#too tired to elaborate with the exact scenario

[lovesculprit]

don’t know why but my mind is suddenly filled with the idea of emperor ratio with concubine reader

[demonsigh]

the hunt

rating: lime/mature pairing: male vampire x gender-neutral reader features: touch starvation, safewords, biting, aftercare, cuddling warnings: blood, fear, being chased, dizziness length: 4240 words

Feeling isolated and craving physical intimacy, a college student agrees to be hunted and bitten by a vampire in exchange for a post-meal snuggling session. Based on this prompt submitted to @monsterkinkmeme​​ by @the-color-of-sound-is-space

You were supposed to meet him at 11 PM, in the middle of Bartleby Park. Vampires were nocturnal and uncomfortable in the sun, so the hunt had to take place at night. But did it have to be this late?

It wasn’t as if you were getting tired. You were something of a nocturnal animal yourself nowadays; college tended to do that to people. But the park was pretty creepy this late at night, eerily empty and unnaturally quiet.

You checked your phone again. 11:10 already. He was late. Had he been held up? Or could he have overslept? That thought wrung a quiet chuckle from you — a sound not at all reassuring to hear in the dark silence of the park.

The “he” in question was a vampire named Roland that you’d met on the internet. You were meeting up so he could suck your blood.

For whatever reason, college towns tended to attract vampires. It probably had something to do with the vibrant nightlife, and the bars that never closed, and parties that only ended when the sun rose. Or perhaps it was the rich history of such places, in the old stone buildings and the musty library books. Or maybe it was just the students themselves: curious and open-minded, over-educated and sheltered and a little bit reckless.

In the modern age, most vampires obtained their food in the modern way: in bags, from blood banks or speciality clinics. But there were those who still swore by more natural methods. Many believed that feeding from the source provided physical and mental health benefits. For others, the desire to stalk, and chase, and bite, was simply too strong to resist indulging. Luckily for all, it was not as difficult to find a willing human victim as one might expect.

You discovered a message board that was dedicated to this macabre economy. Vampires would make posts looking for “prey” — humans willing or eager to be bitten. An arrangement would be made for a night of thrilling and dangerous roleplay, where the vampire played the part of the seductive predator, and the human, the helpless victim.

For most of the humans who posted on this forum, being prey was a kink. They enjoyed the thrill of the chase, and the pain of the bite. It was foreplay to them, and the evening inevitably led to sex after their partner’s more pressing appetites were sated.

You became a little obsessed with this message board. You didn’t think you’d mind being bitten; there was something kind of sexy about it. But you weren’t really trying to get laid. What you really wanted was some quality aftercare, a perk that was frequently offered, requested, and discussed on this forum.

College had become something of a lonely experience for you. You hadn’t meant for it to happen, and you weren’t sure where you’d gone wrong. In your freshman year you’d made an effort to be social, starting a number of casual friendships, but none of them really stuck. You were still close to your high school friends, and you talked to them online all the time, but somehow the number of people with whom you had any physical interaction had dwindled down to zero.

It made you lonely in a deep, nagging way. You wanted a hug. You wanted to hold someone’s hand. You daydreamed constantly about these things, setting up elaborate scenarios in your mind that led to someone safe and warm holding you for hours at a time. You felt like these fantasies were reaching a boiling point in your mind. And one night, after drinking several beers by yourself, you made your own post on that message board. You would let someone bite you (hunt optional), in exchange for an evening of snuggling (sex optional).

And that was how you met Roland. He wasn’t the only vampire who replied to your post, but he was the only one who lived within easy walking distance. You agreed to meet at one of the campus cafes and discuss possibilities over coffee.

You recognized him immediately, although you were pretty sure he didn’t recognize you. He was in one of your classes. You frequently spied him from across the lecture hall, tall and good-looking and unapproachable. You’d always thought there was something a little otherworldly about him, but he mostly just looked like another student. You’d had no idea that he wasn’t even human.

And it turned out he wasn’t as intimidating as he looked. He actually seemed pretty nice, even a little bit shy. He’d never fed straight from the skin before — drinking nothing but bagged blood since he was turned — and he wanted to try it at least once. He wasn’t trying to get laid either. Like you, he was much more interested in the aftercare, hoping for something like a cooldown hug once the deed was done. That suited you just fine.

The plan was this: You would meet in Bartleby Park at 11 PM. The exact location didn’t matter, he said; he would come find you. This statement gave you an unexpected thrill. Perhaps the hunting part would be more fun than you’d thought. You would run, and he would chase you. If you screamed, all the better — although this did make a safeword necessary. You chose “cardboard,” the first word that came to your mind, which made him laugh. When he finally caught you, he would bite you on the neck and drink your blood. Then he would take you up to his apartment for first aid and spooning. Simple as that.

Only he wasn’t here yet. It was 11:20 now, and you were still alone. Maybe he was having trouble finding you. Or… was he backing out? That thought stung. You suddenly realized just how much you’d been looking forward to this, and the idea of going home tired and alone made you feel more depressed than ever.

A branch snapped in the trees nearby, and your head whipped toward the sound. Your eyes scanned back and forth across the screen of dark leaves, trying and failing to uncover the culprit.

“Roland?” you whispered. You hadn’t meant to whisper, but suddenly you were having trouble finding your voice. Your phone buzzed in your hand, making you jump. It was a text message from your friend:

“How did it go?”

“He’s late, I’m still waiting,” you typed in response.

“Ok… Text me again in an hour or I’m calling the cops.”

Your friends had basically all agreed that this seemed like a bad idea. You were starting to wonder if they were right. You didn’t know Roland at all… even if you knew where he lived and where he went to school. Even if he was cute and he seemed nice.

And even if Roland was fine, Roland wasn’t here. It was late, and the park was deserted. Who knew what other weirdos were prowling around out here.

You were starting to feel genuinely anxious. Beneath the trees, the park was dark, the shadows unaffected by the dim light of the street lamps. What was the safeword again? Cardboard? That was it, right?

There was a rapid noise in the grass behind you — tff tff tff — like something rushing towards you in long leaps. That was the last straw. You launched into a flat-out run, heart hammering, breath coming in gasps.

A pair of cold, hard arms wrapped around you from behind, jerking you to a stop. You screamed at the top of your lungs, and then, almost in the same breath, shouted, “Cardboard cardboard cardboard,” all in a rush; sure that the word would mean nothing to this person; that you were about to be hurt or worse.

But cardboard was the magic word. The arms disappeared from around your chest, and in a flash he was standing in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice rough, “are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

And of course it was only Roland, the very person you had agreed to do this with. He was staring into your face, expression distressed, hands gripping your shoulders.

“I’m okay,” you wheezed. “It was just… scarier than I expected.”

He was slowly shaking his head back and forth. He looked appalled. “Fuck, I am so sorry.”

You didn’t understand why he was apologizing like that, until you suddenly became aware of the wetness on your cheeks, and the ragged sound of your breathing. Were you crying? God, how fucking embarrassing.

“I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing tears from your eyes with the backs of your hands. “Jesus.”

“No no,” said Roland, “don’t apologize. I think I overdid it. ...And I was pretty late, that definitely didn’t help.”

He was looking around now, frowning into the dark woods, and rubbing your shoulders absently. You were hyper-aware of his hands. They were like ice but every pass of them over your shoulders sent a rush of warmth through you. You felt extremely relieved that he was here, even though he was the reason you’d been so scared in the first place. You wished he would hug you — the desire for this was almost overwhelming — but you felt too dazed and embarrassed to ask.

His eyes met yours once again, and his hands slipped from your shoulders, finding their way into his pockets instead — the exact opposite of what you wanted.

“Uh…” he said. “Do you wanna just skip this part and go straight back to my place?”

A wobbly laugh escaped you, and you nodded weakly. “Are you still gonna suck my blood?” you asked.

“Do you still want me to?”

“Yeah.”

He smiled at that. It was a small, almost shy smile, but enough to give you a good look at his fangs. They looked shockingly white and sharp in the dark.

He started to walk in the direction of his apartment, then paused; and looking back, expression uncertain, he held his hand out towards you. You hesitated for just one second. Then you placed your hand in his, and his cold fingers closed tightly around yours.

“Is this ok?” he asked.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Your heart was racing again. When was the last time you’d held someone’s hand? You never wanted him to let go.

Neither of you spoke. You wondered if he was feeling as nervous as you were. You’d thought that the scary part was over, but what about what came next? How badly would it hurt when he bit you? He’d never bitten anyone before, he said. How would he react to his first taste?

When you tried to picture it, all you could imagine were his lips pressed against your skin; and his hand cupping the back of your neck, holding you still. They were not unpleasant images. You felt your face heat up, and you were suddenly grateful for the darkness and the cold night air.

It was a fairly short walk. His apartment was a big single-room studio: TV and sofa in one corner, bed and bookcase in another. Rounded doorways branched off into a kitchen and a bathroom. There was a large white-curtained window in the west wall, and moonlight poured in through the glass, illuminating the plush carpet. It was cozy and uncluttered. Roland watched you look around, then looked around himself.

“Maybe in the kitchen?” he asked. He caught your eye, then glanced quickly away. “So we don’t get blood on the carpet.”

How practical. You followed him into the kitchen, forcing yourself to take even breaths as you went. Vampires were supposed to have excellent hearing. Could he hear how fast your heart was beating?

“Want some water?” he asked, opening a cupboard as he spoke. You peered over his shoulder, tickled to see that the only dishes he seemed to own were drinking glasses; no bowls or plates in sight. What would he need a plate for, after all?

He moved around you to fill the glass with water from the sink. He seemed to be avoiding eye-contact, and you wondered again if he was nervous. Somehow the thought made you feel more at ease. Boldly, you opened his refrigerator to examine the contents. Blood bags, and nothing else. Lots of them. Stacks upon stacks, in neat little rows. You couldn’t quite believe it, even though it was exactly what you’d expected to find.

You didn’t know what kind of face you were making, but you were afraid it wasn’t good. You turned toward Roland and found him watching you, expression careful; glass of water forgotten in one hand.

“Yeah…” he said.

“Nothing for me?” you asked, grinning, attempting to break the sudden tension.

He grinned back sheepishly. Then he pulled a little juice box out of the pocket of his jacket. It was the kind of thing they gave you after donating blood. You both began to laugh, and a warm, giddy feeling spread through you.

Roland moved closer and patted one of the countertops. “Hop up here?” he asked. You obliged, although it was more of a scramble than a hop. Roland began pulling more small items from the pockets of his jacket, and setting them on the counter next to you: single-use alcohol wipes; a few band-aids; a little roll of gauze, and a roll of medical tape. It became clear to you that he really had intended to bite you in the park, and he had come prepared.

He was standing very close now, almost pressed against your bent knees. You longed to close the distance. You didn’t move. Roland’s movements also grew slower, more hesitant. Stalling.

“Are you nervous?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he admitted.

“Why?”

He looked you right in the eye, finally. His expression was serious.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

“I don’t think it’ll be that bad,” you replied, although you weren’t sure whether you actually believed that.

He frowned, and his eyes travelled down to your neck. He was biting his lip, and his fangs stood out starkly against his skin.

He handed you the glass of water. You drank it. Then you took his hand and gently pulled him closer, spreading your knees wider so he could stand between them. He swallowed visibly.

“I’m nervous too,” you told him.

“I know,” he said, in a hoarse almost-whisper. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Safeword?”

“You can just tell me.”

You were both almost-whispering now, leaning in closer and closer. It felt an awful lot like you were about to share your first kiss.

With one hand, he pulled the collar of your shirt away from your neck, while his other hand slid up to cup the back of your neck. Your heart was hammering with excitement and fear, and his cold fingers felt good against your flushed skin. He lowered his face against your neck, and almost before you knew it his fangs were piercing the skin, creating thin twin wounds that ached immediately. You gasped and grasped handfuls of the fabric of his jacket. Honestly his teeth didn’t hurt much more than a needle, but somehow the reality of it stunned you. He was really going to drink your blood. In that moment, for the first time, you really believed that Roland was something other than human.

His lips closed over the wound. His mouth was wet and unexpectedly hot, and his tongue moved rhythmically against your aching skin as he sucked and swallowed your blood. He made a low sound deep in his throat — the type of contented groan that a good bite of food might inspire. You had to hold your breath to keep from responding in kind.

This was erotic. You couldn’t help thinking of it that way. Your grip on his jacket tightened, and you forced yourself not to squeeze your knees more tightly around his waist. You wondered if he felt it too. Was this exciting him at all? Or was this just a meal to him?

You couldn’t have said how long this went on — it was probably minutes, though it felt longer — but eventually he stopped drinking and pulled away. Somehow a piece of gauze was already in his hand; he pressed it to your neck, holding it firmly against the bite. You stared at each other, both breathing unevenly. His cheeks, so colorless before, were now flushed.

He cleared his throat and licked blood off his lips.

“Are you okay,” he asked, voice rough.

“I’m ok,” you said, although you actually felt a little dizzy. You felt around for the juice box. “Was that enough?”

He nodded his head and grabbed the juice box, pressing it into your reaching hand. He seemed a little dazed. He tore open one of the alcohol wipes, and while you drank your juice he disinfected the bite marks. You hissed at the stinging pain, and he grimaced in sympathy. Then he taped a fresh strip of gauze over the bite.

“It didn’t hurt that bad,” you reported between sips.

“Good,” he said. But he was starting to look unhappy again, frowning as he watched you sip your juice. Your heart sank a little in your chest. Maybe he hadn’t enjoyed this as much as you had.

“Are you ok?” you asked him.

He didn’t respond at first. And then he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against him. You bit back a huff of surprise. He was no longer cold — drinking your blood had warmed his whole body.

“What is it?” you whispered.

He heaved an enormous sigh next to your ear. “You just looked so scared in the park,” he said. You could feel the vibration of his voice against your chest. “I feel really bad.”

You didn’t feel bad. One of his large hands was pressed against your back, warm and reassuring, and the other was cupped around the back of your head. Your chest was pressed flush against his, and he was warm and solid and worried about you. You gave up trying to resist the urge to touch him. You put your arms around him, and squeezed your knees tighter against his waist, pulling him even closer to you. You let your head fall forward to rest against his neck, but as soon as you closed your eyes, the room began to whirl around you.

“Um,” you gasped. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Oh,” he said, a little catch of surprise in his voice. He pulled away. “Um. Let me, uh...”

Carefully, he slipped his hand under your knees, and gathered you up into his arms. You threw your own arms around his neck, shamelessly clinging to him as he carried you out of the kitchen with no apparent effort. He paused in the doorway and looked down at you.

“The bed or the couch?” he asked.

“The bed,” you said against his chest, hoping that this was not too bold. He didn’t seem to think so. He carried you across the room, careful not to jostle you, and gently laid you down on top of the comforter.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

You nodded your head. You were quite cold, actually; another effect of the blood loss.

Roland stood and went over to a small closet, where he retrieved a stack of thick, warm-colored blankets. He shook them out and draped them over you in layers, and their warm weight made you feel better almost immediately.

“Thank you,” you said.

“No problem,” he replied. He stood by the side of the bed, unmoving. He seemed to be struggling for words. “Um… Do you still want to…”

“Yes,” you said emphatically, and you peeled back the blankets to make space for him.

He looked self-conscious, but he didn’t hesitate. He crawled under the blankets, and carefully pulled you into his arms, settling your head against his shoulder. His body was still warm with your blood, and you pressed into him eagerly.

“Is this ok?” he asked.

“It’s perfect,” you said. You placed your hand flat on his chest, then sighed happily, which made him laugh. He laid his hand over yours, curling his fingers around it.

That was almost too much. Your chest felt fit to burst with it. You kept waiting to wake up, sure that you must have dreamt this whole thing. You still couldn’t believe he’d drunk your blood. His teeth had been inside of you. And as much as that weirded you out, it kind of turned you on too.

You suddenly remembered that you were supposed to text your friends back. You shifted around, and Roland loosed his hold on you to let you pull your phone out of your pocket.

“I’m letting my friends know you didn’t murder me,” you explained as you typed. You’d meant it as a joke, but you regretted the words as soon as they were out of your mouth. “I’m sorry,” you hurried to say, turning in his arms to face him, and wincing at the pain in your neck. “I didn’t really think you would…”

He shook his head before you could say anything else. “It’s ok. Biting someone…” He ran a hand through his hair as he thought. “Well, it’s an inherently violent act. Some people get carried away. Your friends weren’t wrong to be worried.”

“I feel safe with you though,” you said.

“Oh. Good.” He ducked his head, and his cheeks turned the pinkest they’d been all night. Your heartbeat stuttered in your chest. He was really adorable… You hadn’t expect that, watching him from afar. You pulled closer to him, putting your arms around him and laying your head against his chest. He tucked the blankets more snugly around your shoulders.

“This is really nice,” you said.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“How did you like biting me?” You forced the words out before you could lose your nerve. You hoped you weren’t making it awkward, but you had to know.

Roland didn’t answer at first. Then he let out a breath, and slid one of his hands over his face. “Not gonna lie,” he said. “It was way better than drinking bagged blood.”

“Oh, good!” you said, laughing. “I’m glad. I was worried you didn’t like it.”

“I definitely liked it…” he said, still covering his face. “You taste amazing.”

You felt your face turn bright red. There was a double-entendre in there somewhere, although you guessed it was unintentional. I’d like to taste you next, you thought wildly, and once again, you found yourself wondering if you were the only one whose mind had wandered into the gutter tonight.

He seemed to sense your sudden discomfort, if not its source, because he uncovered his face and said, “I’m sorry, that was a super weird thing to say.”

You shook your head against his chest. “I liked it too,” you admitted. “When you bit me.” Then, still more softly: “I wouldn’t mind if you did it again sometime.”

You heard him swallow. “I’d like that.”

You lapsed into a warm silence, untroubled and comfortable, and you basked in his presence like a cat in sunlight. You were aware of every part of him that was pressed against you: his chest rising and falling beneath you, and his hands pressed against your back, and his legs tangled with yours beneath the blankets, chaste but intimate, and ripe with potential.

You definitely wanted to kiss him. You opened your mouth to float the idea, but you were overcome by an enormous yawn. You suddenly realized you had no idea what time it was. It felt really late, but maybe you were just tired out from all the excitement.

“Was I falling asleep?” you asked.

“A little,” he admitted.

“I should probably get home,” you said, but then made no move to get up. You heaved a huge sigh. “I don’t wanna go yet though,” you complained, “I’m so cozy.”

“Do you wanna stay here?”

You lifted your head to look him in the eye. “Stay the night?”

“We don’t have to do anything weird,” he said, turning pink again. You stared at each other for a moment. Then he gently pushed your head back down to his chest, so that you weren’t looking at him when he said, “I don’t wanna let you go yet.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. As if you weren’t already convinced. “I won’t throw off your day? I mean your night?”

You felt him shrug. “I was just gonna do homework.”

That drew a surprised laugh out of you. You’d almost forgotten that Roland wasn’t just your weird vampire hookup. He was your classmate too.

“Do you know that we’re in the same class?” you asked, playfully accusing.

“Yeah,” he admitted, with a bit of a laugh in his voice. “I recognized you when we got coffee.”

That surprised you. “I thought I was the only one,” you said.

“I noticed you sitting in back sometimes.” His hand was still resting against the side of your head, and his fingers moved absently through strands of your hair. “I thought you looked cool.”

