sometimes wore. And a suede coat. Although he wasn’t dressed up to look attractive, it would be difficult not to feel attracted to him. Byun Baekhyun had his own aura of independence and considerate distance connected with subtle proximity, and this time, you had the chance to appreciate this harmony, working perfectly for him, highlighting his soft masculinity. Even more so, when you noted a small, gentle smile that appeared on his lips when he spotted you leaving your apartment block.

“Hi there” he spoke.

“Hi there” you replied.

“The museum is nearby, so I didn’t take the car, is that okay?”

It was probably too late to change the means of transport anyway, so the question was pointless. But no, you didn’t mind.

“It’s okay. What museum are we going to?”

He put hands in the pockets of his coat and tilted his head to the side, observing as you approached. You crossed your hands over your chest; it was a bit colder than you expected, and the skirt only warmed you up at the bottom, the wind still reached the top.

“You should put on something warmer. It’ll get even colder on the way back” he spoke. “Go back and get yourself a jacket, I’ll wait.”

You wanted to oppose and say it’s alright, but you didn’t; it didn’t feel right to argue with him. You only nodded and went home to retrieve a better outwear; you were back in no time.

“So? Which museum?”

You looked up at Baekhyun: the man walked by your side, or – in fact – you were walking by his; he stayed in control of the situation, but resonated with warmth and peacefulness rather than the coldness and stillness you experienced last time. And especially as he spoke, you found yourself easing into the conversation more naturally, and your initial fear quickly turned into innocent shyness upon the older man’s presence.

“A complex of museums nearby. There’s everything there, a historical museum of the region, one about the history of mining worldwide, and an art museum. I wanted to see the last one, I heard they unveiled a few new pieces since the the last time I went. You’re not local?” He glanced at you with polite curiosity.

“Not really. I moved here to study” you explained. “I know the nearby area, but I’m not too… um, social. I only know where to do the cheapest groceries and where they sell the best bread.”

“Where?”

“Behind the river, by the intersection with the highway. It looks small but really, you should try it out. Especially their cinnamon rolls.”

Baekhyun hummed.

“That sounds nice. I can recommend the best pizza in return.”

“You eat takeouts often?”

“Yep.”

“You’d save money if you cooked for yourself. Pizzas are expensive.”

Another warm laugh reached your ears, and through them, your heart as well.

“I’ll save money if I spend the time for cooking on working instead.”

“Okay, that’s a valid point. But homemade food is healthier.”

“Depends on where you buy your takeout.” He seemed to have an answer to your every doubt. “I wouldn’t trust just any restaurant, you know? It’s basically what my diet consists of.”

“Variety is also important. Don’t argue with me on that.”

“I won’t. But I won’t take you for a pizza, if that’s your stance on that.”

“I didn’t say I don’t want it” you remarked right away; he replied with laugh, which you found yourself copying naturally.

The conversation flowed smoothly, reaching more or less unimportant topics: the city life, current events, your university, possible career, Baekhyun’s interests – you found out he likes music; it’s too sad to work in silence – and the museum you were going to.

The place you felt initially quite neutral about, brought you more peace than you expected it to. It looked harmonious and the lights were soft. No one hurried through the gallery, and the paintings, although not so interesting at first, you soon learned to appreciate, trying to catch onto small details that, you could tell, Baekhyun already knew by heart, but he smiled every single time you pointed at something specific that caught your attention, even if it was as silly as matching colors, or realistically portrayed lights – these were your favorites.

And, slowly but surely, you got accustomed to the pretty sights, excitement turning into relaxation, and even Baekhyun himself seemed more content than you thought he’d be in your presence.

“You’re different,” you spoke as the two of you sat on a bench in front of one of the tall, monumental pieces; this one was a modern painting full of splashes and mixed colors, soft browns, yellows, and greens, so big that it definitely wouldn’t fit in your bedroom – the first thought you had upon seeing its size.

Despite the painting being in the very center of the gallery, you were the only ones watching it now.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re different today than you were yesterday” you elaborate. “Less… intimidating” you tried to put your thoughts into words.

