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cinnaminsvga · 4 years ago

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Hug-o-gram | Yoongi

→ summary:

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font.

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

{or alternatively: Seokjin is a terrible wingman. He also runs a profitable business by sending hugs to people’s crushes for a fee. Mix them together and you have a recipe for Min Yoongi’s worst nightmare.}

→ genre: college!au, hugging booth!au, fluff, humor → warnings: yoongi is so smitten that he’s a walking disaster, so much shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to scream, seokjin just tryna get his homie some y/n love coochie bro ;o; → words: 13.3K → a/n: another commission by the lovely @jincherie because she’s epic like that!! she literally just told me to write whatever the hell i wanted and well... yoobie got me Good... anyway here’s more yoongi fluff bc apparently i’m a fluff writer now and sometimes i just want my boy to be happy... appa yip yip

Kim Seokjin makes a lot of good decisions. He also makes plenty of bad ones, but he likes to think the score is lying heavily towards the positives. Min Yoongi will be the first one to quickly disagree, but Seokjin doesn’t let it get to him. He doesn’t make it his business to listen to opinions that don’t immediately align with his, anyway; he likes to call it “selective hearing.” Yoongi calls it stupidity. Either way, the point still stands: Seokjin knows a good idea when he sees one. Case in point:

“This automatic popcorn machine is absolutely divine,” Seokjin moans, his mouth agape as he waits for the Mister Popcorn Robot to bestow him with another morsel of goodness.

“Yeah,” is Yoongi’s verbose reply. He also has his mouth agape, his prone body lying side by side with his roommate of four years in their small living room. Their roomba (another one of Seokjin’s good ideas) cleans all around them, its steady whirring serving as their only source of background music. “Lowkey though, I think our position isn’t quite… as optimized as it could be.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asks, as he drapes his leg over Yoongi’s. His movement jostles the surrounding popcorn halo around them, as most of the food had missed their mouths by a couple of centimeters. At this point, the roomba has probably eaten more of the popcorn than the two of them combined.

“Nothing,” Yoongi shrugs, or whatever might be the lying down equivalent of a shrug. Some of the popcorn on his chest falls down, only to be quickly devoured by roomba-chi. Yoongi stares at the ceiling, tracing shapes out of the cracks that Seokjin had accidentally made when he tried using a pogo stick indoors. He points up, catching Seokjin’s attention. “Hey, hyung. Doesn’t that look a bit like Y/N?”

Seokjin squints. ��You mean the mysterious brown stain near the lights? I think the toilet from the elderly couple upstairs might have leaked that.”

“No, you dipshit. The squiggly curve over there. It reminds me of her smile.” Yoongi says. There’s a stupid dopey grin on his face and Seokjin wants nothing more than to wipe it off.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Seokjin groans, turning over to envelop Yoongi in a sweaty half-armed hug. The buttery residue on his arms and stomach leaves something to be desired, but Yoongi doesn’t scoot away. He only continues to sigh dreamily, staring mindlessly at the image of you that only his lovelorn brain can imagine.

Seokjin slaps Yoongi in the face. “Dude, get a fucking grip,” he grouses, giving Yoongi a serious look. The younger doesn’t break out of his trance, further irritating him. “Will you stop pining in front of my popcorn? It’s seriously making roomba-chi lose her appetite!”

To his credit, roomba-chi did seem to be slowing down, though that could also be because it had overloaded with popcorn and was seconds away from exploding. Wouldn’t be the first time, but Seokjin always managed to find a way to save roomba-chi from imminent death. She was like a daughter to him.

“Hyung, you know I can’t. I just… God, I really like her, you know?”

“That’s the third time you said that within the last hour. Believe me, I know.” Seokjin groans, shoving Yoongi away. He sits up, reaching over to the popcorn machine and switching it off. He grabs a fistful of fallen popcorn from the ground and shoves it inside Yoongi’s mouth. “There. That should shut you up.”

“Aw weawwy wike hew, hwung.”

“And yet, you still haven’t done anything after four years,” Seokjin tuts, finally standing up. He stretches his limbs, his joints creaking youthfully. He grabs his phone from the coffee table, nearly dropping it from the butteriness of his fingers. The clock reads 4:32 PM, which means–

“Yoongi, it’s time for me to head to work. You want to come with me today?” Seokjin asks, though he knows what answer he’s going to get. You see, Seokjin’s new booming business is another one of his fantastic ideas, but it is a little... inventive. Sure, Yoongi had scoffed when he had originally suggested the idea, but Seokjin knew that it was going to be a money-maker. Sure, it had taken a few years for the business to really take off, but once it finally did…

Enter Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service! Students from his university are able to send anonymous payments directly to him, with little notes attached for their crushes. Each love letter delivery comes with a hug from Seokjin himself, delivered straight to the person without them ever knowing who the hug came from. It was ingenious! It was lucrative! But most of all…

It allowed Seokjin to cause drama and have an excuse for it! Nothing could have been more perfect for a man like him.

“No thanks,” Yoongi snorts, rolling over to face him. He watches from the floor as Seokjin changes into a butter-less shirt, which also happens to have his own face printed on the front and back. His trusty cardboard sign that reads “I’m Gonna Glomp Ya!” also joins his attire for the afternoon, a long piece of string tied to its edges so that he can wear it around his neck. Throwing on a pair of white sneakers with the tags still attached, Seokjin is ready to tackle today’s list of would-be hug-ees.

“How do I look?” Seokjin asks, combing his hair with his fingers. It leaves an oily sheen, which he somehow makes it work.

“Ugly,” Yoongi says, like a liar.

“It’s okay, I understand. I can speak tsundere, so you don’t need to explain,” Seokjin snickers, nearly getting hit with a TV remote by Yoongi. He opens his phone again, swiping to his e-mail to see his list of hug deliveries for the day.

Seokjin gets around 10 requests a day, with around half of them coming from regular clients. He’s especially fond of this boy who has been sending hugs to his TA named Namjoon for almost a month now. He has no idea why this kid has so much disposable income, though seeing the blush on Namjoon’s face everyday makes Seokjin think that he would spend every last penny for him too. Namjoon had begged Seokjin for his secret admirer’s identity, but snitchin’ isn’t a part of his service, unfortunately.

As much as Seokjin wants to know who is crushing on who, his little business wouldn’t work as well as it did if anonymity wasn’t included in his package deal. It allows people to thirst in public without facing the repercussions, like getting a knee to the groin or a slap to the face. Not that Seokjin has ever been at the receiving end of that; everyone loves him! Like, have you seen him? He must have saved a civilization in the past with how devastatingly beautiful his forehead is.

“Why am I suddenly filled with the relentless urge to deck you right now?” Yoongi says, getting up to change into clean clothes as well. His black t-shirt unfortunately does not have Seokjin’s face on it, but that can quickly be amended if the elder of the two decides to follow his every intrusive whim.

Seokjin laughs, completely unaware of the murderous capabilities of his friend. Due to his smaller body size, his percentage of evil is unusually concentrated. “Maybe it’s because you know that I’m into pain pla–” but Seokjin’s retort suddenly grinds to a halt. He chokes mid-sentence, coughing wildly as he pounds his chest with a balled-up fist. When Yoongi looks up at him, he finds his hyung staring slack-jawed at his phone, seemingly flabbergasted by what he finds on his screen.

“What’s the matter? Accidentally sent a dick pic to your prof again?” Yoongi snorts.

“That was one time! And no, it’s…” Seokjin trails off, uncharacteristically hesitant. He shifts his gaze from his phone to Yoongi, a drop of sweat quickly forming on the back of his neck. Yoongi raises a brow, silently urging him to continue.

Instead of replying, Seokjin hands him his phone. Yoongi finds a copy of one of Seokjin’s newest hug requests, only having just received it five minutes ago. As he scrolls down, he finds that this secret admirer is a new client, but that isn’t what made Seokjin stop in his tracks. Instead, it’s the recipient of the hug that catches his attention–

“Y/N has a secret admirer?” Yoongi says, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, trying his best to school his face into something less… jealous. He swivels away from Seokjin, forcing himself to breathe slowly through his nose. He convinces himself that he is the very epitome of calmness.

“You okay there, Yoongi? You look like you’re about to vomit,” Seokjin says, immediately breaking his inner peace. Yoongi groans loudly, shucking the phone over his shoulder, uncaring of where it lands. Seokjin, with his superhuman and God-given reflexes… doesn’t catch it. But he did dive to the floor like a seasoned Olympian, and his ass cushioned his phone so he supposes that’s a win.

Back to the matter at hand––

“I am fine,” Yoongi says, as he continues to not be fine.

From the floor, Seokjin shoots him a disbelieving look. He lies down more comfortably, propping his head on his elbows. Screw his hug-o-gram appointments for now; nothing brings him more joy than seeing Yoongi absolutely losing it. “Really? So you wouldn’t mind if I marched up to Y/N right now and give her the warmest, coziest, most tender hug of her fucking life?”

“Y… Yes,” Yoongi squeaks, neck glowing a furious red. He has his fists clenched (adorably) by his sides, head bowed as he faces the wall of their apartment. Seokjin’s brain makes the unhelpful comparison of Yoongi with that cat meme who says “no talk me angy” in Impact font.

Seokjin grins, his wickedness from within coiling and yearning to burst from his seams. This is it! Maybe if he pushes a little more, then maybe Yoongi will stop pining like a pathetic loser! Also, it didn’t hurt that he got to push Yoongi’s buttons while he’s at it, but hey! Not all heroes go to heaven or whatever.

He grabs his phone from his ass, scrolling back to the e-mail. “So… You wouldn’t mind if I walk up to Y/N right now and tell her ‘Hey! I’ve had an embarrassingly long crush on you and when I heard about this hugging service… I couldn’t miss the chance to shoot my shot! If you’re single and ready to #mingle, then please meet me at the Corner Cafe at 2 PM tomorrow.’” Seokjin sing-songs, snickering loudly when he sees the absolute pain etched onto Yoongi’s face.

There is a pause, and Seokjin waits as Yoongi uses his tiny kitty brain to think of what to do. He can only imagine what’s going inside his head, but he has a guess. Yoongi could either: 1) finally admit his feelings for you and come clean before Seokjin has to deliver your hug, or 2) do something stupid and counterproductive.

It comes as no surprise when Yoongi goes with option number––

“Hyung, let me come with you to work today,” Yoongi decides, walking over Seokjin’s prone body to their shoe rack. He slides into a pair of sneakers, his harried movements unusual for his customary lethargicness. He grabs a coat from its hanger, stomping his feet to get Seokjin to move faster. “C’mon! We have hugs to deliver.”

“Woah woah woah! Slow down there, Simpimus Prime.” Seokjin gets back up to his feet, skipping over to him. An absolutely feral grin is stretched upon his face. “Am I hearing what you’re saying? Are you offering… to deliver hugs with yours truly? Are you finally going to take up my offer to be an employee at Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service?”

“Of course not,” Yoongi scoffs, but his shifting eyes betray him. He fidgets in place, refusing to return Seokjin’s eager gaze. “I just… wanted to go out for once. Yeah.”

“Yoongi.”

“What?”

“You haven’t left this apartment other than to go to class in over a month. You never go out. You’re an indoor cat!”

“I’m not a fucking cat,” Yoongi hisses, like a cat. “And of course I go out! There was that one time I went outside to pick up our food delivery last week.”

Judging from Seokjin’s unimpressed stare, Yoongi’s excuse doesn’t cut it. Yoongi flaps his arms around, defeated. “Okay, fine! I rarely go out! Screw me and the bounteous crapload of assignments I have due! It’s not my fault I don’t have the time to socialize and have fun. What do you want from me?”

What Seokjin wants is to push a confession out of Yoongi, not because he needs the confirmation, but mostly because he just wants to annoy Yoongi and say “I told you so!” He’s also pretty cute when he’s all blushy and tsundere whenever he talks about you. Should he film him and sell the footage on eboys.bb? He’s certain that goth boy over here would make a pretty penny.

“You like krabby patties, don’t you Squidward?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Yoongi sniffs, nose upturned. He opens the door, not looking behind him to see Seokjin’s triumphant expression. “C’mon. Y/N’s last class of the day ends in a few minutes and we might catch her before she leaves the Science Building.”

Seokjin snorts. He is quick to slip his own coat on and he follows soon after. He locks their door shut, hopping over to Yoongi and matching his shorter-legged pace. “Yeah. Because you totally just know her schedule at the top of your head. You know, like a normal person.”

Yoongi ignores him. He trudges on, each step filled with determination as they make their way to Seokjin’s beat-up truck. Seokjin skips alongside him, observing the younger boy and placing bets inside his mind. The drive to campus isn’t that long as it only takes around 10 minutes to get there, but Seokjin guesses that Yoongi’s defenses will begin to chip away only 3 minutes into the drive.

He’ll start to realize the gravity of the situation, the cogs in his smooth and slushy excuse of a brain slowly comprehend what he’s about to witness. He’ll first think about how 1) he’s going to see you and that never helps his poor dainty grandpa heart and 2) he’s going to see you hugging Seokjin as he reads to you the short love confession from your anonymous Romeo. Seokjin bets that after 8 minutes, Yoongi will start to break out into a sweat, leaving gross perspiration marks on his good car seat leather.

After exactly 7 minutes and 34 seconds (Seokjin was keeping track of the time on his dashboard), Yoongi’s face turns an unflattering shade of green. “Dude. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Yoongi had originally offered to drive the two of them to campus, but Seokjin had the good foresight to refuse. Had Yoongi been the one on the wheel, he would’ve brought them back home in an instant due to nerves. So instead, Seokjin speeds up, ignoring Yoongi’s soft whimpers of defeat.

“Too bad, but there is no turning back now. I have six deliveries today and I am not putting my livelihood on the line just because your balls have magically shrunk in size,” Seokjin snickers. He glances at Yoongi from the corner of his eye and feels the slightest touch of pity for the pathetic fool beside him. “But if it really makes you want to shit yourself from anxiety, we could save Y/N for last. Though, on second thought… That could also prolong your misery, which I will always be up for.”

“God, shut up,” Yoongi groans, slamming his head on the dashboard. Seokjin continues undeterred as he pulls into the campus parking lot, waiting for his friend to make up his damn mind for once in his life. He supposes that he is being a little harsh on Yoongi, but there are only so many sad love songs he can listen to without going completely insane.

Aren’t you tired of being nice? The demon on his shoulder cajoles, shoving the corpse of his angel counterpart somewhere down a ditch. Don’t you just want to go apeshit?

And who is Seokjin to deny his impulsive needs anyway?

“No, let’s… just get this over with,” Yoongi decides, head still smushed against his dashboard. He doesn’t make any move to get out of the car, not even when Seokjin shuts off the engine and makes a show of “leaving” Yoongi behind.

“Okay, lover boy. You have ten seconds to get your butt into high gear before I’m leaving you behind. And you should know that I’m not above playing dirty and giving Y/N the sweetest fucking hug of her life that will make her forget anyone else exists in this world, so you better start moving before I–”

Like lightning, Yoongi scrambles out of the car faster than if it had caught on fire (and Seokjin’s car has exploded before and Yoongi certainly did not seem as bothered to escape than he does right now.) He nearly trips over himself in his haste, getting caught by the car door and nearly receiving a concrete facial to boot. He straightens up with as much dignity as he can muster (which he doesn’t have very much of, if at all.) Seokjin is kind enough not to mention anything, but the shit-eating grin on his face is enough to make Yoongi bristle.

They exit the parking lot, looking to the world like the sun and moon had turned human for the day. Min Yoongi, with his all-black attire and gaunt appearance, is heavily juxtaposed with the man who appears to have been vomited on by a rainbow. They walk side-by-side together, accustomed to the stares that often come their way when they go out in public.

“I just can’t believe we’re doing this,” Yoongi moans for the umpteenth time, his movements stilted like a robot. His footsteps look heavily disjointed like his knees were beginning to rust. His arms swing like a pendulum, adding to the unnaturalness of his motions. Basically, he looks like a fucking idiot.

“Who are you calling an idiot?” Yoongi snaps. Seokjin startles a bit, realizing belatedly that he’d said that out loud. Not that he cares. Yoongi continues, “I’m not the one wearing a fucking cardboard sign that looks like a toddler made it with macaroni and glitter!”

“Hey, Taehyung told me it looked good,” Seokjin sniffs, fingering the macaroni pieces dejectedly. “I don’t need to hear an opinion from a Music major.”

“Shut up, Business major. No one likes you fucking snakes,” Yoongi retorts, crossing his arms. “Your definition of fun is going on LinkedIn and using Excel sheets.”