“Good,” you said, which made him laugh. You grinned against his chest. “I want to stay. Can I?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice soft, and he wrapped his arms more tightly around you.

[bangtan-madi]

pictionary — jeon jungkook

Pairing — Jungkook x Reader

Genre — fluff, slight angst, non-idol au

Word Count — 2.4k

Summary — When an adorable stranger becomes lost in a city not his own, surrounded by citizens who don’t speak his native tongue, there’s one person who goes out of her way to help him find his way home. And what better way to cross a language barrier than through the blank page of a sketchpad?

Warnings — Basically none, mild language

A/N — Italicized words in this scenario are words spoken in a foreign language.

On an ordinary day home from work, you wouldn't stop and pay much attention to your exact surroundings. You've done this process so many times. Down the stairs, slide the card, hop onto the train, get off and make your way to your apartment: it's muscle memory at this point. And after a long day at work, the last thing you want to do is focus on the commute.

Today isn't an ordinary day. Today, your boss had been in a horrid mood, one that penetrated the rest of the office workers. None of you really knew what had set her off, but honestly? Who knows. She tends to be like that when home life isn't great. It was all you could do to get your projects done in a timely manner and get the hell out of there while you still had a shred of kindness inside you.

Thrusting your backpack over your shoulder, you slide your subway card against the slot and push through the bars. The station is crowded, just as it is every Friday. All the crowds of your city are rushing to get home, or to grab dinner, or just wanting to get to the next place as quickly as possible.

On another day, you might've kept your head down, popped your headphones on, and tuned the world out. Today, however, you come across someone who's clearly having an even worse day than you.

A boy around your age struggles to get onto the train, barely clearing the entrance before the doors woosh shut. His eyes are wide and panicky, and he doesn't appear to be a native by the foreign language he speaks and the confusion written all over his face. From the very little you remember from a single college course, you can pick out a few words in Korean here and there. Dark hair askew across brown skin, the foreigner is dressed in all black. His leather boots and silver jewelry stick out to you the most, catching even your tired attention.

The young man tries to ask questions of several passengers on the bus, but most people brush him aside with snide looks. Obviously in distress, the boy continues to try for another few seconds before sighing shakily. He finds a seat away from the others, eyes watery and nose red. When he glances up in your direction, he offers the tiniest semblance of a smile. Even in the midst of his distress, he's kind and sweet, and you can't help but smile back. You don't know his name, he doesn't know yours, but you can't help but be drawn to him on that simple gut-feeling alone.

You leave the comfort of your current seat and walk over to the foreigner, giving a small wave as you approach. His brown eyes flicker up to your face, a little confused. 

"I'm [Y/n]," you tell him, first in English then in your best attempt at Korean. At least you remembered simple things, like an introduction. "Do you understand English? Or Korean?"

The stranger's eyes brighten at the familiarity of your words. He attempts to say something in response, but fumbles the English and shifts back to speedy Korean. You catch about every other word, hardly able to put them together into a coherent thought. 

Seeing your lack of understanding, the boy lets his words trail off in a sigh of desperation. Determined to find out what's wrong, you muster up a few words you can remember. "Can I sit here?" You gesture to the seat beside him.

The man shrugs, not giving you a verbal response. You can't blame him; the language barrier is more of wall than a fence in this situation. 

The subway car begins to move as you take your seat. You turn to your companion, keeping your voice soft and clear as you ask, "What's...Ah crap. What's—your name?"

The brunet shakes his head softly, not responding. He bites his lip, and you can see his mind running at a million miles an hour.

You give him an easy smile. "Don't worry." You pull a notebook and pencil from your bag, holding it up as a solution. "Pictionary?" 

The young man seems to understand that English word and nods eagerly, sitting up straight as you offer him one of your pens. 

A laugh slips out at his eagerness and cute bunny smile that appears. "Can you read English?"

He holds holds up his thumb and forefinger, keeping them an inch or so apart. 

"A little, okay! I can work with that." Shifting back to Korean, you add, "I'll go first." Using your clearest penmanship, you write your name in legible characters and hand the notepad to the mysterious man. "Your turn."

He grips the notebook and scribbles, "Jeon Jungkook." Sure, the characters are a bit strangely tilted, but it's clear he at least knows how to write his own name. Knowing what you recall from your Korean course, you mentally switch the names and see that his first name is Jungkook.

A smile widens across your face as you take the notebook back. Jungkook gives you a small, shy smile. "It's very nice to meet you, Jungkook."

Jungkook's brown eyes meet yours. He draws a little smiley face near his name. You don't need words to figure out what he was saying: he's glad to meet you, too.

You write another sentence in the free space. "What's wrong?"

He stares at the sentence for a moment, then moves his pen to the page. He sketches a stick figure and, turning to you, points to the imagine. "Jungkook," he states.

You nod in return, letting him know you're following. Jungkook's attention shifts back to his drawing. He draws several other stick figures in front of the other. Together, they total seven.

"Hyungs. Nae hyungs."

Your eyes light up, recalling another word in his native tongue. "Brothers! Your brothers." You wave him onward. "Go on!"

He puts a thick, black line of ink between them, then draws a frowny face beside his stick figure. 

"Separated?" you murmur to yourself in English, then again in your best attempt at the foreign language.

Jungkook nods again, his smile growing. He says another sentence in Korean, hoping you'll understand, but you shake your head with disappointment.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand." The boy's shoulders begin to slouch, but you place your hand on his forearm and squeeze gently. "You're lost. I understand. You've lost your brothers." You lift your free hand to make a pretend phone with your thumb and pinky finger, placing it near your ear. "Phone? Call?"

He shakes his head, mumbling something along the lines of, "Lost."

You resist the urge to give yourself a face-palm at your dumb question. Of course, he doesn't have a phone. If he did, he wouldn't be in this situation. "Where are they?"

Jungkook scratches the back of his head with the top of the pen, giving the page an intense stare. Upon an epiphany, he quickly draws the outline of a familiar silhouette of a nearby hotel, one that's known for it's elaborate neon sign out front and for its popularity among foreign exchange students. You pass it every morning on your way from your stop to your office.

It dawns on you, and you leap from your seat with excitement. Jungkook jumps in surprise, eyes growing even bigger at the odd combination of expression and gesture.

"You're a student!" you cheer, forgetting to translate. "You're an exchange student! How did I not see if before? I'm a fucking idiot."

The older man sitting in the booth behind you and Jungkook clears his throat, clearly not amused by either the volume or the content of your shouting. If you hadn't recognized him as someone that shoves Jungkook away not five minutes before, you might've ignored him. Instead, you return his sneer and stare him down until he looks away.

Jungkook attempts to hide his amusement as you turn back towards him. Reaching for his hand, you translate the one word you know from your epiphany: "Student!"

Your new friend's bunny-ish grin reappears as he nods eagerly. "Yes!"

"Hotel?"

"Yes! Hotel!"

The train begins its sudden slow as it approaches the next station. If you're right, you can take a cab back to the hotel and be there within ten minutes if you exit here.

Tugging on his hand, you point towards the doors as they open. "Follow me! I can take your to your brothers."

Jungkook's fingers tighten around yours, and he lets you drag him from the subway car and into the hectic station. Knowing how terrified he is about being lost in a huge city, in a foreign country where he doesn't speak the language, you make sure to keep your fingers tightly laced. Every thirty seconds or so, you glance over your shoulder to check up on him. Every time, he shifts his gaze from the world around him to you, giving you a smile that lets you know he's okay.

After flagging a cab and giving the driver the location of the hotel, you turn to your brunet companion. "Are you okay?"

The Korean male shakes his head affirmatively, glancing down to your clasped hands. 

"Is this okay? I can let go—"

Jungkook cuts you off and squeezes your hand tighter. Though he struggles to give a response due to the language barrier, you can tell how grateful and relieved he is to have found someone that's willing to take the time to help him. You can't even imagine how terrified he must've been, unable to talk to anyone and unable to find his way back to his brothers.

The cab stops in front of the large, downtown building. You pay the driver, thank him for the ride, and pull Jungkook back onto the sidewalk. The massive, neon sign overhead gives a pastel pink and purple glow against the darkening horizon. You hope and pray that this is the place he was talking about.

You don't even have to ask the question before Jungkook is pulling you into a tight hug, his arms holding you tightly against him. Though surprised, you return the embrace, laughter seeping out from both of you.

"Jungkook!"

Pulling away, you see an unfamiliar man exiting the hotel in a hurry. He's taller than Jungkook and appears a bit older. His lilac hair is striking against his honey skin, and his worried expression does nothing to subdue his attractive appearance.

The man nearly tackles Jungkook in a hug before he can say anything else. Jungkook seems relaxed in this situation, so you can only assume this is one of his brothers.

Once the man pulls away, he begins speaking to Jungkook at a million miles an hour. Though you understand little, you'd know the tone of a lecturing older sibling anywhere.

Jungkook pouts a bit, then gestures to you as if offering defense. His brother glances at you with relief, then ruffles Jungkook's hair in an affectionate manner.

"Thank you for bringing him back here," the man says, catching you off-guard with his near perfect accent and flawless English. "I honestly thought we'd lost Jungkook when we got separated at the station earlier this afternoon. He'd wandered off," the man gabs the younger in the ribs, "idiot."

You chuckle at the brotherly bickering and shake your head. "No, I'm just glad I was able to help! He looked so freaked out on the subway, tried talking to a ton of people but they wouldn't give him the time of day. I know just a tiny bit of Korean from college, so I'm relieved it was enough to get him back here."

The lilac-haired man extends his hand with smile that shows off his dimples. "Kim Namjoon. I'm Jungkook's classmate, but we're part of a group of best friends."

You shake his hand. "[Y/n] [Y/l/n]. I work a few blocks from here. Are you all exchange students?"

As Namjoon retracts his hand, he replies, "Yep! From Seoul. We're here to study for a semester and learn the language. I'm pretty fluent already, so I'm here to help the others at various levels. Jungkook is the youngest, and he's also the one that knows the least. Which is part of the reason we were all so worried."

"I bet. I've been lost in my own city before, where I knew the language and could ask for help and get it. I can't—I can't even imagine being lost in a foreign country." 

"We played pictionary," Jungkook grins, pleased that he’s said a full sentence in perfect English.

Namjoon’s brows pull together.  "Pict—what?"

You wave your hand dismissively.  "A game, don’t worry about it."

Jungkook asks a question in Korean. "The others are still out looking for you," Namjoon replies, first in Korean, then in English. "He left his phone in our room, so we weren't sure where he was. I need to text them to tell them he's back safe."

Namjoon pulls out his phone, and Jungkook turns to you. "Thank you," he murmurs in English, taking your hand once again.

Attempting to hide the heat in your cheeks, you brush off his gratitude with a simple, "I'm glad you're home."

"He really likes you," Namjoon says, getting strange looks from his younger friend. The older one turns to Jungkook and asks a swift question. After receiving an ecstatic reply, and Namjoon smiles even wider. "No pressure, but if you want, we were all going to grab some food from a restaurant down the street. I know it's Friday, and you might already have plans, but we'd love to have you if you want." He jerks his thumb towards Jungkook. "Especially him, he's just too nervous to ask."

Suppressing a giggle at Jungkook's realization as some of Namjoon's words begin to translate inside his head, you give an eager nod. "I don't have plans, so I'd love to!"

Namjoon translates your response to the brunet, and he reaches for your hand again and begins to tug you in the direction of the restaurant. Namjoon shakes his head and begins to text the others to meet the three of you at the ramen hole-in-the-wall.

You move your legs faster and catch up to Jungkook's side, keeping your hands firmly clasped together. This isn't how you thought an ordinary Friday commute would go, but you're far from complaining. You'd take a group of new friends any day.

Jungkook flashes his infamous bunny smile and tosses a wink in your direction. "Your turn to follow me." 

[wakaoujisenhime]

OMG! Now you are the best writer in my heart! I'm crying because your writing is so wonderful! Headcanons about Kise and Aomine are so soft! I in love with them! May I ask scenario about Kise female best friend who helps Kaijo boys (if you read Replace novel, you know their problems) with group date preparation.

A/N: I remember that being one of my favorite chapters, so thank you for the cute request! I’ve also decided to change the scenario up a little and have Kise’s best friend help them out after seeing them fail the first time & I tried something ‘special’ featuring Kise, so I hope you like it! ( ᵘ �� ᵘ )

Tags: Kaijo x reader ✅  SFW ✅  friendship ✅  fluff ✅

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

Summer school festival - Kaijo x reader

You were just about to leave school, take the bus back home, and end this tiring schoolday as your phone suddenly began vibrating. One look at the screen was enough to cheer you up.

“Kise, what’s up? It’s quite rare of you to call me...something wrong?”

“(Y/N)-cchi, I know this may come as a surprise to you, but I’ll need your help with something.“

——

“Damn it Kise what are we waiting for now?!“

The five stars of the Kaijo basketball club had all gathered at the main entrance of their school, planning on going to pick up girls. The idea originated from Moriyama, who had proudly stated that summer supposedly was the best time for festivities and ideally those activities are meant for pairs. So today’s mission was to look for a crowded place and try to get to know as many girls as possible...and that’s where you come in.

Your friend already had some suspicions considering his teammates, since they didn’t have that many skills in such flirty situations. He knew that some of them - Kasamatsu and Hatakawa - had no experience whatsoever with girls while others - Moriyama and Kobori - were just having some light problems they needed help with.

The others were slowly getting impatient and intended on leaving for the station and just as they had set foot past the main gates, the basketball club ran into you.

“(Y/N)-cchi, there you are!”, shouted the yellow-haired man as a bright grin adorned his features. He ran up to you and wrapped his arms around your body, signalizing just how happy he was to see you.

Wordlessly you returned his hug and patted his back, your eyes though were fixated on the men behind him.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?”, asked Moriyama gently.

As gentle as you could, you escaped your best friend’s arms and bowed to the other four.

“My name is (Y/N) (L/N). It’s a pleasure to finally be able to meet the rumored Kaijo basketball club personally.”

Only the tall man who had asked for an introduction answered, while all the others just nodded or didn’t say anything at all.

Hm...were they always so cold? They appear so talkative on the court, but in person, they seem quite distant...

“So uhm...Miss (L/N)...what are you here for exactly, if I may ask.”

The young man who uttered that question was quite tall and slim, had spiky brown hair but nonetheless appeared to be a nice person deep down. You actually appreciated what he’d asked since you had been wondering the exact same thing all the way to this school, but before you could even answer the man next to you took the initiative.

“I invited her to come with us!”

“You did what?!”

——

On your way to the station, Kise had explained the entire situation to you and his teammates.

In summary, this man truly believed that you would prove to be the best teacher and helper for them to overcome their inexperience and fear of women, and in order for you to get a good picture of their current standpoint, you had to watch them try and pick up girls.

Honestly speaking, it wasn’t the best idea, but it was so ‘Kise-like’ that even if you wanted to, you couldn’t refuse. His nice personality that made sure to always help people out is one of the many qualities that made you so fond of him.

So here you were, looking at five determined young men, raring to go out there and find their potential counterpart.

That was the plan at least...

Half an hour had passed during which three of them had taken turns in trying to talk to some random girls, one of them even tried speaking to the same woman who had dumped his teammate some minutes ago. Now just the captain and Kise were the only ones missing, but if there was one thing you knew and expected then it was for your best friend to actually steal the entire show and win over five or more girls at the same time, so before that happened you wanted to at least see just what kind of problem the man, who proudly wore the number 4 on his back, was trying to resolve. So instead of standing there and wondering on your own, you decided to just straight out ask him, but the moment he saw you approaching, he froze up.

After such a crushing defeat, the blond took it upon himself to initiate a second try and managed to invite five girls to join him and his teammates for a cup of tea. During their time at the coffee shop, you had taken a seat on a table for two which was close enough to theirs, listening and as subtly as possible observing the team’s behavior...

“You guys are hopeless as of right now”, you stated after everyone had gathered close to the fountain once again, “...but if the four of you are willing to overcome your current issues, I might have some tips ready.”

“(Y/N)-cchi, it’s so unfair that you only want to help them! What about me?”, complained Kise with his typical pouting grimace. It took you quite some time to get used to it and become immune, but at times like this, it really did pay off. Convincing this man was another problem you had to fully master, so you chose your words as carefully as you could, explaining that he didn’t need that much advice as the others.

On your way back home, you recalled today’s events with a small smile on your face.

Alright, if I remember correctly there was one very handsome and tall guy, who failed because he instantly started talking about how meeting that young girl was his destiny.

Then we had the other one who straight out asked one of them if they wanted some tea...great pickup line, huh?

There was also a loud but cute one who aske-...screamed at the same girl that rejected the spiky-haired one...

The captain, Kasamatsu I believe was so embarrassed and impressed with the chest size of that one girl at the cafe that he straight out said ‘oppai’ instead of ‘kanpai’...

After giggling to yourself you began thinking of possible ways to actually help them out, but you were quick to notice that this might become a greater challenge than expected. There were countless possibilities for dates or places where they could meet girls, but you didn’t know what the perfect scenario might be.

Suddenly your phone vibrated in your pocket and as you looked at the message you had just received, an idea you urgently needed to share with your best friend struck you almost immediately.

——

The rest of the week passed by in a flash and before any of you knew it, the day of your school’s festival had finally arrived.

“Miss (Y/N) hello.“, greeted Moriyama as soon as the five of them had met up with you at the promised spot. As soon as you saw that all of them had dressed up, you immediately began smiling to yourself, hoping that they wouldn’t notice the faint blush that adorned your cheeks.

“Good evening everyone, I’m glad to see that you guys found the way without any problems!“

It didn’t take Kise too long to run up to you and start complaining about how you’ve left him in the dark and ignored all his messages and questions concerning today’s plans. All you could do was pat his head and apologize for it.

“I know I shouldn’t have kept it hidden from you, but I figured it would be best if I told you guys about my plan today, so I could spare you from overthinking it too much.“

“That’s so nice of you, thank you very much!! We’ll be in your care tonight!!“, yelled the young man whom you remembered as Hayakawa and bowed to you multiple times, the action earning him a lot of curious glances from your classmates who passed by. It did take you some time to actually get him to stop his formal apology and you even got help from someone quite unexpected, namely Kasamtasu.

So he can do it if he wants to...

“Alright then, let me tell you guys what I came up with“, you began and lowered your voice, “some of my classmates are actually quite interested in basketball and as they heard that I know Kise they immediately started asking me if I could introduce them to him, but that wish extended the moment he joined Kaijo...and soon they wanted me to introduce you to them as well.“

The more you elaborated the more they understood in which direction this talk was headed, as for their thoughts...they varied, but out of respect to you they remained silent and kept on listening.

“So the moment my classmate reminded of today, I figured: why not invite you guys and finally introduce you to them.”

Kobori nodded slowly and placed a finger on his chin: ”That might actually work out...”

You smiled confidently and put your hands on your hips, striking a slight victory pose. “Oh, it will, since your interest and knowledge in basketball will be of great aid and advantage, since a lot of girls these days are really fond of you basketball players. And besides...have you actually noticed something peculiar?”

“Something peculiar you say..?”, repeated Moriyama who looked around, wondering just what you could possibly mean with that.

“Well compared to the girls at the station, you can actually talk pretty normal to me, right?“

The moment realization hit them several loud and surprised ‘oh’s escaped their mouths.

“Fact is that the four of you have no real problem talking with girls...your approaches are the main reason for concern.”