Baekhyun laughed in response; the laughter was soft and warm, which made you exhale in relief – you feared that he’d feel offended at the remark.

“Yesterday was different. I needed to test you.”

“What do you mean?”

He stared at the painting as he leaned forward, resting elbows on his knees and shifting a little bit, probably thinking how to say the thing he had to say, without causing misunderstandings. You stared at him, completely having lost interest in the painting by now, ready to hear out whatever was to be spoken.

“People often come to me because they’re attracted to me. Well, not blaming them” he grinned; you rolled your eyes a little, but it did relieve the tension, most likely according to his own intention. “However, I’m not interested in romantic relationships. If you come to me expecting a date, you’ll get disappointed. And you won’t be able to handle what it is truly about, if I’m the only thing keeping you interested. It’ll be a hassle for the both of us.”

He glanced at you only briefly, ensuring that you’ve heard him so far before shifting his eyes back forward.

“So I’m always like this at first, just to see how determined you are, and how you behave under pressure. Then I leave you for a few minutes so you have the time to reconsider and leave if willing. That’s a safety measure for you.” He stopped for just a few seconds. “And you – all of you – always check what’s on the other side of the sheet. That’s a safety measure for me.”

“Safety measure?”

“Trust is the basis of the whole deal. If you don’t admit, that you looked at it, it means you’ll keep hiding things later on as well, and I can’t have that.”

“So if I…”

“Yes. If you didn’t correct your statement, we wouldn’t be here right now.” The words sounded ominous even despite the calm tone that Baekhyun used.

“I understand.”

You actually did; the strange aura of yesterday’s meeting finally started to clear out, leaving the simplest facts that all fit into the bigger picture. Yet, you still didn’t know enough. There were more things, more questions, each of which demanded an answer of its own. However, you were still unsure of your stance, and of what Baekhyun had planned for you – for the both of you.

“Will you accept me, then?” you asked finally, breaking through the silence.

“I don’t know yet” he replied in an honest tone, finally reciprocating your gaze. His features were soft, you could tell, he tried not to hurt you with his words. “You’re a nice girl, but I’m not sure if it’ll work out. I need more time. Primarily, I need to get to know you better. And I feel like you need more time, too.”

You nodded slowly.

“Could you, um… tell me more about it?”

“About what I do?”

“Yeah. You didn’t tell me much last time. You mostly only asked questions.”

“True. I may answer some of yours, if you’d like. What are you interested in?”

You cleared your throat; some questions seemed more intrusive than the others and you preferred to leave them for later.

“What would you want to do with me, if we set up a um… a scene?” Is that how you professionally call it? You didn’t remember all that well; you were, in fact, with no experience, only the Internet and your own curiosity to lead you forward – the temptation to explore your interests had been progressing in silence up until now.

“Well, depends on what would be suitable. I do different things with different people. Sometimes, it’s about what they like, and sometimes about what I like, and, the most often, it’s about what we both like. Everyone needs a different approach. I enjoy finding the right approach, and exploring it. It’s different when you start with a virgin, different when you start with a brat, different when you start with someone experienced, different when you start with someone with trauma. The last type is a person I don’t like engaging in. It’s a vulnerable ground and the person often seeks relief instead of therapy. I’m not a therapist. I’m a dominant.”

You took your time to analyze his words and put them all together in your head before you spoke again.

“You wrote something like that on the sheet. That I may have trauma.”

“That’s different,” Baekhyun was quick to elaborate. “Everyone has trauma of sort. Childhood traumas are more common than you think. I meant specifically trauma that comes from similar ground as the one I’m on. It’s not the case for you. According to what you said, you’ve never had any experiences like this and never engaged sexually or romantically.”