Distracted by their own quarrel, neither of them notice the sound of the large clock in the middle of campus that chimes every hour, signaling that it was already 5 PM. A few minutes later, hoards of students begin to leave university for the day, the walkways beginning to fill with people as they head home. Amidst the chattering and bustling of everyone trying to get out of the crowd, it is hard to notice that you are also one of the hundreds of people finishing your last class of the day.

But Yoongi notices, as he always does. Call it Y/N intuition, or whatever. “There,” Yoongi points you out over dozens of heads. Seokjin can hardly spot you, but he trusts Yoongi’s weird Y/N-dar to find you without fail. People have begun to notice the two of them, most of whom were whispering excitedly when they notice that Seokjin is in his work attire.

“Oh my god, someone’s getting a hug-o-gram! I wonder who…”

“Have you ever ordered one? I got one for my current girlfriend last month and that’s how we got together.”

“I’ve always wanted to send one, but the prices are insane! Fuck them business students and their capitalist ways.”

“Screw sending a hug to someone else! I wanna order a hug for me. Kim Seokjin is a hot piece of ass.”

(Yoongi swears the last comment had sounded eerily like Seokjin himself, but the older boy’s mouth hadn’t moved in the last minute.)

“Alright, Yoongi. Here’s the plan,” Seokjin leans closer to Yoongi, stage whispering into his ear. Everyone within a six-foot radius is eagerly eavesdropping, not even bothering to pretend that they aren’t. It’s common knowledge that Seokjin basks in their attention, anyway. Yoongi rolls his eyes, urging him to get it over with.

“Y/N is over there, right? Well, I have to send a hug to this guy named Mark Lee too, who just so happens to be over there,” Seokjin points behind them, in the opposite direction of where Y/N was heading, “so here’s my proposition. You go over to Y/N and deliver the hug for me, while I go catch up to Mark so that we can kill one bird with two stones!”

“Excuse me?” Yoongi wheezes, pushing Seokjin away from him. His eyes bug out. “Are you insane? I am not doing that. And the phrase is ‘killing two birds with one stone,’ you fucking idiot.”

“Same shit, Shakespeare! Who cares about numbers!” Seokjin exclaims, exasperated. “Listen, would you rather you hug Mark and I hug Y/N?”

“I would much rather prefer that I stick my whole fist up your anus,” Yoongi seethes.

“Interesting proposition, but maybe for a later time,” Seokjin says, not missing a beat. “Listen, dude. The longer we prolong this little bitchfest you have going on, the farther away Y/N is gonna get. You know I will stop at nothing to deliver her hug anyway, so would you rather you miss your chance right now when I am so magnanimously offering you a shot at getting closer to your crush?”

Even though Yoongi feels like his insides were slowly turning into mashed potatoes, he knows that he had already made a decision long before they left the house. Seokjin is right; this is a good opportunity for him, whether he is willing to admit it out loud. Perhaps it is just because it is Seokjin of all people who is egging him on that preprogrammed him into thinking that this was a bad idea. In all seriousness, it was just a hug, nothing fancy. It isn’t like Yoongi was going to have to kiss you––

(His heart contracts and Yoongi wonders if he’s having a stroke. The thought of your soft lips connecting with his is enough to cause the wind to knock out of his chest. God, Yoongi is so screwed.)

“Why must I always feel as though I am a snail and God is personally salting me,” Yoongi groans, stepping away from Seokjin and heading your way. Behind him, Seokjin hollers in what he assumes is friendly support, but it only further antagonizes Yoongi. The absolute buffoon waves enthusiastically from behind him, a beaming grin almost ready to split his face in two. Yoongi flips him off without looking back.

God fucking dammit. The closer that Yoongi is to approaching you, the stronger the urge to just evaporate like ice cream on hot concrete becomes. He can feel himself perspiring from every corner of his body and he just hopes that his black attire will do well to mask the slimy creature that he is underneath his clothing.

This is all Seokjin’s fault, Yoongi reminds himself. If he hadn’t started this stupid hugging service in the first place, then no one would have ordered a hug for you in the first place. Then Yoongi wouldn’t have to be in this stupid predicament either!

But you could’ve ordered a hug for her if you wanted to, says the annoying part of his brain – the same part that’s always been a little bit too hopeful for Yoongi’s liking. The whispers continue, And she wouldn’t even know it would be you! But more importantly…

“Seokjin wouldn’t know either,” Yoongi huffs irritably because he knows it’s true. The biggest thing stopping him from ever making a move on you, other than his debilitating fear of rejection and heartbreak, is the fact that he’d rather explode into spores than for Seokjin to find out that he’d used his “genius” business idea to get the girl of his dreams.

He’s afraid that one day, Seokjin would magically develop telepathic powers (a fear that Yoongi feels that the majority of the human population should also share) and find out that Yoongi doesn’t actually think his hug-o-gram service is dumb. It’s actually really cute, and Yoongi hates to admit that the success rate of his service is nearly perfect in terms of getting couples together.

But Yoongi is a strong (read: stubborn) man; he’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin the satisfaction of seeing his business work out for his seemingly hopeless case. Which brings him to the present–

You’re standing by the entrance of the Sciences building. You are dressed nicely as always; Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever seen you in anything remotely slobby, not even a pair of sweats like any regular uni student. You always look a little bit business proper: the epitome of someone who should be on the student council.

You’re speaking to someone, a younger male student by the looks of it. The hairs on Yoongi’s neck stand at attention and, God forbid, did he just fucking growl? Did he make that sound? By the looks of the students carefully navigating their way around him, Yoongi surmises that he did make that sound. Geez, is he some sort of animal? Is he going to turn into those feral stan accounts on Twitter that salivate over their K-pop boys like it’s their job? He hopes not.

But what if that’s the kid who sent the hug–

Yoongi shuts up his brain before he can let it finish. No, he can’t let himself go down that path. It’ll only cause him to self-combust right then and there, and he isn’t exactly keen on letting you see his entrails anytime soon. That would be the least cool thing to do, he decides. And so, with his brain turned off, he walks over to you, arms swinging robotically by his sides as he forces himself closer.

“Oh thank you so much, Y/N! You’ve been a real help to our club, you know?” The boy (Yoongi can’t believe they’re letting toddlers into university these days!) says, his eyes glittering with an ambition that still hasn’t been killed by the all-consuming dread that comes with university.

You laugh lightly, the sound causing butterflies to flutter excitedly in Yoongi’s chest. “No worries, Soobin. I’m glad I could be of help. If the editorial board needs any more help, don’t be shy to shoot me a message, alright?”

Soobin nods enthusiastically, his head bobbing up and down so quickly that Yoongi was afraid his neck would snap. “No worries, Y/N! Have a good rest of your week!” He waves a cheery goodbye, springing away with his numerous anime keychains on his backpack jingling softly in his wake.

“What a cute kid,” you sigh. You look incredibly fond, and Yoongi hates the bitter coil swimming in the pit of his stomach. That feeling soon fizzles out when you finally turn to face Yoongi. Your eyebrows shoot up, but your expression quickly morphs into one of pleasant surprise. Yoongi’s heart stops for just a moment, feet turning cold. “Yoongi! Oh my goodness, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve seen you! How’s it going?”

Let’s play a game, shall we? How many of Yoongi’s nervous ticks can you spot within the next five minutes? Think of this as the easiest game of Where’s Waldo ever!

“Hnng,” Yoongi stammers, his hand immediately going to scratch the back of his neck. His cheeks pinken, pupils shaking in every different direction as they try to focus on anything but you. It always feels like he’s standing way too close to the sun when he’s around you, hardly able to keep his gaze focused on you. He chooses to stare resolutely at your chin, but even your fucking chin was impossibly cute.

Seriously? Yoongi is a walking shitshow! His inner voice comes back, but this time it sounds uncannily like his roommate. Come on, buddy. Just say hi… You know, like a normal person. “H… Hey, Y/N.”

Success count: 1 point for the Yogurt Machine!

Even though Yoongi felt like he was living his worst nightmare, you still looked every bit like his favorite daydream. You are all smiles, seemingly unperturbed by Yoongi’s slow, embarrassing demise. “It’s so good to see you! Midterms haven’t been too hard on you, I hope?”

“I’ve been better,” he says. Better now that you’re here, he leaves unsaid. God, can you imagine if he said that out loud?

Your mouth drops open, soft cherry blossoms blooming across your cheeks. “Um, what did you say?” you squeak, embarrassed. But certainly not as embarrassed as the boy in front of you.

Yoongi stops breathing. He did not say that aloud, had he? Judging by the awkward silence stretching between the two of you, the signs are pointing to: yes. Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygo–– “Er, what I mean to say is,” Yoongi stutters through his sentence, his entire body flushing fire engine red like it’s nobody’s business. He must look like Satan’s spanked ass right now. “I… I’m here to deliver a hug!”

Confusion quickly replaces the shock on your face. You tilt your head, brows scrunching up cutely. “A hug?” you ask.

“R-right,” Yoongi says, waving his arms around because he has nothing else better to do. He gestures vaguely in the opposite direction, where Seokjin had left to find his other clients. “I’m, uhh… Helping my roommate. Have you heard of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram service?”

“Oh, yeah!” You hop excitedly in place, looking to all the world like the cutest thing in the universe. Yoongi thinks you should be classified as a public hazard, what with how you’re somehow able to give him diabetes just from standing next to him. “I totally heard about that! I’ve always wanted to send a hug, but I’ve always been a little shy.”

That piques Yoongi’s interest immediately. You wanted to send a hug? But to who? He unconsciously clenches his jaw, and he can feel a vein pop up near his neck. He forces himself to smile, but he knows it probably looks more like a grimace. “Oh really? That’s… I didn’t know you had a crush on somebody.”

Yoongi is too busy wallowing in his own self-pity puddle that he misses the way you gaze shyly up at him through your eyelashes, your hands clasped behind your back. “Y-yea… I don’t really go around telling it to just anybody,” you shrug as nonchalantly as you can. You clear your throat. “So, are you here to deliver a hug or something?”

Nothing gets past you, huh? Yoongi swallows thickly as he twiddles his thumbs. He still can’t bear to look at you head-on, afraid that his emotions would be too obvious if he did. (Who is he kidding… He knows he’s fucking obvious, and yet you never seem to get the picture!) “Yea, I am. I’m here to deliver one to you, actually.”

He doesn’t get to see your reaction, but he does notice the way your entire body stiffens. His mind immediately starts to run a minute, trying to guess why you’d suddenly gone stock still.

Did you know who your secret admirer was already? Or perhaps, were you just thoroughly shocked to receive one at all? That can’t be it… You’re the campus sweetheart! Surely it’s much weirder that it has taken eons for you to get your first hug… Or perhaps, are you so disgusted by the thought of him delivering the hug? Oh my god, what if you didn’t want him to hug you? Shit, this entire thing is a terrible idea! How did Seokjin ever convince him to do this stupid shit and get his heartbroken in the process? He swears he’s going to shove ten firecrackers up his ass the next time he sees him––

“Um, Yoongi?” You’re staring worriedly at him, your hand semi-raised as if you were about to wave in front of him. Did you say something? He must look like a fucking prick to you! He shakes his head, trying desperately to get his mind back into his body. Why must he be cursed with inner monologue disease? What is he, some sort of shoujo manga male protagonist?

“Sorry about that. I’ve been a little spacey these days,” he laughs, but even he can hear the panic laced in his voice. He sounds just on the edge of being hysterical. “Ahaha… What were you saying?”

“I was just… shocked?” You giggle softly, making Yoongi cry internally. You smirk, mischief glittering in your eyes. “I just never imagined you’d be the type to… I don’t know…”

“Willingly hug people for the sake of capitalism? I feel you,” Yoongi snorts, forgetting for a moment who he’s talking to. “Believe me, I’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin to use me for his stupid business venture.”

“Then why are you delivering a hug to me now?” you ask, still smiling.

“Hnng,” Yoongi’s tongue feels like it’s grown two sizes all of a sudden. He wheezes, choking on his own spit as he’s caught off guard by your question. “W-well, I––”

“Just being a good friend, I’m guessing?” You’re full-on giggling now, barely trying to hide your mirth behind your hands. Yoongi understands now; you’re teasing him. He hates how amused you are by his awkwardness, but he loves the way your entire expression lights up, like you’re enjoying yourself by being with him.

“Let’s go with that,” Yoongi mumbles, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. He has his head bowed, hoping that his unruly fringe can finally come in handy and hide the disastrous blush encompassing his face. “Right… I’ll just, umm…”

“Am I getting my hug today, or am I gonna have to take a rain check?” You laugh, slapping his shoulder in an attempt to help him shake off the awkward tension. It has the opposite intended effect, as Yoongi’s breath hitches imperceptibly at your proximity. You had taken a step closer, and Yoongi could smell the sweet perfume you always seemed to be wearing. Please don’t pop a boner right now. That would be super fucking creepy.

“You’re…” Yoongi hesitates, arms uselessly immobile by his sides. He doesn’t know if he can even get them to move at this point, as he has lost all motor skills the moment you had focused all your attention on him. It’s a miracle that his heart remembers to beat every so often. “I’m just… I’m just gonna go for it, okay?”

You nod, hands tucked neatly behind your back. “No need to be scared, Yoongi. I don’t bite,” you joke.

God, if you only knew about the dreams I’ve had of you. Yoongi hopes to all the deities from up above that he had not said that aloud, but you don’t seem to be disgusted, so he can only assume that his traitorous brain had disconnected with his mouth for the time being.

He shuffles closer to you, the warmth of your body closing in as he makes the grueling effort to lift his arms up to gently wrap themselves around you, but before he can even fully hug you––

You’re quick to reciprocate. With a small laugh, you wrap your own arms around his torso, nuzzling into his chest with more force than Yoongi was expecting. He lets out a soft wheeze, mouth dropping open when he is assaulted by the smell of your fruity shampoo. His hands hover awkwardly above you, still unsure of where it’s okay to touch you without weirding you out.

You tilt your face up, eyes crinkling cutely by the sheer force of your grin. Both of your faces are only centimeters away from each other, and Yoongi could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired. His breathing stills as he becomes positively mesmerized by the beautiful sight in front of him. He doesn’t even hear the sound of phone camera shutters around him, as he is much too deeply focused on nothing but you, you, you.

“Hey, don’t half-ass your hug! Gimme a good ol’ bear hug!” you whine, nudging his elbows gently to get them to move. Snapped out of his reverie, Yoongi mechanically does as you say, his head completely empty of thoughts. He wraps his arms tightly around your shoulders, his wrist knocking slightly against the back of your head until you’re back to snuggling deep into his chest.

“Your laundry detergent smells nice,” you say, slightly muffled by his shirt. Yoongi lets out a breathy laugh, mostly out of disbelief more than anything. He can’t even begin to process anything right now; he feels like he’s reverted back into a single-celled organism.

“Thanks?” Yoongi squeaks, but you don’t seem to mind his awkward attempts at being a Normal Person™️. You crane your neck upwards so that you’re looking him directly in the eye. There’s a twinkle of mischief there, like you’re enjoying Yoongi’s flushed face a little too much. He honestly feels like he’s seconds away from exploding into tiny bite-sized pieces, and he fears that if you snuggle deeper into his chest, he might just do exactly that.

“So… Are we just supposed to hug for another ten minutes, or am I allowed to let go?”

Yoongi doesn’t even realize how long it’s been. You could’ve been hugging him for ten hours and he wouldn’t have known. Yoongi jerks away from you, nearly vaulting himself across campus by how quickly he lets you go. Thankfully, you don’t appear offended––you were more amused than anything. Yoongi has no idea how red he is right now; he feels like he could be blowing steam out of his ears, astounding anatomists everywhere by his peculiar talent.

“I just have to–” Yoongi pats his back pockets for his phone, clumsily pulling it out and looking for his text messages, “–read this message from your, um, secret admirer and then we’ll be good to go.”

“Great.” You nod at him enthusiastically. “Whenever you’re ready, Yoonie.”

Yoongi’s breath hitches right then, caught off guard by the nickname. Only you ever called him that, and it never fails to make Yoongi’s insides feel like molten lava every time you say it. “I… Yeah, here goes,” Yoongi mutters, trying his best to remember how to speak.

He recites the message with as much enthusiasm as he can manage, which is to say, not very much. He could probably read the phonebook with more zeal, but it’s hard to give it his all when the words feel like acid in his throat. He’s unconsciously clenching his jaw as he speaks, looking like a constipated gorilla. “...so, if you’re single and ready to #mingle, then––” Yoongi stops mid-sentence, staring resolutely at his phone screen with a grimace.

You blink confusedly. “Then?”