You turned to Hayakawa and began listing the results of your observations as well as giving them individual advice for the planned ‘group date’ that was about to follow.

Hayakawa, an ambitious young man who didn’t know how to tame his loud personality as well as his obvious love for the ball sport. That eagerness and dedication is actually quite the positive character trait a lot of women look for in a man, so his only obstacle would be to slowly drift off from basketball as a topic and strive for one which was more centered on the romantic life. So the advice you gave him was that he should begin imagining the date as some sort of basketball game. He - the player - had to somehow maneuver his way to the hoop which was the successful date or conversation, the girl would be the ball, and the enemies that try to block his way his passion for basketball.

Kobori, a really respectful and innocent young man who has no experience whatsoever and knows almost nothing about girls or pickup lines. Someone like that is quite rare to find and even if he may see it as some kind of disadvantage, you first and foremost reassured him that his ‘pureness’ is quite beneficial for girls who were in the same situation as him. It’s better to be unexperienced together and advance as a pair than solo. Your advice? ‘Be yourself and don’t be embarrassed to state that you’ve got no experience at all since that alone is commendable enough considering your age, looks, and club affinity.’    

Moriyama, the ‘pitiful handsome guy’ who believed that every encounter with the female gender was fated and destined for greatness. His nickname already gave anyone who witnessed his way of flirting a sufficient idea of what the problem with this man might be. He had the looks and gentleness for it, but the moment he opened his mouth it all went downhill for him, his conversation partner, and the success of the dialog. It was hard to give him advice since the idea of fateful meetings was deeply rooted in his head, so all you told him was that he should bring that topic up more subtly and maybe combine fate with some pickup lines since you had no doubt that if someone could pull off such cheesy sayings then that would be him.

Last but not least Kasamatsu the captain who barely managed a single word when women were around. For some unknown reason, he seemed afraid of the female kind, but he at least knew what he wanted, and back at the cafe he also proved to be somewhat capable of expressing that. So your advice to him was to actually let his actions speak for himself. Like that he’d get somewhat accustomed to the girl’s presence and that would make it easier for him to start a conversation, additionally, the fact that your classmates were also interested in basketball would help the captain out the most.  

As for Kise, well...he was your best friend, and during all these shared years of friendship you’ve pretty much told him everything concerning ‘problems’ he might have during such group dates. He was a desired and flashy young man who had a very unique sense of humor that was well received amongst his peers - female as well as male. The only problem was that he rarely managed to concentrate on one person and that, of course, hurt his conversation partner. Your advice to him was simple: turn your back to the crowd and face her and her alone.

After you had finally finished sharing your thoughts they all looked at you with wide, impressed, and somewhat loving eyes.

Sadly the group of girls came earlier than expected so the boys couldn’t manage to thank you properly, but you didn’t mind that and just sent them off with a smile on your face, hoping they’d have a good time and finally succeed in picking up girls. You couldn’t deny the fact that you felt lonely after literally sending off five people on a date with some other female students, but that loneliness soon perished as some moments later you heard a familiar voice calling out your name...  

[thirsty-x1]

Sunrise | Lee Hangyul

Request:

uhm so the bio says open so here goes my pitch✨ babysitter hangyul taking care of toddler dohyon for one night and you caught him teaching dohyon how to dance and just you guys taking care of dohyon and getting him to sleep in cute pajamas uwu

↬ Pairing: Hangyul x gn!reader.

↬ Genre: Fluff.

↬ Warnings: none, but toddler!Dohyon is adorable.

↬ Word Count: 1.6k

↬ Song Recommendation: “Sunrise” by GOT7 (Jaebeom solo)

Your heartbeat got quicker when you received Hangyul’s message, the screen illuminating and allowing you to read “I have a surprise for you.” Uncertainty filled you, not knowing what to expect since the outcome to those words was always different: sometimes, it included a mess he had made while practicing his newest hobby, others a nice dinner, and once Hangyul completely naked on the couch, all three of them leading to you having to clean something up. The sound of the keys in your fingers broke the silence as you opened the door, hoping that you didn’t need to any chores, your eyes opening wide at the scene developing in front of you.

Music loud, the broad back of your boyfriend covering the TV as he copied the moves displaying in the screen at a slower pace so that the tiny person beside him tried to catch up. A smile started to spread on your face before you could even close the door, both of them turning to you when you squealed, Dohyon running to your arms and asking to be picked up incessantly.

“My favorite boy is back~” You pressed your cheek against his, ignoring the slight sweat on his skin and proceeding to give him a soft kiss while holding him close, and he didn’t quite complain, his gaze fixed on Hangyul.

“He has been torturing me!” The accusative tone in his voice added to his small finger pointing at your boyfriend tightened up your chest, trying to hold back your laugh while asking why he said that. “Hyung doesn’t want to feed me.”

At Dohyon’s slight pout, the other came up to defend himself. “I said that I would cook you something if you danced with me to a few songs!”

This always happened whenever Hangyul had to babysit Dohyon: the toddler wanted to eat, the other wanted to make exercise, and you always found yourself in front of two kids fighting thanks to both having the same mental age. With a small sigh, you put down Dohyon, changing the video that was playing to another one with a way more simpler choreography than the one your boyfriend had chosen and with the kind of music that the little one seemed to enjoy. Turning around with a big grin, they seemed to have the same idea as you, getting up and dancing without paying much attention to the moves and simply laughing at each other, Dohyon’s high pitched giggles filling the room when Hangyul nearly fell.

Since it was still pretty early to have dinner, you tried to come up with different plans to keep Dohyon distracted, and that’s how you ended up having a karaoke competition. It was cute whenever the younger would mess up a few words, although his diction was extremely good considering he was so little and just by sharing a look with Hangyul you knew what he was thinking: pure talent. Both of you had talked about it multiple times too. Dohyon seemed to have a deep fondness for music and that always showed in the seriousness in his face whenever he listened to songs and how he paid attention whenever Seungyoun would teach him how to handle any machinery to compose songs. It was certainly adorable when he excitedly brought his notebook filled with wavering letters for you to give him feedback, and not even once you were disappointed by it, the huge smile on his face always making you feel warm.

As the last song faded, you could hear not one but two stomachs grumbling and giving the perfect ending to the performance, making you laugh out loud as you got up.

“I guess you’re hungry?” Both of them nodded at your question. “Then I’ll start cooking.”

Dohyon placed his small hands on your knees and jumped a few times. “Can I help? I like cooking…”

“What a liar, you just want to taste everything before it is ready.” Hangyul exposed him cruelly, sticking out his tongue when Dohyon rolled his eyes and went back to looking at you pleadingly.

Sometimes it felt like the only adult in the house was you, and it wasn’t very far from reality. As you went with Dohyon to the bathroom and washed your hands together, Hangyul started cleaning up the living room and clearing a bit of space in the kitchen, setting up a chair near the counter so that Dohyon could reach the table and help out.

You opened the fridge, scanning what your boyfriend had in there without focusing on the vegetables thanks to the smaller’s disgusted look when he saw them. Finally, you settled up for something simple (not like the few products were going to allow you to make something more elaborated): omelet and some bits of steak. You cracked the eggs and added the seasoning, letting Dohyon mix everything together to later pass it back to you so you would prepare and give the final form to it while Hangyul was in charge of cooking the meat.

In just a few minutes, everything was ready, the toddler hurrying to settle the table, his tiny hands carrying everything that was necessary and sitting up to wait for you to serve everything. The way his eyes shined as you placed the plate in front of him made you smile, and seeing him stuff his cheeks with the food while making the most delighted expression had Hangyul feeling proud.

Sharing these kind of moments made you think about the future, your mind wandering as you saw your boyfriend leaning across the table to clean the corner of Dohyon’s lips. Your eyes were fixed on him, your heart beating a bit fast at the thought of how it would be to form a family with him and seeing him as a father, but when his stare met yours it quickly pulled you out of your thoughts. It wasn’t the first time he caught you looking at him like that, and the jokes that followed those moments would chase you indefinitely, but this time he said nothing. Instead, he simply raised an eyebrow, pointing out at Dohyon with his chin and then wiggling his eyebrows again. Whatever he was trying to say with that gesture, it was impossible to understand, so you simply ignored it and continued with your meal.

As soon as everyone finished, Hangyul stood up to wash the dishes while telling you to go and change Dohyon into his green pajamas with a “D” sewed on the chest. His eyes looked tired, yawning a few times and stretching, whining a bit when his hyung entered the room with a loud cheer.

“How about we watch a movie, hm?” Your proposal was accepted without much resistance.

You sat on the bed, making space so that Dohyon would be comfortable in your lap while Hangyul hugged you from behind, the three of you sitting in a vertical line right in front of the TV. Your boyfriend had picked the movie, but it wasn’t long until you felt the weight of Dohyon’s head on your arm, his eyes closed and his breathing steady, and somehow his tiredness washed over you as well.

It was only the soft, distant noise of the actors speaking what filled the room now, although Hangyul wasn’t paying attention to them at all. Instead, he was looking at you, the way you slept placidly refuging in his arms, and the way that Dohyon was curled up against you too, his arms being wide enough to hold you both close to his body. He wasn’t prone to show it, but you were his biggest weakness and strength at the same time, especially when it came to moments like these. Taking care of Dohyon was more of an usual thing now rather than an occasional favor for his parents, he was even excited waiting for their call. Sure, he really liked the feeling of having a younger sibling, but he also liked seeing the way you took care of the kid, the small interactions between you two, and you were oblivious to it but he had the exact same thoughts that you did during dinner.

His body focused on the warmth that yours irradiated, the way your hand held his tightly even while being unconscious while the other was wrapped around Dohyon. There was something about the scenario that made him feel warm, his fingers tracing silly figures on your arm and then softly pocking one of the child’s chubby cheeks. He wasn’t tired, not really, and anyway it was much more entertaining to see how you two slept so profoundly. It was hard for him to express what he felt when he had you like that, but it was close to saying he felt safe and also trusted, slightly honored at the fact that you were so vulnerable with him.

Your scent surrounded him, his eyes fluttering shut for a second and at the other, he could feel the warm rays of sunshine on his skin, his eyes suddenly intoxicated with the way the light danced on you and Dohyon. He was quick to cover both of you, protecting your eyes from the intrusive sun that threatened to disturb your peacefulness, but the low snores indicated that wasn’t happening any time soon. Hangyul let out a light giggle at that, careful to not wake you up, and instead rested his head against the pillows behind him, finally letting the tiredness wash him over now that he made sure you two were safe.

He knew that whatever happened was fine as long as you were with him.

This made me a bit soft because I love domestic interactions :(:((( I hope it’s good;;; not writing in such a long time has been hard so I feel like I’m a little bit stiff lol

~Nani

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[ranposlittle]

hello darling.Um can I request mori scenario where he found out that his girlfriend got hit by the car and she is currently unconscious.Make it fluffy fluffy in the end please 🥺🥺🥺

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

Tags: Accident, Comfort

A/N: Aah my first request! Thank you so much for sending this in! I had so much fun writing Mori in this way that it's longer than I expected~ I fudged up the plot a little bcos my brain thought you asked for reader-chan in a car accident instead of getting hit. It's still kind of similar so I hope you'll still like this and it's fluffy enough! (;ŏ﹏ŏ) I also hope you like the little Mori I created on Pastel Friends haha! Feel free to send another ask if you would want~ 💕

Small gasps and low whispers echoed throughout the hospital hallways as a group of suit clad men stormed in. They stopped for nothing and no one dared to get in their way. Everybody is well aware of who these men are and what they do, they don’t need to state their business to anyone. People in wheelchairs would push themselves aside with all of their arm strength to give way to this stride, especially since the tall man in the middle looks horribly pissed.

It is rare for Mori to be sighted in any public places such as this hospital particularly wearing his “mafia boss” outfit but given the importance of the situation, he couldn’t care less. He couldn’t bother disguising as your friendly neighborhood physician and maybe sneak his way inside. He needed to see you as soon as he heard the report. Mori’s scowl deepened and his clenched fists tightened as he remembers the exact reason why he barged in here in the first place.

They stopped at the room at the end of the hall. His subordinates stood guard outside as Mori practically bust the door open and marched inside.

A doctor and a nurse was within the room and they both gasped at the intrusion. They were held back by one of his men to keep them from interrupting as Mori towered over your layed body.

He bit his lower lip as he swallowed back a whimper that formed on his throat when he saw you in your current state. Although, he’s thankful that your predicament wasn’t caused by the fact that you’re in a relationship with him nor for his notoriety, it doesn’t mean that his heart didn’t dropped on the floor at the mention of you getting into a bad accident.

“What happened?” He asked in almost a whisper, directed to the doctor.

“Are you a relative of the patient?” Mori’s head whipped to face the doctor, his stare is as sharp as his own scalpel and for a second, he was considering to take it out and end him for such an insolent question. However, Mori was never a man to let his emotions dictate his actions. With just a look, his subordinate pressed the mouth of his pistol against the doctor’s temple, eliciting a quivering cry before he gulped dryly and began to explain.

“I-It was an accident near the highway. The responders said that the car tipped over when it avoided a speeding truck on a curve and the car rolled down the wooded area beside the road,” Mori bit back another sob and gritted his teeth in an attempt to keep his composure.

“They’re unconscious right now because of a head trauma, possibly due to hitting the roof of the car when it rolled over. There’s a mild hematoma but we’re closely monitoring it until the blood clot is resorbed naturally. Although, it might take a while,” the doctor continued. Mori studied your face and saw the damage the incident left you with. Even though the cuts were properly stitched and your scrapes carefully bandaged, he can’t help but feel a pinch on his chest. As if the pain from your physical injuries bounced back to him and his heart took all the blows.

“There were also some broken bones on their arm and leg so we needed to cast it. The car landed rather harshly on their side so their limbs took a hard beating. A neck brace was also necessary for a minor dislocation of vertebrae,” as the doctor elaborated on the extent of your condition, Mori’s chest grew tighter and heavier. His heart sending pangs of pain throughout his whole being and it just keeps on going. He held your free hand tightly. Your skin felt so soft and gentle on his calloused ones that it sent another big wave of pain from his heart by the thought that he failed to protect you and he couldn’t have prevented this despite the immense power he possesses.

From the way that his eyes are burning right now, he knew that the waterworks are coming. He can’t help it and he’s honestly too hurt to even want to try and prevent it from happening. So with a wave of his hand, his subordinate was dismissed and left the room along with the doctor and nurse.

He took the seat right beside you and slumped. It felt good to finally let his shaking knees rest as it struggle to keep him from breaking down while in front of other people. He held your hand close to his face and looked at your beaten up image one more time. Mori maybe known for being ruthless and perhaps heartless, but he treats his people in a certain level of respect and the concept of loss was never a friend of his. So, it is a different level of frustration and sadness for him to think that he could’ve lost you, a person whom he holds in a much higher praise than any one in his world right now. You’re neither under him nor above him; you’re beside him on his throne.

Mori buried his face on your hand and laid his armor down. He let the tears flowed out of his eyes and onto your delicate hand as he feels deep inside, the human left in him.

You can hear a slow but steady beeping sound as you slowly opened your eyes, a bright light filling up your vision. You slowly started to feel your aching body, your heavy head and the weight on your hand. You slowly turned your strained neck to the side only to see a view you’re thankful you’re still living to witness. Mori sleeping is a sight you never get tired of watching. You never cease to appreciate how vulnerable he is in that state and how he let himself be exactly that when he’s with you. His head’s laying on his hands on top of yours. You wanted to caress his hair as you always do during the countless nights you’ve shared the bed together but quickly realized that your other hand is immovable due to the cast it’s enclosed in.

“Mori,” you called out softly. Your voice sounded so rasp and tired but to Mori, it sounded like an angel summoning him back to life. He woke up with a slight jump, his mouth agaped in a quiet surprise and his eyes wide.

He muttered your name with a slight disbelief and excitement on his voice. This made you smile despite the prickling pain of your facial injuries. You untangled your hand from his to reach up as high as you can and touched the side of his face. His facial hair has grown into a stubble and it tickled your palm a little. He once again put his hand atop of yours and pressed his cheek further onto your palm. Mori’s eyes were soft, restrained tears clouding its purple shade. His wide smile spilled warmth throughout your battered body and mind.

“How long was I out?” You inquired while rubbing your thumbs on his cheek.

“About three days. You surely took your time,” he chuckled lightly.

“Did I made you cry?” Your question took him slightly abacked. Mori may not be famous for it but you know well about his caring side. He shamelessly showcased how gentle and nurturing he can be with you and he knows that he didn’t even have to answer your question for you to know that he undoubtedly did.

“Am I going to get in trouble for that? Go ahead and punish me,” you jested. You wanted to lighten up the mood for the both of you as you can also feel your tears straining from your eyes. Mori’s laugh echoed through the room and made your heart flutter.

“Go on. I thought you’re into bondage, I’m practically immobile right now. This is your biggest opportunity. You can do whatever you want to do with me,” you went on and placed your hand behind your head in mock seduction. He blinked at you but a smirk suddenly crept up his lips.

“You know what? You’re right. I should take advantage of you,” he said standing up to take the tray filled with food from the side table. Mori spooned the soup and placed it near your mouth.

“Open up for the airplane,” now it was his turn to tease. You moved your head back and protested.

“What are you doing? I’m trying to be sexy here,” you giggled. He just follows your mouth with the spoon when you would move your head from side to side, trying to avoid his ministration.

“You said that I can do whatever I want with you. So, I’m taking care of you. That’s what I want to do,” Mori’s words made you froze. You stared at him wide-eyed and he just smiled at you, his eyes affirming what you’re already thinking.

You might’ve been together for quite awhile now but Mori’s sudden display of emotion and affection still hasn’t failed to shock you every time. You lowered your head in an effort to hide your blush even though you’re not even sure if it’ll show up with all the bruises on your face. You opened your mouth and took in the spoonful of soup. It wasn’t as warm as you hoped it would be but your disappointment quickly dissipated when Mori wrapped you in a loving embrace.

“What’s wrong?” You asked quite concerned for the man. You rubbed his back with your free hand to comfort him and also, to let him know that you appreciate the gesture.

“I just never thought I’d tell you how scared I am of actually losing you,” Mori’s deep voice vibrated through your ear and his words squeezed on your heart.

Everyone in Yokohama would quake in their boots when faced with this man. This man, who stops at nothing and would do even the most despicable acts just to attain his goals, is holding you softly in his arms. This man, who would carelessly manipulate the people around him and use them as pawns to his battles, cares so deeply for you that he doesn’t mind showing off his weakness as a human.

You clutched tightly on his back as the tears you desperately held back dropped on the side of your face when you smiled.

“You’re making me feel guilty for worrying you, huh?” You joked light-heartedly and Mori chuckled even if you can hear the hitch on his breath from all the sobs he pushed back down.

“Yes,” he playfully replied and moved back from the hug to cup your face.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled as another tear rolled out of your eyes. Mori wiped the wetness on your cheeks from the tears that streamed down and gave you another comforting smile.

“If you really are then, why don’t you make it up to me?” Mori leaned down and weaved his lips affectionately onto yours.

His lips fit yours perfectly and you felt like it has been forever since you’ve kissed him. You thought of how dreadful it must’ve been to not be able to be with him like this ever again if the accident was much worse than it was. You imagined how your soul will long for him and how you’ll patiently spend many lifetimes just to find him again. It wouldn’t matter if he’ll still be the monster that other people think he is or he’ll be the friendly doctor he often poses to be, you know your souls will recognize each other no matter what. He may be known for taking away lives but Mori’s the main reason why you still want to live right now and similarly, your life is the only one that matters to him.

