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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years ago

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Blind Spot

Spencer Reid x (Gender Neutral) Reader

Word Count: 2640

Warnings: Hair pulling kink! Bucketloads of sexual tension but no actual sex. Gratuitous facts about bird nests. Dorks being oblivious. Lots of fluffy heart-eyed banter. Accusations of intercourse with fictional tree-beasts.

A/N: I saw a gif that made me want to pull Spencer’s hair. That’s it. I have zero shame.

For the “friends to lovers” square on my @cmbingo card! Proofread by @fangirlxwritesx67 because she’s the best.

“You look like you fucked an Ent,” you commented cheerfully, stealing sideways glances at Spencer while you waited for the light to change.

“Thanks, that’s helpful.” He grimaced, trying to tug another burr out of a snarled curl.

“Oh my god, you’re just making it worse! I’ll help you when we get back to your place. Leave it, you goober.”

“Did you just call me a goober?” Spencer asked, trying not to laugh.

“You’re like the dictionary definition of a goober,” you said fondly.

“I have three PhDs!”

“I really wish I’d gotten a video of that tumble, Doctor Goober.”

Spencer was blushing, grinning down at his lap as he shredded a piece of leaf. It was hard not to stare at him when he smiled like that.

He’d essentially face-planted into a burr bush earlier, somewhere in the Virginia woods — he’d been so excited about explaining some wonky bit of Star Trek physics theory to you that he just forgot to pay attention to his feet — and he’d floundered out with half a hedge stuck in his hair before picking up exactly where he’d left off.

In other words, Doctor Spencer Reid was a ridiculous human being. You knew that, objectively. It didn’t stop you from having a massive crush on him.

Either he was pretending not to notice, to spare your feelings, or he was socially oblivious; you tended to believe the former, considering how well you’d seen him read other people, but you appreciated it. There was a chance you’d make it out of this — if you could just get over it already — with your friendship intact.

You cleared your throat and told him, “You look like the bastard child of Grandmother Willow and the Wizard of Oz scarecrow.”

“Even if they were real, the anatomical —”

“You didn’t mention that when I brought up the Ents. Something you want to tell me about you and Treebeard?”

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffed, trying to sound exasperated, but he could barely keep a straight face for a second before he was laughing, that scratchy sunny childish giggle that only came out when he was really relaxed and carefree.

“Close the window before a bird sees you and decides to take up residence.”

“How about you watch the road?”

“What, no facts about bird nests?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

“Nope.”

“Well in that case… gyrfalcon nests are frequently re-used and passed along for generations. The oldest one that’s been discovered was in Greenland, and it was actually estimated to be approximately 2,500 years old.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes! In fact…”

You had to remind yourself, yet again, to stop staring.

Maybe someday you’d get sick of hearing Spencer talk, but you couldn’t really understand the way most of your teammates reacted to his rambling. Even if you didn’t care about what he was saying, there was something amazing about the way his eyes lit up and his hands fluttered around to illustrate his point.

You parked in front of his building and followed him upstairs. His apartment had become comfortingly familiar — ever since you and Spencer bonded over a shared love of sci-fi, you’d taken to driving him home and, if it wasn’t too late, sticking around for an episode or two of Doctor Who.

He got his ancient little DVD player up and running, and you settled on the couch, fluffing pillows and shoving aside his nest of colorful crocheted blankets, getting cozy. There was something about Spencer’s space that always felt like home; maybe it was the smell of books, or just the general Spencer-ness of the whole place.

Just being around him had always kinda felt like home, too. Sometimes you forgot you’d only known him for six months.

He disappeared into his room for a second and came back with a comb. It was cheap plastic, missing a couple teeth, and looked like it hadn’t been used in a while. You looked from him to the comb and back again.

“That actually explains a lot,” you said, grinning. Spencer rolled his eyes and sat down on the floor in front of you, leaning back against your shins, and after a dismayed glance at his curls, you commented, “We could always just shave it all off.”

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” he said primly.

You started with a couple of the less tangled pieces, finger-combing carefully through one soft lock at a time. You half-expected some comment about primates and social grooming, or at least a few facts about the quantum theory behind the TARDIS, but Spencer was uncharacteristically quiet and still, his eyes fixed on the TV.

You separated out one of the worst knots, and he tilted his head to the side to give you better access. You were being as gentle as possible, but you knew you were hurting him at the first tug — he sucked in a breath, knuckles going white as his fingers clenched on his knees.

“Sorry, I’m trying,” you sighed.

With his head tilted like this, you could see the muscle clenching in his jaw and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“S’okay,” he whispered hoarsely. “It’s not — not your fault.”

He sat there stiffly as you worked. His hair was silky, where it wasn’t hopelessly knotted, and you were close enough that you could smell whatever clean, sweet shampoo he used. Something about it made you want to hold your breath; it felt like you were too close. Spencer rarely let you inside his little bubble of personal space.

Maybe that was why he seemed uncomfortable. He was usually so fidgety, tapping out a rhythm or twirling a pen between his long fingers, and it was strange to see him motionless like this.

You ran your fingers through a de-tangled section, slow and careful, and Spencer shivered, his shoulders trembling for a moment before he went unnaturally still again.

Spencer blurted out, “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

At the same time, you asked, “Are you cold?”

You paused for a moment, surprised by the reaction, but after hesitating, Spencer just muttered, “Yeah. Cold.”

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were missing something. It was too warm, if anything; Spencer had a patchy flush crawling up his neck and over the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones.

“Here you go, goober,” you said, awkwardly cheerful in an attempt to cover your uncertainty as you grabbed an afghan from the couch and draped it around his shoulders.

“Thanks.” He pulled the blanket down onto his lap without looking at you. “But maybe I should just do this myself.”

“You’re never gonna get this loose on your own, not without scissors,” you warned, plucking at the knot around the last burr in his hair. “I’ll just, um — I’ll try to be more gentle.”

“Maybe just go for it,” he said. “Get it over with.” His voice had gone all high-pitched and strained, like he was on the verge of a panic attack. If this was how much he disliked physical contact, no wonder he always avoided hugging you.

You tried to go quickly, figuring that one quick moment of pain was better than another ten minutes of making Spencer uncomfortable. In your nervousness, you ended up tugging the burr out much more abruptly than you’d intended, and Spencer let out this rough, low, choked-off sound. Before you could apologize, he was jerking away from you, curled in on himself with his shoulders up around his ears like he was worried you were going to hit him, and —

“Sorry,” he said, voice cracking.

— what?

“Spence?” you said tentatively. “What—”

He was still just curled up on the floor in a ball of gangly limbs, but he half-turned to you, twisting around. He wouldn’t make eye contact, though; he was staring intently at the pillow that was on the couch next to you. It felt weird, looking down at him like this, so you slid down onto the floor, hoping it wouldn’t spook him. He shifted back slightly, but at least he didn’t flinch away.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t — this was a bad idea.”

The profiler in you couldn’t help but notice a few details. He was blushing, for starters. His lower lip was red where he’d been biting it, and — this was the part that surprised you most — his pupils were huge.

You knew what Spencer looked like when he was panicking, and this wasn’t it.

“Oh,” you breathed. “Oh.”

He looked down at his lap, frowning as he played with the loose thread in the cuff of his sweater.

“Sorry,” he repeated. “I know you don’t feel the same way, I wasn’t trying to — I didn’t realize it would be like that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and—”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable! I shouldn’t have asked—”

“I don’t feel the same way about what?”

“I know you’re not attracted to me,” Spencer said, barely audible.

“You’re… you…what?”

He looked up, at that, genuinely startled. There was something sweet and vulnerable shining in his eyes, and your heart was racing. You slid a little bit closer, so that your knees were almost touching Spencer’s as you faced each other, cross-legged.

“I thought you knew.” His hushed, croaky voice broke on the last word. “I thought I was being obvious.”

You gaped at him for a second before letting out a sharp, hysterical giggle.

He ducked his head again, hiding behind a curtain of hair, but not before you saw the hurt expression that flashed across his features.

“No, that’s not—” you blurted out. “Spence. Spencer.”

“Forget it,” he said sharply, his body going tense like he was about to bolt. “Can we just forget this happened?”

Before you could think better of it, you reached out and pushed a few curls back behind his ear, and then you grabbed, twisting your fingers in his hair to tug him forward. You cut off the startled noise he made with a clumsy, eager kiss.

The angle was all wrong, both of you leaning forward awkwardly, but it felt like sparks all down your spine.

You pulled away just far enough to get the words out: “I thought I was being obvious.”

Then Spencer was surging closer on his hands and knees, crowding into your space, until you had a lapful of rumpled doctor pressing you back against the couch. He cupped your jaw with gentle spidery fingers, gaze locked on your mouth, and leaned in slowly like he was still waiting for you to push him away.

There was nothing awkward about it this time. If the first kiss was sparks, this was fireworks — it was such a goddamn cliche you wanted to kick yourself for thinking it, but it was true. Your head was spinning. Every pillowy press of his lips and soft slide of his tongue seemed to steal the breath from your lungs.

By the time you broke apart you were panting, but at least you weren’t the only one. Spencer’s chest heaved as he pulled away. He was still staring at your mouth like he couldn’t help himself. Part of you wanted to kiss him again and maybe never stop, but another part of you was paralyzed, trying to process the fact that this was actually happening.

You just wanted to put the world on pause so that you could memorize everything: the way he licked his lips, the smell of his laundry detergent, the barely-perceptible movement of his pulse — you’d never seen that before because you’d never been this close to him before. You wanted to hold onto it, even the less-than-perfect details — the soundtrack of buzzy Dalek screeching in the background — the way you were folded together on the floor, all too-long legs and bony elbows, which was going to get uncomfortable fast.

Spencer seemed to feel the same way. He grazed the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, then followed the curve of your smile out to your temple and traced the shell of your ear with careful fingertips. When he brushed his curled-up fingers along the ridge of your cheekbone, you turned your head and kissed his knuckles.

His hand came to rest on your shoulder, and you wrapped your fingers around his wrist, holding it in place, feeling the blood and bones shifting under the skin.

“You really didn’t know?” you whispered.

He shook his head shyly and gave you one of those incandescent smiles that always made your heart race. “No idea.”

“I thought you were just ignoring it to spare my feelings,” you confessed.

“I thought you were doing that.”

“I thought you were good at your job!” you laughed. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?”

“I think I have a blind spot, where you’re concerned.” He was blushing again. “But I was so distracted by you that I walked into a bush! How did you not —”

“I’m the one who stares at you all the time like a creep.”

“You thought you were being creepy?” he said sheepishly. “As soon as you started touching my hair — oh my god that’s embarrassing.”

“That’s not the word I would’ve used.”

You tangled your fingers in his curls, tugging experimentally. His breath hitched.

Both of you were utterly still for a moment, watching each other, and the tension between you seemed to fill the air like a living thing. You were excruciatingly aware of all the places your bodies were touching.

You considered all the places you could touch. It would be so easy. You could tug him in, kiss him, melt into each other… there were so many possibilities, suddenly, and there was something incredible about that: the electricity, the excitement, the moment of pure potential in the pause between certainty and action.

Spencer sighed, long and shaky, and you were so close that you could feel the current of exhaled air.

“I couldn’t think straight,” he murmured, with a twitch of a smile. “That doesn’t happen to me often.”

“So you didn’t know…”

You scritched your fingernails down his scalp, marveling at the way he shivered and swayed closer like he was hypnotized. He curled his hand around the side of your neck, thumb slowly stroking the hinge of your jaw.

“I knew I liked it,” he confessed. “But — within a certain context? Not out of nowhere like that. I didn’t think it would be... like that.”

“Like what?”

“Intense.”

“Yeah?”

“But I think maybe it’s just you.” His eyes had gone all glassy and heavy-lidded, and you could barely breathe. “Maybe you drive me crazy no matter where you’re touching me.”

“I can think of a few ways to test that hypothesis.”

You caught a glimpse of his grin, but then he pressed his forehead to yours and his features went blurry, too close for you to focus.

“Never really thought I’d be into dirty talk, but if you’re going to start quoting the scientific method…”

“Funny, most of the time you never shut up,” you said, giddy and overwhelmed.

The tip of his nose brushed yours. There was maybe an inch of space between your mouths, and you wanted to close that gap so badly it felt like a physical ache.

“I mean, if you want me to start rattling off statistics—”

“Spencer.” You fisted both hands in his hair, tugging sharply, and he shuddered. “Take a hint.”

“Blind spot, remember?” he whispered, lips brushing yours as they shaped the words, feather-light and maddening.

“You know, for a genius—” you started, but he kissed you, hungry and sweet like he was making up for lost time, until you’d completely forgotten what you were going to say.

There is now a sexy follow-up here!

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#cmbingo21 #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader fic

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cinnaminsvga · 5 years ago

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Hug-o-gram | Yoongi

→ summary:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aw weawwy wike hew, hwung.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ugly,” Yoongi says, like a liar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Back to the matter at hand––

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi.”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And who is Seokjin to deny his impulsive needs anyway?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Success count: 1 point for the Yogurt Machine!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink confusedly. “Then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hyung!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

x x x x x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x x x x x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Mr. Kim,

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

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

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

Peace! :3

Regards,

[Redacted] [Redacted]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, dude. For being… you know.”

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

x x x x x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

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

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

3K notes · View notes

hockeyboysimagines · 3 years ago

Text

Ashes and Wine

Warnings:Drinking, mentions of parties/alcohol, language, angst.

I’m so sorry this has taken so long. But I hope you enjoy this chapter.💕

This gif has nothing to do with this chapter. But look at this moron🤣🤣 I love him.