“Then nothing,” Yoongi finishes, pocketing his phone without an inch of remorse. “I don’t know what was up with that message, but somehow the letter got cut short. Sorry about that.”

“Huh, strange.” You shrug your shoulders, not bothering to question him.

Yoongi fist bumps himself mentally, though other people might disagree and say that he doesn’t deserve any type of congratulations, to which Yoongi says a big “fuck you!” to those imaginary haters. In the wise words of Kim Seokjin himself, “not everyone is worthy to receive your fucks, so it’s time to stop giving them.” (Kim, 2020)

“Well, that was fun! Thanks for delivering the hug to me, Yoonie,” you pinch Yoongi’s cheek, giggling when they turn even redder. “I’ll see you around, I guess? Don’t let those midterms kill ya!” You wave cheerily at him, walking past him and heading towards the bus stops. Yoongi stands frozen in place, the events of the last few minutes finally catching up to him and frying his brain beyond repair.

Oh my god, he fucking hugged you! Like, a good and genuine hug! You felt so warm and so soft and you smelled really good and it was more than he could ever imagine and just––

Yoongi’s brain is trying (and failing) to desperately parse the delayed barrage of information as it comes, but it’s hard for the little hamster running circles in his head when it has never had to run a day in its life. Yoongi’s body feels like it’s overheating even though the weather is nearing the start of winter, but that’s all thanks to you and the devastating effect you have on him.

In short, Yoongi machine has broken, and any sort of maintenance is going to be hard to come by at the moment.

Yoongi could have been standing in front of the Science building for an entire year and he wouldn’t have budged until a tornado in the form of Kim Seokjin arrived to knock him out of his brain dead state. Whistling lowly, the elder stops in front of the rigid mass of meat, an eyebrow quirked in exasperation. “Dude, nice rigor mortis cosplay. Like, yes girl, give us nothing!” he exclaims, slapping Yoongi back to consciousness.

Yoongi blinks rapidly, dazed like he’s woken up from a dream. “What? What’s happening?” he replies dumbly.

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Yoongi. Did you finish delivering Y/N’s hug or what? I finished all my deliveries in the same time you had with Y/N, so I better hope to God you aren’t planning on applying to be an employee of mine, because you certainly have a long way to go before––”

“I hugged her,” Yoongi interrupts, eyes going glassy once more. His mouth is agape, and Seokjin can see a pool of saliva forming, ready to runneth over. He could see the rusted gears turning inside his dongsaeng’s head. “Oh my god, hyung. I fucking hugged her.”

“Yeah, and I hugged Taehyung Kim and felt his gigantic dick press into my stomach. You aren’t special,” Seokjin snorts, clasping Yoongi by the bicep. He drags him away, leading them to their parked car. “C’mon, Dampé. I’m tired and I wanna eat popcorn again.”

As they walk back to the parking lot, the campus roads are a lot less populated now that most students have gone home. Yoongi only then realizes how late it truly is and he vaguely wonders how long he had been stuck standing there before Seokjin had come to drag him back home. The sun has begun its daily descent, filling the courtyard with a warm glow and causing their shadows to grow longer as they trudge quietly to their car.

The campus is quiet enough that both of them hear the quiet buzz of Seokjin’s phone, despite him putting it on silent mode before he had gone on his hugging deliveries. He stops mid-step, causing Yoongi to bump his nose into his wide back. He yelps, shoving Seokjin forward in irritation.

“Why’d you fucking stop, you asshole?” Yoongi whines, his normal annoying personality resurfacing now that he’s begun to recover from your hug. He peers over Seokjin’s behemoth shoulders, squinting at his phone screen. “What? Another hug delivery?”

“Yeah. I’ll do it tomorrow since I think she’s gone home for the day,” Seokjin says, his tone sounding slightly too delighted for comfort. “In fact, I know she’s gone home already.”

Yoongi stills, changing his focus onto the elder’s expression. He looks… too eager to receive a simple hug-o-gram request. A shiver shoots through Yoongi’s spine when he realizes how nefariously bastardous Seokjin’s smile has grown, the tips of his smirk curling upwards like a villain from a classic Disney animation.

“What?” Yoongi glares acidly at Seokjin, but the elder is unaffected. In fact, he seems to grow more pleased the more aggravated Yoongi becomes. “Spit it out! What’s got your prostate tickled?”

“Oh, nothing,” Seokjin singsongs, shoving his phone down the front of his pants, exactly where he knows Yoongi would never touch. “Just got an interesting new regular customer, is all.”

“A new regular?” Yoongi’s pitch heightens, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling in alarm (like a cat.) “Is it… Another request for… You know who?”

“I wasn’t aware Voldemort went to our university,” Seokjin teases, thoroughly enjoying Yoongi’s distress. “Though, if you’re talking about Y/N, then the answer is not not not no.”

“Two double negatives.” Anyone could hear the audible soft rattling of his two brain cells exerting themselves as Yoongi deciphers his answer. “That means…”

Yoongi stares pointedly at Seokjin’s crotch, where the outline of his phone is glaringly obvious. “Show me,” Yoongi growls, not making a move to actually touch Seokjin’s nether regions.

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. “No one’s stopping you from taking my phone though?”

“Hyung!”

“Buy me bubble tea first, then we’ll talk.”

“Fine,” Yoongi acquiesces, folding his arms in annoyance. “Just tell me. Is it really the same guy who requested the hug for Y/N today as well?”

Seokjin fiddles around for his phone, digging deeper when it nearly drops down the leg of his pants. When he pulls it out and swipes to his e-mails, he confirms Yoongi’s fear. “Yep. And it seems like he saw you deliver the hug today. Says that he’d prefer that I deliver the hug next time,” Seokjin smirks, enjoying the deep-set frown on Yoongi’s face.

When Seokjin takes a closer look at the order, however, he notices something a little off. “Hold on a sec,” he scrolls to the receipt, scowling when he sees the incorrect amount. “Well, you might be in luck, Yoongi-chi. Looks like loverboy sent the wrong payment. He’s a few dollars short.”

“What?” Yoongi says, for what feels like the tenth time in this entire fic. He grabs Seokjin’s phone, no longer repulsed by where it had been only a few minutes prior. Like Seokjin said, the customer had given the wrong amount, much to both their confusion.

“That’s weird, considering he just ordered a hug today,” Seokjin murmurs, shaking his head. “Oh well. Happens to the best of us. Guess I’ll just have to refund the poor sap.”

“Wait,” Yoongi presses the phone to his chest, preventing Seokjin from taking it. His hyung raises a brow.

“What is it?”

“What if I just… pay you the remaining amount? Then I can also deliver the hug to her and, uhh...” Yoongi mumbles the remaining part, but Seokjin has trained his ears to catch every whisper and mutter for moments just like this. He wouldn’t be where he is today if he didn’t perfect his eavesdropping skills to a spy’s degree. That’s right––Seokjin is a sloppy and nosey bitch and he’s not afraid to admit it!

“Oh? Do my ears deceive me?” Seokjin guffaws, pinching Yoongi’s cheeks for good measure. He hisses in response, but Seokjin isn’t afraid of some little kitten. Seokjin is a bigger bitch with a meaner bite. “Is my little Yoongi Woongi seriously offering to deliver another hug to Miss Y/N? How magnanimous of you.”

Yoongi stares at him, stunned for a moment. A few seconds pass before he shakes his head, faux disdain coloring his expression. “That’s right,” Yoongi huffs, detaching himself from Seokjin’s meaty claws. He keeps his gaze averted, like the big stupid tsundere that he is. “I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart! I care about your profits, and I want to make your workload a little lighter! Isn’t that what you want?”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Seokjin snickers, poking Yoongi in the tit. He swivels away, skipping merrily away to their parked car. “I’m expecting that cash in my Paypal by the time I get to the car, or else the deal is off. Make it snappy, loverboy!”

Yoongi had never transferred cash to someone so quickly in his life.

(Yes, not even when the food court on campus was doing a BOGO promo for churros. That’s the extent of how whipped his ass is, period.)

x x x x x

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

“Listen, I’m seriously not forcing you to do this,” Seokjin starts, even though he’s giving his utmost effort to further embarrass Yoongi by handing out flyers about Hug-o-gram’s newest employee. “Please, take one!” he cajoles, offering a flyer to a gaggle of giggling freshmen. “Make sure to reserve a hug within the week! Yoongi-chi over here is on his way to becoming employee of the month if he gets ten requests by Friday!” They all point and whisper at Yoongi, and he swears he hears one of them wolf whistle in admiration.

“That’s what makes this entire thing terrible. I’m doing this on my own volition, and I absolutely abhor myself for it,” Yoongi moans, grabbing Seokjin’s stack of flyers and smacking himself in the head with them. It probably would’ve hurt more when Seokjin still had a full-stack, but people had swarmed them the moment they entered the heart of the campus, everyone curious to see Yoongi in his interesting attire.

Seokjin might have been famous for creating the Hug-o-gram Service, but Yoongi was famous for hating the business idea, so it’s easy to understand why everyone was interested. (For good reason, he thinks darkly to himself.)

“Damn, Yoongi-chi. Looks like you’re trending on the campus Reddit page,” Seokjin laughs, wheezing even harder when Yoongi points him with a murderous glare. “What? Like you said, this was all your idea.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask to wear… whatever this is!” Yoongi whines, tugging on the string around his neck. The cardboard sign had been ready and prepared the moment they arrived home the other day, arousing Yoongi’s suspicions on Seokjin’s actual involvement in his current predicament. Those suspicions are put in the backburner for now, however, as Yoongi actually feels like he might die of embarrassment instead of the packets of MSG coursing through his veins from the ten ramen packs he ate this morning. Maybe both will kill him, if he’s lucky.

“Well, I would love to lend you my uniform, but I haven’t gotten a t-shirt printed with your face on it yet, so you’ll have to deal with the kitten ears and cardboard sign for now,” Seokjin says, patting him on the back. “Or, would you rather I have you wear a shirt with my face on it? I’m open to suggestions.”

“I’d rather swallow a Tide pod, thanks,” Yoongi says through gritted teeth. “C’mon, let’s move. We’ve been standing in the middle of campus like street clowns for long enough. We need to find Y/N because her class is about to end.”

“Street clowns, huh? I guess you are only missing the make-up to complete the look, especially since you seem adamant to keep honking your way through that sickening crush of yours.” Seokjin nearly catches a punch to the head, but his superior reaction time saves him from Yoongi’s sorely lacking physicality. He snatches Yoongi by the hand, dragging them towards your lecture hall. “C’mon, clown! Let’s honk this bread!”

As the two of them get closer to where you are, Yoongi’s heartbeat begins to accelerate. He wonders idly if he should see a doctor after all this, hoping that he hadn’t actually contracted heart disease due to all this stress. Lord forbid that he meet his end before he even gets to ask you out or something!

Even though he’s already hugged you once (and it was, by far, the most euphoric experience of his sad, miserable life), he still finds himself getting clammy hands at the thought of seeing you again. Nevermind the fact that he looked like a walking circus with his get-up… No, Yoongi refuses to think about it anymore, lest his last remaining brain wrinkle irreversibly smoothens.

The campus clock rings loudly, signaling the end of another block of classes. Students rush out of the buildings, with you being one of the first ones out for a change. When Yoongi spots your head of hair among the crowd, he doesn’t immediately notice what you’re wearing at first. In fact, it’s Seokjin who stops in his tracks for a moment, surprised by how you look.

“Woah, Y/N! Looking good,” Seokjin greets, rushing past Yoongi to envelop you in a hug. (A platonic hug, Yoongi reminds himself. Because unlike Yoongi, Seokjin is a normal human being who can give hugs to anyone he wants because he’s… fucking Seokjin! Lucky bastard that he is.)

“Woah!” You laugh, surprised by the sudden hug. You pat him on the back giddily, allowing him to swing you around a little. “What’s this all about? Am I getting a hug-o-gram again?”

“Yes, you are. But not from me,” Seokjin detaches himself from you, scooting away to point at Yoongi. When Seokjin moves away, Yoongi finally understands why his hyung had said you looked good. No, that was an understatement––you looked [redacted].

(For the sake of the author’s fragile ash-coated heart, she has chosen to redact Yoongi’s exact words to protect herself from slamming her head against a keyboard from how cheesy this fic is becoming. Let’s just say the word starts with a B and ends with an L. Make of that as you will.)

You must have come out of an interview or presentation of sorts because you were dressed more nicely than you usually do, which is a pretty big deal considering how put together you always looked. Your hair is styled nicely, obviously given much more care and effort than your regular appearance. You’re wearing a cute little black dress, long enough to be professional but short enough to give Yoongi breathing problems.

If Yoongi’s brain had a playlist, it would be nothing but the sound of him going HNNNNNNNNNG on repeat.

“Oh geez.” Yoongi curses lowly, smiling through the pain. This is fine, he thinks, even though it is clearly not fine. Yoongi has always been a terrible liar.

“Yoongi?” You sound incredulous, though that’s honestly a win in Yoongi’s book considering everything. You didn’t look disgusted, so that’s great. “You look…” You stop yourself, covering your mouth to hide your grin but your amusement is palpable. At least he made you laugh, he supposes.

“Like a fucking idiot? You said it,” Yoongi snorts, arms crossed defiantly. He’s trying to look intimidating, but with his cheeks puffed up and these abominable kitten ears on his head, he looks more like a grumpy cat throwing a tantrum. He juts a thumb at Seokjin, “Thank this himbo for the outfit. I definitely would have chosen something more… inconspicuous.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” You quip, still trying to mask your giggles. On the other hand, Seokjin was wheezing like a hyena, his phone pulled out and presumably filming Yoongi to add to his cringe compilation.

“Exactly what I said!” Seokjin says through his laughter, tears of mirth streaming down his face. He walks back to Yoongi, pushing him forward until he’s face to face with you. “Go on, then! We haven’t got all day!”

“I’m assuming you’re officially part of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram business now?” you ask, opening your arms wide to accept his hug. Like the beta male that he is, Yoongi has to be the one to follow in your footsteps, meekly coming closer to wrap you in an embrace.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Yoongi mutters, tucking his chin onto your shoulder. He feels you vibrate with laughter, bringing a small smile on his own face. He likes making you laugh, always has.

With the cardboard sign serving as a barrier between the two of you, he isn’t as fearful of you feeling the erratic beat of his heart, though it wouldn’t be hard to guess if you looked at him. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy your hug rather than just panic through the entire ordeal like yesterday.

Soon enough, you’re detaching yourself from him, still standing close. Your arm is just a hair’s breadth away, and if not for Seokjin enthusiastically videotaping this entire experience, Yoongi might have closed in for another hug if he could manage.

“It’s always nice to get a hug from someone you like, huh?” You say, cheeks tinted a rosy color. The true meaning of your words flies over Yoongi’s head, as his feeble mind chooses to focus on your comment a little differently.

“I––Of course I like you! We’re friends, aren’t we?” Yoongi laughs nervously, unaware that he’s slowly digging himself into a ditch. To the side, Seokjin audibly slaps a hand to his face, body shivering with secondhand embarrassment from being blasted by the full force of how idiotic his friend actually is.

Yoongi sees you deflate a little, further confusing him. “Yeah, you’re right I guess…” You sigh, taking a step backward dejectedly. Yoongi flounders a little, unsure how he managed to fuck up in just a few seconds when you had just hugged him like your life depended on it.

Choosing now to interfere before the going gets rough, Seokjin steps in between and slings an arm around both of you. Yoongi groans under the weight of his arm, glaring when he notices that Seokjin had done it on purpose, but only to him. You don’t look too bothered by his rude gesture, albeit you were more befuddled than before.

“Hey, Y/N! I don’t know if you’ve ever ordered a hug-o-gram before, but I’m doing a special this week! Now that Yoongi-chi has so kindly joined the team,” Seokjin gives him a pointed look, to which the black-haired music major sticks his tongue out petulantly, “we’re doing a little promotion for first-time customers! Would you be interested in ordering one?”

Your eyes widen, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “M-me? Ordering a hug-o-gram? Well, I…” you hesitate, sending a small glance at Yoongi before looking away in embarrassment. “I would like to, but I don’t know if it’ll be well received, you see…”

Seokjin grumbles, silently cursing the stupid shithead who caused his own demise in the first place. The worst part is that he had no idea that he totally just friendzoned you! YOU! Someone who was literally leagues ahead of him. He sincerely has no idea what you see in this bumbling idiot, but everyone with a brain knows that you have been crushing on him for as long as he’s been crushing on you, so perhaps you’re a little bit of an idiot yourself for liking him back.