Pointing that out hurt a little; yes, so what if you’re 24 years old and a virgin? You had the right to choose your pace. But, you quickly realized, it was your own insecurity poking at you, because Baekhyun sounded anything but judgmental. He didn’t seem particularly impressed either – and you were thankful for that as well. You’ve seen enough men sounding excited when a woman was discovered to be unexperienced. You hated that even more than those who made fun of you; and in the long run, you just learned not to overshare. Telling Baekhyun this truth wasn’t the easiest, so having him say it so casually was definitely weird in your ear.

“However, that’s also a vulnerable point. You don’t know what you’re getting into. It looks different on the screen or in the books than it is in real life. I’m not going to reject you just because you’re new, because everyone’s been at some point. But you must understand, it’s a responsibility, and I don’t want to take one I’m not capable of handling.”

“Have you ever been with someone else like that?”

“With a virgin?”

“…Yeah.”

“Yes. Once. But I didn’t handle it too well back then.”

“What do you mean?”

Baekhyun rubbed his chin, pressing his lips together in slight uneasiness. But you didn’t revoke your question – maybe you should have, for the sake of his comfort, but you felt that the answer wouldn’t be meaningless to you.

“She wanted to be exclusive,” the man finally answered. “I tolerated her for too long. I should have broken the deal as soon as I started seeing red flags, instead of ending up sleeping with her. It made everything only worse.” He spoke quietly, making sure people passing by at times would hear no word. You heard everything clearly, though. “That’s why I’m more picky now. Breaking the deal is not a good thing if it comes from one side. It may leave the other devastated, that’s why I’d rather reduce the risk in advance.”

He looked at your face, seeking understanding and acceptance. You nodded slowly, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible. You didn’t want to add to the pain already displayed on his own. But you appreciated his transparency.

“Does it mean that sex is not always involved?”

“With me, it rarely is” he admitted patiently. “I’m not against it, but I usually do other things. People rarely expect it, and I never pry. Mainly, because in this particular case, I do expect exclusivity. So, as long as no sex is involved, I know some of my subs are dating other people, or even engaging with other doms. However, for safety reasons I demand health checks prior to intercourse, and so on. Not just for me, but because I’m not exclusive myself.” You wondered if his choice of vocabulary was meant to make things less awkward. “However, actual sex is only one of the possibilities. Sexual pleasure that doesn’t involve direct touch may be used as a tool for training, for rewarding and for punishing, even as entertainment… not necessarily to the person it influences. As I said, it depends on who it’s done with. And it may take different forms, too. What’s your stance on that?”

“I don’t feel like I’d be able to as much as undress in front of someone who’s not my doctor” you answered almost instantly, the answer obvious to you, a matter you’ve thought about enough. “Although… well, I suppose it takes time. I’m not against the idea, just… you know.”

Baekhyun only nodded; you glanced at him, feeling a need for any reply that’d soothe you a little.

“I understand. That’s okay.”

You figured it out now; using more formal language made it less embarrassing to listen to. It’s like he tore the words off emotions and left facts only, and you found yourself easing into saying more and more, your embarrassment dissolving as well. No judgments were made.

“Is there anything else you want to know?”

“A lot, to be honest. But I think I know enough for now.”

Right as you said the last words, a sound echoed in the museum, in a soft female voice saying that the museum will close in fifteen minutes.

You took one last glance at the huge painting in front of you, but you felt like, at this point, you wouldn’t find anything new among the random stains and splatters. Baekhyun got up from his seat on the bench and so did you. You spotted him hide a small yawn behind his hand.

The day was coming to an end, and so was your small date – as un-date-ish as it could be.

* * *

Please, reblog if you enjoyed, it'll help me a bunch!

Author's note: hope you're enjoying it so far! Trying to give it a bit sense before more things happen, and, hopefully, this chapter clears it out a little bit. Feel free to talk to me if anything is unclear!

Next (Chapter 2.)