Leighton’s head was splitting when she woke up the next morning. She was vaguely aware that she was in her bedroom but she wasn’t quite sure how she got there and she still had all her clothing on. She sat up slowly, and looked around. The rest of the apartment was quiet, and he curtains were closed. Her shoes were by the bed, and the picture on her dresser was moved.

Then it hit her.

Her memory was foggy but she could see a hazy visual of Mat carrying her into the apartment. She had almost fallen and then almost kissed him.

Oh great.

She huffed and rubbed her forehead. She didn’t often drink, and when she did never that much. But being in Mat’s presence, and seeing the ring on Kaitlin’s finger had rattled her so much, she just got a little out of hand. It was stupid. She had said no. She had drank her weight in vodka. And she needed Tylenol and a drink. Ginny was sitting at the kitchen island eating cereal.

“Morning.” She watched as Leighton disappeared behind the fridge door looking for water.

“Stop staring at me Ginny.”

“The last time I saw you that trashed was at Brad Smith’s party senior year. You were so drunk…that was the night you-“ she said giggling.

“Okay okay. I remember.”

Ginny chuckled “Mat brought you home last night.” She said casually, chewing a spoonful of cereal.

“So?”

“So. Did something happen?”

“ No nothing happened. He’s engaged to…whatever her name is.”

“All I’m saying is I saw that look. It’s the same look he used to give you four years ago.”

“Look I am hungover and I am not in a good mood. He’s engaged and he brought me home last night because he just wants to be friends-“

The doorbell rang just them interrupting her speech. Ginny frowned and slid off her stool. When she opened it, Beau of all people was standing on the other side of the door holding a carrier with three large coffees in it.

“Morning boozy.” He said giving her a smile as he breezed past Ginny and set them on the island.

“Oh my god I think I’m in love with you.” Leighton took hers gratefully and sipped it, feeling better instantly.

“So….” He asked leaning on the counter “Did something happen last night?”

Ginny chuckled and shook her head blowing on her coffee through the hole.

“You guys are the worst. Nothing happened.”

“Doesn’t mean you didn’t want it to.”

She rolled her eyes “Can you two leave me alone.”

“No.” They said in unison.

********

“So how was the rest of your night last night?” Kaitlin asked over breakfast. Mat shrugged.

“It was fine. Leighton and Beau got along pretty well. She had a little too much to drink though.”

“Was she okay?” Kaitlin looked genuinely concerned.

“I think so. She’s just going through some stuff right now is all, with the move and adjusting.”

“You should help her Mat. I’m sure she would really appreciate it. There’s that team party thing on Friday, I’m leaving that morning for a few days. You should take her.”

If Mat hadn’t just set down his fork he would have dropped it. Kaitlin must really feel secure about their relationship if she was giving him an invitation to go hang out with his ex girlfriend. Was this a test? He felt he was in dangerous territory and no matter how he answered it wouldn’t be right.

“Oh Kaitlin. I don’t know.”

“We’ll think about it. I’m okay with it.”

They ate breakfast in relative silence until Kaitlin left him to shower and pack for her trip. Mat sat down in front of the tv, and absently flicked through the channels, not really watching what was on it. His mind started to rewind.

Music was blaring through Katie’s Miller’s house. While the rest of the guys on the team were yelling and carrying on about winning, mat and Leighton were out talking quietly. The ride to the house had been short, too short to have real conversation and he had been dying to get her alone since then. She looked so damn pretty leaning forward against the railing of the deck.

“You played good tonight.” She said smiling “Or at least I’m pretty sure you did. Right?” He laughed. It was kind of endearing and actually nice that she didn’t know anything about the sport. Sometimes he felt a tremendous amount of pressure to perform because of the promise of making it to the nhl. He didn’t have to be Mat Barzal NHL hopeful with her. He could just be Mat.

Before he could answer the party goers behind them started chanting and they turned to see Cody and some other guys assisting Ginny in doing a keg stand. Leighton rolled her eyes.

“She’s a real piece of work eh?”

“Eh? What is that a Canadian thing?” She teased. Mat blushed.

“I guess.”

“It’s cute. I like it.”

I like you. He thought to himself.

“So how did you and Ginny meet?”

“I sit next to her in English class. We were partners for a project.”

“I’m surprised someone else didn’t try to fight you for it. Boys break their necks just to talk to her.”

“So I’ve noticed. I don’t know….she’s cool, but I’m a little more interested in someone else.”

She quirked an eyebrow “Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

Feeling bold, both from the beer and from the high of victory, he smiled at her and shrugged “ There’s this cute little blonde she hangs out with that caught my eye in Math class. In fact. I’m pretty sure that I’m failing because I spend so much time looking at her.”

Leighton let out a small laugh and turned to him, hair spilling over her shoulders. She turned her head to the side and looked up at him through her eyelashes. Gosh they were long, and her eyes were so big and caught the light every time she blinked.

“I’m sure she probably thinks your pretty cute too.” She said quietly bringing him back down to earth.

“That’s really funny, because I’ve been thinking about kissing her.”

“Okay I’m ready to leave.” Mat jumped as Kaitlin set her suitcase down on the hardwood. She was smiling at him as she pulled her coat on and shook out her hair. He stood to kiss her and say goodbye. There was a cab waiting to take her to the airport.

“I love you.” She said wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I love you too. Have a safe trip.”

“Mmmm. Try not to have too much fun while I’m gone.”

“Never.” He said running his hands up her back “just gonna hang with Tito probably.”

He didn’t miss the look of distaste that crossed her face and it annoyed him a little bit. Kaitlin had this idea that Beau would break them up or something and he wasn’t really sure why.

“We’ll have fun at your team thing. Are you going to ask Leighton to come?”

“Oh I don’t know. Maybe.”

They chatted for a few more minutes before she kissed him one last time and walked out the door to the cab. He pulled his phone out, opening his contact list up and scrolling to Leighton’s phone number. He debated for several seconds before closing her contact and then opening it again.

Hey. It’s Mat. There’s a thing on Friday and Kaitlin is out of town. She suggested I ask you. I thought maybe we could do dinner or something beforehand? I’d really like to catch up.

She responded soon enough for him to be hopeful, but long enough for him to sweating out her response.

Sure. That sounds nice. What time?

*******

“So it’s a date?” Beau said nudging her several times. Ginny was sitting on her other side and let out a small chuckle. Beau had insisted on taking them to lunch, waiting around while they both showered and got ready. Leighton had a feeling that he not only wanted some gossip, but he was trying to gauge how much charm it would take to win Ginny over.

“It’s not a date. Just a dinner between old friends.” Leighton said sipping her water.

“Old friends who used to bang.”

Leighton nearly choked on her water and felt her cheeks get red. Sending Ginny a glare she stabbed at a piece of chicken with her fork.

She was looking forward to spending some time with him. Sober. But she was also painfully aware that it was strictly dinner between friends. Even though she wasn’t around, he did still have a fiancé. Even though Beau reminded her “She’s awful.” It didn’t change that she existed.

That didn’t stop her from pulling out all the stops though. She spent some extra time on her hair and makeup, and pulled on her favorite black sweater and dark jeans and boots.

Ginny was out somewhere, but had also been invited and would meet her there later. She hurried out of her apartment, and by the time she made it to the front of her building Mat was waiting there, leaning against his car. He looked up, and blinked at her for several seconds before he smiled.

“Hi. You look nice. Ready?”

She felt like she was going to throw up as he opened her door and guided her into the car with his hand on her lower back. While he drove them to wherever they were going, she really looked at him. He was so different yet the same. Same eyes and smile, but his hair was longer and the years in the NHL had given him extra muscle.

“Stop staring at me.” He said, giving her the side eye, but he was smiling.

She chuckled and looked out the window at the buildings “ So where are we going?”

“To dinner.”

“Okay but where?”

“In a restaurant? Where else would we be going?”

She rolled her eyes “Your so annoying.”

“You haven’t seen me in four years and your telling me I’m annoying? That’s hurts L.”

She felt a tiny pang at the nickname he used to call her, and he must have too because his smile faded a bit and he cleared his throat.

“Uhm anyway…So where is Kaitlin tonight?”

“Uhm. She’s on a work trip in Florida or something. She said I should ask you to come to this thing. If I didn’t Beau would have thrown a tantrum.”

She smiled “I like Beau. He’s funny.”

Mat knew she meant as a friend but he felt a tiny twinge of jealousy. He wanted to be the one making her laugh, not Beau.

“I’m really glad you guys get along. He and Kaitlin don’t always.”

Leighton pursed her lips “Yeah I’ve noticed. What’s that about?”

Mat shrugged “Honestly, I’m really not sure. They’ve just never gotten along. It’s not easy, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’ve never had to deal with it before.”

In high school, his friends and teammates loved Leighton, and loved them together. It had been easy and when Beau and Kaitlin ended up on bad terms, Mat didn’t know what to do.

“I’m sorry Mat. That must be tough.”

“It is. But enough about that.” He said parking the car and turning to her smiling “Lets go. I want to catch up with you tonight, and not talk about that.”

*********

“Did you break up with Kaitlin. My man!” Mat turned as Jordan slapped him jovially on the shoulder, big smile on his face.

“Did I what?no.”

His smile faded and he frowned, looking confused “Well then who’s that?” Mat sighed. Leighton had been friendly and charming to all his teammates she had met so far. Her big smile and soft eyes drew people in like a magnet.

“That’s Leighton.” A collective gasp went up around the table. Most of his teammates knew about Leighton in some form.

“Leighton as in the girl you asked to marry-“

“Yes Marty let’s just not go there.”

“Does Kaitlin know she’s here?”

Mat opened his mouth to answer, but Beau spoke first “Who cares?”

Jordan and Marty laughed, both shaking their heads.

“We’ll I have to say Barz this is one I like. I’m so happy you moved on from Kaitlin.” Sydney had now joined them, smiling widely at him, missing Marty shaking his head at her trying to catch her attention. Beau started laughing and Jordan was smirking as he watched Sydney furrow her eyebrows and look between them.

“What’s so funny?”

“He didn’t dump Kaitlin. That’s his ex girlfriend.” Marty mumbled in her ear. Her eyes widened and she chuckled awkwardly and gave him an apologetic look.

“Oh. I’m sorry I didn’t-“

“Do you guys really dislike her that much.” He looked around the table. They wouldn’t meet his eyes but they all shrugged.

“It’s not that she just isn’t- what we would expect.” Sydney said choosing her words carefully “This one.” She said jerking her head in Leighton’s direction “Is more someone I could see you with.”

“Plus she has a smoking hot friend.” Beau added in. Ginny had just arrived, greeting Leighton at the bar and ordering a drink. Sydney rolled her eyes.

Matt spent the rest of the evening not really listening to what anyone was saying. He could t believe how much his team and their wives and girlfriends disliked Kaitlin. The more he thought about things the more he realized he had been missing all the signs. Kaitlin rarely came to games and when she did she always brought a work friend and didn’t sit with the other girls. She never went to any WAG gatherings or out with them for dinner or drinks. And here was Leighton, someone who had been absent for 4 years, fitting seamlessly into the mix, laughing and joking with them over drinks. It didn’t add up and it was frustrating. It was even more frustrating when he found her leaned over the bar top talking with the bartender.

Tall, black hair, well built. She definitely had a type.

He cleared his throat as he approached, causing her to turn to him. It was almost 1 am, and he was mad and tired.

“ Hey, it’s getting late. Are you ready?” She turned and smiled at him but shook her head.

“Actually.” She glanced at the bartender “ I think I’m gonna stay.” The bartender was giving him a smug look. He had watched him give Leighton one too many once overs and flirty smiles, and he wanted nothing more than to punch the guy in the face for doing it, which didn’t make any sense.

She was his ex girlfriend. He had moved on, why couldn’t she? She was too good, too special to be thinking about going home with a bartender with bad tattoos and no real value for her. He couldn’t tell her not to, but he could try.

Mat reached for her hand pulling her to him “ He’s not good enough for you.” He whispered and turned walking through the crowd and put into the night air. Leighton stood mouth open watching him leave.

“So anyway I get off in-“ the bartender said leaning forward but Leighton had walked away from him, following Mat outside. Who did he think he was? He couldn’t say that to her. He was engaged, and here he was trying to make her feel bad about flirting with a guy she wasn’t even going to call again.

He was on his phone ordering an Uber when he heard the door bang open.

“Hey!” He spun to find Leighton standing on the steps hands balled into fists at her sides. She looked angry, her eyes were wide and her cheeks were flushed.

“Don’t say things like that to me!”

“Leighton I-“

“He’s not good enough for you? I don’t need you inside my head anymore. It’s not up to you to decide that for me. You have fiancé, you moved on. Why can’t I ?”

“I didn’t mean it that way, I just meant -“

“No! I don’t care how you meant it. It’s not fair to me and it’s not fair to kaitlin either!” She gave him one last glare before she stormed back inside.

He let his head fall back and huffed out a breath. He knew he was being stupid, and unfair to everyone including himself. He slipped into his Uber mind going a million miles a minute.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

********

“I’m ready to leave.” Ginny turned and found Leighton flushed and angry behind her.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just ready to leave.”

“Okay.” Without a seconds hesitation she tossed her drink back, and paid her tab following Leighton out the front of the bar. As soon as the door shut Leighton exploded. She was talking so fast and so angrily Ginny could barely understand what she was saying but got the gist of it.

“And then he said ‘He’s not good enough for you’. What the hell does that even mean? He can’t say that to me!”

“Oh you two. I wish you could just both realize you still love each other and fix this whole mess.”

“I don’t love him.” Leighton said scoffing and folding her arms as they walked and argued.

“Oh my god, shut up L. Be honest about this for once in your life.”