Being friends with the two of you makes him feel like he’s constantly wearing a sloppy wet diaper, and he hates it. He wants to wipe his ass as soon as possible!

Seokjin shoves Yoongi away roughly, ignoring his indignant squawks as he pulls you aside. He takes you by the hand, taking you a few steps away from Yoongi, far enough that he can whisper into your ear without the other boy hearing.

Yoongi fumes from the sidelines, trying to keep his emotions in check even though he’s bursting at the seams with jealousy. Not for the first time, Yoongi irritably realizes that he does act like a cat, especially in moments like this. He might make fun of Seokjin for being an attention whore, but Yoongi is the same, if only at a smaller scale. He just wants you to look at him, as selfish as that sounds.

Can someone give him a break? He’s been holding in his crush for four years now… Imagine having to take a massive shit after drinking two gallons of milk while being lactose intolerant, except every time you line up for the washroom, the line gets increasingly long no matter how long you wait. That is the extent of his suffering, he tells himself. So please, excuse his dramatics for this one instance.

(Seokjin’s Note: This fucking jackass is SO stupid. If he only knew how easy it is to ask you out, he would know that his emotional constipation could be solved if he just fucking ASKED where the next washroom is. He could have relieved himself ages ago, but NO! And he calls me the idiot! Me! The utter betrayal! I’m never agreeing to become the second lead to a rom-com ever again!)

When Seokjin finishes whispering in your ears, you appear amused by what he had said. Yoongi sweats when you turn to face him, grinning slyly at him. “Is that so…” you wonder aloud. Yoongi feels like the world has shifted on its axis somewhat, though he still doesn’t know exactly how. He has a hunch that he’s going to find out soon enough.

“Would I ever lie to you?” Seokjin laughs that annoying laugh of his, slapping his thigh in the process. He straightens up almost immediately, his expression turning deadpan in an instant. “Send me the details by tonight, and I’ll make sure to deliver it, okay?”

“Promise?” You ask, holding a pinky up towards him. Yoongi might have let out a high pitched sob when he sees the gesture, wanting nothing more than to cup your hands in his. God, if he already nearly died from hugging you, who is to say Yoongi won’t immediately disintegrate if you were ever to hold his hand?

“Promise,” Seokjin replies, linking his pinky with yours. He doesn’t forget to point a shit-eating grin at Yoongi, for good measure.

You pull away, looking happier than you did moments prior. You were absolutely glowing, filling Yoongi with a warmth that only you ever knew how to provide. He wants to make you smile like that all the time, wants nothing more than for you to live beside him, filling his walls with the sound of your tinkling laughter. You wave cheerily at the both of them, stepping away to head home. “I guess I’ll see you, then? I’ll make sure to e-mail you my request, Seokjin!” you say, winking teasingly. “Bye to you too, Yoongi! Thanks for the hug!”

Yoongi watches as you walk further and further away as the usual melancholy that follows whenever you leave soon takes its place in his soul. It might be his imagination, but Yoongi thinks the cat ears on his head might have started to droop to match his mood.

The only way he knows how to replace the sadness, however, is by redirecting those emotions on an unsuspecting victim. Lucky for him, a willing volunteer is already within punching distance.

“Ow! Stop punching me, you gremlin!” Seokjin whines, blocking Yoongi’s series of punches like a pro. He might as well put ‘professional punching bag’ on his resume at this point. “I’m trying to help you, you useless beta male!”

“How is this helping! You made me wear cat ears and whispered blasphemies into Y/N’s ears! Now she’s going to order a hug-o-gram for her crush and it’ll be the end of my chances with her! How could you!”

“I was not whispering blasphemies, you twittering tit! I was giving her advice,” Seokjin sniffs, annoyed. “Don’t say I never help you, by the way. I’ve been trying to help you for years now.”

Yoongi hits him with a steely glare. “Really? So replacing all my clothes in my closet with clown attire is your version of help? I had to wear those stupid clown shoes for a week before you told me where you hid my clothes, jackass!”

“I was only trying to help you physically express yourself! You’re already a clown on paper, might as well help you achieve your final form!” Seokjin huffs, infuriatingly haughty. “Listen, believe me. I only told Y/N something that everyone already knows anyway, so just shut your trap and let Daddy handle the rest. You’re not going to lose her, I promise.”

“Please never refer to yourself as Daddy ever again,” Yoongi seethes, stalking off towards their car. “Don’t ever talk to me again.”

“No talk, Yoobie angy…” Seokjin snickers to himself, following Yoongi with a spring in his step. This bastard is going to grovel at his feet by tomorrow evening, he’s sure of it. If he doesn’t, then Seokjin will bite his own dick in half––that’s how sure he is of his plan! (Not that biting his dick in half will do anything to his length; he’d still be left with eight inches, let’s be real.) All in good time.

x x x x x

Seokjin gets an e-mail the next morning, much earlier than any sane person would choose to be awake at. He groans lowly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he tries to read the contents of the letter. When he’s satisfied by what he has read, he forwards the e-mail to Yoongi before allowing sleep to take him once more.

Sleep evades him, however, when the sound of Yoongi’s big feet pounds noisily outside his bedroom. He hits his knee loudly against the coffee table, causing their beloved popcorn machine to tumble to the floor, but that is of little consequence to Yoongi right now. No, he needs to get into Seokjin’s room right now and scream––

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Yoongi hollers, slamming Seokjin’s door open. The hinges creak, desperately hanging on despite the impact. Yoongi proceeds to slam a fist upon Seokjin’s ass, who barely flinches due to the fatness of his ass cushioning most of the damage. He blinks blearily at Yoongi, but the smirk on his face is clear as day.

“Came to claim your hug so early in the morning? Well, I usually don’t entertain clients until after I’ve taken a shower, but for you… I’ll make an exception,” he yawns, peeling back his blanket and patting the empty spot on his bed. “Come on in, Yoobie Boobie… Let’s hug like it’s the last day on earth.”

Seokjin fails to realize that once he removed his blanket, he had inadvertently left himself vulnerable. Yoongi slams the heel of his foot against Seokjin’s groin, causing him to shriek bloody murder at 7 AM. He wonders, amidst his pain, whether this might be the last straw and that their landlord will finally kick them out after years of their stupid shenanigans.

“WHAT DID THAT E-MAIL MEAN? IF IT’S WHAT I THINK IT IS…” Yoongi threatens, but it’s as empty as Seokjin’s butthole. They both know the implications of that e-mail, even a toddler can put two and two together and make sense out of it. Anonymous e-mail or not, Seokjin wouldn’t just forward any hug-o-gram request to Yoongi, unless…

What did the e-mail say? It goes something like:

Dear Mr. Kim,

Thank you for offering your special promotion for new time customers of your Hug-o-gram Service! I’ve always been a quiet fan of your business idea, but I’ve always been a little shy to submit a request of my own. Thank you so much for giving me the little push that I needed to send my first (and hopefully last) hug.

I’d like to send a hug to Mr. Min Yoongi from the Music Department. I understand that he has recently been appointed an employee at your business, but seeing as how it’d be difficult for him to hug himself (while not entirely impossible), I’d like to request that you be the one to send the hug to him.

I don’t really have a message for him, per se… I’m still a little shy, even though you already told me that there is no reason to be. I want to believe what you said was true, so I’m pushing my fear aside and putting my fate into your hands. So, to Mr. Min Yoongi… “When I told you it was nice to hug someone you like, I don’t think you understood what I meant. A hug, after all, is a two-way street. They’re often served the best when it is reciprocated, if you catch my drift. :)”

Peace! :3

Regards,

[Redacted] [Redacted]

“Have your brain synapses finished connecting? Because if even this flies over your head, I’m sorry to say buddy but… You might have smooth brain syndrome,” Seokjin pipes up. He observes Yoongi’s brow crumpling, the first signal of his impending mental breakdown. If Seokjin remembers correctly, the next signal should be when––

Yoongi drops down to his knees, his phone clattering to the floor as he stares absently at the ceiling. Seokjin cringes, worried for the state of his friend’s frail kneecaps. The poor sap has bad heart health already; surely, it isn’t too early to get him a life alert button?

Seokjin scooches over his bed, dangling half his body over the edge to appraise his friend. “So. What do you plan to do now?”

For a moment, Yoongi remains silent. Eventually, he shuffles closer to him, perching his hands around Seokjin. The business student raises a brow, confused, until Yoongi pushes Seokjin back onto the middle of the bed so that he can cram himself beside Seokjin on his small double bed. He huffs amusedly, allowing the smaller boy to snuggle into his chest, though he still refuses to wrap his arms around him. Close enough, Seokjin snorts.

“I need your help, hyung.” Yoongi’s voice is small, shy. It’s so uncharacteristic of him that Seokjin immediately softens. They might act like toddlers together the majority of the time, but Seokjin truly does care about Yoongi more than anything. During early mornings like this, when the sun’s soft rays are filtering through his sheer curtains and filling the room with a gentle warmth, it’s nice to cuddle up with one another and enjoy the silence. In fact, Seokjin would never admit it to Yoongi, but he got the idea for his Hug-o-gram service from Yoongi himself, back when the younger boy would be more prone to sneaking into his bed during his bouts of loneliness and homesickness.

Above all else, Yoongi is just a boy with a lot of love to give, so who is Seokjin to say no to his pleas for help?

“You know I always got your back, Yoongi-chi. Whenever you’re ready, we can do whatever you want. Ask and you’ll receive,” he replies, caressing his soft black tresses. Yoongi hums, smiling softly into his chest.

“Thanks, dude. For being… you know.”

Seokjin’s heart pangs a little, but he ignores it. Instead, he continues combing through his hair, humming gently. “I know.”

x x x x x

It’s been a few days since you sent the e-mail to Seokjin and you haven’t heard back from him. You aren’t sure if he sends confirmation e-mails to his clients as you’d never asked for a hug-o-gram before, nor did you know anyone who has. You are forced to continue on with your days like normal, trying to ignore the unsettling anxiety from creeping up your throat and spewing all over the sidewalk.

If Seokjin hadn’t been lying to you, then there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. You’ve been harboring this crush on Yoongi for years now, and you never thought in your life that it would ever be reciprocated. He always seemed a little bit detached, a little too cool for you. Never mind the fact that he always seemed so jittery around you, like it was hard to talk to you or something!

Your answer comes on the last day of the week, after an especially rough day at class. Your back is bent, having finished a grueling four hour lab period where you did nothing but stand and stare at your reaction vessel spinning without any signal of change. You are just a little bit hangry from all the stress piling up on your plate, especially since you hadn’t eaten a decent meal since breakfast at 8 AM.

In short, life isn’t going as smoothly as you’d hoped for your senior year, but you can’t let the blues get to you too soon. After all, there are leftover chicken wings in your fridge with your name on it, and nothing beats your meat more than greasy poultry to end a terrible week.

You’re only inches away from sliding your keycard to open your shared dorm room when the door opens without prompting. You flinch backward, yelping loudly when your roommate Park Jimin grins slyly from the doorway––never a good sign, if you knew anything.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jimin says, leaning casually against the door like he hadn’t just scared the living shit out of you. He takes one glance at your disheveled hair and lightly sweaty clothes before grimacing in disgust. “Girl, I can’t let you meet the love your life while you’re looking like that. Come on, we have a few minutes before he arrives. Let’s get you freshened up.”

“I’m sorry?” You squeak, allowing your roommate to manhandle you into your own home. He pushes you into your room, depositing you roughly onto your unmade bed. You try to make eye contact with him, but he’s too busy raiding your closet to pay you much attention. “Excuse me? What did you say just now?”

“No time, princess! Your Prince Charming is on the way, and I’ve been ordered by Seokjin to prepare you for this life-changing moment, so get your ass into gear and change into this!” He shoves a clean pair of jeans and a nicer-looking blouse at you before proceeding to grab your hairbrush and comb your tresses with the gentleness of a mother tigress. You shriek when the brush gets tangled in an especially stubborn knot, but Jimin is relentless. He nearly tears your hair by the roots, ignoring your pained whines.

“Will you fucking stop! I have literally no idea why you’re acting like a psycho all of a sudden–” You shout when Jimin begins to undress you, having to kick him in the chest to get him away from completely eradicating your remaining traces of dignity. “Okay, fine! I’ll dress myself! Just get out of my room and fucking stay away!”

Jimin looks at you dubiously for a split second, before eventually acquiescing. “You have two minutes to get changed. You wouldn’t want to keep him waiting, do you?” he says, smirking knowingly. He better dread the day that you finally wipe that annoying twinkle in his eye; it’s been a long time coming.

Left alone to your own devices, you do as Jimin says even though you’re still wildly confused by everything. To think you had been so excited to feast on your chicken wings, and instead, you went through a decade’s worth of torture within the last few minutes. Patting your hands on the butt of your jeans, you meekly take a step out of your bedroom, where Jimin is already tapping his foot impatiently by the door.

He motions for you to hurry up. “Let’s go! Seokjin says they’re rounding up the corner. Hold on,” he steps closer to you, raising your arm up to take a shameless sniff of your pits. “Sorry, had to make a pit stop. You can never be too sure,” he shrugs, disregarding your squawks of indignation.

“I smell fine! Now what are we–” Your sentence is cut short as Jimin all but carries you to the elevator, your shrieks of terror causing one or two of your neighbors to peek their heads out of their doors. When they see it’s just the two of you, they simply shrug their shoulders, returning to their lives like it was normal to see Jimin carry you in a fireman’s hold.

He doesn’t put you down until you reach the lobby of your dorm complex, barely out of breath despite having held you the entire way down. Stupid buff baby, you groan internally to yourself, straightening down your clothes in a desperate attempt to look decent. “Okay, we’re here. Who am I supposed to be meeting?”

In lieu of an answer, Jimin points wordlessly outside your building. A black car is parked on the other side of the road, and you can barely see a familiar head of hair poking out from the driver’s seat. “Seokjin? What the…” you trail off, before your eyes finally land on their target.

Yoongi stands outside the glass doorway, not dressed in his usual all-black attire. He’s wearing an outrageously cute pink shirt today, matching the color of his natural flush. He always looks effortlessly good, with his hair a little windswept in that boyishly cute way. Your mouth goes a little dry when you realize he’s wearing his famous leather jacket, the one that always got the girls and boys swooning when he walked past in them. You hated how whipped for him you were, not wanting to be like the weird kids in his secret fan club, but who can blame you? He’s just so…

You rip open the door, nearly tripping and falling over the short steps leading to the entrance. You grind to a halt in front of him and you’re acutely aware of how rabid you must look. Your chest is pounding, like your heart is begging you to step closer, just like when you had hugged him all those days ago. God, you were going to kill Park Jimin for this.

“Yoongi? What are you…” You take one look at him before your gaze drops to his hands folded carefully behind his back. It doesn’t hide the fact that there is an obvious bouquet of flowers behind him, though. Your face lights on fire when you notice they were your favorite flowers too.

“I’m here to deliver a hug?” Yoongi says it like he’s unsure of himself, but there’s a little coyness laced in his tone. His cheeks are painted a soft pink, and not for the first time, they remind you of freshly baked bread pulled out from the oven. Soft enough to kiss, you wonder idly to yourself.

“I mean… I did order a hug a few days ago, but I do recall not ordering one for myself?” you laugh a little hysterically, your breath cutting short when Yoongi grins softly in response. “I… Who is this hug from?”

Yoongi takes a glance back towards Seokjin. “Hey, boss. Am I allowed to reveal who the secret admirers are, or will that get me fired?”

Seokjin, despite being a few meters away, laughs loud enough for the whole street to hear. “Well, Yoongi-chi. Something tells me your resignation letter was coming in the mail eventually. Who cares about the rules at this point?”

“He’s right,” you quip, pulling Yoongi’s attention back. You’re smiling wide now, your hopes and dreams skyrocketing in your chest and blooming a garden in your heart. “Who cares, right?”

“Right,” Yoongi agrees, taking the last two steps he needs to get closer to you. He drops the bouquet somewhere behind you before finally, finally, embracing you once more. He kisses you gently on the forehead, the contact short and sweet.

You feel like you’re dying, but it’s all good because Yoongi looks just as embarrassed as you. But none of it matters, not when both your happiness is palpable in the air.

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“This hug-o-gram is from me to you. Will you go out with me?”

You’ve always been a firm believer that actions speak louder than words. So when you lean in to plant your first kiss of many many more, he knows your answer well enough.