[heyitsyn]

Keeping Up With Seijoh Ep. ∞

a/n: this made me tear up a bit ngl bc haikyuu always hitting us with ‘theres no next year for us’ typa bull like BLS TAKE PITY ON MY SOUL AND STOP TIME AND KEEP MY BOYS TOGETHER :(((((((

it has an infinity symbol bc this is in the future so there isnt really an episode number 

for more seijoh content, check this masterlist out!

anon:

the third years coming back to seijoh the following year for a surprise visit, and watching over practice cuz they were in town for break. being impressed on how kyo has calmed down (a bit), kunimi actually giving a sh-, yknow the deal. just the growth of their kouhai makes them 🥺🥺 but THEN- Y O U walk in with the team’s bottles n the small gasp that comes out of your mouth when you see them. they GAWK cuz you’re maturing SO well (stfu oikawa- my eyes up are here) and just 🥺🤲

SO LIKE UNLESS YOURE NEW TO MY BLOG YOU KNOW THIS FINNA BE A SAD ONE BC SEIJOH THIRD YEARS ARE MY FAVORITE BOIS AND THEM GRADUATING MAKES ME :(

oh god here comes the tears

so

it was something you knew was coming since yanno, third years and all that

but you were so sure you had more time left before it happened

didnt you just join the team and met them like yesterday?

nope love you met nearly a year ago

and they made quite an impact on you in the short term you were together

so during the day of graduation

it wasnt really a school day since it was mostly for third years and the whole ceremony but kouhais could come so they could send off their senpais

you already called each third year the night before, nearly 2 hours per boy, to talk to them and cry with them so you didnt have to cry during the day

but ofc

you were sobbing already when you saw your captain walk up and get his tube with the diploma inside

they tried to remain strong as they sat in their seats but a single glance at you and the team at the stands above, the tears were already either forming or full out slipping

i know yall finna beat me up for this but im not really familiar with the other third years in the team bc theyre not really shown in the anime or manga that much so i dont have a good grip on their character so can we pls pretend theyre not in here?? omg pls dont kill me though

the ceremony felt like a long time for the seniors but when it was finally over, they ran out of that building and yall did too and you bolted yourself into the arms of your captain

oikawa held you tightly against him and he didnt care about being seen by his fangirls, who were waiting outside for him, or the others who wanted to have you to them too

‘i love you, y/n-chan’

he mumbled and you nodded

‘mhm. i love you too, oikawa-san. i love all my boys’

YALL MY HEART IS BREAKING BC OIKAWA ACTUALLY MEANT IT THIS TIME AND YOURE STILL OVER HERE THINKING THAT HES JUST SAYING IT AS A FRIEND LIKE IM-

iwa ripped you away from him and your face was buried into his chest

but it didnt last long since the others got a little impatient and just joined the hug turning it into a group hug

‘i dont want you to leave!’

kindaichi sobbed and kunimi sniffled, holding on tighter to the backs of his senpais

even kyo was sad but hes a tuff boy so he easily hid that behind his usual frown and glare

after seeing their parents and reassuring them they would be home soon, you started your trek towards your usual hang out spot

the second and first years were walking ahead of you while the third years fell back in step with you in between them

mattsuhana flanked your left while iwaoi were at your right

the tears were now gone but sniffles still filled the area and everyone was still down in their spirits

you held tightly to the warm big hands of iwaizumi and the soft touch of mattsun’s hand as if you were clutching your life-line

but you knew no matter how tightly you held on to them, they would still go and eventually leave you behind

the ramen shop was filled with another round of tears as everyone realized that this would be the last time seijoh og would have ramen here

‘WE DONT WANT YOU TO GOOO~~~~!!!!!!’

kindaichi sobbed while kunimi aggressively shoved noodles in his mouth to hide his hiccups

you refused to eat because you were so sad that you were scared you might end up throwing it all up later so you settled on relishing your time with the boys

oikawa was busy talking to yahaba and telling him tips and tricks for next year while iwaizumi was consolling the others who were crying

that left you to harshly wipe off the tears and focus on the jokes that matsuhana were telling to help and lighten up the mood

‘think of it like this! you won’t have oikawa and iwaizumi fighting anymore!’

well,,,,,

that kinda made things worse

geez makki stfu!!!!