“I’m done taking about this.” She snapped. They walked the rest of the way in silence each slamming their bedroom doors. They threw themselves into bed, stewing for a few moments before pulling out their phones. They both had multiple notifications, tagged posts and follow requests from various teammates and wives. Leighton liked them all, even making plans for shopping with a few and she and Ginny had been invited to dinner with others. She sighed and rolled over, tossing her phone aside, before she spoke out loud to the darkness.

“I hate you Mat Barzal.”

********

1,339 miles away Kaitlin washed her face and go ready for bed in her hotel room. She settled in and pulled her phone out as she turned the tv on and flicked the lamp off. She scrolled through Instagram and immediately noticed several groupings of photos from some of the other wags. She scrolled through a feeling of dread coming over her.

Leighton and Ginny were both in many of the photos, smiling and toasting with drinks like they had known them forever. They looked so natural, like it was where they belonged. All the wags had already followed both of them, commenting back and forth and arranging to get together. She got more annoyed as she scrolled but when she scrolled to the last picture she got angry.

Mat and Leighton were standing smiling at each other, a candid photo taken by Lauren Eberle. He was looking at Leighton like Kaitlin had always wanted him to look at her. She closed the app, and put the phone down, blinking away angry tears.

Things were going to change when she got back to Long Island.

#mat barzal #mat barzal fic #mat barzal imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fandom #hockey writing #hockey tumblr #hockeyblr #hockey blurbs #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #nhl fic #new york islanders

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jayeray-hq · 4 years ago

Text

How He Shows You Affection: Suna Rintarou

This was a request, but I unfortunately had to delete the original post because it wasn’t showing up in the tags! I hope you see it though anon and thank you so much for requesting!

Post Time Skip/Manga Ending Spoilers!

Warnings: Just a little hint of implied NSFW but mostly fluff!

How He Shows You Affection Masterlist - Character Masterlist

Thank you as ever to the amazing and beautiful Tay @deathcab4daddy for not only beta-reading for me, but for helping me figure out these stupid tags 😭

He Takes Pictures of You

The familiar sound of a phone camera clicking had you blinking awake. You’d almost been asleep, but the sound had pulled you from the depths, and you blinked blearily up at your boyfriend. As per usual, he was the clear culprit, his phone out and pointed in your direction.

“Really, Sunarin?” you asked him, your voice rusty from sleep as you watched him pocket his phone, not a single sign of remorse on his features, “Right now?”

“You looked cute,” he told you with a shrug, completely and utterly unapologetic.

“I look like a mess,” you countered with a sigh, keeping your voice quiet so as to not wake the rest of the people on the bus.

EJP Raijin was surprisingly accommodating to their players’ significant others, and from the very beginning they had let you travel on the bus to their away games with Suna if you wanted to. You didn’t get to go nearly as often as you would’ve liked, if you had your way, you’d go to every single one, but unfortunately, you had your own work so the times you could go were rather rare.

However, for this particular match, you’d made sure to take time off in advance so you could attend. It wasn’t every day that your boyfriend got to play against one of his old senpai from high school, and despite being extremely laid back most of the time, you could tell that Suna had been really excited for it.

The game against Aran and the Tachibana Red Falcons had been a rather epic one, with the entirety of the old Inarizaki team in attendance for once. Even Atsumu had managed to be there, his own team having gifted him the day off so he could watch. In preparation you’d gone all out, wearing the official EJP Raijin jersey with Suna’s name and number on it, and doing up your hair and make-up, even though the yellow might not have been the best color on you.

It had been a lot of fun especially since you got to sit right up close with the rest of Inarizaki. However, now several hours after the game on the bus back, you were sure you looked a mess. No doubt the make-up you’d applied so meticulously was smeared across your face, and your hair in disarray. You were very sure you didn’t look anything close to cute, despite what your boyfriend said.

“Delete it?” you asked him plaintively, though your hopes weren’t very high.

From the beginning, Suna had made it clear that he thoroughly enjoyed taking pictures of you. Almost every time you’d turned around he’d had his phone out and pointed in your direction. It had been a bit disconcerting at first, but you’d slowly but surely gotten used to it.

A part of you thought that if Suna hadn’t decided to become a volleyball player he definitely would’ve become a photographer of some kind. He had a gift for it. The only problem was that he used said gift to capture everyone at their absolute worst. You were pretty sure he could make even the most photogenic person in the world look like complete and utter garbage.

The most annoying part of it was, he was perfectly capable of bringing out the best in everyone if he wanted to as well. He just chose not to. It could honestly be a bit infuriating at times, especially since you knew he had entire folders of you on his laptop looking completely and utterly hideous because he insisted it was hilarious and adorable.

As his girlfriend it was no surprise that you were the one he photographed the most, which you might’ve objected to except unlike with others he was very conscientious and considerate of your photos. He never posted anything to his social media that he knew you wouldn’t like, and never shared any of your embarrassing photos with anyone.

When you’d asked him about it once, he’d told you it was because he didn’t want to share those moments with anyone else. It was honestly almost cute, and would’ve been adorable if he hadn’t followed it up by teasing you. He’d gone on to show you all his favorites, which were quite frankly the most hideous pictures of yourself that you’d ever seen chuckling all the while and wondering aloud how such a cute person could take such ugly photos.

You might’ve objected, except unlike with others Suna also went out of his way to take pictures of you that were surprisingly lovely. At times, he managed to capture things that made you question if the person in them was even you with how good they looked. He always kept one of those photos as his lock screen, claiming he wanted to show off how beautiful you were. Seeing it never failed to make your heart swell with affection, even if he did set his contact picture of you to something completely hideous.

“Nope,” he told you as he tucked his phone away into his pocket, another no doubt awful picture of you added to his collection, “You know I don’t delete my pictures.”

You heaved a sigh at that knowing was true, he really didn’t ever delete anything. You quietly resigned yourself to it again, your feelings a mix of annoyed fondness for your boyfriend who insisted you were his greatest muse.

“Fine,” you agreed with a pout, “but no more tonight Rintarou. I want to sleep.”

“No promises,” he told you with an amused chuckle, making you huff at him unhappily, “It’s your own fault for being so cute.”

You rolled your eyes at that, but did allow him to pull you into his side so the two of you were resting comfortably together, snuggled up as close as the seats would allow. His warmth and your own exhaustion quickly began to pull you back under, and you began to nod off again. This time when the camera shutter sound went off you firmly ignored it, feeling a swell of exasperated fondness for your boyfriend who could never get enough.

He Seeks You Out

During your relationship with Suna, you’d thought more than once that he was actually more like a cat than a fox the way he liked to claim. You’d never say so to his face, because he’d no doubt find some way to turn it on you, but some of his actions really were positively cat-like.

If you told others, they would most likely say it was in the way he was so incredibly choosy about who he spent his time with, the way he liked to provoke people, and just generally be a jerk because it genuinely amused him. However, in your case it was actually in the way he sought you out, and then proceeded to drape himself all over you.

It didn’t seem to matter where you were or what you were doing, if the two of you were in the same vicinity, Suna eased his way into your presence and demanded your attention. At home if you were on the couch, reading a book, or watching TV, he’d lay his head in your lap and stare up at you until you started to pet him before turning his attention to his phone. If you were laying in bed, he’d lay himself on top of you, nearly always knocking the air from your lungs and absolutely refusing to move despite your protests. If you were sitting at your desk, he was behind you, bent over with his chest pressed to your back and his sharp chin resting either on top of your head or dug into your shoulder with his arms around you.

It wasn’t just at home either. Suna had never particularly cared about the opinions of others, and the fact that public displays of affection were looked down upon didn’t bother him one little bit. He was always coming up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and leaning as much of his weight on you as you could take, his face nuzzled insistently against your face or neck. It was more than a bit embarrassing at times, especially since he didn’t care who you were speaking to or if you were in the middle of something.

In addition, whenever he was cuddled up to you, he always wanted your hands on him, preferably in his hair. The man went practically limp with pleasure whenever you played with it, scratching your nails gently over his scalp. The only thing he really needed to do was start purring to complete the feline image you had of him.

The funny thing was that the minute he was cuddled up to you and sure that he was taking up your attention, was he then promptly dozed off. You weren’t quite sure why he was so insistent about sleeping draped all over you, but it was this more than anything that made you think he truly was feline at heart.

It was honestly kind of cute if you were honest with yourself, with as much of a jerk as he portrayed himself to be, you never would’ve guessed he was the clingy type. However, he really was, even if the way he went about it was a bit annoying, since he didn’t seem to care at all about what you were doing or if his clinging to you made things difficult.

The two of you had been teased more than once about the way Suna went out of his way to find you whenever he wanted a nap. He’d even referred to you as his personal pillow on more than one occasion, but you couldn’t bring yourself to object. You thought it was sweet, and enjoyed how incredibly physically affectionate he was. Especially since he never protested when you wanted to turn the tables and sleep on him, even if he did tease the hell out of you for it.

He really was a jerk sometimes, but he was your jerk, and you loved him, just the same way his insistent cuddling let you know just how very much he loved you.

He Shares His Blackmail with You

You glared at the blond setter who just looked back with a smarmy grin on his face, clearly entirely too pleased with himself. The twins could be annoying, but were usually fairly respectful when it came to you. Today however, for whatever reason, Atsumu had decided to go out of his way to tease you.

You were honestly trying to be a good sport about it, but he was frankly getting on your last nerve. You wanted nothing more than to do something that would knock him off his high horse, but had no clue what to do to make him back off. Normally this wouldn’t be an issue, as Kita was pretty good at keeping both twins under control at reunions like this, but unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to make it today. Aran probably would’ve tried to step in, but the man was a little preoccupied dealing with an incredibly drunk Akagi who was stirring up trouble.

Osamu might’ve helped you, but he was also finding Atsumu teasing you fairly amusing, and was simply watching on. You’d already tried appealing to him, but he’d insisted you didn’t get teased enough at gatherings like this, and it was only right that it be your turn. This, of course, left you with only one option, one you wouldn’t normally resort to, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Normally, one would think that your boyfriend should’ve been your first line of defense in situations like this. However, Suna was the kind of man who firmly believed you were more than capable of standing on your own two feet, and would only step in if you asked him to. If things were dire, or your feelings were actually being hurt, he’d do it with no hesitation, verbally eviscerating anyone who tried to mess with you.

However, in a situation like this, where you were simply being teased, and he was also amused by said teasing, the situation wasn’t nearly as clear cut. What you offered had to be worth more than the entertainment he was already getting, and judging by the amused smirk on his face he was incredibly amused.

“Rintarou,” you pleaded, giving him your best pout, “Help me?”

“What’s in it fer me?” he asked teasingly, as Atsumu sputtered at the tactic you’d chosen to use, claiming you were cheating.

“The love and affection of your beloved girlfriend?” you tried, batting your eyelids at him, making him chuckle in amusement.

“Nice try,” he told you, his pale citrine eyes gleaming with mirth, “But I’m goin’ to need somethin’ more than that.”

Your mind whirled, trying to figure out what you were and weren’t willing to offer him, based on how annoyed you were with Atsumu. The man himself wasn’t helping his case, guffawing at what he saw as a failed attempt and only riling you up further. You flipped through several ideas before settling on the perfect thing. Your lips curled into a smirk as you gave Atsumu a slow, triumphant smile that instantly had him shutting up, a wary look settling on his face.

“Oy, I don’t think I like that look in yer eyes,” Atsumu informed you, leaning back a bit, though you promptly ignored him, all of your attention on your boyfriend who was watching you with interest.

“Sunarin, if you help me with Atsumu I’ll let you do that thing you mentioned last weekend,” you coaxed, your words heavy with innuendo as you stared him down, “If you throw in Osamu too, I’ll even wear your favorites.”

“Done,” he agreed instantly, pulling out his phone and pulling up several blackmail photos as both twins squawked in the background, Osamu protesting being dragged into it. It was his own fault, he should’ve helped you when you asked.

“Since when do ya share that with anyone?!” Atsumu whined. His dignity completely shattered as he stared at his own phone in horror at the images that he’d just been tagged in that had appeared on his timeline, “Ya wouldn’t even give me any blackmail pictures, not even when I bribed ya. That’s unfair!”

“Suna’s sharing his blackmail collection?” Aran asked, coming over from where he’d finally finished wrangling Akagi, as Osamu let out a low groan of despair, “With who?”

“With her,” Atsumu told him, pointing at you dramatically, not that you cared a bit. Suna had come up behind you to drape over your back, his phone held in front of you, so you could pick the next few awful pictures of Atsumu to post online yourself.

“Huh, guess he really must be in love,” Aran mused mostly to himself, though you couldn’t help but agree.

Suna loved you, even if he did have odd ways of showing it at times. After all the couple that blackmails together, stays together.

#JayeRayReplies #JayeRayWrites #suna rintarou #suna rintarō #suna rintaro #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintaro scenarios #suna x reader #suna rinataro x reader #suna rintaro fluff #suna rintaro imagine #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarou fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyu imagines #haikyu fluff #how he shows you affection

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kcatta-wodahs · 4 years ago

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OM Demon Brothers react to MC in a Depressive Episode

sometimes even a human wants to sleep for 16 hours in a day no big deal

Lucifer

He can’t help but wonder what has happened. For some reason, your every smile has become fleeting. A flash of gratitude, and then your face returns to the blankness that seems to have become normal.

He saw you staring out the window at noon, and walked by again at three to see that you hadn’t moved an inch.

He notices that you look at the clock more often, and once 7 o’clock hits you immediately retreat to your bedroom. He notices that you don’t talk during breakfast or dinner anymore.

When he decides to learn what has happened, he fully expects to have to kill someone. He isn’t prepared to face off the response of “this just happens sometimes.”

He insists you explain. You’re so tired, but you do the best you can. The joy that is in every day just seems so impossible to reach now. It should get better in a week or two.

Lucifer wants to fight against this unseen enemy, but it seems that there’s nothing he can do. You promise to get your chores and homework done as usual, and he has no reasonable reason to request anything more.