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bukojuiice · 4 years ago

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cuddle buddy! 🧸 chapter 14: here we go again [katsuki bakugo x f! reader smau]

˚* ੈ✩‧₊ series masterlist

- (Y/N) is a soft, kind-hearted, quirky, and meme queen university student who lives alone in a cute little apartment complex. She mistakens Bakugo Katsuki for her old neighbors; an old woman and her granddaughter whom she absolutely adores. She leaves a giant teddy bear every day before the sun rises for the little girl to see. Not knowing that they had moved out suddenly, Katsuki who had just moved in had never seen such a huge fluffy abomination all his life that it nearly gives him a heart attack. Chaos ensues and you try your absolute best to make it up to the explosive cutie that is your next door neighbor.

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female! reader

genre: social media au, college au, normal/quirkless au, fluff, romance, crack, humor and lots of memes. lots of them.

warnings: strong language

status: updating

☆ asks are finally open and taglist is open! (would love to hear your thoughts and what not! c: to those who have asked to be in the taglist yet i have not responded to nor added please do message me or send an ask then i’ll answer privately! i’m really sorry! my notifications are a mess and i had no idea tumblr deleted asks from notifs 😭 another thing i’d like to add is that, to those who have already sent asks and are waiting to be tagged, i leave them unanswered so that i can remember everyone’s usernames to add to future chapters! will immediately reply once i’ve added you to the next one so don’t worry!)

[♡: AND WE’RE BACK TO CONSISTENT UPDATES!! I had my term break last week yet i feel like that wasn’t enough ;w; i’m just glad that most of my profs didn’t leave too much work load this week. anywho, i’m really excited for the next several chapters! it will be focusing a lot more on you and bakugo!! so i’m really ecstatic for the next chapters to unfold because it’s going to be very fluff and chaotic!! stay tuned!!]

[✿ psst if you wanna read my lame attempt on writing hcs for the three main bnha boys, feel free to read it here!]

[taglist: @themagical1sa, @loxbbg, @webkinzfroggie, @melanieacademy, @bakubae-boom, @bakasbitch18, @ravenkake, @softiehawks, @sansiemwah @sizzlingbarbarianglitter, @moon-spirit-yue, @thesuitelifeofafangirl, @spicyhokage, @softpinkangels, @faithfulferns, @bubbzibubbles, @cleverroadscissorscloud, @foreverren, @unknownweeabo, @little-kity, @bakugousflowerprincess, @torilovesmiraculous, @yn-tingz, @sokka-simp, @tired-bat, @omgevaclark]

#bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo fluff #bakugo fluff #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #dekusquad #bakusquad #bakugou fluff #juliannewrites

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muwur · 4 years ago

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long distance headcanons

✧ hc’s ✧ for daichi, suga, hinata & tsukki

❧ gn reader

✎ 1.5k words

a/n: hello yall this is my first post! nobody asked, but i just started this haikyuu reader insert blog, feel free to check my page n see wazzap. also requests are open pls come fhorfjepfiwf;

daichi

✧ after high school, he stayed in miyagi while you went to tokyo, about 5 hours away, for college

✧ texting or calling whenever u can!

✧ you be like “heyyy”

✧ then he clap back with a “go focus on your lecture”

✧ “im not in lectureee”

✧ “you gave me your schedule so i know you’re in the middle of class”

✧ “...”

✧ makes sure you’re awake on time for your classes and calls you if he thinks you’re oversleeping (and hes usually right, this man just KNOWS)

✧ “morning y/n, i think you need to get to class soon”

✧ “mmrghhhghhh” *checks time* “holy sHI-- i forgot to set my alarm. IMMA BE LATE. THANKS DAICHI I LOVE YOU ILL TALK TO YOU LATER BYE”

✧ definitely skips out on some nights out with his friends to video chat you. you catch up, talk about future plans, reminisce, complain about not being able to hug one another, etc. occasionally one of you falls asleep on call, particularly after a long day or week. if he sleeps, you make sure you screenshot his sleeping face and start a picture collection

✧ you hit him up when you get drunk lMAO

✧ “daiichiii, i miss youuu, i needdd youuuu AND i needa peeee---” “hey daichi, this is y/n’s friend. y/n’s pretty out of it now but they’ll be okay! we’re heading back to our place right now” “im gonna pEE IN THIS CAR”

✧ daichi coordinates with your friends to make sure you arrive home safely, use the bathroom, and get tucked into bed. he thanks the universe you have good friends. if it weren’t for them he’d probs have a heart attacc. sends you cute, reassuring voice messages for you to wake up to the next morning with hangover tips he learned from suga

✧ always checks in with you throughout the day, every day. able to pick up on the slightest hints if you’re feeling unwell and calls you immediately to try to make you feel better

✧ makes plans to visit you! you get really excited to introduce him to your college friends (who, after meeting him, tell you not only is he a hottie but is such a kind guy, fosho a keeper. they also ask if he has any cute friends)

✧ either holding your hand or has an arm around you most of the time.

✧ you spend all day together outside and wandering the city, then spend the night back at your place (sorry roommate, but we’re gonna have to kick you out for a lil bit--)

sugawara

✧ you finally secured a job! unfortunately, the company required you to work for a year at their main facility, which was a 4 hour drive away from miyagi

✧ if suga wasn’t needed in miyagi for his teaching job, he would’ve tried to come with you

✧ after unloading your things in your new apartment and before parting ways, suga was like

✧ “everything’s unloaded everything from the car?”

✧ “yes maam”

✧ “do you have enough snacks?”

✧ “we just went to the grocery hun”

✧ “did you bring enough underwear?”

✧ “gDI yEs I dID”

✧ “:c promise to call me often”

✧ “<3333 of course”</p>

✧ good morning texts before y’all leave for work! you send each other cute pictures when you’re getting ready for the day (suga with bedhead, brushing his teeth? suga with his tie half done?? sign me up)

✧ always texts you when something reminds him of you, usually sends a picture along with it

✧ “the store was having a special on oranges today! this one reminds me of you”

✧ “why”

✧ “it just looks so cute~”

✧ will immediately call you if you send him any sort of message that worries him

-“hello? y/n what’s wrong, why is there blood?? speak to me, you haven’t replied in 5 minutes”

✧ “ohhh my bad, i’m just cleaning up don’t worry! i didn’t explain, but the picture i sent you isn’t blood, it’s ketchup i spilled on myself lolol”

✧ poor man nearly fainted from worry

✧ would pay you a surprise visit, making sure to plan it carefully so he knew you weren’t busy with work or plans. brings you gifts of your favorite snacks and a scarf that matches one of his own for the upcoming winter

✧ plans out that weekend for y’all, mans did his research beforehand. together, you toured the city and the surrounding nature, took lots of selfies (and many candids of you), and taste tested lots of foods before returning to your apartment and collapsing into your bed with exhaustion

✧ but y’all not too tired for cuddling n a lil something else >.>

hinata

✧ sure, being a couple hours away was hard for some... but y’all in different countries right now

✧ calls you immediately when there’s any inconvenience that occurs in his life, no matter how minor, thinking you’ll know how to fix it (or at least give him the reassurance he needs)

✧ “hey y/n...”

✧ “what’s wrong? you sound worried”

✧ “i broke my bike, what do i do”

✧ “you what? are you alright?? how? where are you? it’s midnight there, honey”

✧ “i was biking back to my apartment after staying late to practice! i didn’t wanna hit this turtle, so i swerved into a pole and now my bike’s wrecked :**”

✧ “ahh, are you okay?? you’re not hurt are you :(”

✧ “no, im okay... but im tired and i have two miles to go ;(((”

✧ “;( im sorry babe but you gotta walk home. we’ll get you a new bike. ill stay on the phone with you until you get back. tell me about your day <3″</p>

✧ talks about you all the time to his friends! introduces you through video chat to them! “look how pretty and cute y/n is!”

✧ together you work out your time differences and busy schedules so you can chat whenever possible

✧ he lets you know whenever he bought something for you, but never shows it to you because he’s excited to see your reaction in person when you reunite

✧ always asks you to send him pictures of yourself, he wants to see what you look like everyday he’s missing you in real life

✧ you surprise visit HIM. he’s so happy he could cry. shows you around every place he loves, shows you off to everyone he knows, holds your hand the entire time and never wants to let go, is practically glued to you not that you mind

✧ you spend your last night together lying in the grass, hand in hand, looking at the stars and sharing sweet kisses

tsukishima

✧ y’all went to separate universities. while he stayed relatively close to miyagi, you went across the country to okinawa, which was about a 3 hour flight away

✧ he sees all the couples around campus n becomes lowkey bitter, texts you immediately about gross pda like hand holding that he secretly wishes he could do with you “these people in relationships are too happy, i didn’t ask to see them gawk at each other all day” “u just miss me lmao”

✧ once overheard a convo on a shuttle at school that went like :

✧ person 1: “ugh, he’s so cute”

✧ person 2: “why dont you go out with him??”

✧ person 1: “i dunno, his dorm’s down the street, i can’t really do long distance”

✧ nANI (by the way, this is a irl conversation my friend overheard, oml)

✧ tsukki nearly choked on his morning coffee

✧ bothers texts you in class bc he’s bored and in need of your attention

✧ “hey tsukki this prof’s lectures are rlly dense, i needa focus, ill text u after”

✧ “but arent i more interesting than rocks”

✧ “trust me, id even rather watch some dino documentaries with you than be here”

✧ *read*

✧ likes to chat with you most nights as he lies in bed before going to sleep, staring up at the dark ceiling and listening to your voice through his headphones. usually just talking about how your days went (as if you weren’t texting all day) or just casual talk and banter

✧ you remind him to make sure he’s taking care of himself and eating well

✧ “who are you? my mother?”

✧ “no but you’re about to be single”

✧ surprise visits you, tells you it was yamaguchi’s idea when it was really his own and yamaguchi was just teasing him about it

✧ you show him around the city, sharing what you know about its rich history and culture. you visit most areas you both wanted to see before calling it a day

✧ your roommate conveniently spends that night over at their friend’s they just wanna give you alone time, which y’all very much needed. you make it a note to repay your roommate somehow.

✧ sweet lovin that he’s been missing, then some spooning as you sleep

a/n: just wanna tackle these about 4 characters at a time but if u wanna see this headcanon w/ other characters feel free to hmu w/ an ask <3<b> also sorry if i text type a lot and that im inconsistent with my apostrophes, let me know if that’s something you want me to fix!

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu reader insert #daichi x reader #sugawara x reader #hinata x reader #tsukishima x reader #daichi sawamura #sugawara koushi x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #sugawara koushi #hinata shoyo #tsukishima kei

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mintchanniemint · 4 years ago

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pairing: [still friends] bassist!chan x (fem)reader wordcount: ~3.3k taglist: @100797-bc - @chansrms

[08:45 a.m]

"...So, since everyone seems ready and excited for this new project that involves more departments of our university, I think it's time to start! Be careful, everyone! And make sure to share all your thoughts with each other!"

A wave of "yes, Prof." slowly lit up in the huge auditorium as every student sounded both tired and bored. You had to admit you strangely didn't really hate this project, you probably had to do worse things, like that time you ended up doing a cooking project and nearly poisoned that girl from the History Department. Whenever you reminded yourself of that little incident, you always made sure not to see her, not even accidentally in the college restrooms. But this time, the project not only sounded a bit safer, but you even ended up in a group with a certain someone. And that was the only reason why that morning you didn't fall asleep while the professor was giving you the guidelines and instructions for your tasks. The project was related to the school systems around the world, and how they differed from each other, analysed under specific views. You were assigned a not-really-exciting topic, which was School Uniforms. Now, you had to admit you felt quite lucky the university you were attending didn't force its students to have a uniform to wear, but just the thought of having to learn how to tie a tie made you fall asleep on the spot.

"Hey."

Your train of thoughts got brutally interrupted by a way too familiar voice as you finally looked around, a bit confused, noticing that the hall was nearly empty. You looked in the direction of the voice that got your attention, to see a way too sleep deprived Bang Chan in front of you. You couldn't help but giggle a bit, he sat down on the seat right in front of yours, crossing his arms on the chair and plopping his chin on them. He looked at you for a couple of seconds, in silence, before slowly closing his eyes.

"You really look like a cat, sometimes." You whispered with a smile, your hand automatically reaching his soft curls, playing with a brown strand of hair with two fingers.

Wait… brown?

"Chan, when did you dye your hair?" The alarm in your voice nearly made you sound a bit too concerned and he quickly looked at you, his eyes half open.

"A couple of kids told me that I had to have a nice hair color for the project-" He then closed his eyes again, his head pushing a bit against your hand, as if asking you to keep playing with his hair.

"They were so serious about it, but my red hair dye is not so cheap to be covered by some brown color so I just used some hair color spray."

You looked at him, biting your lip trying your best not to burst out laughing.

"Yes, that's such a Chan thing for you to do…" You mumbled to yourself, your voice clearly highlighting a smile on your lips. He hummed in response, probably asking you what you meant by that. You shook your head and stood up, getting your bag from the seat next to yours.

"C'mon, bass boy, we need to go and try the uniforms!" You said, trying to sound as exciting as possible, hoping to somehow give some life to that sleepyhead in front of you.

"There's a reason why I always skip morning lectures." He mumbled, yawning and keeping his back on his shoulder. He followed you as you walked through the hallways of your department, not too familiar to him.

"They said this is the class, right?"

"Were you listening while that professor was assigning the classrooms to each group?"

"Nah… not really."

"Me neither."

The both of you just looked at each other for a couple of seconds, as if mentally screaming and asking what to do if you got the wrong class. Luckily enough, though, the door before you suddenly opened, revealing a black haired guy wearing round glasses, and a taller girl right behind him. They both looked at you, then the girl checked a pile of papers in her hands, nodding, and suddenly they smiled at you.

"Welcome! We were waiting for you!" The guy exclaimed, taking a couple of steps back and letting you and Chan enter the classroom. It was empty, some desks were occupied by big boxes with black, confusing scribblings scribblings on them.

"Those are the uniforms we are going to try, hopefully the sizes are gonna be fine! We thank you for submitting your essays and researching about school uniforms from various countries. Even though yours…" The guy mumbled, checking some of the papers the girl gave him, as he looked at Chan. "... was submitted two minutes before the deadline. But we appreciate the effort! You also followed our little advice about your hair! " The girl interrupted her friend, trying not to make him say anything way too harsh. She smiled at Chan, getting his usual cold stare in response, which left her a bit confused.

"Uh… yeah he really cares about this stuff, guys! Chan is just… not really good at expressing himself with words, yeah!" You swiftly entered the little conversation too, probably making it worse since as a consequence you only got an embarrassing silence and four pairs of eyes looking at you.

"Can we please see the uniforms now?" You quickly whispered, nearly tripping over your own words as you felt your own mind screaming for five whole seconds.

"Sure! Some students have already tried the uniforms they mentioned in their own essays and they're getting ready to take photos! We're really ambitious for this project!"

"And we're sure that the magazine of this project will turn out amazing with our photos! Seungmin is gonna make you shine like models."

They looked like those cartoon characters that completed each other's sentences, you couldn't help but find them a bit funny, though. Seeing them being so enthusiastic about this project made you feel a bit guilty too, since ten minutes earlier you were literally planning an escape with your fake-brown haired friend in case you didn’t get the right classroom.

You smiled at the two students in front of you and grabbed Chan by his arm, guiding him to a box on which you recognized your names were scribbled on with a black marker. Other students, definitely more responsible than you and Chan fused together, told you about the stuff you had to do. It was quite simple: go to the improvised changing rooms, wear the uniform, take pictures. Write about your general thoughts and impressions of the project at the end of the day. You just hoped Chan grasped all that, as he looked like he probably would have fallen asleep in the changing room. It didn't matter that much, you would have definitely helped him anyway.

You two were given three uniforms, and since there would have been lunch break in a couple of hours, the students of your group were asked to wear one of those uniforms. You didn't really understand why, but thinking about how other students had probably ended up in groups where they were supposed to cook, you felt quite lucky and didn't want to complain at all.

Chan was given his first uniform to try, and he walked to the changing rooms to try it on quickly. The photographer was taking quite some time taking those photos, and you didn't have to try the uniforms yet, since many other students were already waiting in line for the shoot. You just stood there, leaning on the wall, waiting for the moment Chan would have finally left that improvised changing room. Suddenly, the black curtain moved and a not so amused Chan made his amazing appearance: he was wearing black trousers and a white shirt, a tie on his right hand. He looked at you as he walked closer to you, and left the green and red tie on your hand.

"I don't know how to do this." He mumbled, as he finished buttoning his shirt up. You looked at the piece of cloth in your hands and took a deep breath.