[kayokos-villain-imagines]

General Relationship Headcanons- Setsuno Toya

// I have 6 requests and decided to do this because I love Setsuno so much //

// I still feel like I didn’t do him justice smh //

// I’m probably going to write a really fluffy scenario for him //

What he needs in a s/o: Someone kind enough to set aside time for him, patient enough to handle frequent breakdowns, and willing to give him copious amounts of praise and positive feedback. You’ll have to be openly affectionate and just be there for him no matter how hard things are for either of you.

How he acts with a crush: Doesn’t really know how to act. Should he show interest? Push you away? Try to stay friends? Everything seems like it’ll end with you abandoning him. And he couldn’t handle going through that again. Not with you. He ends up coming off as really anxious and afraid of you, which isn’t really wrong. No matter what though, he’s not going to ask you out. Either, Hojo sets you up, you ask him out, or Overhaul gets fed up with Setsuno’s puppy love and asks you two to resolve the issue.

Pros of dating him:

LOYAL: Once you give him apt time to fully warm up to the idea of trusting a s/o again, Setsuno would follow you off a cliff. You make him so happy just by being there and he would do anything to make you feel the same. No matter how hectic his day is, he’s constantly thinking of you, and daydreaming about getting to cuddle you again.

Supportive: Will support you in anything and everything you do. If there’s a possibility you could get hurt, he’ll be anxious about it, but he knows you can handle yourself, and he trusts you to make good decisions. In the meantime, he’s your personal cheerleader, telling you everyday how impressed he is with you and how much he believes in you. If you mess something up, he’s just as understanding, will reassure you that it wasn’t your fault and everything will be okay. Conversely, he’s the exact opposite with himself. He doesn’t think he has much to offer, and if he fails at something, he’ll put himself down about it for weeks.

Attentive: Will do anything and everything for you if you ask him to. He does so much for you, in fact, that you probably rarely ask him for things. If you do ask him for something, and he can’t get it for some reason, he’ll have a nervous breakdown and double down on his servitude for a while, begging for forgiveness long after you’ve told him that he did nothing wrong.

Easily Pleased: Don’t stress over getting him expensive gifts or planning elaborate date nights. Setsuno is very low-maintenance when it comes to this. Just ask him to come cuddle you, and he’s shaking from excitement. Seriously, you’re his reason for living and he would do anything to please you.

Hojo and Tabe: Honestly, where the other two might want to show you off to the others immediately, Setsuno’s a little more reluctant, pretty much purely because of jealousy. He trusts them, and you for that matter, but he’s sure that almost anyone could offer more as a romantic partner than he can. However, you do get to meet them eventually, and the thought of having two other people to protect you really reassures him.

Cons of dating him:

Emotion Transparency: You’ll have to learn to be very emotionally open with him to prevent his anxiety. If you’re stressed from work or something, and your body language is even a little off, Setsuno will notice and assume it’s because of him. It’s better to just let him know what’s bothering him so he doesn’t have to worry. Plus, he’ll do everything in his power to make you feel better!

Clingy: If you like long-distance relationships, Setsuno is not for you. He needs to be with you as much as possible. If he’s alone with his thoughts for too long, he’ll start spiraling and have a breakdown. If you do have to separate from him, like if you have a job, taking initiative and calling him during the day will mean the world to him. Also, if you suspect that you’ll be even five minutes late, please call him and let him know.

Emotional: This trait has two issues attached to it. The first has to do with jealousy. He hates seeing you around other people, especially guys, and hyperfocuses on their strengths compared to his weaknesses. He needs constant reassurance that you still want him, which can be tiring. The second issue is him getting upset  a l l   t h e   t i m e. See a couple at a restaurant? There’s a romance movie on? Breakup songs on the radio? He’ll cry over all of it. But I mean, can you blame him? Just be aware that you’re going to have to be the one to comfort and love him through all of it.

Big Spoon or Little Spoon? Little spoon for sure. Will plop down in your lap (after triple-checking that it’s fine with you), curl up into a little ball, and nuzzle your neck with his eyes closed. Please ask him to come cuddle with you, he’ll be over the moon about the fact that he can make you so happy with something he loves so much. He lives for cuddles, the thought of being intimate with someone who cares about him like you do makes him tear up a little.

How to make him happy: Breath, move, wake up in the morning, etc. Whatever you do, he’s all over it. If you want to go beyond that though, he’ll be extremely pleased. Physically, Setsuno’s favorite things are really tight hugs, and gentle ear/nose kisses. He also thoroughly enjoys praise, as much as he disputes with it. Just pet his hair and call him a good boy, tell him how important he is to you, how lucky you are to have him, and he’s in heaven.

Σ>―(〃°ω°〃)♡→

[notquitechaotic]

so I’m back online, never thought I would be blogging again but here I am after having to deal with man children and their audacity. and y’know, what better way to deal with yet another misadventure with the male species other than bitching about them?

given that this happened like a day ago, I feel like I’ve cooled down enough to try and talk about it. 

screenshots will be included but I would have to blur out the guy’s face (sadly) because of POHA

for some context, I matched with this guy named William (”Will”) on Bumble. I want to say that things kind of went well at first and we exchanged telegram usernames and started talking there instead.

(edit: he has “changed” his alias and is now “Wilford”)

first red flag was the reason he gave after he unmatched with me.

and if anything, I’ve learnt that most of the time when guys like him say that a girl is crazy or “batshit crazy” without elaborating, it’s mostly the guy who is the problematic one and because the girl isn’t reacting the way they want the girl to, the girl would then be “crazy” to fit their “I’m a nice guy” narrative.

I let the matter slide, and I moved on with my day because it was none of my business too. and everything was kind of fine until he accepted my follow request on Instagram.

I’m not that great when it comes to remembering faces but it’s not that bad to the point where I would forget a person’s face completely. So when I realised that he looked different, I asked him.

“my hair diff only” were the exact words he sent so I asked him to sent the photos that were posted on the app. 

this was the part where he fucked up lol

I asked him who the person was because when I tapped into the photo of the guy who is in a sauna, it was a screenshot of someone else’s Instagram account.

he said that it was his good friend and they “agreed to exchange photos” (honestly I don’t believe that for a second, the photo he sent is of his friend, blurred it all out in case someone recognises it)

all the while being pushy to meet irl.

if anything, I absolutely hate it when a person lies to me (because I find things out eventually) and I hate it when they are pushy (in this scenario, this guy just flat out reeks of desperation)

at this very point of time, my impression of him hasn’t been all that great, I was starting to feel really uncomfortable, I just didn’t think it would get worse (but I was wrong)

screenshots from here on out have the top cut off because it shows his phone number and again for privacy issues *cough* POHA *cough*, it has to be cropped out.

on hindsight I should have just set the record straight and say that I wasn’t comfortable meeting him instead of trying to imply it because I wasn’t explaining myself right and it just flew right past him.

“don’t you realise texting can be deceiving” and “some is my friend some is mine, I told you honestly already” are two very contradicting sentences. and again, he was being pushy about meeting.

I probably shouldn’t have used “weird” should have outright say that it was sus, but I would say that I was okay/ somewhat comfortable with the idea of meeting him until I realised that he wasn’t being honest. if he can’t even be honest about his own identity, then whose to say that he wouldn’t have ill intentions? so yeah I would say that me being uncomfortable meeting him is justified.

but this is the part where shit hit the fan because he started showing his true colours when he was being met with rejection:

“there’s nothing to be scared about” again, he wasn’t being truthful of his own identity, I think it is fair for me to overthink and be afraid that he has ill intentions and I’m just trying to protect myself. I don’t think I’m wrong for that lol

you can say “go google and stop ignoring the facts” but he can’t even try to link his sources. errr, when Dr Inna Kanevsky roasts people who use psychology to back to talk about things, she includes sources to support what she says.

again, made the mistake of not telling him outright that I wasn’t comfortable but if you scroll up a little bit to the screenshot where he made the contradictory sentence, I did try to imply that I was no longer comfortable meeting him.

he is trying to act all smart and shit but he can’t imply or at the very least, try to infer

“because it’s wrong (referring to him invalidating how I feel)”“how you feel is plain false” hello? I’m not a robot. and I’m pretty sure that there are paid and experienced psychologists and therapists, not just in Singapore but around the world, who would beg to differ with your statement. no one is wrong to feel the way they feel.

yes I did say that I would be more comfortable texting, but I did make it clear that I’m not comfortable meeting him.

“doesn’t change how you were wrong” “you are completely wrong” ok so feeling uncomfortable meeting a guy who was displaying signs that he may potentially be dangerous is wrong. noted with thanks.

(don’t ask me about the copy cat thing though cause I deadass have no clue why that was being sent to me also lol)

I rejected his call, and by then I’ve blocked him because I was too tired to deal with his shit. And I thought it would be the last I heard of him until I swiped down on my notifications  and saw that this crazy (he deserves this label by now) called me 5 times 

and iMessaged me instead because he couldn’t reach me on Telegram anymore

(what was in the screenshot he sent to me)

“no wonder take so long to graduate”

“lowlife vermin”

“pathetic”

“retard”

“bitch”

“pathetic piece of shit”

(this guy was an NUS student btw)

but I just want to rebut the thing where he said that “it’s a fact you can’t get to know someone by text”

because just based on his outburst and the way he acted and reacted to things, I can kind of tell what kind of a person he is and what his attitude and personality is like:

- he is egoistical (obviously)  “I’m a nice guy” type person, can’t handle rejection

- most likely toxic (based on how verbally abusive he was, I wouldn’t be surprised if he verbally abuses a person to bring down their self-esteem before making it seem like the person can not live without him, and thereby trapping the person in a toxic relationship)

- disrespectful (especially towards women)

- and based on everything, he is most likely insecure 

update: found out who he is, and this isn’t the first time he’s done this shit and it pains me that I can’t expose his identity

[kiruuuuu]

More BB/Goyo in which Goyo is slowly going mad. On several accounts. (Rating E, fluff/humour/resolved sexual tension + smut, ~5.2k words) - written for @kiruuuuu​ seeing as she continued obsessing about these two after this piece.

.

Blackbeard is slowly but surely driving him insane.

One big part is the physical aspect, Goyo isn’t denying it – and if it were only that, he’d be as far from complaining as he could be. If his biggest problem was Blackbeard's attractiveness, he’d live in an almost ideal world with most of his dreams coming true, but as it is, the deep-seated desire burning low and slow in his groin merely ensures Goyo doesn’t forcibly eject Blackbeard from his life again due to all the other reasons the American is personally raising Goyo’s blood pressure. He should’ve expected this outcome and largely did, yet imagining having to combat vague incompatibilities while cruising high on happiness hormones which are released in laughable quantities every time he receives a friendly text over the holidays was somehow decidedly easier to stomach than dealing with actual issues face-to-face.

Goyo knows himself, as does Amaru, which is why he doesn’t disagree with her suggestion of meeting in public the first few times. He’s always been weakest right at the beginning of a fancy, daydreaming of scenarios that leave him short of breath and having to adjust his trousers, hoping they don’t betray him if he happens to be in a public space. Despite knowing better, he’s dived head first into physical relationships and paid the price for it, and after having slept with a married man once (without his knowledge, though the blame of hastiness lay upon him regardless), he vowed to improve. Besides, he suspects Blackbeard hasn’t dated a lot of men, so he should take it slow anyway.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t prepared for the change in wardrobe following a throwaway comment about camouflage patterns because not only did Blackbeard take him seriously and dressed differently for their dates from then on (which is a turn on already), his shirts are also very tight. Not unacceptably so, but entirely too tight for someone with pecs this pronounced. In moments when it was hard to deal with Blackbeard's personality, Goyo reminded himself as to why he was still around by eyeing up Blackbeard's chest and Christ. He would love to grope him for hours. Maybe suckle on those puppies. God.

It doesn’t help that he’s changed his aftershave as well. Goyo felt genuinely bad complaining about so much right away, even if it was done through careful euphemisms and half-jokes he practised beforehand, and promised himself to compliment Blackbeard elaborately should he act on it – but never did he expect for Blackbeard to dip into the nearest shop with him to try and find a fragrance Goyo liked. He claimed he was tired of his old one but hadn’t found an excuse to switch so far, and offered his own opinions additionally to Goyo’s, meaning the entire thing felt organic and constructive instead of passive-aggressive or, worse, blindly compliant. As a result, Goyo stands that tiny bit closer whenever he can. Prolongs their hugs. Inhales consciously whenever they kiss. He loves a good-smelling man, and Blackbeard has turned from handsome to painfully sexy.

He makes sure Blackbeard knows, too. He might be picky and demanding, but he would like to think of himself as appreciative, so whenever he notices the American looking or smelling exceptionally good, he remarks on it. And the delighted expressions he reaps are worth feeding this inflated ego. He doesn’t think the other man has been complimented on his appearance much, certainly not by fellow guys.

.

The very first thing they fight about is punctuality. As inevitable as death. It turns into a recurring theme as they simply can’t agree on anything and Goyo’s laid-back attitude towards time sparks nothing but disbelief in Blackbeard – he does learn by setting their meeting half an hour before he actually arrives, but whenever he’s meant to pick Goyo up by car, he shows up on the dot and paces impatiently around the flat without taking his shoes off while Goyo finishes whichever task held him up. Blackbeard calls him rude, Goyo waves him off, and the whole drama repeats the next time. They even have a long talk about it, with Goyo stressing the importance of enjoying life at one’s own personal pace, and Blackbeard calling on politeness and prioritising others over tasks such as washing the dishes.

Related to this, Blackbeard always requires an exact plan while Goyo prefers adapting vague ideas to actual circumstances. There’s no spontaneity in most of Blackbeard's actions, he’s rigid and inflexible and it drives Goyo absolutely nuts. After having agreed on watching a film that night, they walk past a fantastic-looking restaurant Goyo instantly wants to try out, and Blackbeard flat out refuses. Just says no. Claims their original plan was superior simply because it was made earlier, and when Goyo points out that literally nothing is stopping them from having dinner together instead of sitting at the cinema for a few hours, Blackbeard is having none of it. He’s hungry, he agrees with Goyo’s assessment that the place looks inviting, and yet he won’t budge. How did he get to where he is now with this attitude?

Also, Blackbeard is loud. And by this, he’s not even referring to his deafening voice – he’s a pitchman manqué – but rather his behaviour as a whole. Nigh everyone can tell his country of origin due to him constantly approaching perfect strangers, which Goyo finds exceedingly rude. People just want to mind their own business, as does he, and he wouldn’t appreciate being accosted by some random dude on the street. Blackbeard has the gall to call him rude as a result and defends himself by pointing out he leaves the grumpy ones alone and has a lovely chat with the rest who seems to enjoy their talk. Blackbeard has no qualms cursing in public and calling out unacceptable behaviour, and Goyo preferred the ground to swallow him whenever his companion starts an argument with a line skipper or someone parking like an idiot.

What, am I supposed to just tut and walk away?, Blackbeard scoffs, his tone making clear what he thinks of the British nation as a whole.

There are countless other details: Blackbeard's apartment is messy. He can’t cook for the life of him, yet is an utter baking snob. He leaves the toilet seat up. He loves the worst kind of cheesy patriotic action films and accepts no criticism on this. The music in his car leaves Goyo’s ears ringing for the rest of the evening. He seems to think kissing is the only worthwhile public display of affection. He’s ignorant about most other cultures yet fancies himself open-minded because his best friend is Korean – this only means he compares anything and everything either to the States or Korea. Getting him to eat anything he hasn’t tried before is an uphill struggle. Except if it’s Korean.

Vigil seems to get a pass on nearly everything, and Goyo is beginning to think Blackbeard either had or still has a crush on the man. He’s empathetic and understanding as can be with Vigil, and almost seems to enjoy arguing with Goyo. It’s getting old fast.

.

And then there are those other moments. The ones so sharp and vivid they linger in Goyo’s mind long after the fact, bright and warm like a sip of good alcohol, and almost as intoxicating too. They end up eating in the restaurant after all, and Goyo is mentally preparing for the backlash if it turns out to be rubbish – not that he thinks it will be, but he’d rather outline his defence already. In the back of his mind, he’s wondering whether he’s the stubborn one in this case, with his insistence to get his way showcasing his own inflexibility. His mother taught him to be kind whenever he can afford it, yet past experiences and an underlying pessimism usually convince him he can’t. He knows she’d be disappointed with how often he chooses the less compassionate path.

“I’m not good at this”, Blackbeard announces out of the blue, throwing Goyo off once more. This happens regularly, him spiralling and conducting a whole other conversation in his mind, and Blackbeard interrupting his thoughts with something outlandish. Most of the time, Goyo is relieved about it. He tends to get lost and is glad whenever he’s brought back to the present.

Since there’s no indication as to what he means, Goyo needs him to clarify. “At what?”

“Just… this.” And Blackbeard gestures somewhere between them. “Compromising. Letting someone else into my life. Listening.”

I know someone else who’s terrible at all three of those, Goyo thinks and doesn’t say.

“But I like you. And I want to get better. So please be patient with me and talk to me. Okay?”

Blackbeard likes him.

Idiotically, hearing it out loud makes him giddy as if this was a new revelation, but then his brain latches on to the much more important implication of Blackbeard wanting to communicate, being willing to work on himself and on the both of them, admitting faults. It’s a beacon of hope and one he didn’t expect – Blackbeard has never struck him as particularly introspective, not with how he values arbitrary rules above creative thinking, yet it seems he underestimated him. He’ll have to correct his mental image and allow Blackbeard to improve.

“Yes. That sounds good”, he replies after mulling over Blackbeard's words for a bit, prompting a sigh of relief. And, to throw him a bone: “You’re doing good.”

A scoff. “Am I though?”

“You are. Why else would I say it?”

“I don’t know. You just…” Blackbeard lowers his gaze, searching for the right thing to say. “I’m nervous around you.”

Goyo laughs. Can’t help it, he bursts out with a brief laugh turning into a hearty chuckle because – Blackbeard gets nervous? He dreaded being in the same room as the American early on and never managed to settle down in his presence, and now he’s learning it was reciprocal? Had he known he could’ve scared him away, he might’ve confronted Blackbeard earlier, returned the sass, threw his weight around a little. Instead, they were watching each other like hawks for ultimately only marginally different reasons. Nothing about Blackbeard is adorable, but this is the closest thing to it: him being bashful, admitting his crush, relinquishing power and inviting himself to be mocked. Goyo is delighted.

“You don’t need to be”, he reassures and runs his fingertips over the back of Blackbeard's hand, a gentle gesture he seems to appreciate.

There are these moments which remind Goyo why he gave Blackbeard a chance in the first place, and they are what keep him going whenever Blackbeard starts arguing in favour of one of his ‘life principles’.

.

“I made a mistake”, Goyo states, not bothering to hide his fatalistic tone of voice.

Amaru is instantly entertained. Her optimistic and easygoing attitude is part of the reason why she got along so swimmingly with Goyo’s mother, and also why he’s endlessly grateful for her presence in his life: she helped him get past failures whenever his mum wasn’t available, and provided encouragement and support whenever he needed it. It’s also why he keeps bothering her with his problems. “Does it have anything to do with your new relationship?”