So he makes sure you’re still taking care of yourself. If he catches you staring at the wall for hours on end, he gets you water. He draws a bath for you at the end of the day. He provides you with headphones and music to soothe your mind. His favorite tracks for the end of a long day.

He doesn’t pressure you to return to normal, but you can be damn sure he’s watching carefully to make sure to help pull you up when you need it.

Mammon

You spend all day in your room now. Your responses to him on your D.D.D. consist of one or two words.

Has he done something to spite you? Are you pushing him away? One day, after about five full of worrying and trying to come up with the most exciting plans possible to make you want to hang out with him, he demands answers.

He knocks on your door, puffed up with indignation, ready to let you know that you have no right to ignore your FIRST

But all of the fight drains out of him when you open the door and he sees the exhaustion on your face. The blanket that came with you to open the door, and the puffy eyes,

“Why didn’t you just tell me you were sick, you dumbass?!”

You didn’t want to bother him. It wasn’t that big of a deal, and he wouldn’t have any fun with you in this state anyway. And it’s not like you’re sick sick.

He flicks your forehead with a finger and glares at you. He tells you he doesn’t care about having fun or being bothered. You’re supposed to tell him when you need something. Him before anyone else.

You tell him that you don’t know what you need. You can’t get yourself to talk to anyone.

He decides that’s fine and all, but he’s not leaving your side if you can’t respond to his texts, so you better get used to your new roommate until you get better.

You’re worried about this arrangement, worried that he’s overextending himself or upset with you, but those worries get fainter and fainter the longer he hugs you.

Leviathan

He’s seen you stare at the TV for an hour, the background music of the Devilbox 3 playing on a loop. He’s seen you flip between game icons for ten minutes. Then you click on one, and the second the title screen comes up you change your mind and exit the game. He’s seen you do the same for anime to watch, or even taking that long to decide which app to open on your D.D.D.

He hears the long sighs that you give. The ones you don’t even notice from being so numb.

Levi isn’t a stranger to depression. He starts to figure it out pretty quickly.

He offers things that he wanted on his worst days. He holds you and cuddles you, and tells you that you’re perfect.

Whenever your depression convinces you to refute him, he fights it back with loving words and stubbornness. You are perfect, and your brain is just wrong.

When he gets through to you enough to admit that you just don’t have the energy to invest in any games, even the ones you love, he offers to play them for you.

You think it’s a little silly at first, but eventually find that mindlessly watching him try to navigate a new platformer is far more calming than trying to decide on something to do yourself.

You curl up against him while watching him play, and for the first time in several days, you feel a bit of contentment breathe through the numbness.

Beelzebub

Beel gets worried when he doesn’t see you at breakfast. And then he doesn’t see you at dinner. And then breakfast the next day.

For a moment, he worries that you’re actually lost and injured somewhere, but his brothers assure him that you went to school yesterday for sure, and walked home with them too.

Still, he comes to visit you when you don’t come to lunch the next day - on a weekend.

You force a smile for him when you open the door, and thank him for the meal he brought.

He sees that your room is littered with empty snack bags.

“Is that all you’ve been eating?” he asks, gesturing to them.

You quickly apologize and start cleaning them up, trying to sound fine.

“Why aren’t you coming to meals? Did someone curse you?” he asks, bristling protectively.

You’re just not hungry, you explain. Everything is okay.

But the state of your room, the nest of blankets on your bed, that tells a different story.

Beel doesn’t know how to explain what is so clear to him. Something is wrong, but he can’t find the words.

“Can I stay with you, then?”

You are surprised by his words, but he comes over and hugs you before you can respond.

“I’ll bring you dinner. And breakfast. Okay?”

Your heart melts right into his embrace, along with you. You can’t explain what’s going on, but you know this helps.

Asmodeus

Baby. Oh, honey. Darling. It’ll be okay.

He showers you with love and compliments and snuggles.

He treats you to a spa day, and absolutely refuses to hear any protests about how much he’s doing for you.

He insists that it's for both of you, because he would NEVER pass up on a spa day!

Having clear skin helps have a clear mind, he says.

And taking care of yourself is the best way to prove to the world that you are worth it.

To prove to yourself.

He wants you to know that you are worth it. Every second.

And he ensures that you treat yourself.

If you can’t bring yourself to get out of bed, he will straight up carry you into the bathtub.

The way that he cares for you is so gentle and genuine that you find yourself feeling just the slightest bit better as he massages shampoo into your hair.

He will do anything to cheer you up.

Satan

He notices that you’re distracted. You keep looking at your book, sure, but he hasn’t seen you turn a single page.

You explain that you just can’t focus, but it’s okay. This happens sometimes, because you have depression.

He tries to correct your grammar, saying “You feel depressed. Unless you’re talking like Levi’s cheeseburger cats?”

That forces a laugh out of you, even if it’s short. Then you go searching through the shelves sorted as “unread” until you find a lovely thick DSM edition hiding in the psychology section.

You turn to the page with your symptoms, and point to it. Major Depressive Disorder.

“I have depression.”

He stiffens as he reads the symptoms, and looks at you with concern. “You.. feel this way?”

“Most of it. Sometimes,” you shrug.

“What can I do?”

You really don’t know, though. That’s the hardest thing about this.

He spends the whole day going through the list of symptoms and trying to come up with ways to support you through each one.

The amount of care he takes--, making sure to explain that he’s currently working on improving your anhedonia, for example -- doesn’t make it go away, but it does make you feel safe.

Belphegor

He just Gets It.

He's been there.

He will stay in bed with you as long as you want.

But he'll remind you to take care of yourself. He'll tell you to take a shower, or eat something.

He'll be pushy about it too, because he knows that it helps even when you really really really don't want to

If you start feeling self-conscious or like a burden to him, he will tell you to stop listening to your depression brain.

He fights your every insecurity with stories, memories, and firm reminders. If any of this were true, would he be here with you, now?

He never pushes you to lie about how you're feeling, and is honestly probably one of the best people to have around during this time.

He reminds you that it will pass. It’s okay.

#i.. referenced my age #age old memes #but whatever #obey me #obey me!#obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #bast babbles #my writing #depression #mental health

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kiwicubs · 4 years ago

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Good Old-fashioned Loverboy

three teens who figured it out. . .sorta. . .yeah definitely figured it out

words: 1412

yamaguchi x reader x tsukishima

No exams, no homework and no practice which was honestly a miracle for the team. Just a regular Friday night for the Karasuno boys and their managers. The 3rd years are planning to go to the cinema, the 2nd years are working together to find an arcade that Tanaka and Noya haven’t been banned from, and two groups of 1st years are doing something different. Yachi, Hinata, and Kageyama were heading to the park for two things; taking photos and volleyball. While Yamaguchi, Tsukishima, and you were heading to town for karaoke.

“This would’ve been much easier if we had picked a place beforehand.” you groaned out to the boys on either side of them. The trio just got off the train and realized none of them had direction to the Karaoke Plaza.

“I can proudly say that it’s not on me this time. Tsukki was in charge of directions for this one. . .” Yamaguchi mumbled out not wanting to take the blame for the lack of directions.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima grumbled out, ears lightly tinted pink. It sorta drifted from his mind during the train ride especially with you and Yamaguchi leaning against him, debating on what songs to sing when they got there.

Y/N could only laugh at Tsukishima’s unfortunate call out by Yamaguchi. To save Tsukishima from further embarrassment, they just searched “Karaoke Plaza” and found one about a 10 minute walk from the train station.

After looping around twice around the block, they finally get to the plaza and Y/N payed for the room while Yamaguchi gathered snacks, drinks for them and Tsukishima paid for those because he messed up on the directions.

“A good Karaoke Friday with my boys!” you exclaimed excitedly, walking into the room holding the basket of treats that Tsukishima had you carry.

“Tch. . . it’s not that exciting, nerd” the tall blonde muttered out

“Tsukki, you’re in class 1-4 with us so you’re also a ‘nerd’ along with us” the green headed boy shot back as if it was second nature.

You set down the basket on the middle table near the book and controls while the two others got comfortable and fixed. Once getting their bags and jackets off, Yamaguchi looked for the small tambourines and Tsukishima decided to get the TV going.

Looking through the book, Y/N found the song they were looking for, ‘Good Old-Fashioned Loverboy’ by Queen, it’s been a song on constant repeat for the manager especially when down in the dumps about their crushes. Punching in the American song code into the controller it starts at the song’s second chorus.

Say the word, your wish is my command~

You’ve known these two boys for four years now and it’s been quite the ride for you. You met them during junior high orientation week and you’re happy you did meet this pair. Complete opposites to one another but fit together as if they were final puzzle pieces.

Tsukishima Kei was a tough person to get talking to at first but slowly his tough facade chipped away. The tall blonde boy who is often seen with a frown or a condescending smirk on his face was smiling in the present of someone other than his closest friend.

Yamaguchi Tadashi was shy at first meet and isn’t the biggest people person but had no problem when snickering at others along with tsukishima. For some reason he had no troubles talking to you, he was the first to greet and the first to exchange numbers.

Two generally closed off kids meet another and open up. Sure they had their rough moments but that’s what made them them. You made it easier though and so you became the last actual piece of puzzle that formed the trio.

Two years in, you realized that you started to develop feelings that weren’t just platonic towards the boys. It was confusing and a nightmare figuring it out. You always tried to shove it deep down but it got hard after sometime.

Even more when you notice Tsukishima taking a liking towards Yamaguchi and seeing Yamaguchi giving the same. But you never notice how they looked at you when you looked away. Three friends who didn’t know what to do or say.

C’mon and Get It~

You didn’t know what came over yourself when you noticed Tsukishima glancing at Yamaguchi with a look of affection in his eye.

“Maybe it‘s time to let go” You thought with a sigh before pushing Yams towards Tsukki

Ooh, love~

Yamaguchi was too into his thoughts to hear the sudden sigh from beside him before being pushed towards his best friend, Tsukishima Kei.

His eyes widened from the fast change. Cheeks growing warm from the sudden burst of his personal bubble and the closeness. Looking at each other, it was as if the childhood friends were thinking on the same line.

“Maybe it’s time we finally tell them”

This wasn’t going to be some impulsive decision on their half or at least that’s what they’re telling themselves. Though it’s not like the two didn’t talk about this before with each other. The boys figured out at the end of junior high that they not only like each other but you as well.

So lost in the song you didn’t see the look the friends gave one another. A look that was soft but hesitant yet full of hope and affection.

Feeling a sudden tug at your hoodie, you're pulled between the middle block and pinch server. At the same time the two sing with genuine voices.

ooh, loverboy~

What’re you doin’ tonight, hey, boy?~

Standing there frozen from the line, heat moved to your cheeks and a silly smile slowly appeared on your face.

Write my letter~

Feel much better~

And use my fancy patter on the telephone~

The music is still playing on in the background and hearts racing for the sudden silence between the trio. Tadashi and Kei took a shot in the dark doing this, not really sure if you even like them back but they didn't care. The worst that could happen is you not feeling the same towards the two.

“You know it isn’t funny to mess with me like that, you guys.” you muttered out though your voice held no malice just a tinge of confusion and caution.

“We aren’t joking, idiot.”

“Hey!”

“Just hear us out, please?”

The room didn’t hold an awkward feeling if anything it was calm but loud at the same time.

“We realized that both of us hold feeling for you, y/n” Tadashi sounded so nervous getting his sentence out, “We’re honestly taking ou–” he gets cut off by the tall blonde

“What Tadashi is trying to say is that we both like you and if you don’t feel the same that’s okay, we could just ignore what just happened and move on.” he sounded so uninterested but the speed he spoke at gave away what his tone did not. He was nervous.

“I–” you began to speak but was cut off by Tadashi

“Like Tsukki said, if you don’t feel the same that’s okay.”

“Not like it would be the end of the world–” Kei gets a nudge in the side, tch, “Watch it, Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry, Tsukki.”

“Can I speak now?” you asked softly and gave a smile. The two players give you a nod. You shuffle a bit before clearing your throat.

“Before I was interrupted,” you eyed Tadashi playful, “I was going to say that I like you both as well.” you kept your gaze a bit low, too nervous to look them in the eyes. Taking in a deep slow breath, you gathered enough confidence to look towards Kei, “I like how you take the time out of your day to check on me when you feel like something is wrong,” grabbing his hand before turning towards Tadashi and taking his as well before continuing

“And I like how you let me call at the terrible hour of 3 in the morning just because I couldn’t sleep or I really wanted to talk about something you had no knowledge prior to.”

“So if you need to hear it one more time, I like both of you, Tsukishima Kei and Yamaguchi Tadashi.”

One Month Later

“Hey Stingyshima, Yamaguchi, why is there a picture of the two of you and Y/N cuddling in the group chat?”

The pinch server could only laugh at his blonde partner because he was the one sent it by mistake.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry, Tsukki”

#yamaguchi tadashi #tsukishima kei #short writing #x reader #haikyuu x reader #gn!reader #hq #hq x reader #tsukkiyama x reader #gn!mc #writing in one pov gets hard for no reason #at least for me #haikyuu #haikyuu!!

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127-mile · 3 years ago

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Bots and books.

Pairing: Artificial intelligence Ten x female reader.

Genre: AI, bookstore | Fluff, angst.

Warnings: Ten thinks robots are superior to humans.

Plot: When your boss asked you to train the new employee, you didn’t think you would end up with a robot freshly out of the factory.

Word count: +5.3k.

A/N: This is part of the AI project #14320 collab hosted by @pastelsicheng.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

When you hear Taeil's voice behind you, you drop the book you were holding, and when it crashes on your foot, you pursed your lips so as not to be vulgar when so many customers are in the store. "Oh boy, I'm sorry, I should have warned you that I was here." Taeil whispers, and when you look over your shoulder, you notice that he doesn't look embarrassed by the situation, or ashamed, on the contrary, he looks amused.