"I don't know either but… Let's try, I guess?" You mumbled in response as you brought the tie around his neck, trying your best to seem like you knew what you were doing. Because of the little task you were asked to do, you had to get closer to Chan. You could feel his calm, relaxed breath gently hitting your face as your eyes were completely focused on that tie. Suddenly you felt his hand resting on your waist when you finally figured out how to make that tie look presentable for the shoot. You felt quite proud of the result and, not minding too much about Chan's hand on your waist, you dragged him to the photoshoot corner.

A cherry-red haired guy was there, a black bag right next to him, by his feet, as he was giving instructions about posing to a girl right in front of him. He then got his camera and, making sure everything was perfect, a loud "click" was heard.

"Let's take a couple more. So we can, eventually, choose the best one!" He smiled, getting a thumbs up by the girl who was temporarily his model. Seungmin, hoping you got his name right, seemed quite professional, and it took you literally seconds to guess he was from the Arts Department. You felt quite out of place for a good minute, everyone around you seemed like they were genuinely interested in that project and then there was you, who didn't stay home just because that grumpy, quiet cat-owner sent that essay last minute and automatically made you want to go just to spend the day with him.

Wow, that's embarrassing… And quite lame.

You shook your head, trying to let that thought drift off, when you suddenly heard someone call your name, announcing that you were able to try some of the uniforms you were assigned. You had to leave Chan's side, and you had to admit it felt way warmer when you had his arm around your waist.

"It's my turn! Gotta go."

"Make sure to button up the shirt properly."

"Oh shut up." You stuck your tongue out at him and you walked away, not before getting a gentle, quick squeeze on your waist by Chan, though.

Okay, let's be honest. Both of us are embarrassing and lame…

You mentally rolled your eyes at your own thoughts and quickly walked across the room to get your uniform, and headed towards the changing room. You didn't have any problems trying the clothes on, the trousers felt quite comfortable and you also liked how pretty the colors were. You looked at your reflection on the mirror, which was probably lent by the drama club, and quietly wondered which country's school that was supposed to be. You didn't really remember, even though you were literally the one who wrote about it in that essay, but you just shrugged it off and left the changing room, your eyes quickly landing on the little photoshoot corner.

It was Chan's turn, and that girl wasn't lying at all when she said that Seungmin was going to make everyone feel like a model. You nearly got caught staring at him and quickly walked closer to the queue of people standing, waiting for their turn to take photos. Seungmin seemed not to let your friend go, he probably found a good subject to photograph. He took photos of him in at least four different poses when he usually asks for two poses per student.

Chan left the spot with a small nod and walked away, leaving a satisfied Seungmin checking all the photos taken with his camera. Your friend quickly found you and walked closer to you, his eyes scanning the uniform you were wearing.

"Looks nice." He mumbled, one hand in the pocket of his trousers, the other one reaching a strand of hair that escaped from your ponytail.

"Oh well, thank you school president." You teased him with a smirk, before distractedly playing with his tie.

As it was finally your turn to take the photos, you couldn't help but feel Chan's gaze constantly on you. Seungmin made you feel at ease in a matter of seconds and you had to admit the shots were really pretty. He clearly was working so hard to make everyone shine in those uniforms. You thanked him with a smile and, followed by Chan, walked closer to those boxes containing other school uniforms. You had to try three other pieces before the big clock on the wall finally signed that it was lunch break. You were relieved half of the day had finally passed, but then you remembered you had to stay in that uniform you had just put on for the following two hours.

"The last time I wore a uniform for school was ages ago!"

"Wouldn't it be ten minutes ago?"

"Chan, c’mon." You sighed, exasperated, as you got your lunchbox from your bag and walked to the cafeteria with your friend. You noticed the uniform he was wearing only when the two of you sat down at a table and looked at each other for a fraction of seconds.

He was wearing a black turtleneck and a white shirt on it, his trousers were dark and looked more comfortable than the ones he had to wear for the second shoot.

"What."

Uh oh… caught staring…

"Oh, nothing! It's just… well, at least you don't have to wear a tie, hm?" You cleared your throat and looked around, your mind in complete alarm mode.

What an idiot.

Chan, in response, nodded and opened his lunchbox. Meaning that his whole interest was now on the food in front of him. You sighed in relief, you both loved and hated how naive that guy was. Definitely a double-edged sword. You shook your head at those thoughts and quickly opened your lunchbox, enjoying your meal and Chan's company for lunch.

"You know…" You said, between some bites. "Don't we look like high school students?" Your lips quickly curved into a silly smirk.

Chan looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed. "Isn't that part of the project-"

"No, Chan, I mean! Doesn't… this! Make you wonder what high school life would have been like if we were, you know, classmates-”

"Not really."

"Absolutely no fun." You pouted, your little rainbow-colored dream was completely destroyed before it could have even reached its completion because of Chan's straightforwardness.

The two of you chatted a bit after finishing your lunch and, since you had quite some time before returning to your team's classroom, you decided to go for a walk in the huge hallways of the university. You didn't feel as uncomfortable as you thought you would a few hours earlier; the uniform you were wearing was quite nice and warm too, and you were glad Chan had brought a scarf that morning, since you forgot yours at home because you were in a hurry. Even though he probably didn't even agree on that, you were wearing his scarf as you were walking down the hallways. Many students greeted you and way too many people were literally staring at Chan. You raised your eyebrows at the guy next to you, wondering exactly what they were so fascinated about.

Just wait till he opens your mouth, everyone.

You lightly giggled at your own thought, finding your mind funnier than usual when suddenly you walked past a group of students that stopped you. Specifically, that stopped Chan. You were a few steps back, looking at them quietly as some of them, definitely freshmen, gave Chan a few little pieces of paper. As the group of younger students walked away, Chan looked at you, his eyes literally filled with question marks.

"Wow Chan, you show up for morning lectures once and the whole Literature department falls for you." You commented with a dry laugh as you walked closer to him, checking the little notes in his hand. He shrugged and put them in the pocket of his trousers, leaving you speechless for a second.

" Wait, you're not throwing them away?"

"No, what if they actually need some tutoring."

"Chan are you serious-"

He looked at you for a second, his fake brown hair slightly touching his eyes. You sighed and shook your head, looking away for a second, when suddenly a huge thought hit you like a train.

What was that? You really couldn't tell, but something was burning. You felt annoyed. By what? You really didn't know how to explain it. What was that for? You had to calm down, those were just random phone numbers on a piece of paper, it wasn’t like that guy was going to contact them anyway. … right?

Breathe. Take a deep breath, you really need it before you do something dumb. Don't be dumb, don't be dumb, he's just a friend after all, he can do whatever he wants. Do not do anything dumb.

"Are you okay?" His usual, dull voice interrupted your thoughts for a second, making you notice you were actually holding quite tight on the scarf that was gently keeping you warm.

Your eyes finally met him, and you stayed silent. Complete silence. For at least five seconds. Your mind was running, gosh it was sprinting. From one thought to the other. And that weird burning was growing, and growing, and growing inside you. Your eyes were analyzing every single detail of his face. His brown eyes, that weird dye that was covering his usual beautiful dark red hair, his plump, full lips, that black turtleneck. And again, his eyes, his lips, his hair, his turtleneck, the ears that were usually adorned with beautiful earrings that were now completely bare.

And again, his eyes, lips, the turtleneck, his hair…

When suddenly, your hands moved before your mind could even realize that. You grabbed him by his arm. That was completely normal, you literally had always done that. But that time, that time you were dragging him to a small, quiet corner, far from those annoying and busy hallways. You were now in a small hallway, near two broken vending machines and an emergency exit.

"What is wrong with you?" He mumbled, his voice clearly expressing his confusion. You said nothing, you just pinned him against the wall, his hands quickly finding their way on your waist, and you looked at him straight in the eyes.

Your hand reached the collar of his black turtleneck, pulling it down with not much delicacy and your lips softly met his warm, sweet skin. He squeezed your waist as you angrily, but lightly, bit his neck, making sure to leave at least a small mark. You took a step back and looked at it for a second before fixing quickly both his turtleneck and shirt. Your eyes slowly met his, and moved to look at his cheeks, who were tinted in a light, pastel red color.

"Please don't contact any of them." You whispered, unexpectedly out of breath due to the adrenaline rush. You didn't let him say nor do anything, you just took a few more steps back before walking away in a rush, headed to the classroom.

Now.

…

What the hell did I just do?!

#inkidz #bang chan #chan fluff #bang chan imagine #bang chan soft hours #skz au #skz imagine #skz blurb #skz soft #stray kids blurbs #stray kids imagine #stray kids au #stray kids chan #bassist!chan #skz fluff #chan imagine

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messinwitheddie · 4 years ago

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Was given a lovely compliment about my drawings of Pepito and Squee by @prospitdaydreamer .

As promised here are head canons on these two that I apply to my personal aus. I know this is a lot; it's literally all the notes I have on these two. There's no real logic or order to how I listed this.

20 Head canons about Squee

1: He killed Nny in self defense on 12th birthday. Long story; working on it. Squee and Nny are still good friends. No worries.

2: Squee has been institutionalized at least twice before his 17th birthday and once again in his late 20's.

3: The only friend in school Squee ever made was Pepito, the antichrist. Pepito developes an attraction/ crush on Squee in their sophomore year of high school. Squee refuses to date anyone until his mid 20's. (They do not lose their virginity to each other. Who they lost their virginity to is their business).

4: Because of lack of support/ ridicule, Squee rarely writes shorts stories or fanfiction by the time he is in his late teens, but he occasionally writes song lyrics or rps online. Dib has read much of Squee's work. He is Squee's biggest supporter and often begs him to keep writing/ pursue a career in it.

5: Squee becomes a vegetarian after many bad experiences working in a meat packing plant in his teens and sticks with the lifestyle.

6: Squee's mother was sent to the Membrane labs for expetimental psychological therapy when he was around 3-years-old. At some point during her treatments she has an affair with a young Prof Membrane around the time the professor begins experiments with self-cloning. (Again, working on the details). The affair ended ugly and went unspoken about for many years.

Squee is biologically only Gaz's half-brother, but considers both her and Dib his siblings; refusing to acknowledge the concept of "half"- brother or sister.

7: Squee is about 4 years older than Dib, 5 years older than Gaz and roughly 13 years younger than Nny.

8: Squee is openly gay. He came out to his father at 17, however he developed a huge crush on Pepito's mother for years as a child. She was the first adult female to be consistently kind to him.

9: Squee's favorite genre of music is rap, but plays base and/ or rythem guitar for Pipito in his various punk/ metal band(s) Pepito has formed over the years.

10: Squee suffers from social/ general anxiety and is terrified of crowds.

11: Because of his parents abuse/ neglect, Squee has a fear of addiction and losing control in front of others. He is uncomfortable with the idea of being high or intoxicated and remains nearly straight edge throughout his teen years/ adulthood (he will not take recreational drugs of any kind for any reason with the accepting of an occasional cigarette to stop the shakes).

He is often teased over this, but refuses to partake anyways. He feels he is not missing out on anything, having experienced strange things throughout his life perfectly sober.

12: Squee often dyes his hair with koolaid. He makes no apologies.

14: Squee has a huge collection of how-to books and self-help books because he spent his childhood unable to rely or confide in most anyone else but himself.

15: Squee loves his found family and would risk life and limb for his younger siblings/ stepdad. However, Dib and Gaz's bickering stresses him out. He often plays the mediator in the group and becomes frustrated if a compromise is not quickly met. He often gets frustrated with Membrane for not being more involved with his children, but struggles to figure out s way to appropriately bring this up to him.

16: Squee lives at the Membrane house until he is 21. He is offored a college education by the Prof, but turns it down, to the Prof's frustration. Squee is not confident he has the mental threshold to earn a degree when he is a young adult. This drives a wedge between him and Professor Membrane for several years.

17: Squee will eat raw pasta before asking Foodio to cook, being conditioned to always fend for himself and never to "bother" others. Watching him do this infuriates Dib for some reason.

18: Squee and Gaz often game together or she will game while he sleeps, or rather lays immobile with insomnia before work on the couch.

19: Squee is a night owl; his favorite way to unwind is just to watch cartoons/ anime late at night. He is a huge fan of TMNT; his favorite turtle being Leonardo.

20: Squee looks adorable in hoodies, but this is not why Squee wears them. Squee goes out of his way to wear clothes that completely cover him from his neck to his knuckles.

Unfortunately Squee internalizes his negative thoughts as a means to block out intrusive

thoughts/ avoid harming others, which leads to thoughts of suicide and acts of self-harm. He uses cutting as a coping mechanism well into his late 20's. It is his most well-kept secret.

With support from friends and family, Squee developes healthier coping mechanisms and slowly recovers from mental anguish.

20 head canons about Pepito

1. Pepito is very close to his mother, despite his slight resentment towards her for being affectionately smothering. He is her little prince and she is always eager to show how much she loves/ is proud of him. It embarrasses him sometimes just how supportive she can be, but he is secretly grateful for it.

2. Pepito's mother plays the pipe organ (frighteningly well). She forced him to learn to play piano/ the organ when he was in middle school. He hates it at first, but quickly developes a passion for music. By the time he is in high school Pepito leans to play the guitar, the bass, drums and the violin. He often drags Squee to his music lessons and recitals. Squee ends up learning how to play the guitar, bass and drums through Pepito.

3. Pepito's favorite genre of music is Punk. He gets REALLY into the punk scene/ aesthetic in high school. He starts over 30 different Punk and metal bands, playing various positions in each one, by the time he is in his mid 30's. However, because Pepito is the antichrist, he is not allowed to take credit for any music he writes himself or gain fame from it, but is only allowed to promote other musicians in exchange for their souls. Pepito HATES this.

4. Pepito's first job was a tour buss driver for the outlaw country star Gideon Gravesite, formerly known as Gideon Gleeful. His father got him the job. Pepito and Gideon become jam buddies and collaborate on several "projects" later in Gideon's long, highly successful career.

Pepito eventually becomes a music producer/ manager.

5. Because Squee is good friends with Nny, Pepito makes an effort to befriend Nny. Pepito teases Nny mercilessly/ plays cruel tricks on him purely out of affection and partially out of jealousy, as Squee often expresses more interest in spending time with Nny than him. Nny is very much convinced Pepito hates him for many years before fully understanding the nature of Pepito's sense of humor. "Oh, so he fucks with my head because we're friends...great..."

6. Pepito has VERY strong willpower. He hates being told no more than anything in the universe. He is prepared to wear you down if you tell him no or get the way of something he wants. When that doesn't work he unleashes Hell on earth at you.

7. The only way to gain Pepito's respect is to stand your ground and keep saying NO to him... Or to beat him in a guitar duel. That doesn't happen often.

8. Pepito earns his masters degree in Music theory.

9. Pepito and Dib relate to each other on the fact they both have dads that appear to rarely acknowledge them/ their personal interests/ goals/ accomplishments and demand that they take over their jobs/ empires one day. Pepito encourages Squee to be patient with Dib because of this.

Despite being able to relate to each other, Dib is not fond of Pepito for no other reason than he seems to cause Squee a lot of aggravation.

10. Pepito, despite very capable of bringing about Armageddon, has no intent on doing so (he just won't admit it to his father). Pepito very much enjoys the human aspects of his life/ spending time among humans despite his demeanor. That, and Pepito is very much convinced humanity will bring about their own destruction. Humans never needed him, Satan or any other demonic entity to be horrible to each other and cause mindless destruction.

He believes people (humans and most sentient creatures) are naturally "bad" and selfish and should fully embrace being naturally "bad" and selfish. He believes all acts of kindness and generosity are really based in selfish motives if you analyze the deed closely enough. People only try to "do good" in an effort to gain a reward or avoid a punishment, not for the pure sake of "doing good".( Squee and his mother are the only people he has met that actually challenges this belief in Pepito's eyes.) That's just how humans are and they always will be. For Pepito, it's entertaining to watch the world slip into Hell on its own.

11. Pepito's favorite movie is Blade Runner.

12. Pepito gives Gaz guitar lessons after they meet. They introduce each other to many new/ old bands.

13. Pepito lives in Prof. Membrane's garage for a few weeks after Squee first goes to live with the Membrabes. The Prof probably would never have noticed or really cared, but Squee confessed to this out of guilt.

14. Pepito's favorite animal is the goat. He thinks they are adorable and admires their stubbornness.

15. Despite thd fact the goat is Pepito's favorite animal, his first tattoo is of a fox running across his heart. This is a love tribute to Squee, as Todd means fox in Middle English.

16. Pepito is an extrovert. Squee finds this stressful as he is an introvert.

17. Pepito is an instigator; peer pressure is his favorite tool.

18. Unlike Squee, Pepito LOVES to smoke and drink. He seizes/ relishes every opportunity to do so. His body is not physically damaged by consistent drug use.