you bursted into full tears and you sobbed, loudly and freely

‘WAAAAAHHHH!!!!!’

you wheezed and then continued to cry

everyone flinched and got startled at the sight of you crying

theyve seen you cry before but not this intensely and sadly 

‘DONT GO!!! OU-OUR FAMILY’S GONE!! ITS B-BROKEN NOW!!!!’

you wailed

everyone is so used to seijoh antics that they didnt even bat an eyelash when everyone started crying

‘damn it, i was trying not to cry!’

iwa growled and buried his face into his hands to hide the pain in his eyes

‘come here, y/n-chan’

mattsun cooed while sobbing and you went straight into his arms and his arms tightly wounded around you

he pressed kisses on your neck to calm you and he whispered promises to keep you from thinking that you would be alone

the boys were all still crying even when you paid for them and at the exit, everyone wouldnt let go of each other

ngl it was a weird sight of seeing these boys just hanging on and hugging the others and you were tightly pressed against makki’s chest 

‘dont cry, y/n-chan. we’ll be here, always. just a 4-hour ride to tokyo’

he promised but you shook your head

‘--too far’

you mumbled and he was able to make out a few words and he laughed

‘i swear you’ll see us in a few hours’

it took a few words of assurance from makki and eventually mattsun and iwa joined

oikawa stayed back because he already wanted to walk you home and iwa knew you were the one that was the hardest for oikawa to tell his plans to

waving them good bye, you fussed and made sure everyone was not crying anymore

‘you text me the moment you get home, all right? and kyo-san, let the food in your stomach settle before-’

‘before i take a bath-yea i know’

he rolled his eyes but he smiled lightly before hugging you

‘go home now, y/n’

he pushed you towards his captain but you pulled away one last time to give each boy a kiss on the cheek

their lips trembled, especially the third years, and wanted to keep their tears in but they rocket launched to space

yanno that one part in season 1 when kiyoko told them to work hard and then they just snot-rocketed and cried

oikawa interlaced your fingers as you both walked towards your house and it was quiet

you were sus bc it was too quiet and oikawa would usually be either skipping, humming a tune, or just yapping his ass off

but right now

he was quiet, slouchy, and,,,, not oikawa

you looked up to see his face and you knew it wasnt just the graduating part

it was like,,,, he was nervous

you squeezed his hand and that got his attention

‘oikawa-san, whats wrong?’

he suddenly stopped and your linked hands caused you to also stop so you watched him stare down at his shoes and you blinked at him in confusion

‘oika-’

‘y/n, tell me to stay’

he,,, sounded like he was begging

pleading

desperate to hear you say it

‘why should i?’

you asked and he finally lifted his eyes to stare into your eyes

he gulped before further explaining himself 

‘coach got me a volleyball scholarship’

he whispered and your eyes widened before you launched into him for a hug and pulled back to cup his face

‘oh my god! tooru! a scholarship?! im so proud-’

‘in argentina’

he finished and your eyes dimmed, the lifted corners of your lips falling into a frown

‘o-oh’

you stuttered and pulled your hands away but he grabbed them, placing them back to his face 

‘but if you dont want me to go, i wont-’

‘NO! what?! tooru, its your dream! you and iwa-san wouldnt stop talking about that match with argentina and-and you want to go there! dont you dare let that slip away!’

you scolded frantically however oikawa’s face scrunched before he started crying

‘i-i can’t! y/n, i’ll be alone! its so far away! far from iwa, far from you-’

then you reached to your tippy toes and kissed his nose then leaned back with a big smile

‘no matter how far, ill always be right here. im always going to be here, waiting for you’

you mumbled and oikawa hiccuped then leaned his forehead against yours, eyes clashing that was so full of love and fear

‘then dont you worry, y/n-chan. oikawa-senpai will work really hard and he will come back and make you happy’

he whispered and you pulled him even closer to give him the biggest hug

‘im looking forward to it’