"I feel like you are trying to hurt me, am I wrong?" you ask, squinting, and he shrugs. At least he bends down to pick up the book and put it where it was supposed to go. "Maybe I'm just trying to get you to go home because you're spending too much time here, maybe I didn't do it on purpose, who knows." If he wasn't your boss, you would have insulted him, but you care about your job, and you like being able to pay your rent every month without having to ask your parents for help.

“I don't spend too much time here, I even think that I don't spend enough time here. But getting back to what caused you to come bother me, yes we can talk. What do you want?" you turn completely towards him, and you tilt your head to the side. "We're going to have a new employee tomorrow, and I was wondering if you could take care of him, show him how the bookstore works, show him how to use the cash register, you know, everything that I taught you when I hired you."

"Aren't you supposed to take care of it, as the boss?" you ask, and he takes his hands out of the pockets of his pants when a client approaches, he smiles at her, and when she disappears, he regains his slumped position. "Are you listening when I'm talking to you?" you know it's a rhetorical question and yet you shake your head, you're not going to lie, you tend to stop listening when he talks for too long. Can he blame you? He has a soft voice that lulls you to sleep.

"I vividly remember telling you last week that I had to go away for a few days. I have an appointment in another city for my next book." oh yes, you remember hearing him mention a new book, an appointment with his publisher, and other people who might help him, but you don't remember hearing him mention the date, or how long he would be gone. "Am I going to have to spend weeks putting books away with your head on the cover? I better get a raise for that!"

"Why would you get a raise, you should be happy to see my face on books!" you could tell him that yes, it's an honor to work with a famous writer, but you don't want to give him that pleasure. "So if I have to take care of the new employee, does that mean that I will also be the boss until you come back from your vacation?"

"It's not a vacation," he mumbles, and you smirk, it's so easy to annoy Taeil, and that's why you like him so much. "but yes, you will be in charge of the store until I return. So are you okay with that?" you know you don't have a choice, that you are the only person working here that he trusts enough to entrust his shop, his baby. "Of course I agree! I won't miss an opportunity to turn a new employee against you."

"Maybe I'll take this opportunity away from the store to find a new employee, to replace you. I've had enough of you!" you're very happy that customers are around, otherwise he certainly would have shouted to sound more dramatic. "You can't fire me, because I'll ruin your business, and you love me way too much, you'll be bored without me. Do I also need to remind you that you wouldn't have a manuscript for your editor to read if I hadn't been there to force you to write?"

Rather than respond, Taeil walks away muttering something between clenched teeth, and if a client wasn't calling for your help to find a book, you most likely would have laughed at his behavior.

Night has fallen for an hour or so when you finally lock the bookstore door behind you, and when the cold wind caresses your cheeks, you sigh deeply. You like this place, it's a bit of a second home for you, but good god, you want to be at home, even if you have to deal with your roommates' antics until you fall asleep.

"Excuse me?"

Your blood freeze in your body, you should have checked that no one was around the store when you went out, because Taeil is already gone, and he won't be there to help you if a drunken idiot, or a little too pushy keeps you from coming home. You take a deep breath, but it hitches in your throat when you turn on your heels. "Can I help you?" you ask in a voice that you hope is not too shaky.

The young man stays silent for a while, and you frown when he tilts his head a little too slowly not to look like a killer straight out of the horror movies you love so much. You clear your throat, and he seems to take notice of the question put to him, so he nods, extending a hand to you. "You dropped that." in his hand, you see the notebook that you always keep in your bag, bag that you have thrown over your shoulder without even taking the time to close it.

The lump that had formed in your throat is disappearing as quickly as it came, and you refrain from sighing in relief. "Oh, thank you very much!" you take the notebook that you put in your bag before closing the zip. "Thank you?" the young man answers, but before you can open your mouth he walks away from the shop.

You happen to meet strange people, but this is the first time you've met someone like him, someone who seems surprised to have been thanked for something as mundane as returning a notebook. Taeil would say that this is a person's first life on earth. Him and his writer mind.

Even though the stranger didn't look dangerous, you make sure he got far enough away to walk in the direction of the stairs leading to the underground metro. If you're not a fan of this place, you like being there at this late hour, because it's not so crowded, and it's easy for you to find a seat in the metro. You push your headphones into your ears, and you look up at the screen near the sliding door.

You roll your eyes when you see the ads for LSM going on. If you were to earn $10 every time you saw it on TV, or heard it on the radio, you would have enough to pay your rent for at least six months without needing to work. This really isn't an exaggeration, the company really wants everyone to know about what they are offering, new updates on their bots, and how excited they are to have sent the most of their new robots in the world for work, for study, or for entertainment.

You have nothing against robots, you just think it's a shame to take jobs from people who genuinely need to work, but apparently: "robots aren't here to replace you, they're here to make it easier for you. Do not be scared, technology is good, we need it." You're not sure if you're okay with that, and you'll let it know when the robots take over the world.

Lost in your thoughts, you almost forget to get up to get out of the metro, these damn robots will end up making you miss your stop. Yes, sometimes it's much easier to blame the robots than it is to accept your responsibilities.

"Johnny, if you don't get out of the bathroom in a minute, I swear to god I'll make you swallow your camera!"

you growl, and you open your eyes. Why do you always have to wake up regretting all the decisions that brought you here, living with two roommates who are ready to tear their heads off at the first opportunity offered to them. "And I'll make you eat your books back if you do that!" you hear Johnny respond, and you wonder why the neighbors haven't filed a noise complaint yet. You would have done it since day one.

"Doyoung, you don't work Saturdays, why are you already up?" you ask in a voice loud enough to be heard, and what you didn't want to happen happens. The door opens, and your gaze meets Doyoung's, he has furrowed brows and dark circles, since when has he not slept? "For your information, young lady, I would be sleeping if Johnny hadn't knocked on my door at six in the morning to ask me for the time!"

"Not that I want to stand up for him, but you looked for it by setting his alarm clock to go off at five the other day." you answer, and he rolls his eyes as he walks into your room to drop into the bed, and you groan when his back blocks your legs. "Doyoung, I have to go to work, so if you could move that would be very nice." he doesn't move, and you wiggle your legs until you can free one. "As soon as I convince Taeil to give me a raise, I'll find myself another apartment and I won't have to deal with you anymore." you mumble, and Doyoung chuckles.

"Even if he agreed to give you a raise, which he won't do until he has published two more books, you won't leave. You don't like silence, and you will miss us too much after the first day." he's not wrong, but you could always find a new roommate. "It's okay, I'll find someone else. Someone who doesn't make me want to throw myself out the window every morning."

"If you need help finding a new roommate, ask us, we'll be happy to help." you sigh when you hear Johnny, and when you turn your head, you roll your eyes. Johnny is in the doorframe, a towel hanging low around his hips, and drops of water falling from his hair. "We'll find you someone good. Or someone worse than us, Doyoung and I will have to talk about it before we decide."

Before Doyoung can react, you free your second leg, grab your clothes for the day, and head to the bathroom, not without pushing Johnny out of the way. "Y/n, I'll make you eat your fucking books!" Doyoung growls as he straightens up, and you laugh. You know he can do it, but before that, he'll take the time to find the worst book in your book shelves to do it, so you'll have plenty of time to run away, change your identity and be forgotten.

You need less time than Johnny to shower, and to be ready to go. When you come out of the bathroom, you notice that the two boys are still in your room, and they are chatting as if they hadn't threatened each other less than twenty minutes ago. "Are you going to stay in my bed? Don't you have bedrooms, or a couch where you can talk?" Doyoung looks up, and he smirks. "Your bed is much more comfortable. We're talking about what to do with this room when you're gone." little shit.

"Well, since I'm apparently the only one working here, I'm going to go. See you tonight, or never." you get your bag that you throw on your shoulder and you stick your tongue out at Johnny who waves to you without moving from your bed, the sheets are going to be damp because of him, and you want to hit him for that, but that might make you late for work.

You leave the apartment, and like the day before, you quickly find the stairs leading to the underground metro, and unlike yesterday, it's more difficult to find your way through the students, workers and partygoers who have just returned from a party the night before. You concentrate on your breathing to avoid letting yourself be overwhelmed by the different smells of perfume, sweat, and alcohol.

When the doors slide open, you quickly get out of the train, and you find the outside. You never thought you would miss the clean air as much as since you started taking the subway to work. Since Taeil is away, the shop is still closed, and it takes you at least five minutes to find the keys in your bag, and for a second, you wonder if you haven't left them at home, but you sigh with relief when your fingers come in contact with the cold surface of a key.

You unlock the door, and walk into the store smiling at the familiar scent of old books piling up in part of the store. When you started working here, you asked Taeil what the old books were for, that they would never be sold, but now you see the charm of the old book with the damaged binding, the sound of the pages, and you wouldn't do without them. You put your bag on the counter, and you turn on the lights.

Taeil must have gone to the store before leaving, because you can find the boxes already behind the counter. You could have taken care of the delivery, but Taeil likes to check that everything is there, even if he might be late for an appointment that could really change his writing life, even if in your opinion, he is already quite popular and doesn't need more help.

You sit up when you hear the door open, and you open your mouth. "We're not open yet, sorry." you say, and if you expected the door to close, it stays open, and when you look at the person, your eyes open wide. This is the man who gave you your notebook back last night, and once again, he tilts his head far too slowly not to be awkward to watch.

“I'm LC27296,” he begins, but he shakes his head with a certain vigor that you would never have at this time of the morning. "I'm Ten, I'm going to work here." your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. For a minute, you forgot that you were supposed to take care of the new employee. "Taeil told me to come before the opening to make it easier." oh he did that?

"Before I introduce myself, I have a question for you. What were you doing here last night?" you ask and he suddenly seems nervous. "I- I didn't mean to scare you, I just wanted to make sure of how long it would take me to get here, so that I wouldn't be late for my first day." you hum, not sure you believe it, but it's not like you can accuse him of something without having any proof whatsoever. "Alright. I'm Y/n, I'll take care of teaching you how the store works until Taeil comes back in a few days. You can shut the door."

Ten does, and he approaches the counter, he doesn't seem in his element, but if Taeil hired him it's because he saw something in him. "Why did you give me numbers when I asked you for your name?" you suddenly ask, curious.

"Oh! It's my serial number, but I was told I had to introduce myself with my name, it makes it easier to fit in." a serial number, what the hell? You frown as you take your phone from the pocket of your jacket, and you open up the conversation with Taeil.

To Taeil: A serial number, what's wrong with the guy you hired?

Taeil must still be in the car, or on the train, since the answer is not long in coming. You shouldn't ignore Ten, but you need an answer before you decide whether you want to be locked up with a stranger all day, or not.

From Taeil: Ten is a robot. LSM sent me a letter a few weeks ago asking if I wanted to take any of them, and I said yes.

To Taeil: And you didn't find it useful to tell me that I was going to have to train a robot? And besides, aren't they already programmed to know how to do everything, why should I waste my time training him? Is this your way of telling me that I'm fired and that you will only hire bots from now on?

You don't get a response, which shouldn't surprise you, so you put your phone on the counter, and you meet Ten's gaze, who hasn't moved an inch. Did he himself on pause while you were busy? "So you are a robot?" you ask in a small voice, and he nods. "Yeah, you didn't know?" honestly no, even though LSM has some amazing quality robots you would expect to see them with bolts and metal.

"It's my first day away from the factory, and I'm very happy to be here!" he adds, and you roll your eyes, if he's happy that's the main thing, but you're not sure you are. "You can think of me as a human being like any other, no need to make a difference because I am superior to you." you gasp at him, but you can't help but smile, stunned. "Just because you're made of metal doesn't mean you're superior to us. I'm sure if I throw water at you you'll rust and stop working, so in a way, I'm superior."

"You can try, but it won't work! That would be stupid to think we fear water, or fire, or anything for that matter, right?" oh, it might get hectic if he continues. "How about I show you how the store works? Because if we talk any longer, I might look for other ways to turn you off, and you wouldn't want that to happen, would you?" he shakes his head, a worried look on his face. Perfect.

You're going to have a serious conversation with Taeil, you think, showing him where the books go, how the cash register works, and where the storeroom is, storeroom that is also used as a rest room.

"For starters, you're going to go to the storeroom, and you're going to sort all the books alphabetically while sorting them by genre, can you do that, oh you superior robot?" you ask, tilting your head, and he shrugs his shoulders. "Of course I can do it!" Taeil never asked that the books in the storeroom to be sorted, since most are unsold books that will be donated to associations or the city library, but you don't want to have him in your legs when the first customers arrive.

You take your phone, and you send one last message to Taeil before turning on the light in the storefront indicating that the store is open.

To Taeil: This robot is an idiot, and if he pisses me off too much, I'm going to fire him whether you like it or not.

To make sure you don't receive an answer, you turn off your phone before throwing it in your bag before starting to put away the new books. And surprisingly, the morning goes off without a hitch. Ten comes out once or twice to ask you for advice on an unfamiliar book, the few customers who come in don't need your help, so that's nice.

When the time comes to close the shop for the next two hours, you enter the storeroom. Ten is sitting on the ground, and he's surrounded by books that should have been put away for a long time now, but the robot seems way too deep in reading to do the job you asked him to do. You frown. "Do you know that reading is not part of your contract?"

Ten doesn't react, he just turns the page and laughs at something he just read. "Taeil buys LSM magazines, I'll go check if I can't find an article on how to deactivate a robot if it becomes threatening." you say, and immediately Ten lifts his head to look at you. "But I'm not threatening!" he exclaims, like a petulant child would.