She watched from a distance as he made his first few questionable choices in his dating career, ready to pick him up and dust him off whenever he’d fallen down. He learned to accept and value her advice once he realised she was never wrong, so he’s hoping she can assist him with his current predicament. “How did you guess?”, he sighs, not requiring an answer. “They’re showing a documentary I’m interested in on TV this evening, and I mentioned it to Craig.”

“So now he wants to watch it with you?”, his aunt surmises, making him nod. “Which means you’d have to spend the evening with him without falling victim to his manly wiles.” He nods again, looking pained. “And you want me to give you the go-ahead for making up an excuse so you don’t have a bad conscience when you cancel on him.”

Well. Maybe she was the wrong person to approach about this. “When you put it like that, it sounds… bad.”

She raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Don Goyo, you’re old enough to not need my approval. Which you’re not going to get anyway, before you ask.”

“I have a feeling I know what you’re about to say to me.”

“Just tell him. If you’re not ready, he needs to know. He deserves to know, César.”

It’s not that he isn’t ready. If it was for him, they’d have fucked in the nearest public stall on their second date, he’s been dreaming about strong arms and an insistent tongue for almost the entire month that they’ve been dating. He’s overripe, and still – it doesn’t feel right somehow. Like he should wait a little longer. They’ve gotten to know each other much better, anticipating each other’s moods, making small gifts here and there and texting daily. Even so, there’s just something.

“Don’t brood. Go and talk to him. Either he respects your boundaries and everything’s good, or he refuses and you can launch him into outer space. No matter the outcome, you’ll be off better than before.”

She must sense his hesitation as she tries to instil her wisdom a few more times before giving up and wishing him a pleasant night. He leaves, conflicted – he doesn’t want to hurt Blackbeard's feelings by rejecting him before even anything happens, and at the same time he’s not comfortable actually reaching below the belt yet.

He’s hoping Blackbeard simply doesn’t try anything. It’s the best case scenario.

.

About eight hours later, all Goyo can think between different versions of God this feels so fucking good is: this didn’t go to plan at all. Blackbeard is buried up to the hilt and Goyo is grateful for being momentarily distracted so he has an excuse not to think critically about what’s happening right then.

And it started out so well.

Goyo arrives only fifteen minutes late, which he thinks is more than reasonable even if Blackbeard doesn’t comment on it, and takes note of the slightly less messy flat – it’s not even that bad normally, some dirty dishes scattered around and pieces of clothing, but at least they give the otherwise relatively barren apartment some character. They kiss as a greeting, briefly, as Blackbeard is busy heating up something to eat, and then sit on the couch with plates on their laps, chatting about their day while waiting for the program to start.

It’s domestic. It should be relaxing and pleasant, not nerve-wracking, but after sitting next to Blackbeard for ten minutes of serious introduction and noticing how his sweatpants don’t really do a good job at hiding anything, Goyo knows he won’t do anything to stop him should he make a move. In a way, it’d be a relief: get it over and done with, don’t dwell on it, move on. The anticipation is putting him on edge, keeps his hairs standing up and his breaths measured. He’s hyper-aware of his knee brushing against Blackbeard's, the broad chest next to him rising and falling, the thumping of his own heart.

He can’t concentrate. Images flash on the screen, a soothing narrator recounts past horrors in a deep voice and historical photographs take turns. He’d actually been looking forward to watching this programme, and should’ve known doing it together with Blackbeard would end in disaster, yet wasn’t prepared for himself being the culprit. Blackbeard has beautiful arms, oozing latent strength and tanned nicely, the dark hairs making them even more appealing. Maybe he doesn’t shave his chest. He probably doesn’t, would consider it unmanly, and with how lush and full his beard is -

“Can I get you a beer?”

Goyo blinks. It’s a commercial break, he hadn’t even noticed. “No”, he says, and thinks: and I’d rather you didn’t have one either. The taste of it is revolting to him.

“I’ll just get one for myself then”, Blackbeard replies, already risen from the sofa, and makes the mistake of leaning down for a quick, once again domestic kiss. It’s reciprocated just a tad too enthusiastically, so Blackbeard pushes back and after a few more seconds they’re tongue wrestling with an uncomfortable height difference between them. The angle is awkward but the feel of it amazing – and this is something Goyo has openly admitted numerous times: he loves the way Blackbeard kisses. Adores it. Can’t get enough of it. It’s intense and deep and wet and leaves him panting every time, with this being no exception.

He drags the other man in, forcing him to steady himself with one knee on the couch, one knee right between Goyo’s legs and both hands cupping his face. This, too, is shockingly sexy, the way Blackbeard keeps him in place to take him apart. Goyo reaches out and runs his fingers over Blackbeard's body and dear God his thighs are like stone, and his back muscles pronounced, and his abs too. He’s tilted far back now, the bear hovering over him, solid and threatening and like a rock set in motion. Soul-crushing. Inevitable.

They kiss until the break is over, until at least one of them is making these embarrassing little noises, until Goyo’s lips feel swollen and his cock is harder than it’s ever been in his life, until Blackbeard breaks off, flushed, sweating and dishevelled, and Goyo wants to suck his dick or he’ll die. Making out has always been Goyo’s weakspot, and making out like this is guaranteed to leave him weeping and ruining his underwear, and he knew Blackbeard was gonna try something. He just knew. They wouldn’t have snogged like this without purpose, without an ulterior motive, without the intention of moving on to more sinful things now.

“We should”, Blackbeard starts and has trouble focusing his gaze, “let’s – I mean -” His sweatpants really don’t let him get away with anything. Unbelievably, he disengages and plops down next to Goyo. Apparently he wants to keep watching, which is the sensible thing to do.

Yes. A good idea. Getting caught up in the moment isn’t what Goyo wants anyway.

Blackbeard is radiating heat. His confident persona has crumbled, revealing a passionate yet considerate lover, a man torn between doing the right thing and doing what feels right. Right now, his upper brain seems to be winning, or maybe he figures if he behaves, Goyo will reward him regardless, or he’s hoping Goyo will stay the night and they can fuck later, or he’s playing hard-to-get. The last option would be hilarious, since Goyo isn’t interested in buying what Blackbeard is selling for now. They should really go back to watching TV, and when it’s over, they can talk a little, and then Goyo’s going home.

Two minutes later, he’s straddling Blackbeard's lap while shoving his tongue so far down the other man’s throat it’s a miracle he’s not choking, and nearly coming in his own pants from the bit of friction he manages to get between his dick and Blackbeard's taut stomach. He’s a fucking magnet and an oven with how hot he is, mewling into the kiss like someone who’s desperate for any kind of attention, like a starving or drowning or poisoned man, like – like Goyo. His beard is soft and smells good, and when Goyo’s hands stray below fabric, he finds more hair on a broad chest and buries his fingers in it. The rugged edge Blackbeard visibly sports continues where the normal gaze doesn’t penetrate, Goyo is relieved to discover, and he can finally feel up these gorgeous tits. Get his hands on them and massage them however he likes.

His nipples are delightfully sensitive and Goyo spends too much time teasing them while sucking deep purple bruises just below Blackbeard's collar until he’s worried about Blackbeard exploding under his merciless ministrations. Frotting has been knocked down in priority now that he can twist strangled moans out of the hard body beneath him, but when his cock throbs almost painfully at a gasp, he knows they can’t go on like this.

“Please give me a moment”, Blackbeard gasps out, cheeks rosy and eyes unfocused.

Again, a reasonable request. He should listen.

“Bedroom”, he snaps and it’s not even a suggestion. He can feel his hole pulsing with the irresistible desire of getting plowed and when Blackbeard, after a second of disbelief, picks him up to carry him through the flat, Goyo is thankful for his foresight to bring condoms and lube regardless of his intentions. He had a hunch Blackbeard would try something.

They only shed what’s necessary (and the shapely legs are somehow only improved with socks on, but Goyo has been told before that it’s a sock fetish at this point) and preparation is an unceremonious affair except for the fact that Goyo sucks on Blackbeard's nipples until they’re raw and too sensitive while fingering himself open. The American has a great body, he has to admit, well-developed muscles, some scars here and there, coarse black hair adorning tanned skin and an upward curved cock beautiful enough to have Goyo’s mouth water, so sitting down on it feels predictably mind-blowing.

He does most of the work, which is fortunate as he can experiment with angles until he’s found one that actually makes him go cross-eyed, and once Blackbeard draws the connection between his blissful groans and whatever’s happening between their legs, he starts thrusting up and dear Lord.

This isn’t what Goyo had in mind when coming over, and yet he can’t find the brain capacity to regret or even care right now, not with how urgent his lust is tugging on his nerve endings, forcing him to ride towards exhaustion and cramps and an impressive muscle hangover the next day. Being able to steady himself on Blackbeard's torso is surprisingly sexy and the sheer barrage of pleasure bursting through him every time he slams down his hips keeps him from touching himself, effectively prolonging his sweet suffering.

Moving in unison has never felt this good and for once, they’re on the same wavelength, exchanging devoted gazes and trading the odd kiss. It’s akin to a reunion instead of a first time, like they’ve rehearsed this song and dance to perfection in the past and, despite a certain rustiness, are quickly finding back into their old routine.

When Goyo comes, his vision goes colourful with how tight he’s squeezing his eyelids shut. He shakes violently while balanced on Blackbeard's hips and gasps for air, overwhelmed by the elation accompanying his release and shooting his sperm all over Blackbeard's mangled chest, over the lovebites and the red marks his hands left behind from carrying his weight. His relief is crushing, and so he slumps down bonelessly, allowing the other man to pump into him a few more times before announcing his own climax with a low moan. Instinctively, it seems, Blackbeard’s palms travel over the back of his sweaty t-shirt, petting him reassuringly.

Goyo doesn’t like it. It feels like too much, like overstimulation after a long, satisfying session even though his was hardly long but certainly satisfying. He shakes the hands off and climbs down, trying to catch his breath. Next to him, blue eyes snap to his face, too attentive. Blackbeard looks like he’s not sure what to say. Goyo could lighten the situation, compliment him, make a joke, or be sincere about how much he enjoyed himself. Because he did.

Even with the afterglow fading fast.

“I’ll go shower first”, he announces and leaves with a quick kiss that seems unsubstantial. He’s gone before Blackbeard has even taken the condom off, and the sensation of dirtiness clinging to his skin seems to go beyond bodily fluids. Scrubbing himself with the only loofah (and isn’t that a surprise) wouldn’t be right, so he uses his own fingers to wipe off the odd feeling.

Blackbeard is sitting on the edge of the bed when he returns, and now he can finally place the source of the awkwardness between them: he’s not babbling. Normally, he’d have commented on Goyo’s stamina, maybe how great his arse looked, recounted an anecdote of some sorts, or even attempted a lame joke, yet all he’s doing is watching. He looks a little lost. Silvery droplets are caught in his chest hair and when they kiss again, Goyo deflects a hug with the excuse of wanting to remain clean, demands that Blackbeard go shower as well.

The bed is large and tidier than the rest of the room, as if Blackbeard had anticipated them ending up here. Despite the general lack of colour in the apartment, the duvet is beautiful with a dark turquoise pattern. The cushions look fluffy, but not too soft. It looks inviting. Goyo did bring a spare pair of underwear, knowing their shoe and therefore sock size is the same, and he briefly pictures waking Blackbeard up by sucking him off. It’s unlikely to happen, with how different their morning routines are – what little he knows anyway – and still, the image is most tempting.

He gets caught in the hallway with one shoe on his foot already, the other in his hands.

His stomach drops and speech evades him out of shame as Blackbeard leans against the door frame, tight briefs highlighting all his best assets. Oddly enough, he doesn’t seem disappointed or hurt, which does nothing to quell the burning feeling of being a disgrace eating away at Goyo’s insides.

“What are you doing?”, he asks, no reproach in his voice. Patience is one of his virtues and one he displays right now – if there was ever a moment when Goyo expected an outburst, an indignant rant, it’d be now. Instead, he picks up on a hesitant disquiet, an uneasy curiosity. Blackbeard doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows it’s important, therefore he treats it with the same mindfulness he does any serious issue.

Goyo owes him this. If there’s anything he owes this man, it’s an attempt at an explanation. Since he’s formulated it before, talked it through with past partners, he’s not unprepared yet dreads bringing it up nonetheless. “I have… commitment issues”, he replies softly.

The answering silence is one of racing thoughts, he can read it on Blackbeard's open expression. “Do you want to talk about it?”, he eventually wants to know. For a guy with no idea of how to deal with this, he’s faring remarkably well.

“I am talking about it.” Defensive. He inhales deeply before continuing. “I have trouble opening up to others. I prefer keeping most of me to myself. I can’t trust easily.”

A nod. It hurts; it means Blackbeard has noticed but didn’t dare bring it up. Always the same thing. Goyo fights down a pang of annoyance – part of his mind tries to convince him they don’t deserve him: either they mention it, which makes them whiny complainers not ready to give him time, or they don’t, which means they don’t care enough. It’s bullshit and pops up in the back of his head every time. “Am I suffocating you?”

He almost laughs at the ridiculousness of the notion. Blackbeard, who maybe suggests a quarter of their dates, who never complains about Goyo taking some time to reply to messages, who always accepts when Goyo wants to go home, seriously thinks he’s clingy. If anything, Goyo would like for him to be more overbearing, insert himself into Goyo’s life more aggressively. “No. You’re giving me all the space I need.” Too much, at times.

“Am I doing anything wrong?”

Well. What isn’t he doing wrong. Goyo’s heart melts a little over this brute trying to figure out why his lover is sneaking out on him, when it’s nothing but Goyo’s ugly side finally showing. He’s being unfair. “I didn’t want to sleep with you”, he says and knows instantly it was the worst possible thing he could’ve said, with how Blackbeard gains a look of horror, paling immediately, arms dropping by his side, slack, mouth working out an apology before the meaning has even reached his brain. Bad with words. This one he can’t really chalk up to bad timing. “No, that’s not what I meant. I wanted it and I liked it. I really did.” He’s flustered, flailing now, in unfamiliar territory, allowing the first thought to drop out of his mouth without scrutinising it first, and feels like it only gets worse. “But I – I had myself convinced I didn’t want it. Because, I don’t know. I’m -” Scared, he can’t bring himself to say. He knows it’d tear a wound which might not heal so easily. “Look. I’ll go. You don’t have to deal with this.”

No one should have to deal with him like this, sputtering and ashamed to the core, cheeks hot and composure non-existent. He wants to go home and hide for the next century and if Blackbeard told him now he’s not worth the trouble he’s causing, he wouldn’t even object.

“Don’t.” A plea. Heartfelt, for what it’s worth, but any other way and Goyo would already be putting on his second shoe. “I don’t know what to do, or what to say. I don’t know what you’d like me to do or say.”

Neither does Goyo. That’s the whole problem.

Blackbeard must be cold, nearly naked and standing in the faint draft coming in from under the door. He shifts his weight uncomfortably as they stare at each other. Please, Goyo thinks, unsure of what he even means by that. But when the next words hit his ears, he knows it’s what he’s been hoping for: “Just… come back to bed. Okay?”

The shoe hits the ground with a sharp sound cutting through the tense atmosphere between them.

.

Unsurprisingly, Blackbeard prefers being the big spoon. They fight over the blanket since Goyo needs it to sleep whereas Blackbeard insists it’s entirely too warm, and the familiar back-and-forth calms his racing heart. As does the gentle hand rubbing vague circles into his chest while they cuddle. After a few soothing moments, he asks the dreaded question of when Blackbeard's first alarm will go off, resulting in even more bickering.

“I really wanted to watch that documentary”, Goyo mumbles regretfully against the arm he’s cradling like a stuffed toy, partly because it’s wonderfully warm and partly because the skin-on-skin contact does funny things to his stomach. Being pressed against the length of Blackbeard's body is magical. He hasn’t felt this safe in a long while.

“Don’t worry, I recorded it.”

The reply, half lost in his hair, gives Goyo pause. If they could actually see anything in the impenetrable darkness Blackbeard requires to sleep peacefully, he’d turn around in indignation. “So you expected something like this to happen?”

He can feel the smile against his scalp. “Call it wishful thinking. Doing nothing but kissing did take its toll.”

Huh. Seems like he was right.

Blackbeard really did plan on trying something.

[pleasant-misery]

Right! @kingdommyhearts​ asked me to elaborate on Adrien being autistic so I’m gonna.

Adrien is not great with social ques, and social situations in general, and it's usually explained as being because he's been so sheltered growing up but consider; what if he's autistic:

His polite persona as Adrien is 90% masking

He uses music to relax, because he can predict it. That’s why he has so many cds.

As Chat Noir he’s still acting and masking, but it’s more genuine. More like he’s translating his emotions into a language others can understand.

Part of the reason he’s not as proficient at strategy as Ladybug is because he struggles to predict their enemy’s intentions.

He’s hypersensitive to smells, especially after becoming Chat Noir. Camembert is a Bad Smell for him. Bakery is Good Smell.

He’s low empathy, and poor at reading social situations, and this is why he hasn’t noticed Marinette’s huge crush on him. He’s got high compassion though, which is what’s important.

Special interest in physics. And videogames. Maybe also fencing? And Ladybug. Definitely has a special interest in Ladybug.

He’s learnt to not infodump. The hard way. He tries so hard. But Nino lets him, and that’s fantastic.

Speaking of fencing, and piano, he has mild dyspraxia and he used to struggle a lot with both but by practicing for a long time they’ve helped him improve his coordination a lot. The suit also helps.

Gabriel Agreste is also autistic

He never actually looks people in the eye, but neither him nor others notice this as he‘s gotten very good at pretending and just assumes everyone is like that.

Agreste fashion is all made of Good Materials, thankfully, so while sometimes photoshoots can be uncomfortable with all the flashing lights and standing in certain ways, at least the clothes don’t feel awful.

He doesn’t like light touch, but he’s fine with firm touches and actually loves physical affection

He Has Anxiety

He dissociates often but he doesn’t have blank spots. His brain won’t let him not remember things like that.

He’s a startlingly fast learner. His teachers don’t know what to do with him. He has no problems with the work they do at school and he puts barely any energy into it and still gets A+ on everything

He just does not have the inbuilt social understanding that other people do and no one has taught him anything really. His father has taught him to be polite and that's about it. But all of his social interactions? Scripted. Constructed. Completely artificial.And I mean, that's not to say he doesn't care or doesn't have emotions. But he does not know how to express those emotions like other people.

Kagami is also autistic, clearly. The friendship game episode? With the awful queued smiling? Adrien does the exact same thing, he's just far more practiced at it.

It's like "Oh yeah people make eye contact and when they do they smile at each other, so I should do that"

Adrien:"When one person likes another person it's common to express that feeling by telling them something you like about them" proceeds to give incredibly strange but completely heartfelt compliment "yes that's correct. Good job Adrien" complimented person is bewildered and vaguely offended but he doesn't notice.

When he was little he did not understand how to express emotions or, like, how to be a person? How people work? But he read a lot of stories, lots of books, and from them built a library of expected behaviors and scripts of how to behave in different scenarios until it became second nature.

Unless he comes across a situation he hasn't encountered or heard of before he's pretty good at looking neurotypical.

Even then, sometimes he'll get a scenario wrong, but generally he's really good at masking. It's exhausting but he's required to be good at it. His father would be upset if he let his mask slip.But yeah there are some situations he's simply not encountered before.And he can get all stuck like something getting caught in gears in those situations

Part of why he loves being Chat Noir is that he can test scenarios that he can't as Adrien. It's still scripted, it's just based on the more daring heroes from his stories.The dashing rogues, etc.