TIMESKIPTIMESKIPTIMESKIPTIMESKIP

ONEYEARONEYEARONEYEARONEYEAR

truth to be told with guilty conscience, the third years havent really been in touch

yes theyve called and messaged but there wasnt a normal kind of communication, especially with oikawa

but they decided to go over there during a simultaneous week break for universities in tokyo and iwa, makki, and mattsun pressured oikawa to fly back to japan just for a week to visit

‘iwa-chan im so broke righ-’

‘fine, we’ll see y/n ourselve-’

‘OKAY FINE! HERE! IM BUYING THE TICKET NOW SEE?!’

bahahaha im sorry i love oiks so much its not even funny

they agreed to not tell anyone, even coach, to surprise you all and to see your faces of surprise bc mattsuhana are little shites and they love to mess around

it was a normal day during practice

yahaba was teaching some first years how to serve while watari was giving exercising tips on how to bend their knees without shrieking in athritis

kyotani was doing jump serves while kindaichi and kunimi tried to block him

it was a normal day

the former third years knew the ins and outs of the place and oikawa still had his keys of the gym since he never gave it back so they were easily able to sneak in

they sat on the bleachers and observed everyones growth which really blew them away and took them aback by how much they improved in little time

like kunimis actually huffing and throwing a mini tantrum bc hes so into it and hes mad he didnt get that block right

they also noticed the larger amount of new recruits and based on their practice, it looks like they would be in good hands for the next few years

however, the true shock settled in when this happened

kyotani cursed loudly when the ball hit out but yahaba scolded him for saying a bad word in front of the first years

‘kyotani, dont say that anymore! its not good to teach the babies bad words!’

he ranted and the college boys shared a look of caution and fear, bracing themselves for kyotani’s normal screaming and tantrum for being called out

but they were the most surprised when the bleach-haired boy simply glared at him and turned away to go pick up another ball to hit

‘did,,,, did kyoken-chan-’

‘was he just calm right now?’

‘oh my god iwa-chan kyoken-chan got abducted by aliens!’

I SWEAR TO GOD ITS LIKE THE CURRENT THIRD AND SECOND YEARS GOT AN OIKAWA ‘IWA-CHAN’ SENSOR BECAUSE THE MOMENT HE SAID THAT, THEIR EARS TWITCHED AND THEY JUST KNEW

THEIR SENPAIS WERE HERE

their eyes were wide and their attention snapped towards the bleachers where indeed, their 4 fathers sat

‘OIKAWA-SAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!’

kindaichi screamed and he NYOOMED towards the stairs but kunimi grabbed him by the collar

‘come down here, senpais!’

yahaba urged and coach and naoi shared a look of initial shock but then transformed into happiness

it was nice to see the family together again

they quickly turned into a dog pile with the hugs that were given around like kyotani actually giving iwaizumi a hug and makki and mattsun affectionately ruffling everyone’s hair

the other first years were just staring in awe at the legendary third years of seijoh that theyve heard so much about

‘everyone, these are your seniors!’

yahaba presented and the 3 third years became very flustered but ofc attention whore oikawa soaked it up

‘yes, hello, my little disciples! you are my legacy so work har- IWA-CHAN!’

he was cut into his famous line when his best friend bonked him for being too self-absorbed again

‘waaa, l/n-senpai was right’

some first year mumbled at the scene and their ears perked up at the name

‘l/n?’

‘where is she?! y/n-chan!’

oikawa shouted and looked around

BECAUSE OF FATE

YOU AUTOMATICALLY MANIFESTED THERE

‘YES YOU CALLED’

okay no but you actually walked in just in time, carrying the crate of water bottles, focused on not dropping them so you didnt really see the others

they were silent not because they wanted to mess with you and see how long youd figure out that they were there

no

they were silent because of how BEAUTIFUL you became

you gained a few inches and your hair is now longer with your baby fat slowly melting away and you were also finally showing your growth with your body

the eyes that used to gleam with childish innocence was now mature and poised like a perfect lady

even the way you walked with a crate made it seem like a ballet performance with the grace at every step and the flowery aura you exuded

you have turned from a ridiculously cute and pretty girl to a beautiful goddess

AND YOU WERE ONLY IN YOUR SECOND YEAR HOW THE HELL ARE THEY SUPPOSED TO HANDLE IT WHEN YOURE FINALLY A THIRD YEAR?!