19. Pepito and Squee never appear to age significantly. Squee just has a naturally young looking face and is short and scrawny well into adulthood. Pepito has his demon ancestry to thank.

20. Pepito may come across an an asshole, but he will go out of his way to help those he cares about. He is Squee's best friend and they do eventually marry (on Halloween, so Nny can come)

I'm sorry if some of the head canons about Squee are a little depressing or upsetting or just plain innacurate. I was self projecting some personal experiences on anxiety/ depression and those who self harm onto him.

#jthm #squee #pepito #jhonen vasquez #head canons

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problematic-nova · 4 years ago

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This commentary is a bit different this time. Rather than Sherlock meta, now that everything Oscar did is out of the bag, it's taking a closer look at upper academia, and how something like Sherlock and Oscar could actually play out in real life, because it was another one of the inspirations for this fic. I'm from the US, not the UK, which of course has its differences, most notably in the UK's lack of tenure. But I did talk with some UK academics when outlining this fic, and was assured my reasoning was sound. These stories of abuse come out of UK universities just the same as they do US ones-- professors are just even more protected here than they are there.

(As an aside, none of this is at all meant to scare anybody heading into college or grad school. I was in two different programs, and while my mentor for one was a fucking nightmare, my two mentors for the other were absolute angels. There are plenty of supervisors that do very good work. If you're applying for such positions, what you want to do is talk to students currently in that professor's lab/studio/whatever, alone (I very gleefully sent an entire group of prospective students running from mine), and try and see what you can find out from former students. High numbers of transfers/drop outs are not a good sign. Neither are high numbers of students that graduated, and then left the field entirely.)

For many STEM degrees, your graduate school experience is you, beholden to your supervisory professor (PI), for 4-6 years. To even get into a good graduate program, you will also have needed to have extensive research experience in your undergraduate, underneath one or two other PIs, and you will need good recommendation letters from them as well. Humanities degrees are even more of an apprenticeship model, but that's really what it is-- if you have a competent mentor, and you're a good student who works hard, you'll be all right. If you have a good mentor, the experience can be amazing. If you wind up with a bad mentor, it can be a career-ender.

The problem is, in these fields, you don't have a choice: if you don't have a recommendation letter from your PI, that's it. You won't be hired, or accepted to any future programs. If you wind up with a bad mentor, your only choice is to suck it up, stick it out, somehow get yourself through the program without a competent teacher while still getting their letter, and graduate as quickly as you can.

And bad mentors do, often, look quite a lot like Oscar. The sexual abuse is less common, and even for tenured profs in the US, a sexual relationship with a student is grounds for termination. But everything else that Oscar did in the fic was something I saw profs do in my own time at school: not bothering to show up to meetings with students or other staff, shrugging their own responsibilities off onto their students, demanding they work twelve+ hour days six/seven days a week, sabotaging them to their final committee hearings, and in STEM fields, scooping their data and publishing it out from under them. (I once even saw a PI threaten their post-doc with deportation.) The structure of upper academia unfortunately rewards such behavior: you are guaranteed a slow, steady trickle of young, inexperienced students, who are excruciatingly reliant on your approval, don't have a backup program/plan to fall back on, and are probably lacking in any other professional experience. Most don't realize the appropriate boundaries to set, and even if they do, will be too afraid to try and set them.

What options does a student in such a situation have? Well: not many.

A student can report things to the administration. But the administration is very invested in protecting their respected professor, and not all in protecting their dime-a-dozen, shit-stirring student. This is a report that is also likely tantamount to career suicide: while these reports are technically confidential, like I said above, these programs are pretty close to apprenticeship models. The prof in question is not going to be wondering who made this report, and other professors in the department (whose approval you will need for collaborations and your hearings to defend your research) will hear about it too: they will hear that a student whined about their friend and colleague, in a field where students whining about their colleagues for non-issues, like a deserved failing grade, are very common. And, at least in the US, if your professor is tenured, unless you have something actually illegal to report, your report will amount to /absolutely nothing/.

For example: Sherlock's ulcer story was inspired by my own. I had a different medical condition (and there was no sexual abuse), but all the other details were the same-- I had been doing extra work for my prof that undergrads weren't meant to do, work that she had ‘offered’ to sign me up for because I was ‘so talented’ (read: a doormat) and wouldn't take no for an answer. Later, I was injured over summer, outside of school, and got a doctor's note stating that I couldn't continue that particular work. I showed it to my prof and the dean of the school, and, in writing, established I would not be doing that extra work this semester (which, again, I was not even meant to be doing in the first place). A few weeks later, one day before the drop date (therefore preventing me from withdrawing), my prof went behind my back, signed me up for it anyway, explicitly against multiple school rules, and told me I would just need to withdraw from my other conflicting classes. Classes that she had known about, and knew were requirements for my other degree program. She announced that my doctor was a quack, that she would pay for me to see a massage therapist instead, and proceeded to lie to me when she assuring that she'd arranged matters with the other profs, who would work to accommodate me. They had no idea what I was talking about.

I was in a uniquely protected position, so I did report her to the school, to a very understanding administration, who told me everything that had happened was shockingly inappropriate and unacceptable, and that they were amassing a case against her. As it turned out, they had reports of abuse of power, racism, staggering incompetence, refusal to perform her expected duties, and extremely unprofessional displays from many other affected students. Their stories were just as wild and unbelievable as mine, any one of which would've been enough to get someone fired from a more ordinary job. In the end, she wasn't even reprimanded, and I was told my only option was to stick it out, or drop out of the program and my degree, with one semester left to go. I, very stupidly, chose the former, and as a result of ignoring my doctor's note, still have chronic pain, and ironically enough, now can't even use the degree I made that sacrifice for because of it.

Sherlock would actually be an exception to all of this. When you are /that/ intelligent, and going by the fandom's assumptions, have that much money/all those family connections, you can't really fail badly enough to not be able to get back up. If he'd wanted to find a graduate program that would take him, he could have. But for everyone else, like Victor, what Oscar did to him genuinely was a career-ender. He wouldn't have been able to get hired for any decent position, and he wouldn't have been able to get an acceptance at any other program to try again, after nearly ten years of working towards that degree.

Basically, fuck upper academia with a rusty steak knife.

#sherlock #academia #cw abuse #i can talk for HOURS about this woman istg #as my poor friends can attest to :'D

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makomaragi · 5 years ago

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it’s that time of year again. femslash february!

I had planned to write more but have not been in a good place mentally lately, but I do have some things ready so that’s what I’m going with.

everything I write is Scientificshipping so there is that. I don’t know if anyone cares anymore, but I’m going to post the shit I wrote anyway! also a lot of times i write them gay married already it is my world when i write

Title: Meeting

Pairing: Prof. Aurea Juniper/Fennel

Rating: Pg-13? no sex or anything but things of an adult nature

Formal meetings were never Professor Juniper’s style. She vastly preferred to be out in the wilderness, doing her research, or in the comfort of her own lab.

But every year, she had to go to at least one meeting. Whether it disrupted her research or not, she was required to, as were all of the other regional professors. It was meant as a yearly meet and greet as well as renewal of their license to distribute Pokemon, each year going over any new changes in the procedures and paperwork as well as reviewing mostly things they already knew. It was rarely ever fascinating, save the first year she attended, and was truly the only thing she dreaded in her profession. The only exciting thing that could happen was when a new professor was named, and even then, they usually had their own reception in the designated region for that purpose.

Five days wasn’t a long time in the grand scheme of being away from home, or even time away from her research. The meeting put a halt on any major research the regional professors were doing as it was, so it wasn’t as though she was missing anything by being there.

But it was boring.

She begged Fennel to come with her every year, if only to stay in the hotel and keep her from losing sanity. But every year, Fennel declined, and for good reason. It was boring. It wasn’t at all like the science conferences and conventions they regularly attended that they both enjoyed. No, this one was nothing but a three day long meeting with the regional professors. The only remotely exciting thing about it was that it was held in a different region every year. Aurea nearly had Fennel convinced to go the year it was in Alola, only for Fennel to remember Aurea would be stuck in meetings all day and there would be no point.

Kalos was just too far of a plane trip for an unenjoyable trip, meaning she’d have to give herself an extra two days at each end of traveling to and from. There was nothing Fennel could say or do to make it any better.

Their meeting had dragged on for two days now. Professor Oak was always an entertaining speaker, doing his best to present the material in an interesting fashion and answering questions, but even his presentation methods couldn’t hold Aurea’s interests as much as it should. It left her mind to wonder….how did she get through college? Many of her professors did not have half of Oak’s energy and passion for speeches and she made it through that.

Looking around, she could see a few others fumbling with paperwork, taking notes on a laptop, or even looking at their phones. She had her laptop open like the others to follow along with some of what was being shown, but it couldn’t hurt to check her phone.

Some texts from trainers, a missed call from her father, and some texts from Fennel.

I went to the park to see if the Swannas came back from their migration but there were none there :(

Fennel must be equally out of ideas for things to do, it wasn’t like her to randomly go anywhere outside especially by herself. The notion in itself was humorous to her, Fennel getting dressed and ready to go to the park, realizing the Pokemon she wanted to see wasn’t there and leaving.

Haha, we’ll try again in a few days when I get home if you still want to see them

The dream scientist replied almost immediately, leaving Aurea to figure it wasn’t as early as she thought it was back home. She had been in the conference room for hours now, even after taking a lunch break,

How’s it going?

Bored

Fennel didn’t reply again quickly this time, figuring she was caught up in doing something. Now Aurea was left with only this meeting to entertain her. She had set her phone next to her laptop and forgot about it completely until she noticed the screen light up and another message from Fennel come through.

Opening the message, there was no possible way to prepare for what she saw.

A photo of Fennel, sitting on their bed, in a dark red bra.

Another one came through before she had the chance to register what was happening.

Fennel had removed the bra now, an arm underneath her breasts to push them up slightly, hair fallen over her body a bit, complete with a sly smile.

She slammed the phone face down on the table, making more of a sound than she meant to in doing so. Her phone vibrated a few more times, Juniper shoving it in to her purse in a haste at this point. She could feel the heat rushing to her face, and for some reason she suddenly had to cough, causing what felt like more attention on herself.

Looking up, she realized Kukui was the only one that had noticed her disturbance. He smiled in her direction when their glances met for part of a second, but other than that he didn’t seem phased.

She could never tell anyone, ever, anywhere, ever about this. Let alone Kukui.

While in reality it was only another hour or so after the incident occurred, it felt like an eternity before the meeting ended for the day. It wasn’t unusual for the other professors to loiter afterwards to make dinner plans with one another or discuss something of interest, but Aurea couldn’t find it in herself to socialize. There was a phone call she needed to make. Practically throwing her laptop in her bag, she gave a slight wave in acknowledgment to whoever happened to see her when she did, and departed to her hotel room as quickly as she could muster. It probably was rude of her, and she was sure she could think of an excuse before tomorrow as to why she had to leave in such haste.

Tossing her bag aside, her hands shaking now for some reason, she sat down on her hotel bed and called her wife.

“Hi! Did you get my pictures I sent you?” Fennel’s face appeared on the screen cheery as ever, acting as if she had sent her photos of a beautiful flower arrangement she had made and not naked photos.

“I, um...was in my meeting when I saw them.”

To this, Fennel burst out laughing. “I knew you’d be bored in your meeting and I missed you.”

Aurea wasn’t at all surprised by Fennel’s reaction, though wasn’t sure she thought of the consequences, either. “What if someone else saw them, Fennel? And thought that I was looking at….pictures of you while I was in a meeting?”

“Well, you shouldn’t be looking at your phone during the meeting anyway,” Fennel was still laughing, not even her makeup able to hide the deep rouge seeping in to her cheeks.

“You just said you did it because you knew I’d be in the meeting!”

“Well, maybe I was thinking you could look at them afterward.”

“You knew I was in a meeting!”

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t, you have no way of knowing.”

“You did it on purpose!” Aurea was astounded at even herself that she wasn’t as angry as she thought she might be at the confrontation. Though, she began to realize now that she was smiling, that she hadn’t been angry at all. If there was, it was fleeting. Embarrassment, certainly, but no harm had come from it.

Fennel grinned at the accusation and barely shrugged. “Okay, so send me one now.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ve seen you naked before.”

“And I’ve seen you naked before but it doesn’t mean you have to send me pictures.” She certainly didn’t want to come across as scolding her. Fennel had obviously put quite a bit of thought in to what she was doing, and it was done. “What was your...intention? What am I supposed to do with these?”

“Um, I think if I sent them to a guy, they’d get off on it. I guess you can do that if you want.”

“No!”

“Well, then just look at them, I guess. And think about me.” The corner’s of Fennel’s smile dipped slightly. “I’m sorry, Aurea….I just thought it’d be fun.”

“You….you thought it would be fun to send me naked pictures of yourself?”

“All the kids are doing it now.”

Aurea raised a brow at her reasoning. What kids did Fennel know of that were doing this? Where did she even get the idea to do this? “What if you accidentally sent them to the wrong person?!”

“But I didn’t!” Fennel beamed at this. “And I triple, quadruple, million times checked to make sure it was only going to you.”

“See, this is what happens when you’re away too much! I get bored and miss you and take all my clothes off and send you pictures of me. I spent like, an hour doing my makeup to take those pictures for you.”

“Your makeup looked very nice.”

“What color eye shadow was I wearing?”

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t even notice my makeup, did you? You were looking at my boobs.”

“It was kind of hard not to.”

Fennel’s expression softened, “I’m still cute, right? Like, you’re still attracted to me and I’m still your hot wife that you can’t wait to come home to, right?”

“Yes, Fennel.”

“Because, I think of you as my hot wife who has to go away and do important science stuff all the time.”

While she was sure the sentiment was genuine, she knew what Fennel was getting at. “I’m still not sending you pictures of my...chest.”

“That’s okay, I guess I’ll just have to wait a few days and see you naked then.”

“I guess so,” the professor was left with a soft smile.

After ending their conversation on more normal terms and ordering room service so she didn’t have to leave the comfort of the hotel room, the professor had decided to turn in for the evening.

She supposed it wouldn’t do any harm to look at the photos in privacy now. They were meant for her, after all.

Lewd imagery aside, Fennel did look quite stunning, though she would never understand the thought process that went in to it. Her wife, of whom she had been in a relationship for over a decade, consciously did her makeup, put on expensive lingerie, adjusted the lighting in their bedroom, and took photos of herself. Fennel decided that it wasn’t enough, so she removed the lingerie and put her arm in such a position to emphasize her breasts. It wasn’t as though the professor didn’t know what her breasts looked like without the emphasis, nor why she had done it at all. There were two more that she had not seen the first time, but more or less the same, one of her leaning more forward with both arms at her sides, and another lying in bed, with her glasses on, for some reason. How many more had she taken and not shown her? Surely these were the best of many – she had seen how Fennel took pictures of herself, and she never got the image she was trying to convey in the first try. For a brief second, Aurea hated herself for the thought, but told herself it wasn’t as though she had found these pictures in secret. They were taken to be shared with her and only her. It wasn’t a crime, nor should she feel badly about looking at revealing photos of her wife. She couldn’t help but feel like she was invading her privacy by looking at them again, like a dirty secret.

But, Fennel obviously wanted her to see them. Somehow, Fennel sending her nudes wasn’t surprising to her. She was honestly a bit surprised she hadn’t done it before, especially when they lived in different cities.

When she got home, she’d have to ask Fennel if there was a way to delete them from their text conversations. Or just delete them entirely because photos did no justice to Fennel herself.

#my fics #scientificshipping #femslash february #pokemon fic #femslash #professor juniper #fennel

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inkofamethyst · 5 years ago

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April 30, 2020

Day 121 of the Cute Campaign: idk I haven’t gotten dresses yet and I don’t think I will today tbh (aka: not a cute day today, but perhaps simply cozy)

Day 49 of The Q: Two weeks left of classes. Next week is going to be absolute hell, I’m sure of it, but oh well.

So I’m really glad that I didn’t come on here yesterday to cry and moan and complain and groan about my Chemistry Lab Final Exam. I... well, I don’t think I’ll be getting anywhere near an A on it. That... well, it sucks. We had to have our cameras on so the TA could proctor the exam which was fine, but I had a major freak-out about how I had to guess on 5/16 questions (I felt so much more confident going into the exam :/) on camera for the class to see. I tried to play it off once I realized, but...

Oh well! I won’t be seeing any of these guys again anyway since I’m switching my major :)

Anyway, instead of wallowing in self-pity, I watched Stampy’s most recent Animal Crossing livestream VOD and that calmed me down (also reading about the ~10% curve given to the class and the exam averages of 40-60%, but probably mostly the stream).