Every autistic burns out eventually. Especially one in the spotlight so often.When it just gets too damn tired to act like how a person is supposed to act.

And someone notices

Say, how about Nino?

It's just them and Adrien is tired, overwhelmed, and he just doesn't have the energy to mask anymore. He looks at Nino blankly when he makes jokes, takes everything literally, does not follow threads of conversation and completely misses so many things. It's a bit more gradual than that but, just a gradual break down of the usual mask that is Adrien Agreste. He starts fidgeting a lot more, maybe rocking back and forth a bit while they're studying or something. Adrien starts replying in very clipped sentences, because words have gotten tricky at this point. Nino is worried and real confused? I dunno if he's come across anyone like this before. But he's patient and kind. These are the times the mask comes down because he just can't keep it up any longer. But, as Nino shows his kindness in those moments, Adrien comes to trust him and starts to let the mask down a bit even when he doesn't have to. Just letting himself be himself. And there's plenty of miscommunication when he does that, awkward moments, but Nino is patient and kind and good and proves to be a Good Damn Friend. Adrien dropping his mask also comes as him just talking and talking about his special interests, info dropping like a boss. And Nino is Here For That Man, Yeah. Long long conversations about shared interests, it's Good Shit

He's such a Good Damn Friend.

The other person who sees him unmask is his Lady, of course. In moments after very stressful battles, or just because he's feeling good today and this is His Lady and he wants to tell her about This Thing He Loves. And those are the moments when Ladybug starts to fall in love with him. Not romantic love, necessarily. At least, I mean, I assume they'll get to that in the show at some point. But just, platonic love at this point. Because he’s not being a show off, he’s just being a wonderfully nerdy boy who is so genuine and full of sunshine and wow.

Oh also this masking thing? Makes Adrien a naturally good liar. So suddenly having to lie about his identity was not hard. It's a bit of a double edged sword though. Because he's so good at scripting, he's basically acting and in that sense lying with his masking with all his interactions, so it's easy to expand that into true lying. But he also doesn't understand the nuances of social interactions, can't tell when someone can tell he's lying, can't read those situations well.Also, being bad at reading social queues makes him very gullible and easy to manipulate

Also? Absolutely undiagnosed. And that definitely makes things worse. Oh, I'd say Natalie suspects such a thing. Gabriel's probably completely in denial, if he's thought of it at all. Nino is maybe the one to slowly start picking up on it. Or Ladybug, with Chat.

[thelastspeecher]

Superhero/villain AU - Moms, Part II

Here we are, with the second part of meeting moms in the Superhero/villain AU.  In this one (which turned out much longer than I planned), Stan meets Ma McGucket.  And somehow, doesn’t get physically harmed by her.

Part I

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              The doorbell rang.  Stan got up from the couch with a groan.

              “Can’t even sit down for one second,” he muttered.  After a long day at both his day job selling cars and his superhero gig, he wanted nothing more than to relax on the couch with an ice cold beer.  But his archnemesis turned one-night-stand turned baby mama was on strict bed rest in his room, so after getting home, he’d had to check in on her and help her with anything she needed.  Heavy knocking replaced the doorbell’s ring.  “I’m coming!”  Stan stomped to the door and ripped it open.  “What?” he snarled.

              “That’s a mighty rude how-do-ya-do,” said the woman on his doorstep. She crossed her arms.  Stan stared at her.  Something about her seemed familiar.  “Which room is Angie in?”

              “She’s-” Stan started.  He shook his head.  “Hang on, how do you know Angie?”

              “I’m her mother,” the woman said, her lips pressed into a thin line.  Ice filled Stan’s veins.

              “…Sirroco?” he choked out.

              “Yes.  But call me Mrs. McGucket.”

              “Got it.  Mrs. McGucket,” Stan mumbled.  He swallowed. The woman standing before him didn’t appear intimidating in any way, shape, or form.  A pearl necklace hung around her neck, her caramel-colored hair was tied back in a business-like ponytail, and the apron over her polka-dot patterned dress had flour on it.  But Stan knew not to take her at face value.  A familiar steel determination glinted in Mrs. McGucket’s eyes.

              Angie looks just like her.  Well, except for the nose.  She musta got that from her dad.

              “Well?” Mrs. McGucket asked.  “Where’s my daughter?”

              “She was pretty tired when I checked in on her earlier.  She probably won’t want visitors,” Stan said, steadying himself in the doorway.

              Not a good idea to let a career villain like Angie’s mom in here. Mrs. McGucket rolled her eyes.

              “She knows I’m comin’.  I brought some of her fav’rite food.  Apparently you and yer brother don’t know how to cook worth a damn.  My daughter deserves home-cooked meals.”

              “Mrs. McGucket-”

              “Young man, either you let me in or I force my way in.  Don’t let my visit start so poorly.”

              “I…”  Stan’s voice vanished at Mrs. McGucket’s stormy expression.  He swallowed.  “Come in.” Mrs. McGucket raised an eyebrow at him. “…Ma’am,” he added weakly.  He stood to the side.  Mrs. McGucket breezed past him, a warm wind following her and rattling the wall decorations.

              “Which room?” Mrs. McGucket called.

              “First one on the right,” Stan mumbled, half-hoping that she wouldn’t hear if he talked quiet enough.  There was no response, aside from a door opening and closing.

              I just let a legendary villain into my house and go wherever she wanted. Shit.  Stan sprinted after her.  He stopped by his bedroom and put his ear against the door.

              “So, this Stanley feller is quite the looker,” Mrs. McGucket’s voice said faintly.  Stan’s eyes widened.

              “Ma, did ya really come all this way to gossip?” Angie asked.  Mrs. McGucket chuckled.

              “No.  But ya can’t blame me fer wantin’ to have an idea of what my grandkids might look like. Which is cute as the dickens, judgin’ from their parents.”

              “Ma!” Angie protested.

              Holy shit, Angie’s mom thinks I’m cute?  What do I do with this information?

              “Stanley?  What are you doing?”  Stan peeled himself off the door and spun around to face his twin brother.

              “Nothin’,” he fibbed.  Ford fully stepped out of his room.

              “Really?  Because it looked like you were eavesdropping on Angie.”

              “I wasn’t eavesdropping on Angie,” Stan scoffed.  Ford crossed his arms.  “I was eavesdropping on her and her mom.”  Ford’s jaw dropped.

              “Her mom?  Sirocco is here?  The Sirocco?  The one Mom considered her biggest enemy, as well as ‘the one who got away’?”

              “Yeah.”

              “Holy-”  Ford stared at Stan’s closed door.  “If Mom ever finds out about this, she’ll be pissed.”

              “I know.  But if I didn’t let her in, she would’ve just broken down the door.”

              “That is the most likely scenario,” Ford admitted.  Stan’s door opened.  Stan hurriedly stepped away.

              “Don’t eat it all at once, okay?” Mrs. McGucket said to Angie.

              “I won’t, Ma.”

              “Good.  And don’t let these boys have any of it, either.  If they try, let me know.  I’ll put the fear of God in ‘em,” Mrs. McGucket said firmly.  Angie chuckled.  “You rest well, junebug.”  Mrs. McGucket closed the door.

              “Junebug?” Stan queried.

              “That’s Angie’s childhood nickname,” Mrs. McGucket said.  She glanced at Ford.  “Stanford, I presume?”

              “Yes, ma’am,” Ford said softly.

              “Leave us be.  I want a word with Stan.”  Stan met Ford’s eyes and silently pleaded for him not to leave Stan alone with Mrs. McGucket.

              “Actually, ma’am, Stan was going to help me with-” Ford started.

              “No, he wasn’t,” Mrs. McGucket said.  “Or, if he was, he won’t now.”  She handed Ford the tote bag she was holding.  “Go put those in the fridge so they don’t spoil.”  She grabbed Ford’s wrist.  “And don’t you dare eat a single crumb.  It’s all fer Angie.”

              “Yes ma’am,” Ford squeaked.  He shot Stan an apologetic look before scurrying away.

              Great.

              “Stanley,” Mrs. McGucket said shortly.  Stan swallowed.  “We need to have us a conversation.”  Her ominous tone was exactly what Stan used to imagine when his mom told him about Sirocco.

              “Mom, look!” Stan said gleefully.  His mother, just returned from hero patrol, looked over at him. Bright green and blue fire danced across his fingers.  Ma Pines strode over to him and pinched his cheek.

              “Lookit you!” she enthused.  Stan grinned. “You’re gonna be quite the hero someday. You’re only twelve, but you’ve got a better hand on your powers than I had on mine when I was sixteen.”  Stan’s grin broadened.  “But you still need to focus on your control.”  Stan’s grin was wiped away.

              “What?” he asked.  Ma Pines nodded at Stan’s left hand.  Flames were beginning to lick down his arm, heading for his sleeve.  Stan shook his hands and the fire dissipated.

              “Sweetie, if you wanna hold up against someone like Sirocco, you need absolute control,” Ma Pines said.  Stan crossed his arms.

              “Well, I probably won’t run into someone like her when I’m a hero. Aerokinesis is rare.  You told me that.”

              “As a hero, you need to be prepared for anything and everything.”

              “Hmph.”  Stan looked away, still steaming about how quickly Ma Pines moved on from complimenting his new trick.  “Whatever.”

              “Stanley, I’m just preparing you for the real world,” Ma Pines said.  Stan huffed.  “Stanley.”

              “Seriously, though, what are the odds I’d ever fight an aerokinetic villain? It’s not gonna be a thing I have to worry about.  You’re just obsessed with Sirocco,” Stan muttered.  He froze, his eyes wide at the realization that he had gone too far.

              “Stanley. Look at me.”  Stan reluctantly looked at his mom.  She didn’t seem nearly as upset as he’d expected.  “I’m not obsessed.  I’m doing my job.”

              “There are plenty of villains who just sorta stopped committing crimes.  You never bothered to try to track them down. But Sirocco disappeared when I was like, three.  And you’re still trying to find her.”

              “Yes.  I am.” Ma Pines took a seat on the couch. She patted the cushion next to her. Stan reluctantly joined her.  “Sirocco’s not like the Rat Boy or those other Z-listers who dropped out because they couldn’t make it big so it wasn’t worth it to wear a mask anymore.  She’s legitimately dangerous.”

              “How dangerous?” Stan asked, curious.

              “At least fifteen people have disappeared due to her,” Ma Pines said. Stan’s jaw dropped.

              “Really?”

              “I can’t confirm the exact number and I can’t confirm that she was exclusively to blame,” Ma Pines elaborated.  “But I have a gut feeling about it.  And what do heroes do with their gut feelings?”

              “Trust ‘em.”

              “Exactly.”  Ma Pines ruffled Stan’s hair.  “Sirocco has made a lot of good, hard-working people suffer.  She’s made high-profile politicians disappear under mysterious circumstances.  And she’s managed to face zero consequences for it.  We never caught her long enough to make her spend even five minutes behind bars.  We never unmasked her.”  Ma Pines’ face twisted with disgust.  “Sirocco is the one who got away.  Not just from me.  From justice. That’s why I’m still trying to find her. So that she can finally deal with the consequences of her actions.”

              “She sounds bad.”

              “Oh, she is.”  Ma Pines sighed.  “And to think, I offered her a million times the opportunity to join the good guys. Fight for truth, justice, and the American way.  But she never took me up on it.”

              “Why would you ask her to become a hero, if she was such a bad villain?”

              “Everyone deserves a shot at redemption.  Remember that.”  Stan nodded silently.  “Not to mention, if I’d ever got through to her, she’d have made a damn fine hero.” Ma Pines smiled faintly.  “Such a powerful super.  I once watched her create a tornado on her own and demolish an entire block of buildings.”  Stan’s jaw dropped.

              “Wow.”

              “Yes.”

              “D’ya think I’d be able to take on someone as powerful as Sirocco, when I’m a hero?” Stan asked.  Ma Pines smiled at him.

              “Of course you can, sweetie.”  She pinched his cheek.  “As long as you keep practicing.  Got it?” Stan nodded.  “Good.  Now, were there any other new tricks you learned that you wanna show me?”

              “Stanley, let’s talk in here,” Mrs. McGucket said, jerking her head in the direction of Ford’s room.

              “Uh, that’s Ford’s room.”

              “Well, Angie’s in yours.  And she explicitly told me to go easy on ya, so I’d hate fer her to hear me do the opposite,” Mrs. McGucket replied.  Stan’s veins filled with ice.  She sighed heavily.  “Don’t worry, I won’t physically harm ya.  You are my grandchildren’s father.  Now, come along.”  She went into Ford’s room.  Stan silently followed.  “The door?” Stan closed the door. Immediately, Mrs. McGucket pinned Stan against the door, her arm pressed across Stan’s throat.

              “Mrs. M-” Stan started.  Mrs. McGucket’s eyes hardened.

              “I’ll speak first, young man,” she snarled.  “You listen, and you listen good.  If you so much as think about abandonin’ my daughter after sneakin’ yer way into her life like this, yer grave won’t be found.  Same goes for up and leavin’ the babies.”

              “I wouldn’t dream of-”

              “And if ya try to convince her to leave villainy or tell ya ‘bout her coworkers, well, we won’t quite bury ya, but ya might wish we had.  There’s honor among thieves.  We don’t turn, we don’t snitch.”

              “I-”

              “I ain’t finished,” Mrs. McGucket snapped.  “The last thing I need to tell ya is that while I promised my daughter I wouldn’t kill ya or make ya disappear until the babies come, I made no such promises ‘bout mutilation or maiming.”  Stan could smell smoke.  Mrs. McGucket rolled her eyes.  “Turn off yer hair, boy.”  

              Fuck.  Stan silently turned off his flaming locks.  Mrs. McGucket increased the pressure against Stan’s throat.

              “Do ya understand me, Stanley Pines?”

              “Yes,” Stan said in a strangled voice.

              “Good.”  Mrs. McGucket released Stan, then turned around, walked away, and sat at Ford’s desk. She nodded at Ford’s bed.  “Sit.”

              “Look, I-”

              “Did I say you could speak?” Mrs. McGucket asked sharply.  Stan closed his mouth with a snap and did as he was told. Mrs. McGucket looked over at the door. She let out a soft chuckle.  “You left a mark in the wood, there.  Pyros like yourself should be more careful. Practice control.”

              “No shit,” Stan retorted.  “My mom’s been telling me that for years.”  His eyes widened.

          ��   I was just snippy with a career villain who regularly beat up Mom. Dammit, her laugh sounded just like Angie’s.  It threw me off.  Mrs. McGucket raised an eyebrow.

              “Good.”  Stan blinked.

              “Huh?” he asked.

              “Even after I threatened ya and got ya to cave to me, ya still have some fight in ya.”

              “You- you’re happy I was rude to you?”

              “Yes and no.”  Mrs. McGucket daintily crossed her legs.  “I ain’t pleased to be talked back to.  But I’m pleased to know ya have the capacity to talk back after bein’ told off.  If you and Angie want to be effective co-parents, that’s necessary.”  Mrs. McGucket sighed softly.  “You’ve prob’ly picked up by now that my daughter’s a bit of a steamroller.”

              “Yeah.”

              “She always has been.”  Mrs. McGucket shook her head.  “Stubborn as a mule, that girl.  Honestly, she got it from me.  Her father’s much more willin’ to compromise than I am.”

              “Don’t worry, I’m just as stubborn,” Stan said, grinning.  Mrs. McGucket nodded.

              “I’m glad to hear that.  ‘Cause with Angie, only folks as stubborn as her can get her to back down on somethin’. Can be a halfway decent team with her. And if the two of ya want to be good parents, ya need to be a good team.”  Mrs. McGucket waved a hand airily.  “Anyone can be good parents.  Don’t matter if yer married, dating, friends, or even just acquaintances.  What defines good parents is the ability to be a good team.”

              “You’re not- you don’t care that we aren’t married?  Or even dating?” Stan asked, surprised.

              “In a sense, I do.  I’d much prefer my grandkids to have been created out of love, not lust.  I’d also like my grandkids to not be bastards. But I recognize the most important thing here.  That those kids get raised right.  And the only way to raise those kids is if the folks who raise ‘em work as a team. You realize what that means, right?”

              “Uh…”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.  “I’m not much of a team…player.  I mean, I did boxing in high school, not baseball.”

              “Teamwork don’t just mean team sports,” Mrs. McGucket said impatiently. “It means workin’ together. Counteractin’ weaknesses with strengths. Compromising.  Fer example, religion.”  Stan frowned at her.  “That’ll be one regard in which ya need to compromise.  We’re Catholic, and we feel very strongly about that.  But it wouldn’t be right to deny yer kids half of their heritage.  So whether yer Episcopalian, Baptist, Lutheran-”

              “Jewish,” Stan mumbled.  Mrs. McGucket stopped, her eyes wide.

              “Yer Jewish?”

              “I don’t really practice, but, uh, yeah.”

              “Oh.  Goodness.” Mrs. McGucket covered her eyes with one hand.  “I’m so sorry.”

              “Huh?”

              “It didn’t even occur to me that you wouldn’t be Christian.  That was wrong of me.  I need to be more open-minded.”

              “Huh?” Stan repeated.  Mrs. McGucket removed her hand.  She met his gaze with a plaintive look.

              “I shouldn’t have assumed you were Christian.  I apologize fer that.”

              “…Oh.  It’s- it’s nothing.  Most people think- and like I said, I don’t really practice, so-”

              “Still.”  Mrs. McGucket drummed her fingers on Ford’s desk.  “I’ll have to learn how to cook kosher.”

              “Huh?”

              “Is that the only thing you can say, boy?” Mrs. McGucket snapped.  Her tone was agitated, but not vicious.  “I was just sayin’ the kids need to be exposed to both sides of their heritage.  If they’re half-Jewish, that means abidin’ by Jewish law.  So if I want to make things fer my grandkids – which I do – I need to make sure it’s kosher.”

              “It’s not-”  Stan cut himself off.

              Stop arguing.  She said she might maim you five minutes ago and now she’s being nice.  Don’t make her go back to threats.

              “Thank you,” Stan said quietly.

              “No need to thank me.  It’s common decency to respect others’ heritage and religion,” Mrs. McGucket said briskly.  She pointed at Stan.  “This is the exact thing ya need to be stronger ‘bout.  Don’t cave just ‘cause it ain’t important to you.  It’s important to Angie.  That means it’s somethin’ you should also consider important. Anything important to either of ya is worth havin’ a conversation over.  You don’t want to decide later on that what you thought wasn’t important to you actually is.”

              “I…”  Stan trailed off.

              I thought I didn’t care about the religion thing, but now that I think about it, I kinda like the idea of taking the kids to temple.  Throwing them a bar mitzvah.  Celebrating Hanukkah with them.  A faint smile played around Stan’s mouth.

              “See?  You do care. You just didn’t realize,” Mrs. McGucket said.  She got up. Stan stood as well.

              “Are you leaving?” he asked.

              “I have work to do back home.”

              “I’ll walk you out.”

              “I know the way.”  Mrs. McGucket strode to the door and opened it, revealing Ford standing nervously in the hallway.  “Hello, Stanford.”

              “Mrs. McGucket,” Ford mumbled.  Mrs. McGucket looked back at Stan.

              “This won’t be the last conversation I have with you.  You and Angie both have a lot to learn ‘bout what it takes to be good parents.”