He may be a robot, but he has typically human reactions, which is strange in itself. At least for you. "They won't have to know when I throw your body in front of the factory you came from." you answer in a slow voice, and Ten finds himself on his feet, not without slipping a bookmark in his book so as not to lose his progress. "Sorry, I found this book, and it's so interesting I couldn't help myself."

You look at the title, and you smirk. You hide in the storeroom when you don't feel like coming home, and it's one of the books you've read. "If you don't want me to tell you who the killer is, you're going to finish putting those books away, and then I'll give you time to read until the store closes tonight, do we have a deal?"

He mumbles something between his teeth, but ends up nodding. You walk away from the room before remembering that you had a question for him, so you go back. "Do robots eat?" you wouldn't want to deprive him of his lunch break and end up with some sort of robots protection squad on your back for mistreatment. "Yes, we eat. I told you, we are like you."

"It's break time so you'll finish tidying up later." Ten passes over a pyramid of books, and he leaves the room, not without taking his book with him. "So, what are we going to eat?" he suddenly asks, and you want to take his book and hit yourself with it. "What do you mean, we?"

"Taeil told me you would take me out to eat with you so I wouldn't be alone in the store." Taeil should remember to tell you when he decides something, because you can't continue to be surprised every time he opens his mouth. "Did he say that?" a nod. "Great. I'm going home to eat, so I think you're going to meet the two most annoying people on this planet after you."

He squeals with delight and you roll your eyes as you pick up your bag. You exit the store by locking the door behind Ten, and you head for the subway train. "I love meeting new humans, you are all so fascinating!" you wonder what can be fascinating about humans, but for a robot, everything has to be. "What fascinates you so much about us?" you ask going down the stairs, being careful that Ten keeps following you, you don't feel like looking for a lost robot in the streets.

"We can feel emotions, but they're programmed for us, so it's not as real as when you feel them." human emotions are difficult to understand, humans are confusing. "I think it's pretty nice to be programmed to feel certain things, it's probably easier, less confusing."

"You're wrong," Ten starts to say, following you in the subway, he sits next to you not without looking at a little dog with stars in his eyes, as if he had never seen a dog in real life, so much so that you wonder if there are robot dogs, you'll have to ask him one of these days. "We're forced to feel the emotions, so we don't understand them. Being programmed doesn't mean we understand what's going on."

It's pretty sad, you think.

"Do you have a program that allows you to kill us if we becomes threatening for you?" you ask in a low voice so as not to attract the attention of the students around you. Ten's eyes widen and he chuckles. "No, we can't do that. We're not here to hurt you, just to help you." it's a shame, you would have needed it with Johnny and Doyoung.

"This is where we come down." Ten follows you to the door of your apartment. You can smell Doyoung's food already. He might be annoying, but when he's not working he always makes a snack for you for when you come home from work during the break, and that's very nice. "I live with two people, Johnny and Doyoung, they can be weird, and they might ask you tons of questions, so be prepared."

When you put your hand on the doorknob, Ten puts his hand on your wrist to stop you. "Wait, wait. Are they going to hurt me? Some humans can be mean when in the company of a robot." oh, he didn't sound so nervous earlier, but in a way you can understand that. "They're not mean, and they're quite fascinated by LSM's robots, so you have nothing to worry about, they won't do anything to you."

You open the door when he seems to be relaxing, and you sigh when you hear the loud voices that most likely come from the kitchen. "Johnny, how many times have I told you not to set foot in my kitchen? You're a walking hazard, you'll manage to set some water on fire if you wanted to! Get out!"

"Guys, I'm here. And I'm not alone, so if you could behave like normal people that would be really nice." you say and immediately Johnny's head pops out of the kitchen door jamb and you roll your eyes. "Oh hello mister stranger, who are you, are you our beloved Y/n's secret boyfriend?"

"I-" Ten seems unable to speak, and Johnny throws his head back when he notices the blush on Ten's cheeks as he lowers his head. "Oh, he's blushing! Adorable! He's in love but he hasn't had the courage to tell her yet. Doyoung, come see!" you should have known that they were going to mess with him. You should have warned them before you got home, threatened them, or promised to pay for the next pizza night.

"Shut up, big idiot! He's the new bookstore employee, we met this morning." you respond by swinging your bag in a corner of the apartment after removing your shoes. Ten does the same, and he follows you into the living room. You're pointing your index finger at the boys. "Johnny, Doyoung, this is Ten. He works with me."

"Oh, I didn't know Taeil was okay with hiring bots." Doyoung says, stunned. "How do you know it's a robot?" were you the only one who didn't have a clue? The only one that can't tell the difference between a robot and a human?

"It shows! And he's got LSM's name tattooed behind his ear." You'll have to go see the ophthalmologist to get glasses, because you didn't notice the black ink behind his ear. "Taeil didn't really hire me, it's just a contract for a couple of months to see how quickly I adapt to a new environment. Next time I'll be in a new place." oh, that's a detail you didn't know either, you thought Ten was here for good, at least until you got fired, or left.

"And can't you ask to stay at the bookstore for good?" you ask, sitting down in a chair, and Ten shrugs. "Why, have you already become attached to me? You refuse to see me go?" you could get up and hit him, but you don't want to break your fist if he is made of metal inside. "I said that because I wouldn't say no to less hours of work, dont think I appreciate you."

"She never introduced anyone to us, even casual employees, so you must be special." Johnny says winking at Ten, and you refrain from leaning over the table to hit him. "Taeil asked me to take care of him, what was I supposed to do, lock him in the storeroom with a piece of bread and a glass of water?"

"That's what you would have done with us, so yeah." he's not wrong, that's what you would have done if you had had Johnny and/or Doyoung as a colleague. "Anyway, we don't have all day, so if you could just leave Ten alone so we can eat." you mumble, but Ten shakes his head, apparently he doesn't mind being the center of attention. At least he knows that emotion, and he understands it, that's a good thing.

When it's time to go back to work, you almost have to pull Ten out of the apartment. "But why? I was having fun with your roommates!" of course he was having fun. "You can come back and see them if you want." you answer by going down the stairs. You have a little over thirty minutes left before you have to open the store, so rather than locking yourself in a subway train, you decide to walk.

"Really, you would let me come back?" you shrug your shoulders. "Why wouldn't I want to?" Ten plays with the hem of his hoodie, and you frown, he doesn't look like the type to be surprised or even slightly nervous over something as futil. "Because I wasn't very nice to you when I arrived this morning. But like I told you, some humans don't want us to fit in and want to harm us, and I heard so many stories that I defended myself if you ever decided to be like them."

"I don't understand robots, I don't understand LSM's motivation, but that doesn't mean I would hurt any of you. You should have waited, and you would have known it."

"I'm sorry Y/n, and I promise I'll do my job well until the end of my contract!" he exclaims, his smile back on his face. His beautiful face, moreover, you did not miss this detail. "I hope so, otherwise I won't give you time to read before closing." he gasps, but he laughs, and you have no choice but to laugh with him.

#nct #wayv #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #ten imagines #ten scenarios

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hyucksong · 5 years ago

Text

nct dream as roommates

a/n: *romantically calls you bro*

lee mark

the roommate that walked in on you taking a shower on the first night you moved in and avoided you for a week afterward

he even went as far as browsing different apartments to live in because baby boy was too afraid to face you

sometimes wakes up before you and he always prepares your coffee or tea and sets it by your bed for you when you wake up…sometimes sits on the edge of your bed to watch you

asks you to do his laundry because he doesn’t know how to separate the colors

you’re fine with doing them because he tries his absolute bestest with everything else, and it’s so cute

the first time he did the laundry you were sick…and you got a whole new wardrobe of pink clothing the next day

always does the dishes and you do the laundry…he’ll clean the living room and kitchen if you clean the bathrooms…he’ll go grocery shopping…only if you go with him

asks you to do his hair when he meets up with his friends, and if you say no he says “okay” and then pouts until you agree

you really like photography but hiring models is expensive so you always ask mark to model for you

and he always agrees, blushing while doing so

make-up artists are expensive too, so you also get him dressed up and add whatever you want to his face

(once you did a fairy photoshoot and he had freckles and pink cheeks and your heart did the thing)

this time you need him to sit still for hours because it's supposedly a big photoshoot with a few other photographers coming too, so there’s a lot of looks to get through

you do the first look before you get to the photo site to save time

he thinks nothing of you curling his hair until he looks up at you and time slows as his heart stops…

because you smell like vanilla and your nose is scrunched in concentration…because your breathing is heavy as you run to the bathroom to get more things before you’re late…

because you’re biting your lip while looking at him, admiring your own work, proud of the way the make-up came out, but a little disheartened because it looked like you put a little too much blush (even though you only put a little)

and mark thinks,,, oh no

fuck

huang renjun

your best friend since you were a child

you’re used to ‘living with him’ because you practically lived with him as a kid; you were always at his house spending the night or vice versa

he wakes you up an hour after he gets up because ‘he needs his peaceful time’

claims that ‘you’re the worst person to live with’ but refuses to look for another apartment because ‘no one else can handle you but me’

(in reality, he knows that there will never be anyone else he’ss comfortable with as you)

he wakes you up by throwing a pillow in your face and or flopping on your bed next to you and bouncing a few times

once got really scared because you weren’t waking up no matter what he did, and when he started to tear up you opened your eyes and pushed him off the bed

you just didn’t want to be woken up that day and tried to ignore him, but apparently, you ignored him for too long because he genuinely freaking out on the inside

he’s watched ‘what’s eating gilbert grape’ okay he was SCARED

he didn’t talk to you for three days after that....only started to wake you up again because you made the effort to wake up before him and make him breakfast in bed with hot tea

he expected you to leave his room after you gave it to him, but you just looked at him for a minute before sitting on the bed next to him, getting under the covers with him

he focused on the fact you were taking up all the space instead of the now-familiar thrum of his heartbreak against his ribcage

(he’s felt it for the past fewyears, he’s gotten used to drowning it out)

“y/nnnnnnn what are you doingggggg”

“shut up i made the breakfast, can’t i at least sit next to my favorite boy?”

...he’s your favorite boy?...okaythatwasreallycutebuthe’llneveradmitit

“o...kay...”

blushes when you lay your head on his shoulder in bed, watching whatever he’s doing on his phone, because your cheek is warm against his shirt and its bleeding through onto his skin and weiowioegfhowieh

but also yells at you when you take a bite of his toast and bolt out of the room, giggling

“yAH y/N”

lee jeno

the roommate that was awkward for the first month because he didn’t really want to room with a girl because then he can’t spend saturday with the boys

then he brought them home one day without telling you and was expected to get his ass Whopped but you were drinking vodka and crying while watching Cars so

yeah you were the perfect roommate for him

you drink together

saturday may be for the boys but sunday is for drinking your problems away with your roommate

can’t cook but will make BOMB desserts for you both every friday...also fridays are pizza nights and you both order a large cheese pizza with ranch on the side and a pint of dr.pepper

yall have the same diet but he has a six-pack and you don’t so you call bullshit on health and everything it is

both of you fall asleep on the couch all the time, TV still playing the game soundtrack with the controllers on the floor, blinking from low battery

jeno alwayswakes up before you, and he doesn’t admit it, but he loves to watch you sleep

you just look so...ethereal

even with the drool

ANYWAY

you are one of the bros...he’s even taken a shit when you took a shower before -- that’s how close you are

then one day you get dressed up real pretty and he’s making fun of you, laughing “you never look this nice who’s holding you at gunpoint”

“i’m going on a date jeno hop off my DICK”

“,,,what”

immediately felt defensive and was questioing who could like you and why you were going on a saturday night when it was busy on the streets and also please call the guy and cancel the date because he wants to watch toy story with you and eat pasta why are you going out with someone has he met him why haven’t you told jeno about this guy you know what you should just not go

and it’s when you walk out the door rolling your eyes, promising to be back home before 9pm with a cute shirt on and nice perfume on when jeno realizes

that damn he hates to see you leave,,,but he loves to watch you go

(and he might have the teeniest, weeniest crush on you)

lee donghyuck

the type to never clean the dishes and always makes you do them even if he cooks because he hates the feeling of wet food

then one day he sees you v e r y stressed over school work and he just...cleans the whole house

you come back from the library and you’re like,,,the fuck where’s haechan and what have you done with him

in turn, you buy him a headset that he’s been wanting for the past year...and you think he’s about to propose to you after you give them to him

but in all reality he’s just so happy that you even remembered something so trivial...like he talking about them once (1) and you remembered?

...cute bitch

he’s a big prankster, but in an endearing way, so whenever he goes too far you never really stay mad because he’s just a little unaware of the anger his pranks cause

plus you always get back at him

always :)

you both are basically the same people; you’re passionate about your studies and he’s passionate about gaming and dancing

yall are the bad bitches that no one messes with

BET that yall wear matching fits whenever you two go out together

you get together to watch his favorite youtubers do let’s plays of popular games

one day yall sit down to watch some outlast 2

and boy

did you underestimate the scare factor

so now you’re three episodes deep into the let’s play and your head is buried in haechans stomach because you’re laying down facing away from the TV, clinging to the poor boy

he doesn’t know if his heart is beating so fast because of the jumpscare or because of the way you look up at him when you ask if the scary part is over yet

he doesn’t like seeing you scared with tears in your eyes...but the way you’re clinging to him makes him want to watch a thousand more scary episodes...