CAN YOU IMAGINE THE AMOUNT OF BOYS THEY HAVE TO WARD OFF?!

‘my god’

iwaizumi mumbled, flushing red and turning away to hide his fluster

‘beautiful’

oikawa whispered and he gulped, not remembering how strikingly attractive you are

‘have mercy’

makki whined softly, clutching his heart as it started beating fast and made his stomach feel all funny

did they act like this back in the day?

mattsun doesnt have control so he ran forward and you were just putting the crate down when you were lifted off of the floor and twirled around

so like yahaba waved off the others to go back to practice so its like not awkward to be standing around and see this happening

there was only one person who did this to you

‘mattsun-san?!’

you shrieked and you giggled happily as he put you down so you were able to hug him properly and eventually, catching sight on the others behind him

your gasp made them smile widely and you pressed a hand to your mouth to hide the shock and your overjoyed laugh

if they could take a picture of this and remember the amount of love your eyes held and the pure unfiltered happiness that swirled in those orbs

it was like they felt themselves falling in love with you all over again

‘oh my god everyone’s here too!’

you ran to them and jumped at the awaiting arms of iwaizumi and he was still the bara arm babie you remembered

‘i missed you, doll’

he whispered

‘hmmm,,,i missed you more’

he let you go and you skipped over to makki who engulfed you in his arms and you felt his soft brown hair because you remembered he loved it when you ran your fingers through his hair

‘youve grown! so much! you got even more beautiful!’

he exclaimed and you giggled, bashful at his compliment

‘hmm~, no i didnt’

he gave you a deadpan look and you chuckled before scurrying away towards the one you wanted to hug the most

he definitely got more toned and he got taller too

you didnt have any time to react since he grabbed you and squished you against him

‘youre here, oikawa-san’

he nuzzled his head against your neck

‘mhm, im here now, y/n-chan’

he placed a kiss on your nose and you scrunched your face but there was a big smile that was clear

then oikawa’s eyes trailed from your face to your,,, ahem,,, girls

‘jesus, y/n-chan really grew, huh’

he complimented and you blinked confusingly before trailing after his eye’s gaze and it landed on your chest and you punched him

‘urusai, oikawa-san! my eyes are up here! youre so perverted. pervert oikawa-san’

you pouted and moved to seek comfort in the arms of makki

‘hmm, oikawa’s perverted as usual. i think it got worse with all those argentinian women’

makki teased and mattsun joined to poke fun at their captain

oikawa whined and told iwa they were making fun of him to which his own best friend betrayed him and starting teasing him too

you simply watched on and your eyes watered, your sniffles catching their attention

‘eh? why are you crying, y/n-chan?’

oikawa asked while approaching you to wipe your tears with his thumbs

but you shook your head with a teary smile

‘n-nothing-just,,,, i missed you guys. an-and im so happy because its like our f-family’s back together and i just-i-’

you cried but it was out of happiness and their hearts warmed

ofc they felt guilty because they were aware that they werent as in touch as they shouldve been so you probably felt lonely and casted aside without any contact from your boys

but they know now to make sure you feel loved and cared for because as you keep saying, they were your boys

they were a family

seijoh is a family 

and you love them 

but they love you more

a/n: okay im sorry this is probably trash and all over the place and im crying and stressing but ive been writing in between my college alg homework and its been so hard like WHY IS NUMBERS SO HARD LIKE WHAT-?! but this has kinda been the baby of my break time and relaxing few minutes bc i procrastinate too much and i want to do something i like before i actually go insane and i promise PROMISE that once everything is cleared up i will edit this and im already working on the other requests so expect a few to be out by the end of the week or something like that!!