              “I think we can figure it out on our own,” Stan said.  Mrs. McGucket grinned crookedly.

              That’s Angie’s smile.  I wonder if either of the kids will get that little shit-eating grin.

              “That confidence is misplaced.  But it’s a good color on you, Stanley.”  She left, a warm breeze following her.  “Goodbye, junebug!” she called as she walked away.  There was a muffled goodbye from Stan’s room.  Ford looked at Stan.

              “You’re not dead,” he remarked.  Stan raised an eyebrow.

              “Wow, how’d you guess?”

              “Smartass,” Ford muttered.  He glanced at his door briefly, then did a double-take.  “Stanley, what did you do to my door?”

[bonkybornes]

But not in that way

Inspired by anon

And I hate

To say I love you

Dean slammed down the shot glass, nodding at the bartender in hopes that he would get another drink. He had faced vampires, werewolves, demons, djinn, and all other manner of freaky things but the most terrifying thing was the fact that he can’t talk about it. At least, he couldn’t. But then came Cas. The smallest angel in the garrison, but the most terrifying nonetheless.

When it’s so

Hard for me

“You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” He had said. Both him and Cas knew how right the statement was, the words lingered in the hunter’s ears. It had been so many years since that event, but it still rang true. The pair had been doing an elaborate dance for so long, they had forgotten how to take a break. They had forgotten how to let their guards down.

And I hate

To say I want you

The music never let up, and their feet never stilled. A slow waltz to rival the dance was what their relationship was desperately needed.

“Someone drinkin’ like you must be trying to get away from something.” The bartender told Dean. He kept his head hanging low.

“Yeah mind your own business, buddy.” He slammed back his choice of poison for the night, the one in the glass that the bartender slid in front of him. The man put his hands up in a surrendering position and went back to his job.

When you make it so clear

You don’t want me

It was another one of those nights where Dean desperately wished for someone to hold him. He’d never admit it to Sam or anyone else, but he missed being able to let go. The last time he did that was with Lisa, and that exploded. Just like he knew it would eventually. He wished that he could get over himself and his fear, and just tell Cas how he felt.

But he knew it would go down in flames. Everything did.

I’d never ask you

Cause deep down

I’m certain

I know what you’d say

It was time. Tonight was the night. Maybe it was the tequila talking, but he just couldn’t hold it in any longer. Dean slammed some cash onto the bar, and got the hell out of there. With all the alcohol in his system, telling cas wasn’t going to be the problem. The problem was going to be getting back to the motel before he lost the nerve to do it.

You’d say

I’m sorry

believe me

I love you

but not in that way

For a moment he doubted that Cas would feel the same, but how could he not? It had been years of pining, and guessing, and saving each other, and indirect I love you’s. If he was imagining this, he was officially crazy. Dean could wander the whole night, he could go through every scenario in the book, and it would still end up with him and Cas being in love. It would always end with them.

And i hate

To say i need you

The streets flew by, making a breeze in their wake. Whether Dean had goosebumps because of what he was about to confess to the love of his life or because it was the middle of November and he was wearing a t-shirt was subjective, but it didn’t matter. Nothing matterd as long as he was with Cas

I’m so reliant

I’m so dependant

Im such a fool

Dean arrived at room number twelve in a motel six. The number of times he had raised his fist to Cas’ door for the exact reason he was about to was endless. Miluakee, Jersey, Napa, Sioux Falls, every place was the same. He’d raise his fist to knock and then realize that he would be stupid to even thing that there was a remote possibility that Cas could love him back, and then he would leave. He’d sneak back into his and Sam’s room, making sure not to wake his brother, and he’d pass out.

When you’re

not there

I find myself singing the blues

Not this time. This time was the time that he was going to get an answer, his answer. Something felt wrong about doing it this way, though. If he knocked, there was a possibility he would go back on his decision. In the few seconds it would take Cas to answer the door, Dean would have run back to his room. Just like he always did. No, this time he would just go in. He would go in, and profess his love!

Can’t bear

Can’t face the truth

When he opened the door to room number twelve, his heart stopped. Out of the list of things he had predicted would go wrong, this was never one of them.

“Dean, wait!” Cas cried, removing himself from the person in his bed. If it was possible for two hearts to shatter at the exact same moment, it had just been done. Dean turned himself around, betrayal stabbing into his chest as Cas followed him out the door.

You will never

know that feeling

“Dean!” The word that Cas had said to him a thousand times before had never felt less like his own name.

“No, Cas! I will not wait.” Dean tried his best to hide the sorrow in his voice.

“Are you...crying?” Cas wondered aloud.

“God- Yes, Cas! I’m crying. Are you happy now?” The angel’s eyes furrowed, his soul growing a little more dim at the thought that Dean could think that he was happy over that.

You will never

see through these eyes

“Why would I be happy about that?” Cas found himself tired of trying to catch up to the hunter, poofing himself in front of Dean. He sniffed the air. “You stink like alcohol, are you okay?”

“No! I’m not okay!” He shouted, “Why would I be okay? After what I just saw?”

Cas’ eyebrows furrowed further. “I know that walking in on someone doing...that, is usually upsetting to humans but I sense that this is a somewhat heightened reaction.”

I’d never ask you

cause deep down

I’m certain

I know what you’d say

“Of course it is Cas, I thought we had something!” He slurred.

“Had what? Like an object?”

“No! A...relationship.” Dean’s heart was broken in a thousand ways, but it felt like Cas was slowly stepping on the pieces.

“Of course we do, we have a profound bond. I pulled you out of the pit.” If there was ever a time to facepalm, it was now.

You’d say

im sorry

believe me

I love you but not in that way

“Cas, I love you!” Dean’s heart dropped into his stomach. The phrase is cliche

, but the silence between them was deafening.

“Like… a friend?”

“Romantically! Jesus!”

You’d say

I’m sorry

believe me

I love you

“Dean…”

“I know, it’s stupid. Forget I ever said anything.”

“Dean!” The hunter stopped cold in his tracks, his boots practically gluing themselves to the ground. “I love you too.”

A smile grew slowly on Dean’s face. His heart swelled as Cas’ crashed to the ground.

“but not in that way”

[lamarkeu]

HYUNG LINE EDITION

Authors Note:

I decided to try a new format with my Scenarios, so hopefully you guys like this one. Just a heads up, I’ve only re-read theses a few times, so if there are any grammatical errors feel free to dm me about it. It would be much appreciated anyway, let’s get it!

Mark was so nervous the first time you two kissed.

He had been your best friend the moment Jackson introduced you to each other almost 6 years ago.

You both really like each other but were too shy to admit it so you guys expressed your feelings to Jackson.

At first Jackson thought it was cute the way you two talked about each other, but after awhile all the sweet talking began giving him a toothache.

He comes up with a plan, forcing the members out of the apartment, and leaving you and Mark by yourselves.

You guys would’ve been sitting side by side on the couch, on your third or fourth round of Mario cart.. You were currently leading so as a way of distracting you he’d grab your controller and raising it above his head.

“Mark!” You huffed, “give it back!”

He bites on his lips, a little turned on by your frustration. “If you want it come and get it,” he taunts, sticking his tongue out waving your controller.

You stretched out your arm, to grab it, but end up falling onto his lap. Without a second though Mark turns you over so your facing each other. You guys were both flushed in embarrassment, avoiding eye contact.

“Mark my controller-“ you were suddenly cut off by Marks soft lips on yours, he was hesitant at first not knowing how’d you react. You’re quick to place your arms around his neck pulling him further into this kiss. After what seems like an eternity, you let go of the kiss and turn your heads go see Jackson looking like a proud dad.

Jackson raises his hands in excitement, “Finally! Took you two long enough!”

When you two had your first kiss, it was totally out of character for you to have initiated it.

Jaebeom started out as your hot next door neighbor but, turned into a really good friend that you always relied on. You two would hangout in each other’s apartment a lot watch movies. Eventually you started to think of him as a little more, and wanted to show him that.

Out of all days you could’ve forgot your keys, it was the same day you went out to get a little tipsy with friends. Jaebeom notice you at the front doors, making his way back home from the local bar. He couldn't help but chuckle at your pouting and whining as you tried to convince the security guard that you lived there.

“Need some help?” You turn to face the voice, still extremely disoriented. You weren’t afraid to admit that you kind of have a crush on your hot neighbour. It didn’t help that the liquid courage in your system started taking affect.

“Hey Bummie! Can you please tell him that I live here?” His cheeks get hot at the nickname you call him. You smile at his reaction, you’d never seen such a beautiful man blush before.

Jaebeom kindly opens the door to the building, and you soon followed behind. On the way up in the elevator, you began leaning on his shoulder, growing tired. Almost like instinct, he bends down to place you on his back. You finally arrive at your door, he turns to see you eyes closed, and lightly snoring.

God she’s so cute he thought to himself. There was no way he could leave you outside your apartment. An idea pops into his head and he immediately brings you into his apartment. He gently places you on his bed, deciding it would be best if he’d sleep on the couch.

You in your half drunken state, grab his wrist pulling him towards you. His lips fall right onto yours, the taste of soju still on his lips. You chuckle when you see his slit eyes turn large after letting go of him.

“Thank you Jae,” you smile up at him.

He manages to stutter out “Y-your W-welcome,”

“Oh Jae,” he stops, turning around and leans against the door frame. “You look cute when you blush.”

Your first kiss didn’t exactly go how Jackson had planned it. For Jackson when it came to something as perfect as you, everything else needs to match that.

You’d start off at one of the nicest restaurants out looking Hangang River. After dinner he’d take you to a near by dessert shop, where they happened to serve your favourite dessert. Finally you two would end the night walking in the park, Following that,the rest of your date would take place at the desert house in the same building. The cafe was very famous for their chocolate sundaes which happened to be a favourite of yours as well as Jackson. At the end of the night, you two would end at a nearby park, where Jackson would make his move on you on a bench underneath the bright lights of the city.

Almost like a perfectly oiled machine, the plan was working flawlessly. Even with all his careful and elaborate planning, he had forgotten a key factor that could affect his perfect fairytale ending; the weather.

Yes, the exact day he decided to make his move, the rain would quite literally rain on his parade. The worst part is how close the two of you happened to be when the rain began to pour. The two of you manage to take refuge underneath a nearby gazebo, which had a perfect view of the bench.

“Gah!” Jackson, his hand run through his brunette hair, as he paces back and forth. You look up at him, confusion was written all over your face.

“Jackson, it's just a little rain-”

Finally like a ticking time bomb, Jackson goes off, the stress of planning the perfect kiss finally got to him.

“Exactly! Its the damn weather's fault! I had everything planned. All I wanted was to have the perfect first kiss with my lady is that so hard to ask!” The weather is quick to respond to Jackson as it begins to rain harder, another growl escapes his lips.

You chuckle at his state, he yells into the rain hands gripped onto the side of the gazebo. “Jackson,” You cooed. He turns around to face you, defeat written all over his perfect face.

“What-” your lips pressed against his, stopping him from saying another word. He begins to slowly deepen the kiss but, suddenly pulls back. He looks around the Gazebo, the raining had completely stopped. “Really? Now you stop raining? Thanks a lot, mother nature way to ruin my efforts!”

Jinyoung didn’t have many flaws, most of the time they were hard to point out. One flaw you were 100% sure of, was his jealousy.

You and Jinyoung would’ve just started dating, when you brought him to the set of your upcoming drama. It was beautiful story of romance and betrayal, and with that came a lot of kissing.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine watching me? It is a kissing scene.”

He scoffs at your comment, “I’ll be fine,” he kisses your cheek, “Hurry, I want to take you for lunch after.”

The furthest you’ve gone with jinyoung in your relationship was cuddling, and him placing soft kisses on everywhere but your lips. Not that you cared much for it, you two just wanted to find the right time to share that first official kiss together.

In the scene that played out, your character, who’s a princess, is saved by her stable boy, your co-star. You two are alone at the stables, admiring the horses when suddenly, one of the horses kicks at the gate. You fall back in shock and manage to fall facing the stable boy. Your lips would be close to his and all of a sudden you hear a loud cough on set. Turning to see who it came from you see your boyfriend looking around like it wasn’t him. This happens a couple more times, you groan out in frustration. You ask the director to yell cut, grab your boyfriend by the wrist and into the nearest dressing room.

“Park Jinyoung! You said you’d be fine!”

“I was fine,” his soft lips form a pout as he spoke, he’d even cross his arms like a child.

“You don’t act like it,” You announce in frustration. Jinyoung moves closer to you as you continued ranting. “I know it makes you jealous, but you should know more than anyone that it’s part of the job. God I’m so-“ cutting yourself off your realize your back was now up against the dressing room door, his lips inches from your face, his arm rested above your head.

“I’m so m-mad at y-you.” You manage to stutter out. He smirks at you, he brings his lips to your ear and whispers.

“Then be mad.” The taunt gets you so fired up, you grab his face jaw so you’re looking right at each other and kiss him. He chuckles, his lips pressing harder against yours

[hinshinotsuki]

🖤 Switched 🖤

***

***

(F/N) looked at all the people around her as they, too, looked at her.

Who could blame her or them for that matter? For, after all, she stood out like sore thumb.

It all began the next day when she woke up. Her eyes, upon opening against her own will, saw the same rustic ceiling, just like yesterday. She rubbed her tired eyes, wishing that this whole ordeal was just a long nightmare. But, upon opening them once more, unfortunately, she was as wide awake as anyone can be.

She sighed and finally got out of bed, finding her clothes neatly folded on the table beside her bed. Even her signature high heels were on the foot of the bed. She dressed up, carefully folding her hospital gown and putting it on the table. She wore her shoes, thinking it was a miracle that the water did not damage the very expensive pair in the least, and the same could be said with her dress. She walked idly around, looking for a mirror, and when she did find one, she stared at it and noticed the large bags beneath her eyes. Upon failing to find a hair brush, she began combing through her tangled tresses with her fingers, carefully untying the knots.

It was then that she heard a knock on the door. And before she could even let the visitor enter the room, it already opened the door and let itself in.

"Oh, hi there." It was the woman named Hange. Apparently, she doesn't know anything about privacy or space. "Had a good rest?"

"No." (F/N) answered, and it was the truth.

But, to this, Hange just laughed. "The others are waiting. Let's go."

And so, (F/N) let herself be accompanied by the woman towards the cafeteria, where a lot of people were already having breakfast. And the moment she stepped into the noisy and crowded room, numerous eyes noticed her. Some were about to greet her, but stopped upon seeing her. They remained still as she passed them. Some even gave her strange stares.

Oh, my God. She thought as she followed Hange.

But, it seems that Hange was unaffected by all of it as she arrived on the counter to get themselves a meal.

"Good morning, Sectio - " One of the Cadets in charge of the meals was about to greet her when she saw her companion. It was a tall teen with a long face and small eyes.

"Good morning, uhh,..."

"Jean Kirschtein, Section Commander." The teen provided his name.

"Oh, yeah. Good morning, Kirschtein! Two, please." Said  Hange, then flashed him a quick smirk. "One for me and another for Squad Leader (L/N)'s twin sister - "

"Twin?!" (F/N) uttered, startled at what she just heard. This made everyone, including Kirschtein, to look at her with suspicion.

However, Hange just laughed the whole situation off. "Oh, you, you're so funny,..." she said and took (F/N)'s right arm, pulling her towards the farthest table she could find, away from the recruits' prying eyes.

"What was that for?" (F/N) asked as she was forced to sit on a chair.

Hange just smiled at her, having a seat and never taking her eyes off her. "I messed up, big time,..." she whispered more to herself.

"What do you mean by that?" (F/N) asked, growing more and more impatient by the second. 

At this exact moment, all eyes were drawn to their vicinity. And at that exact moment, (F/N) realized that she stood out like a sore thumb among the people inside the cafeteria, who all wore similar 17th century something peasant clothing.

She cleared her throat, getting really nervous all of a sudden, and tried to divert her attention from the curiosity of the people, who started whispering at each other.

She moved closer towards Hange and said in a whisper, "Where exactly am I? If you don't mind me asking,..."

"Oh, not at all." Hange whispered back. "Well, seeing that you really have no idea what this place is or - "

"No!" (F/N) savagely interrupted Hange in a whisper.

"Okay! Okay! You are in Trost District, south of Wall Maria."

"Okay. And since when did Trost City become the center of Paradis' Renaissance period fair?"

"What did you say?"

"Renaissance!"

"No! Before that."

"Paradis? Aww, come on! Don't tell me you forgot the name of the country."

"Paradise, what?!"

"Excuse me, ladies?" Both (F/N) and Hange slightly jumped from their seats, startled at the interruption by the same  Cadet earlier. Jean was slightly surprised upon seeing this and just shrugged it off, handing them two trays of food containing their forgotten breakfast. "Here. You forgot to pick this up."

"Thank you, Jean." (F/N) said, gaining a strange look from the Cadet, who realized that he was just called by the bossiest Squad Leader in the Scouting Legion by his first name. His eyes widened for a fraction a second, then returned to normal. He smirked, nodded, and walked back towards the counter.

"Really?" Hange muttered after the teen left.

"What?" (F/N) asked, who eyed the really plain breakfast with a scrutinizing eye.

"Thank you? As in, thank you?"

"Why? What's wrong with that?"

Hange took her spoon and pointed it at her strange companion. "(F/N) never once expressed gratitude, let alone say those exact words you just said." the bespectacled woman said, then swallowed a spoonful of pale soup. "It's just like," she took the hard - looking bread then took a bite. "You're a completely different person."

(F/N) raised an eyebrow and returned her gaze at the breakfast. She took the bread first and almost gasped - it really was hard. "Maybe because I' am. And maybe you are, too. I mean, look at you," she bit the bread, not bothering to tear it into pieces, and instantly regretted her decision. "You have long hair, and your chest is big, and you look flat, I mean, down there,..."

"So, does that mean that Hans is a male?" Hange asked curiously.

"Of course, he is! Unless, he is hiding something from me, then,..."

"REMARKABLE!" Hange burst out, gaining the attention of all the people in the room. (F/N)'s heartbeat increased upon the reaction of her companion and tried to calm her down. The people, on the other hand, just went back to their meals upon realizing that it was just Hange and her sudden, crazy outbursts.

"I'm surprised you remembered Hans,..." (F/N) told her after Hange calmed down.

But, then, (F/N) immediately wished for the excited Hange to return, for the woman began smiling at her like a mad scientist. A really, really mad one, at that.

"Of course, I did!" Hange answered her. "And all the other things that happened last night. You see," she said, then gulped down another spoonful of cold soup. "Last night's events had me thinking."

"About what?"

"You! I was thinking that you really are not what you used to be. But, then, after analyzing all the words and stories that you said, the clothes that you wear, and that long, black, shiny, mirror - like thing that you have - "

"Wait a second here, YOU HAVE MY CELLPHONE?!"

"Sshh!" It was Hange's turn to calm (F/N) down. "Alright, I took it! But it was only for experimental purposes, I didn't mean to use it,..."

"I swear, Hange, or whatever you are called, if you break it, or scratch it in the least - "

"I did not! Okay?" Hange said, successfully calming (F/N) down, and returned to their topic. "So, as I was saying," she grabbed the bread and took a huge bite out of it. "Upon analysis of all the things that you have, I assume that - "

(F/N) slowly looked at her, waiting curiously at her huge reveal. "Go on."

Hange gulped down and closed her eyes. And when she opened them once more, they were filled with excitement like that of a child's, who was about to open a Christmas gift from a really wealthy person. "(F/N), I' am a hundred percent positive that you came from another world."