...if it means you’ll cuddle with him

na jaemin

the best roommate you could ever ask for

he loves to clean and cook, not to mention he’s an absolute sweetheart!!!!!!!

you started to live with him because you had posted an ad on a website for a roommate and he sent back a reply

but the texts used so many of (=｀ω´=) these emojis you just assumed it was a girl

he was not

every night before you go to bed, he’ll walk into your room and whisper “good night, sleep well” to you before petting you head and walking out

people always wonder if you’re dating, but you always reply that it’s just the way he is

until one night you invite your (asshole) project partner to your apartment and she flirts with him endLESSLY,,, not doing her work or anything, just talking with jaems

like it’s pissing you off, and you think it’s pissing him off, and you’re about to send her home when you notice the storm outside and you realize,,,, you’re too good of a person to do that

so she sleeps on the couch, and you do the same, just so you can keep an eye on her and so that she isn’t left alone with jaemin at any point (poor boy looked like he’s about to combust if she tries to talk to him again)

and jaemin does his usual routine even with the extra company, stroking your head and even going as far as to place a kiss on your forehead

“what about me, do I get a kiss” the girl annoyingly asked

“no, you’re not yn” and hE WALKS AWAY AND CLOSES THE DOOR TO HIS ROOM

there’s silence in your head as you process his words, a little shocked and confused as to what he means, but most of all, your thoughts consist of;

oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit

you might have just fallen for him (let’s face it, you’ve been in love with him (just not as long as he’d been in love with you))

zhong chenle

not going to lie, you two did NOT get along in the beginning

you were each other’s first roommates, and you knew he was extroverted, but you underestimated the differences between your personalities

like,,, no please don’t invite the dreamies over again for the eighth time this week I can’t focus on homework with all the screaming

but even with all the head-butting, the chores are split evenly because he’s practicing to ‘be marriage material for his future wife’

you don’t care as long as he just does what he’s supposed to, and you two aren’t exactly the closest

but there are times when you connect, like on lazy Sunday afternoons where you both just relax on the couch...anywaY

and he always rolls his eyes, telling you that ‘you need to stop being a hermit and make some friends’

‘get some confidence’

‘why don’t you put any effort into how you dress’

it hurts a little...you know you’re not the prettiest and you don’t really try anyway

but to have it pointed out to you just...stings

and after a guy rejects you (after you built up courage for a whole years to confess to him) your confidence is at an all-time low (he said no because ‘you were too bland’ like wtf fUCk you)

and you’re just crying and eating spaghetti o’s, telling chenle as oon as you walk into the door that you’re ‘too sensitive for his bullshit today’

to which chenle doesn’t care... then he sees your puffy eyes and asks wha happens

you tell him, and he just gets...angry

(and jealous?)

he goes on a tangent, mocking the guy, saying that ‘you’re the most doen-to-earth natural beauty’ he’s ever seen and that ‘any guy who doesn’t fall in love with your cute sarcastic personality’ is dumber than a rock

he grumbles for the rest of the night, sitting and watching movies with you; it makes your heart swell that he’s getting so mad for you

and at the end of the mini-movie night, and he strokes your hair saying that you’re ‘his little introvert’,

you decide that ‘opposite attract’ is 100% true

(and chenle notices that you have very pretty lips)

park jisung

you two are dorm roommates at a dance school, and y’all are so cute all the teachers LOVE you

like you both just spend so much time together it’s ridiculous

yall walk to class together, then from class to class together, eat lunch together, after school activities, walk back to the dorms, meet each other’s friends, go out on the weekends together...everything

it feels weird to not be with him

(the teachers have a bet that you’ll be dating before your senior year)

the dorm is just a studio apartment with two bedrooms (your parents both pay a lot for space)

so chores aren’t too hard, in fact, you both usually spend the last few hours of daylight on Sunday nights straightening up your apartment from the hectic week before, to start off completely fresh and new

nothing big ever happens on Sundays around the home, but one day jisung (who went to hang out with chenle (he invited you but you pouted and said you had too much hmwk)) found a little puppy on the side of the road

and then proceeded to sneak into the dorms with it, hiding it under his shirt

when he showed you what he found, you couldn’t be mad...it was just so cute (both jisung’s little smile and the puppy)

but you noticed it was shivering, and you whined, ‘jisung you didn’t even notice it was cold oH My GoD, go get it some water and food’ while you set up a nest of blankets for the little guy

hours later when the puppy had eaten and subsequently fallen asleep in your lap, you turned to jisung

‘let’s name it mousie’

‘what that’s dumb’

‘it’s not dumb! i wanna name it that because it looks like you whenever you sleep! it's so cute hehehe’

you thought jisung was WHAT when he slept

jisung didn’t talk for a whole minute, drinking in your words and thinking about them over and over again, in the meantime you were just smiling down at the puppy

your cheeks were red with happiness and your nose was a little red from sneezing (because the puppy was covered in pollen from being outside) and your gaze was filled with such love that jisung shivered

you let out a sigh and plopped your head on his shoulder, and all his feelings he’d ever had for you exploded in his chest, and he tensed (though if you noticed, you didn’t day anything)

you just kept and petting the dog

and damn did jisung want to be that dog

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dystopiandilfs · 4 years ago

Text

My opinion on the different Dream manipulating someone storylines.

Disclaimer: This isn't meant to shit on anyone as a creator or anyone's acting. This might be kind of negative but isn't meant to be offensive to any DreamSMP creator especially since the main ones I'm talking about are minors. This is just my thoughts and you can obviously disagree. I don't think that Dream as a person is a manipulative person so whenever I mention Dream I mean the SMP character unless I state otherwise.

This is mainly based off of my own experiences as someone who was manipulated and gaslighted for a lot of time by several people and as someone who is doing a human psychology degree.

First thing I want to say is I love Dream as a villain and will be a bit annoyed if they try to redeem him like in every cliché film or TV show. The only redemption arc I will accept is Dream being possessed by a Dreamon from way back since that storyline was set up before Dream was considered the main villain. However if the Dreamon storyline is used as a Dream redemption arc it has to be flawlessly written otherwise it will come off cringe.

~~Here's the short version: From best to worst storyline based on my opinion is Ranboo, Tubbo, Wilbur, Tommy, Ghostbur and Techno~~

So the first manipulated storyline I want to talk about is Wilbur. I love the fact that Dream used Wilbur's already messy mental health to play him and turn him against everyone and made him the villain. I think it was the original starting point of Dream's biggest villain trait being a manipulative person. I think it was mainly used to be a lead up to Dream manipulating Tommy and Tubbo. I would call this the Clingyduo test run. If Dream can turn Wilbur against Tommy then he can turn everyone including Tubbo against Tommy. It also helped to explain how Wilbur managed to get all the tnt and how he always managed to sneak into the L'Manberg to set it up as well as clearing up mainly plot holes. The acting was fairly decent especially since it's not scripted and wasn't an intentional plot point. I like the fact it was more behind the scenes manipulation since nobody knew how much Dream was actually controlling Wilbur and most people just assumed Wilbur was just going insane. It made it so nobody was weary of Dream as a manipulator which made the Tommy exile arc more impactful since nobody knew this side of Dream.

Next up is the Tubbo being manipulated by Dream storyline. I like this one mainly because it was from a different angle compared to Wilbur and Tommy's. Dream pretended to be Tubbo's friend to get the disc whilst simultaneously manipulating Tommy to suicide in exile. Dream would talk about how Tommy's been (obviously lying) and saying how much better Tommy and Tubbo are doing apart. Tubbo was getting gaslighted more than straight up manipulated. Dream was saying how much calmer and safer L'Manberg was now that Tommy's gone. Dream's aim with Tubbo was to make him see how much better things were without Tommy and how when Tommy's around Tubbo gets pushed about and Tommy being all of L'Manberg's problems like the wall being built because Tommy burned down George's lesbian mushroom cottage. At the same time as feeding all these ideas and thoughts to Tubbo he playing nice by helping build things, playing games and respecting L'Manberg rules. It's a very sly manipulation because Tubbo obviously told Quackity, Fundy and Ranboo about all his conversations with Dream and it made them slightly less weary of Dream as well as making them think worse of Tommy. It was a good way of showing different kinds of manipulation and how it isn't all painfully obvious. Also Tubbo having a storyline that doesn't revolve around Tommy is an instant win in my book

3rd storyline is Techno and Ghostbur. I'm grouping these together because they were smaller storylines and were similar in tactics. Dream told Techno about The Butcher Army as well as where to get a totem to hold a future favour above his head. Dream knew Tommy was at Techno's but chose to let it play out knowing that Tommy and Techno had very different morals and end goals. Even if they didn't end up butting heads Dream could use his favour to separate Techno and Tommy either by getting Techno to do something to upset Tommy (killing Tubbo) or getting Techno to appear like he's using Tommy to destroy L'Manberg. Making Tommy see Techno as another powerful manipulator. Dream used Ghostburs lack of memory to his advantage. Ghostbur didn't remember that Dream and Wilbur were teamed up or that Dream was using Wilbur which meant that Dream could once again manipulate Wilbur but as less insane, kinder Ghostbur. He used Ghostbur by pretending to be his friend and offering him thing such as food, friendship and shelter to get Ghostbur to trust him so when he tells Ghostbur that he'll (Dream) deliver Tommy's beach party invites Ghostbur sees nothing weird or wrong because to him Dream is helpful. Then he tells Ghostbur to go for a walk so he can make Tommy think that Ghostbur has abandoned him making it so Tommy only has Dream left.

Next is Tommy. Dream used the discs to manipulate Tommy for a long time. When the opportunity of exiling Tommy making him truly alone appeared Dream took it. Then the whole exile arc was Dream manipulating Tommy to the point of him being so isolated and alone he relied solely on Dream until Dream stopped playing games and was ridiculously blunt with Tommy making him want to commit suicide because his last friend wasn't even his friend and he'd lost everything and everyone. I think in my personal opinion this was one of the less believable manipulation arcs nothing against Tommy but it came off as a very textbook/TV show manipulator story where the victim gets close to death only for the manipulator to switch up and start exposing themselves. Manipulators are smart and people around them don't know someone's being manipulated. Yes I enjoyed the storyline but I think it dragged on for too long with no changes and the immediately shifted tones. I would have appreciated it if instead of Dream snapping at the community house and revealing everything in front of everyone, if Dream would start to slip up and Tommy started to notice then Dream slips up Infront of Techno and Phil, then Infront of Tubbo and other L'Manberg members. So it was a domino effect of people realising what was happening instead of everyone finding out at one and having no time to process. Everyone finding out at once because Dream told them sort of ruined it a bit for me. I still think it was an excellent storyline and they both acted their hearts out it just went from a cool individual storyline to a cliché villain speech where they reveal everything in time for people to stop all plans. (However bonus points for doing the non canon chill streams with Drista and Mexican Dream in-between)

Finally is Ranboo's. I absolutely love the irl Ranboo and irl Dream dynamic. They are both incredibly good at portraying their characters down to the little details of Dream changing his voice to Ranboo stuttering and shaking. I think it might be my second favourite storyline out of all of them (first being Egg because it's the only storyline to be mainly og members like Sam, BBH, Ant and Punz). I appreciate the amount of work and details that have gone into the story so far, including doing the prison but of a different server so they could use special effects and coding. The story has a very structured and strong foundation compared to every other storyline which is helped obviously by Ranboo being new. Going to be honest the streams sometimes trigger me because of how realistic they are from Dream being the manipulative voice in Ranboo's head to Ranboo having to question what's real and what's fake. Ranboo's convincing himself he blew up the community house purely because of the Dream voice in his head. The fact that both Dream and Ranboo gave had to do content warnings and trigger warnings should be enough to explain how good the acting is. Honestly where are their awards. (Yes this is me praising Ranboo and Dream but I genuinely love this storyline so much eventhough it's another Dream manipulating a minor storyline. It's done so well and you can tell how passionate both Dream and Ranboo are about Ranboo's lore and storyline. Favourite child much)

#dreamsmp #dreamwastaken #badboyhalo #dream smp #georgenotfound #ranboo #sapnap #technoblade #tommyinnit #tubbo #philza #punz #captain puffy #nihachu #eret #hbomb94 #mcyt #wilbur soot #ghostbur

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mish-tique · 3 years ago

Note

SOMEONE WITH BETTER ENGLISH AND A REALLY Good WRITING thissssss

Lewis doesn't know how the whole fight started. well actually, maybe when he just subtly suggested that at some point Max should go into therapy. It was not a big deal. He's in therapy. Damn it, everyone needs it, but for some reason, Max is extremely irritated.

At some point, the discussion ends. He only realized this when the door to some room slammed with unnecessary force. Soon afterward, he sees Roscoe following Max, as if Lewis really was the stupid one in the whole thing.

Max goes to the game room, staying there most of the day. Just too quiet, while roscoe barks occasionally (cheating shit).

Lewis spends most of his time at the gym, listening to some random music at the highest volume and thinking about every detail of the fight.

Lewis knows Max doesn't do this on purpose, but seeing him so quiet after a fight makes Lewis nervous, he feels bad right away even though he's sure he was right about the situation. You see, Lewis is a proud man, he won't just say "I'm sorry", especially if he believes he hasn't done anything wrong. And feeling guilty and not being able to do anything about it only irritates him more.

When Lewis finally goes out to get something to eat, Max is on the couch looking up at the ceiling with that distant and stupidly dramatic expression of his.

Maybe it's just the tiredness, maybe it's just another one of those moments where you don't think straight and move involuntarily, maybe it's none of those things. But at that moment, Lewis sits next to Max on the sofa.

Max tilts his head to the side to look at Lewis, keeping the rest of his body perfectly still. His eyes are ridiculously blue. He doesn't say anything, just looks at Lewis, then turns his attention back to the TV. Unlike Lewis, who glares at him.

"Stop looking at me like that",

Max tells him, though technically he's also looking at Lewis now.

"Can you tell me what-?" he finally asks, but doesn't even finish his sentence because Max interrupts him.

Max grumbles, irritated again. "Bad day at work," he says, which prompts Lewis to raise an eyebrow. Max huffs a little, but Lewis deserves more than a blatant lie, so Max corrects his answer. "I do not want to talk about that."