Listen, I’ve got a bone to pick with organic chemistry professors. Yes the subject is hard, but exams needn’t be so hard that students are regularly getting grades that fall below the level of passing. I definitely feel like my Orgo prof has been fair this semester with his expectations, especially since all of us are freshman students.

I really need to work on this whole “internal motivation” thing. I’ve known this for a while, but I’m driven to perfectionism by the desire to receive positive feedback. This means that I’m greatly affected by negative feedback. I’ve begun looking at constructive negative feedback as an opportunity to learn from my mistakes and improve for the next time, but changing my mindset is such a slow process. Like, just now I received praise on an ungraded assignment from my Orgo lecture TA (smart guy but hard to please) and I felt this massive surge of relief. And every little positive note on from my humanities professor/TAs is like a breath of fresh air. I know that it’s normal to have pride as a result of positive feedback, but for me it dips into a depressed state as a result of negative feedback, even when constructive. I’m working on it though. It does make me wonder: if I manage to shift my mindset, will that lessen my drive to do well in school if I’m no longer dreading negative feedback?

Also, the associate director of the honors college of my university... she knows my name y’all. Like, she sent me a whole email yesterday about anthropology professors I should reach out to and she offered to e-introduce me to an archivist working on a new project at the university. I-- I’m a whole freshman and I don’t know how to handle any of this, but she’s really going out here for my success. And I know that’s technically her job, but it definitely wouldn’t have happened had I not shown up to the little honors-college-black-girls gathering (and been the only student to do so aside from the student organizer at that). I just... I know I experience doubts on occasion about my plans to switch majors (not enough doubts to make me want to stay though), but if I lean on people who are willing to advocate for me, I think I’ll be alright. And I know I probably won’t be making nearly as much money as if I stuck with biochem (though I’m thinking of specializing in cell bio and genetics (assuming I like the genetics class I take next Spring), so I have to take at least two biochem classes anyway (and there’s the requirement to take an “enrichment” upper level bio course which I’ll use to relate to Anthropology)), but if I play my cards right and continue to get a little bit lucky, I might even be able to save up enough money to take a year off work and... (try acting).

Anyway, today I’m thankful for the people who are and will be helping along the way in this journey, from my parents to the as. dir. of the honors college, and everyone in between. I really am thankful that there are people in my life who can prevent me from feeling lost in this world. They keep me grounded.

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maknaesdancersrappers · 6 years ago

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on the first day of kinkmas, my lover did to me:

[ a n g r y s e x ]

>TAEYONG

>warning/s: face fucking, unprotected sex

a/n: when i was at the sleepover, my friend told me about how he and the girl he’s seeing gets off at hating on a person and we were laughing so hard because it’s technically hate/angry sex right?? Just not towards each other lol anD ALSO THIS TEACHER WAS BASED OFF A REAL PROF I HAD BACK IN COLLEGE THAT COST ME A “Failure due to absences” MARK ON MY RECORDS i was that chicken towards him and i feel like most of this was just me shitting on him huhuhu if soMEONE FROM MY SCHOOL RECOGNIZES WHO THIS IS IM GONNA-- pls dont spread it around if u kno who this prof is huhuhuhuhu im probably //already// on his hitlist

Everyone hated at least one teacher they had come across in school; you met yours during Junior year in college. Mr. Chon was your Writing for Film elective professor and you’ve heard all the stories about how strict and uptight he was. You had blockmates who had him as a prof last semester and they always talked about how every meeting with him was living hell. You weren’t happy at the news, especially since he wasn’t even the prof you signed up for in the beginning.

There was only one class for the elective and you were able to get into the list before the final enrollment date, but because more people signed up for it and the registrar is absolute shit; you, along with other people, have been transferred to a new class--with the strictest, terror prof known in school.

You tried to appeal to the registrar for you to move back, but they put the blame on the Department of Comm for the class list and in the end, you weren’t allowed to move.

The first meeting with Mr. Chon was terrifying. Everyone in the room felt like they couldn’t breathe; so quiet that you could hear a pin drop and the air conditioning system sounded deafening. This elective was comprised mostly of Comm students and there were only a few of you that weren’t; one of which was your seatmate, Lee Taeyong, a dance major.

Before Mr. Chon entered the room, the two of you promised to help each other since your free time matched one another’s and neither of you wanted to do this alone. His friends ditched him last minute when he enrolled, opting for another elective he didn’t have the prerequisite of.

The first couple of classes with Mr. Chon was bearable. He made you guys watch highly rated films from his favorite directors during class and series like ‘Lost’ and ‘Designated Survivor’ for weekend homework. When it came to the first assignment, which was to pitch film ideas, it was all easy going aside from the one slip up majority of the class, with you included, of not printing it out in the specific format he made clear on the first day.

Strike one.

But when the time came to start working on the final project, as it is a full script for a film, the stress of it all came piling up. Mr. Chon gave out assignments to create character sheets, a lesson he never gave on, and expected you to submit a properly written one from research alone.

But before you can even create character sheets, he had to choose and approve a logline from the ones you’ve submitted beforehand. You tried to be nice and formal in your emails to him, always ending the message with a “Thank you and God bless.”

His replies sounded harsh despite the lack of words that would support that description. He had reprimanded you for submitting an edited version of the logline you presented in class, saying that no matter how good it was, if it was not submitted properly the day he had expected to receive it on a printed paper, he had expected you to revise all off them.

Strike two.

So you apologized for your mistake and made new loglines; and luckily he had chosen one that suited his taste. When it came to creating a character sheet, you were reprimanded for the format and given an example on how to make a proper one. However, you didn’t quite understand the file he had sent and took your chance into making minor changes to your previous submission, taking into account the little information you’ve understood from the text.

Strike three.

He reprimanded you (AGAIN), through email, for the ‘pathetic’ edit you’ve made. Ordering you to personally consult him after class or through scheduled one-on-one meetings in the Comm office where two other assistants can be witnesses to the whole ordeal.

This was indeed disadvantageous to you because while your classmates had the freedom to consult him 24/7 through email, you had to wait for class--one you had once a week--before you can even officially start anything, and that’s IF he approves anything.

At this point, you gave up; on him, the class, and your grade. It might be too late to officially drop out of class, but you can use up all your allowed absences until he’s failed you for it.

You were upset at your decision but it was the best sounding option you had, even Taeyong agreed to it because he couldn’t even get his loglines approved. You agreed to accompany him when he had his one-on-one consultation for his third revision of loglines and nearly half an hour later, he practically stormed out of the office while violently whispering to you that he was joining your little ‘boycott’ of the subject after Mr. Chon told him to revise everything again in the most passive aggressive manner.

Both of you had three allowed absences before your final grades would be considered FA (Failure due to Absences) and the two of you spent the supposed class hours together instead to ease each other of the anxiety of it all.

“I hate him.” You snarled, throwing your head back to gulp the can of beer Taeyong had offered you. “It wasn’t even fair to begin with!”

It was the last allowed absence you had for class. The thought of it made you cry, thinking how it would tarnish your records and disappoint your parents if they find out.

Taeyong wipes your tear with his thumb. You had oddly gotten close with Taeyong because of the elective; working together to do your assignments, consulting one another for suggestions, and especially sharing mutual hate for the class. It was maybe a month and a half already, but it’s as if you and Taeyong had been friends since freshman year.

“We both enrolled and paid on time for the original class and prof, why were we the ones moved?” You sniffed, silently thanking Taeyong for inviting you to his dorm so you could vent out your feelings to someone who understands the situation.

“I know. But the system sucks, what can a couple of students do against them?” He sighs, rubbing his eyes in frustration; probably wanting to cry as well with how his voice shook. He was his organization’s vice president and he had plans to run as president the next year, but with an FA grade, he doubts he can even make the minimum CQPA to run as treasurer. “Ah, hyung would be so disappointed if I don’t take his spot as org president.”

You glance at the wall clock as you take another gulp of beer, “T-there’s like 30 minutes before class actually starts… should we just go?”

Taeyong snaps his attention towards you, “Are you crazy? And what will we say for ditching class for two meetings? We don’t have anything to present to him. He might as well give us an ‘F’ as fat as him if we show up empty handed.”

You hated how he was right; Mr. Chon would probably eat you alive in front of class for doing so. “Yeah, w-we shouldn’t. We need to commit to this stupid idea of ours.”

A phone begins to ring and Taeyong stands up to answer the call outside.

You let your gaze wander around the room, noting how clean and organized it was. You vaguely remember him telling you how he always cleaned up after his roommate, but he took no offence to it, rather enjoying the act of tidying up as a stress reliever or time killer.

As you finish off your beer, you receive a notification for a new email from no other than Mr. Chon, reminding you of the consequences if you don’t show up to class and the way he had worded it so condescendingly made your blood boil, and on top of that had it CC’d to both assistants AND the chairperson of the department, you just felt utter rage from embarrassment.

You put your phone down before you could even reply with the most improper and vulgar message you can think of. At the same time, you hear the front door slam and Taeyong is stalking into the room; face red and nostrils flared.

Before you could even ask, he’s screaming in frustration: “Our president found out that I’m purposefully failing a class and is demanding me to attend it! He even went as far as threatening to take me off my position as vice president!”

“Then make him go through the class and let’s see how he deals with Mr. Chon, who, by the way, just emailed us. He’s reminding us of the consequences and you know what’s worse? He had copies of the email sent to both assistants and the chairperson of the department! Like, was that even necessary?”

“What the hell?” He checks his phone immediately, scowling when he finds the email. “What is his problem?! Does he get off of our misery or something? I’ve never dealt with this kind of prof before! He doesn’t even fucking teach!”

You don’t really know Taeyong long enough to think formulate this opinion, but you’ve never seen him so angry and honestly, he looked hot.

Maybe he caught how you looked at him, but one second he’s ready to spit out more hate, instead he slams his lips over yours, grabbing the sides of your face with his hands after dropping his phone to the floor.

It caught you off guard; making you stumble back a few steps at how he met your lips, your hands flying to grasp the cloth of his shirt around his waist. He steadies you against him, slipping his fingers over your nape as his tongue licks your bottom lip.

When you part your lips to make way for him, he wastes no time slipping the wet muscle into your mouth and exploring the warm cavern. You both moan at the contact of your tongues, tasting each other of the beers and mints you previously had.

“Fuck,” He gasps in between kisses, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You look so hot when you’re angry.” You guide his hand over your chest.

“Yeah?” Taeyong squeezes your breast, moving his lips onto your jaw. He slides his thigh between your legs and rubs it over your crotch, hurriedly.

Stifling a moan, you stretch your neck out to give him more access and thread your fingers through his hair as you grind yourself on him.

He brings his mouth over yours again after slipping his hands under your shirt to get a better feel of your boobs, pressing his thumbs over your nipples until they were pert to his touch. He helps you out of your blouse, using the moment your lips are separated to unhook your bra. While he shrugs out of his own shirt, you fall to your knees and begin to to unzip his pants.

Once you were able to push his pants down and free his cock out of his briefs, you engulf most of his length as best as you can, tightening a grip on the few centimeters with one hand.

Taeyong cusses above you, moaning low as he combs your head back.

A ringtone erupts from below you and you fish out his phone out of his pants, handing it to him before resuming your previous act. “Answer it.”

He swallows hard as he obeys your request, not even giving the caller ID a glance before picking it up. “Hello?”

You watch him through your lashes, continuing to lick the underside of his cock.

“Wha-Calm down! I’ve made up mind! I’m not going to class and it’s way too late now.” He shouts into his phone, catching you by surprise.

You meant to pull away but his hand pushes you back down his cock, forcing the tip all the way to the back of your throat. You thank your ability to control your gag reflex and let yourself get used to the feeling; hollowing out your cheeks as he thrusts into your mouth.

“Shit, li-listen, I’m n-not going to beg Mr. Chon to let me back in class! I--what? So what if I’m with a girl-- I didn’t-- Prez, you’re being ridiculous!” He growls, pushing you away and kicking his pants completely off in anger. “You can’t just kick me off the team! I’m--”

You rise up from the floor, wiping the spit that dribbled down your chin. Warily, you watched Taeyong huff at his phone, ready to throw it to the ground but glances at you.

In a beat, he’s turning you around and pinning you against the back of an armchair; making quick work of your jeans and pushing them down your ankles with his foot once he got it past your knees.

“Did he threaten to kick you off the team?” You quietly ask, breathing rapidly as Taeyong cards his fingers through your pussy.

“He already has. He’s so abusive with his power! He was only elected president because he has connections to sponsors.” He grumbles behind you, “He also keeps reusing past choreo for new pieces! No one has the guts to call him out for it. I even made the fucking mistake of trying to befriend him because now I just get pushed around by him!”

You reach behind you to guide his cock into your pussy, “Let it out, Taeyong. If you’re really off the team, you’re not his lacke--”

You’re cut-off with a gasp as Taeyong surges forward, penetrating into you.

“I’m not his lackey!” He hisses, clawing your hips for support as he thrusts his hips repeatedly. “I’m the fucking vice president of the dance team!”

“What kind of president pushes around the VP like that then? Are you sure you were elected as vice president and not his lackey?”

“Stop calling me that!” He yells, snapping his hips harder into yours and eliciting a high shriek from you.

You bend over the armchair, grabbing at the pillows to anchor yourself against the force Taeyong was going at. You can feel your walls already accommodating his girth as they pushed in and out of you. Your lower abdomen tightens as your legs start to quiver in excitement; your orgasm is coming faster than you anticipated.

“T-Tae, I’m going to-- I’m really, really close--”

He grunts, moving you to the couch while still pounding into you. He only pulls you off of his dick to spin you around so you would be facing him and sits down, wasting no time as he hooks his fingers around your thighs to have you sit on his lap.

“You know,” He starts, guiding his cock back into your awaiting entrance, “That goddamn class is the reason why our president is so harsh on me. I was either going to practices late or leaving early to work on our stupid assignments.”

“Ugh, the root of all our problems is because of that goddamn class! It’s still unfair how we were transferred to Mr. Chon’s class.” You adjusted your legs so you could carry your weight as you begin to ride him.

“Don’t even mention that asshole! He keeps bragging about how he wrote scripts for indie films and how he was mentored by great, award-winning scriptwriters, but he never bothered actually teaching us shit.” He punctuates his complaint with a hard thrust upwards.

You moan out loud, dragging the sound until your head is situated on the crook of his neck. “Do that again.”

He obeys--multiple times; each with an insult towards your professor.

“Aah, I’m comi--!” Taeyong pulls you in for a kiss, drowning out your cries of pleasure as he holds your hips down for him to drive his cock into with a more calculated force.

You come with your toes curled and head thrown back in a silent cry while Taeyong thumbs furious circles over your clit and chases after his own high.

“In me, in me.” You chant, still shaking from your release.

Taeyong moans, “Shit, really?”

After confirming with a nod, he shoots his load into you; sensing immense warmth overcome your belly as you help him ride it out. When you take his cock out and proceed to sit back down on his lap, you can already feel it drip out of you.

“I can’t believe I got off for being so pissed.” Taeyong breathes, covering his eyes with his palm. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“Not at all.” You clamber off of him, dropping your weight to the space beside him. “I liked it and I guess… sort of needed it, too.”

He turns his head towards you and snorts, “We deserved it after that hell of an elective. We’ll be weakshits to those who stayed, but whatever, yeah?”

“I value my sanity, thank you.” You laugh and he joins you. “The only thing good that came out of this was you.”

Taeyong’s lips twitched into a smile, “Yeah. We wouldn’t have met if not for that damned class. If we didn’t help each other out with Chon’s assignments…”

“We would have died way earlier.”

He chuckles, “Yeah, but, uhm, no, not just that… what I mean is that I wouldn’t have gotten to know you and,”

You blink at him, “And?”

“I can’t do this with my dick out, [Y/N]. Hold on.”

“Your dick is fine--it’s amazing, in fact.” You grab his shoulders when he tried to get up, “Taeyong, I like you.”

Taeyong bursts out laughing, “We’re really confessing in the nude?”

“Think of it this way: if you feel the same way, it’s so much easier to get down to business.” You cock a brow at him and he shrugs with puckered lips.

“Then, I like you, too.” He says, twisting his torso to face you and dragging his thumb across your lower lip, “So, round two?”

Snorting, you cup his face and pull him in for a kiss, “How about we exclude shitty profs and abusive friends?”

Taeyong hoists you up in his arms, carrying you so that either of your legs were secured over his hips. He starts to walk away from the couch, grinning at you as you squealed in surprise at his action, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

a/n: this feels so rushed because of my internet situation ;A;

#nct smut #taeyong smut #kinkmas2018

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