(F/N) absorbed what Hange just said and just chuckled. "I was beginning to think that, yes. Unless, you are pulling some elaborate prank on me,..."

"We're not! Anyway, the reason I said that is due to the way you are dressed. I've seen Wall Sina fashion, and I'm sure that yours is a whole different story. And not to mention those shoes with the pointy things,..."

"Heels. They're high heels."

"Oh, so that's what it's called, huh? High heels?" Hange said, then went closer to (F/N). Too close, in fact. "And that black, smooth thing is a cellphone? What does a cellphone do, aside from being used as a mirror?"

"First of all, it's not a mirror. Well, sometimes, people do use it like that. You can do lots of things with a cellphone nowadays, compared to old models where you can only send messages and call loved ones,..."

(F/N) stopped for a moment upon realizing that Hange was hanging on to her every word like a child who was eagerly waiting for the next scenario of a fairy tail. Not to mention the drool that was forming on the edge of her lips.

"Ahh, so, that's a cellphone,..."

"Hange, are you okay?"  (F/N) asked, fully aware that she, herself, coming from another world would mean something really huge not only for Hange, but for her, as well.

"Yes. And what else does a cellphone do?"

"Hange, I wish I could show you, but I don't have it right now,..."

"Then, let's go!" Hange almost shrieked, stood up from her chair, grabbed (F/N) by her skinny arm once more, and dragged her someplace else,...

***

🖤🖤🖤

***

[murdochmysteriesimagines]

Circumstance -Julia Ogden

Request: Platonic Requests Of Julia Having A Half Black Daughter Before The Events Of The Show And They Meet Again Whith The Daughter Being In Her Twenties And Julia In The Latest Season And Neither Of Them Knowing They Are Related.

A/N: The need for a specific ethnicity did throw me off a bit, that and the requirement of both parties not knowing of each other when they first meet. This one was challenging to write for but I am pleased with the end result. It does differ from the original request but this in the effort to make the story more realistic and logical. 

__________________________________________

Pained screams filled the empty cottage home. On the outside the still building cried out for only birds to hear, painted walls and shuttered windows failed to muffle any of the misery of the inhabitants; one standing out among the rest. Julia Ogden laid on her back, legs separated and abdomen inflated. Each muscle contraction squeezing the life out of her, grit teeth and watery eyes two of her side effects. Her father and school companion Issac Tash were present in the room aiding with the birth. Tash frequently pausing his assistance to the doctor to provide comfort to his friend, although it largely fell flat to the pained women and only delayed the inevitable. Lionel Ogden, who despised the rushed situation his family was placed in still found time to scold the doctor in training for his distractions, having exhausted the same treatment and criticisms for his daughter throughout the months of her secret pregnancy. 

In the hall outside the bedroom and makeshift ward the second youngest member of the Ogden lineage sat beside he father of Julia child: a grounds keeper at Bishop’s University where the new mother and her companion attended. Their secret flame burned bright with a passion, but one night alone without supervision ended in temporary pleasure and their current predicament. Ruby Ogden the younger attempted to comfort the gardener, like Tash however, her efforts would be in vain. Not a year older than Julia yet his face hung low, a tired state giving him the appearance of an unearned age. Mr Marsh worried not for himself for his child, the mother, what the future would hold for the both of them. If Julia was caught bearing a mixed child her career would be over before it began. Any school or institution worthy of her talents would shun her as if tainted by the plague. That was why Julia’s father brought all parties into the woods of northern Ontario, regardless of outcome he intended to keep what happened in these walls an everlasting family secret.

Back inside the room Lionel commanded his daughter to push a final time, through her cries of relief flushed a new sense of exhaustion. Doctor Ogden held the result in a single hand, unnoticed by Tash who focused on his friend. The child barely reached to the of his hand from the palm., the size and texture of a lump of coal. The child laid still, unmoving, silent. Lionel knew himself to be a firm man, unpleasant to all in this situation. When he held his grandchild however, a weight formed in his throat and refused to be swallowed down no matter the force.

He gently laid the child down on a table away from his own, his priorities shifting  back to what could be done for his own girl. Minutes would pass in relative silence, Julia’s mind muddled from recent events and the doctors to Tash. He was unable to admit the circumstance of the baby but all knowing its fate. Isaac excused himself to gather more supplies. His departure letting a cold silence occupy the room and its single conscious inhabitant. Outside he could hear distress from his youngest daughter and the father, he expected the door to be knocked in yet it remained shut. 

The silence was broken by a frail cry. At first Lionel thought it was Julia coming to grips with the outcome. she remained quiet however, eyes closed to the world around her. Then another wail turned his attention back to the table and what he thought was a still born infant; still clinging to life, if by a thread. He wrapped the infant in a blanket and held it carefully in his arms. If it survived he would ensure it was taken care of, the father was far from being in his good books but he was trustworthy to raise the baby into adulthood. As a father himself he had to do what was best for his children first, regardless of any consequences. Even if that included lies and manipulation among other sins. He would extend that promise to his first grandchild, a unfortunate victim of her parents mistakes, innocent to the world. 

You had paced the length of the hospital three times by the time you gathered the courage to approach the main doors. In perpetration you had packed every scrap of information in the form of documents, photos or outdated letters, and neatly organized them in the satchel thumping against your waist as you walked up the stone steps. You were informed this was Doctor Ogden's new stomping grounds after she left the city morgue. A foreigner to the city yourself you were surprised at how helpful people could be, daddy always warned you of the exact opposite from city dwellers. 

The hospital was positively silent on the inside, no screams of anguish or weeps of sorrow from mourning loved ones. You knew those sounds would come in hand with your future schooling and profession; but for now they still turned your spine into ice and hands into stone. With guidance from a nurse at the reception and a tall blond on Ogden’s assigned floor you pushed further into the building. The first one tricked with a white lie and the tall one simply too helpful for her own good. The way she fixated on you for a second was unnerving, her eyes narrowed and head tilted to the side before snapping back to reality and ordering you to follow her. All without proper reason for your visit. As you were guided through corridors in the winding maze that was the hospital final doubts began to sweep through your mind.

“What will I say to her? What should I say? This was a mistake surely, selfish, it has been two decades, I’ll only disrupt whatever she has built. What will the public think?“

Your inner dialogue was cut short by the blond appearing from behind a door. In your haze she had disappeared into a break room and reemerged soon after. “Its just Doctor Ogden in there, I’m sure she’ll appreciate the company.”

You barely managed to thank her before she ran off back into the endless hallways. You stood ready to enter for a moment, retouched your hair, straightened your collar and padded out any wrinkles in your clothing. No imperfections, real or imagined, were enough to put off the Doctor but all posed significant threats to your mind. Hesitantly you opened the door and stepped inside. She had her nose buried in a notebook with a hand occupied by a pen. The door closing behind you caused her to look up from whatever words she wrote. Doctor Ogden looked at you like a stranger onto another. You knew swabs of information about her yet she only saw a member of the youth starring at her nervously. 

“Good day.“ Her greeting was warm, in line with all the stories you had been told. She could tell you were nervous and, true to her nature, attempted to ease your anxieties. She extended an arm to offer you a seat. When you placed yourself opposite her your respiratory system began to malfunction once again. you introduced yourself with a noticeable stutter as you failed to find confidence in the scenario, y/n Matthews.

Doctor Ogden looked remarkably similar to what you suspected. The bury photo you had of the young secret couple that was your father and Doctor Ogden relaxing together did her justice. Her hair still possessed the same glow, her face seemingly free of aging, time appeared to have paused for your fathers oldest friend. Would you have the same luck as the inevitable conclusion approached. These thoughts distracted you for several seconds, unable to hear when she spoke in the temporary silence. “Pardon?”

The Doctor smiled at you, not showing any resentment or annoyance to your endless worry. “I asked if you would like something, tea?” You shook your head denying the request.

“I’m here on business Ma’am. Doctor!“ You corrected yourself with a panic. Another error she did not react to or or care about. You moved your hands around trying to find a comfortable position, settling on them squeezed into a ball in front of you. “Are you the same Doctor Ogden who a relationship with James Marsh two decades ago?” 

You were blunt and without a stutter for the first time. The Doctor recoiled slightly, eyes widened, a reaction to a name she knew too well. “Its been years since I thought of that name.” She paused, “But why-”

“He’s my father.” You blurted out of panic once again, not allowing her to finish the sentence. Doctor Ogden seemed to take a positive interpretation. “He married after my father forced him to move away.”

Of course she would think that, you refrained from correcting her immediately. “He said your father requested our surname be change after...” Your thoughts trailed off, unwilling to divulge the forbidden information. A look flashed across Julia's face, unsure herself if it was relief or pain that you might not know all the details of hers and Marsh’s relationship. 

“How is he doing?” “He died six months ago. Cancer.” Your voice was near silent but each word echoed around the break room. All Doctor Ogden could manage was an offering of her sympathies, a gesture you had no doubts about being genuine. She went onto question about your mother, still believing her old friend had married long ago. “And your mother?”

Thousands of potential answers came to you but none would allow themselves to exit your mouth. What should have been premium opportunity you allowed to slip through your fingers. The answer to selfish for the Doctor to hear. 

“She’s out of the picture.” You refused to elaborate and she refrained from perusing the question.

“Before he passed he...” You paused, retrieving the item in question from your satchel, a sealed envelope signed in the finest cursive you had ever seen. “My father wrote a letter for you. He never said why but he wanted it sent after his death.” 

You slid the letter across to her, along with the old photo of the couple as a form of proof. Doctor Ogden held it with the tips of her fingers; like the paper would burst into flames if she was not careful. “You came to Toronto just to deliver a letter?” She sounded more curious than puzzled. You were taken back by her question, not all would care enough beyond being polite. “I’m attending the university next week. Me and my father had been saving for it for some years now. I plan to become a doctor myself some day.” 

For the first time since you entered you allowed yourself to smile slightly, positioned downward in a failed effort to keep it private. “When I was younger I worked in the local clinic and in the summers I would patch up the local football teams. My father did say I always took after my mother.” 

“Were you two close?” The Doctors question sent hidden daggers into you without intent, a polite question to try and break the ice. A simple head shake made the Doctor drop the subject entirely. 

“If you would like Miss Matthews, once you start your schooling I could see about getting you a part time position here as a nurse. Perhaps I could teach you a trick or two.” The Doctor appeared honest in her proposal, though you had inner conflict if this was because of your father or some potential she saw in you. What ever the reason the offer scared you to your feet, the older woman following soon after. 

“I, I don’t think that would be appropriate Doctor Ogden.” Your anxiety had returned with a passion. All plans of what else to discuss with the Doctor falling secondary to any action that would end. Before she could raise further question you found yourself backing towards the door, the truth leaving as quickly as it entered. “I should’t waste anymore of your time Doctor.” Your lungs acted as if they ran several kilometers while you sat still in a chair as you maneuvered out of the room and away from Doctor Ogden. 

“y/n wait!” Julia called out to you but remained still, whatever stress you were acting on would not be aided by the person triggering it giving chase. She attributed it to the memory of her old lover and the youths father being brought up so swiftly. Even with her strained relationship she was less than joyful talking about her own father after his death, an unfortunately familiar subject for the two women to share. 

Her attention went back to the letter and photo of her old friend; every pleasant and painful memory associated with him brought back when she looked at his grinning face in the weathered photo. A shame his child did not inherit his smile. What information could be so important that even after twenty years it still occupied his mind on ones deathbed. It was a minor worry in the back of her mind that whatever words he had penned would somehow betray or jeopardize his only child. If James Marsh had remained the same gentleman she knew well a lifetime ago he would do what was right for those he cared about. 

[shedreamsofstars]

Eggman’s Misadventures in Shipping - Chapter 1

What use is an IQ of 300 if you don't use it to enact an elaborate scheme to set up your arch nemesis. Eggman's had enough of getting his butt kicked every other day by that stupid blue pineapple. To regain his spark, it's time for a plan the Doctor knows is fool proof … at least, according to certain 'shippers' on the internet

Phase Zero: Prepare for Misadventure

“Orbot!” The round bellied man yelled, floating into the base riding in his custom built Eggmobile. “Cubot!” He landed it with the effortless grace that one could expect from a metal contraption holding an oversized man, which is to say none at all.

Eggman planted his feet onto the ground at almost the same moment his two minions appeared, seeming to slink out of the walls themselves.

“Doctor!” they called, their robotic voices melding in unison as they addressed him. Their blue eyes were bright and unblinking as they waited for a response from their creator.

Eggman only frowned at them deeply, a deep growl escaping through his thick moustache. “I have had enough of that stupid blue rat besting me at every turn!” the man yelled, falling into a rhythmic trot as he headed into the complex. “It’s like he doesn’t even care that I spent hours making sure everything was set out perfectly before crushing my dreams under those red sneakers of his.”

The two robots shared nervous glances as they followed behind him, pointing at one another to speak first. With a robotic sigh, Orbot took the lead.

“But Doctor Eggman, Sonic always beats you. That’s just how it goes.”

“Do you think I don’t know that Orbot?!” Eggman snapped, sending a furious glance over his shoulder.

The two robots shrank back a little at the sight as they stumbled after him. Orbot gestured for Cubot to try and console their creator. The robot looked hesitant, but after a little prompting from his spherical counterpart, he tried regardless.

“Perhaps you are just aiming too high Doc,” he started, following Eggman into a large room furnished only with a single sofa and a large television screen mounted on the wall.

“What are you going on about?” the man said, collapsing onto the sofa and stretching his legs out before him.

“I just mean, world annihilation seems like the final step on the ladder of success. The end goal. What if you tried to achieve it one small rung at a time instead of just going straight to the top?”

“Yes,” Orbot chimed in. “A more … manageable goal might be just what you need to boost your confidence Doctor. Perhaps we should start by stealing all the candy from every baby in the land?”

Eggman scratched at his chin slowly, his glasses flashing as he considered the bots words.

“Hmm, not candy. I already have two vaults full of those peppermint cane things I stole from those yuletide celebrations last year. But perhaps the two of you are onto something. I mean, it’s no surprise, I was the one who programmed you after all,” he mused, a proud gleam in his eyes.

“Maybe I am aiming too high.” He squinted at the two bots before him as the cogs in his clever mind began to spin at an alarming rate. “Or maybe Sonic is too focused on me.”

“We thought you liked having his attention,” Orbot said tentatively, knowing full well that Eggman might not like hearing those words spoken out loud.

“I do,” the man said vaguely. “But he enjoys destroying them too much, and I am tired of losing to him. I think I need to focus on something else for a while.”

“Doctor,” Cubot said. “If Sonic is the problem, then perhaps we need to find a way to distract him.”

“That’s what I made all of you robots for,” the man said, gesturing to the walls and the countless bots that thrummed behind them.

“Perhaps what you need is a more long-term solution,” Orbot clarified. “Something that will distract him for longer than it takes him to destroy us with his spines.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I have ever heard,” Eggman said offhandedly, twisting the rough edges of his moustache between his fingers. “I’ve got it!” he said suddenly. “What I need is to find a more long-term way of distracting Sonic!”

Orbot hummed sadly as he nodded his head in agreement. “That’s a great idea Doctor.”

“I need a win right now, and I also need to divert that damned hedgehog’s attention. So maybe, just maybe … I can kill two birds with one stone.”

The man jumped off the sofa, rushing over to a hidden panel beside the screen on the wall. A keypad popped out the wall and a seat sprang from the floor instantly. Eggman made himself comfortable, his lips forming soundless words as his fingers began furiously tapping away on the keypad.

Flashes of the blue hedgehog popped up on several sections of the large monitor as sets of diagnostics scrolled across the reflection of Eggman’s glasses. What the doctor was looking for, the two robots had no idea. But they stood by his side steadfast, twiddling their thumbs as he plotted away.

Eventually, with a cry of ‘aha!’ the man turned back to his robots with a look of glee plastered across his face.

“According to the internet, the best distraction aside from something called ‘may-mays’ is another person. So, say for example if Sonic the Hedgehog had a needy girlfriend who demanded all his attention all of the time, then it would just be an absolute shame if he had no time for me anymore.”

“But doesn’t Sonic already have a girlfriend?” Cubot interjected.

“No, he doesn’t. But … oh ho, he will by the time I’m through with him!”

“Who are you going to set him up with?” the two bots asked, peeking at the screen to try and get a glimpse of whatever was going on in his mind.

“I ran his personality with every person he’s known to have interacted with and I have a shortlist of three.”

With a simple tap, three images popped up onto the screen.

“The first, is Sonic,” Eggman said. “Gosh, that rat loves himself,” he added with a shake of his head.

“The second, a chilli dog. Unfortunately, I have neither the time nor the inclination to try to animate a food of all things. But the third,” he said, expanding the image so it filled half the screen.

“Amy Rose.”

Cubot and Orbot shared a knowing glance but said nothing as the Doctor continued.

“They both have similar personality types and apparently having the same values is essential or some nonsense like that. Besides, she’s always running after him and saying she loves him. What else is there to it?”

“Doc, setting Sonic up with a girlfriend just seems like another failure to add to the pile … especially given his track record of no relationships to date,” Orbot said. “I strongly suggest we focus on something a little simpler, just to remind you what winning feels like.”

“I remember exactly what winning feels like,” Eggman replied. “Right now, it tastes like Sonic and that whiny pink hedgehog paying so much attention to each other that they forget all about dear old me.”

A covert smile graced the man’s thin lips as he scribbled the words ‘Operation Get Sonic a Girlfriend’ onto the top of the notepad he’d seemingly pulled out of thin air. The words sprawled across the page in a solid script as Eggman began scrolling through his multiple open tabs.

Hundreds and thousands of scrolled pages and scrunched up balls of paper later, Doctor Eggman had compiled a shortlist of four different scenarios that he could execute to get the win he so longingly deserved.

“Here,” he said, flapping the list at the two robots. “I’ve analysed several hundred situations, and this four-phase scheme will give me the exact results I need. Each phase is filled with nauseating romance and perhaps they’ll be enough on their own, but this is where my genius comes in,” he said dramatically.

“String these four scenarios together and throw Sonic and Amy into the mix, suddenly the plan becomes foolproof! No one can withstand this much romantic subtext without falling head over heels in love with the person next them, especially not that cocky pineapple,” Eggman chuckled with excitement.

“What exactly are the four phases?”

“Ah, you’ll know all in due time my robots. But first, I must prepare myself for phase one … and the two of you I suppose.”

The man laughed maniacally as he pulled up the first of his blueprints on the screen. The words ‘Picnic for Two’ flashed before him as the details of the plan transmitted right into Orbot and Cubot’s robotic minds.

“Oh,” Cubot said, his mind scanning through the data. “This just might work,” he said to Orbot, who only nodded in agreement.

Eggman adjusted his blue glasses on the bridge of his nose with a curious smile. “Alright bots. Let’s get this adventure in shipping started!”

Do I have a zillion other things I should be doing? Yes. Do I care? Only slightly, but I have been excited to write this for so long and I couldn’t hold off anymore.

I wrote this purely for the fact that I thought it would be funny to have a series where Eggman is actively trying to pair up Sonic and Amy. This chapter is absolutely a set up chapter for what’s to follow so I’m sorry if it’s a little boring, but things will get much more exciting as the story progresses.

Thanks so much for reading, feel free to let me know your thoughts if you fancy. I’ll see you guys in the next one, chao :)