"Okay," says Lewis, accepting the truth as easily as he rejected the lie. He looks at the TV, is playing some stupid cartoon that Lewis is sure is one of Max's favorites.

Lewis is genuinely surprised when he hears Max's voice again. A few minutes had passed and neither of them had said anything else. Lewis even thought Max might have slept.

"I do not want." He hears it almost as a whisper Max say painfully. "I know what you think, but that wasn't going to work. Not for me."

Lewis remains motionless for a long moment, before finally mustering up enough courage to try some physical closeness with Max.

And then they are embraced.

"I'm sorry," says Lewis.

"You don't have to," Max tells him.

"I know, yet I mean it," Lewis insists, swallowing whatever sense of idiotic pride that was gnawing at him hours ago.

"Okay" It's so smooth and genuine that Lewis's heart warms immediately.

"I want to adopt a cat." OK what? it's so sudden that Lewis can't help but frown in surprise.

“I was playing with Lando, right? and you know, sometimes he can really be annoying"

Lewis blinks, still a little shocked and clearly very confused by where the whole conversation has gone. So he just nods in with a grunt just to let him know that yes, he's paying attention.

"He was talking about some stupid shit of cats being the worst pets because, they're way too independent, maybe cold and you know they really don't care much about anything. They're unfairly judged by people who don't even give a chance to get to know them. It's unfair, very unfair." Max continues, his voice sounding a little angry.

"And you want to adopt a cat to prove to the Side he's wrong?" Lewis catches himself saying without the slightest notice.

Max rolls his eyes. Is obvious.

"No."

And it all becomes clear to Lewis all of a sudden.

"Do you think the roscoe would mind?"

Lewis notices that he hasn't said anything in return and that Max is looking at him curiously. Then he smiles and Max smiles too. Uncertain but still smiling. Lewis lifts his left hand, grabbing the right side of Max's face and pulling him closer until their foreheads are touching. He looks directly into Max's eyes.

"He's going to love having a younger brother."

Please anon I love how you send this to rarsa too (/genuine), gotta see what everyone can make with it.

The way I can imagine both of them being mad and roscoe leaving lewis would feel like another betrayal, like their child took the side of one of the parents.

Both of them react differently to a fight - max goes silent, lewis goes hard (in the gym).

I do think that Lewis is the type to apologize where an apology is right - but taking in consideration both might be high in emotions, it might be hard for both of them to see the other's point. but they keep thinking about it, about what they should've done differently, what they could've done better, even though their memories say that they really are right.

The couch scene is cute! I love how Lewis could just see the lie and how Max did tell the truth but decide to go what is right to him. Poor lewis though, max really going from bad day to lando to cats, mans all over the place

Help for a second I thought Max saw himself in the cats...

Please Roscoe would love a sibling.

No promises on if and when I write it but I'm keeping it in mind!

#tbh anon you're already on a good way #you could finish it!#but so cute #cued #4433

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mannien · 3 years ago

Text

Mornings in Sheffield Park | TH - CHAPTER 1

The one with stress, takeout food around the world, late night walks, and Disney dreams.

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: some stress, some anxiety, mention of sex, and a lot of smiles

Masterlist

Fourth week into the morning pitch meetings at BBC, Millie felt lifeless and drained. The room was usually exploding with ideas, creative energy, and a lot of constructive feedback to the few interns who were allowed to join the conversation with editors, writers, and producers. That morning had started ugly enough for her: with an overwhelming number of e-mails about the schedule and missing content for Politics Live.

When she first landed her spot at BBC, Millie was over the moon. She was constantly calling it a dream come true, a once in a lifetime opportunity for her to begin a writing career in media. Her degree seemed to be the best choice for her future and Millie was ready to prove that graduating from humanities can actually land her a decent job. Her first days were filled with morning preparations, early commute to the city centre and exceptionally smoothed out shirts. The work environment in such a fast-paced industry felt inspiring and daunting at the same time, but Millie felt obligated to use this experience to its full potential. Each day she attempted to learn more than the day before and possibly show off a tiny bit more of her creative skills to her superiors. She spent her evenings researching topics and people, trying not to fall out of the loop. Being one step forward was hard work, one that Millie desperately wanted to ace.

The second week of her internship brought a slight shift to her agenda. After grasping the general concepts of working for a major radio and TV broadcasting company, she was aware of the production processes. She tried to happily follow up all the details about the work of a writer, a researcher, or an editor – just so she could be prepared for the follow-up of the introductory week. And as she hoped her interview was remembered and she would soon contribute to any program touching upon music or pop culture, her dreams and calls were slowly fading away. The intern manager ascribed her to the team devoted strictly to politics and daily news, having no vacancies for the popular radio programs. Even though she took whatever spot was offered, it was only to get more insight and experience.

Having already managed to speak up a few times during the morning routines in the conference room, Millie eased herself into the work environment and was treated like a regular employee. But the first wave of success quickly passed, especially when she was hit with growing emptiness in her brain. She did not enjoy politics, so as far as she could, she attempted to sneak in a sociological aspect into the context. But her tactic had an expiration date.

A couple of heads were expectantly turned at Millie when she was unsurely stuttering her weak ideas for the upcoming programme. She knew it wasn’t going well and she was mentally cursing herself for trying to impress the producers that much so early on.

“This isn’t gonna work. We’ve covered this enough in the evening news. Let’s take five, and maybe you’ll come up with a different angle. I’ll give you another shot here.”

Hugh, the head writer took off his glasses and watched her fidget in her seat. She nodded and took a deep breath, before leaving the room for a short break. Her mind was racing in panic; she wasn’t ready to admit that she didn’t have any idea. She walked back and forth through the corridor until she cursed quietly and walked away to the main hall. She pulled her phone from the back pocket and without overthinking this anymore, she called her boyfriend. He picked up after the third ring.

“Babe, can I call you back…”

“No, Frank,” She felt determined and fierce. Her hands shook from the pure view on board members slowly coming back from the kitchen with fresh coffee mugs. They were probably waiting to hear her another take on the TV show which Millie, wholeheartedly, was beginning to hate. “My work on the programme is too basic and I’ve been roasted for the past fifteen minutes or so. Hugh has me in the spotlight in front of everyone. Help me, please?”

“It’s not your fault they’ve given you a job you’re not good at, babe. It’s just an internship, they will roast you anyway.”

Millie’s lungs were ready to stop working and suffocate her. She feared she might start hyperventilating, or at least meet up with a panic attack from the nerves. Franklin’s reaction seemed to be absolutely unfair and inconsiderate of her actual feelings, and he must have felt that through the piercing silence on the line.

“Look, I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t worry so much about it. They will probably just give you another placement where you’ll fit more, I don’t see why it’s such a bad thing.” And just like that, she started doubting herself and her right to overthink her situation. It didn’t sit well with Millie and she could feel anger slowly making its way through her veins.

“Can’t you just fucking help me? This one time?” She lost her temper, she lost her patience. At the same time Riley, one of the end writers, started waving at her from the end of the hall as to show her that her time is coming to an end. “I need a hook, or something that would spark a debate. Brexit-themed, maybe. Can you think of anything?”

Frank groaned loudly. He wasn’t exactly happy that she made him break down his ambitious wall and let her in on topics he was too invested in. Millie could hear him moving around as he left his desk of the equally large office of The Guardian, until the line went surprisingly quiet. Her anger and fear made her clutch her phone tightly to her ear, while her legs started carrying her slowly to the terrifying conference room.

“Think internationally. See what the Spanish had to say about May’s resignation from the Office. Think economics in the EU. Try to stand on the Union’s side and do some fair judgement.”

“Give me facts, not ideas. You’re the one who knows politics.”

“Spanish government says that May’s resignation is bad news. Compare it to the popular opinion that she was the worst Prime Minister since the 18th century and the American war on independence.” Millie breathed in, trying to desperately grasp all the details he just provided her with.

“That’s a… harsh and history-digging argument,” She mumbled in surprise, “where did you get that from?” She grabbed a yellow post-it note from the reception desk and quickly scribbled the key words on it. Her briefing on politics was never something like this and she could feel the embarrassment making its way into her heart. It wasn’t her way of thinking and she felt like a fraud.

“I can’t tell you that.” By the end of the single sentence Millie could feel the blood escaping her face, making her look pale and scared for dear life. She didn’t want to have heard that sentence, she was definitely happier not knowing how did he come up with a story like this. That was one of the many reasons she tried not to talk business with him.

“An opinion entry. A column for The Guardian. Shit, you just busted one of your colleagues.”

“Sometimes I hate it that you’re smart. Did I ever tell you that?”

“You just saved my internship!”

“Please don’t say that. I will pretend that we just talked about the weather.”

“I’ll spend them the details. You’re the best, Frank.”

“Alright, go kick ass.”

And that she did. Franklin did save her internship, mainly because Millie avoided the specifics about who and why said something so harsh about the resigning Prime Minister. However, it definitely did spark interest among the production board. Afraid of not being so lucky next time, she decided to politely suggest a replacement for her permanent internship division within BBC, due to her ‘personal discomfort with discussions over issues of such importance and potential shame to their glorious country.’

Millie felt bad for using her boyfriend’s knowledge for survival at work. She wasn’t genuine and her idea didn’t come from her hard work - it was sourced in fear and anxiety-driven reactions. This situation proved to her that she wasn’t fit for the position, but it also raised her stress levels around the fact that she couldn’t get by on her own in the industry. She didn’t want others to navigate her through it all, but the conversation she had with Frank had also made her uncomfortable. Her need of support in a stressful situation was primarily turned down, so—naturally to her character—she started to worry even more.

With a heavy heart and two bags of Wagamama takeout, she walked up the stairs to his apartment. She was usually working until later hours than Frank, so all she really needed was for him to open the door for her. She leaned on the doorframe as she waited patiently for the two turns of the lock. He opened still in his work attire – tailored jeans and a light grey button up shirt. He was holding his phone next to his ear and humming approvingly to the speaker when he looked her up and down. He winked at her and let her in, as he continued to talk with someone.

Inside, Millie found the TV turned on with a football game playing. His work jacket was still hanging on the back of the tall stool in the kitchen, and the grocery bags laid unpacked on the table. She took off her shoes and made her way to the kitchen, where she made a little room for their food on the countertop. Pulling off her sweater, she peeked into the shopping bags – she wasn’t surprised to find a couple bottles of beer and food essentials, a multipack of tissues and a large box of condoms.

“What’s all this, babe?” Franklin came up to her and briefly kissed her on the lips, before looking into the boxes with deliciously smelling food.

“I just thought it might be nice to eat some goodies,” She smiled, trying to sniff out his mood first. He smiled back at her with approval and reached for the plates in the cupboard, so she continued, “also, it’s a ‘thank you for being my saviour today,’ kinda thing.”

“Ah, yeah. I bet everyone on my floor will hate BBC’s guts for that.” Frank said it so casually, with a shrug to follow up, that Millie struggled to understand the dynamic he had at The Guardian. He seemed to be a great fit for his team, because a week into his new job, he was already invited for Friday drinks and talked about his co-workers just like anyone would about their long-time friends. She couldn’t understand how was he getting so lucky at any step, but the last thing she wanted to do is doubt him. Any time worries and competitiveness clouded her brain, Millie was making extra room for compassion and support.

Frank unloaded some of the curry on his plate and started eating with a fork, and then made his way to the living room where he spread out on the sofa. He didn’t say anything else, somewhat scaring Millie that he will let her know he’s uncomfortable randomly, on a promisingly good day. Trying to figure out her brain, she followed his actions and took some extra food to the coffee table, before sitting down next to him.

“But you’re not gonna get into trouble for that, are you?” she was biting the inside of her cheek hard, definitely not used to not being judged for using someone else’s help.

“Nah, I don’t think so. They don’t know I’ve got a girl at BBC, so I should be just fine.”

Millie ate her curry in silence, suddenly at loss of words driven by his surprising statement. She didn’t want to raise an argument or seem overly sensitive. But for some reason she hoped that he would talk about her at work, especially considering his already formed strong bonds in the office, and a definitely higher success rate in his position. Ever so charming Franklin, he always glowed among people. She couldn’t really fight with this, so she just kept any comments to herself and focused on her food.

Frank switched the channel to the evening news and pulled her to his side once they were done eating. It comforted Millie to know that at the end of the day, they could both enjoy each other’s company, no matter what was happening at work. She didn’t pay much attention to the news, but rather focused on the way he reacted to it and what he enjoyed. She felt too tired to get invested in another load of politics, so she just soaked in his warmth and curled more into his side. He smelled of coffee and heavy, musky cologne that he liked to reapply frequently. Millie closed her eyes and breathed out the stress that weighed her down after a long day, finally finding peace.

“I’ll go grab a beer, you want one?” he abruptly stood up, making her slightly loose her balance and lean back towards the pillows. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips in a thin line.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“You sure? You’re awfully quiet today.” He spoke already from the kitchen, not even catching a glimpse of her pursed lips.

“I just need to wind down. It’s been stressful day.” She pushed a little smile on her cheeks as he came back with a frown. He took a few large sips of his drink and put it on the table, before lowering himself on the couch and leaning over Millie.

“I can help you relax, if you want.” He raised an eyebrow in a flirtatious manner, leaning into her and leaving a series of delicate kisses on her lips. He then moved onto her jaw and sucked on her skin, but never left a mark. Slowly massaging her waist, he slid his hand under her shirt and sprawled his fingers across her hip to pull her closer.

Millie enjoyed the warmth that started to spread through her body, but she couldn’t find any energy to give some of it back. She felt drained and exhausted, so a mere thought about participating in sexual activities was sure to make her at least slightly uncomfortable. Unless Frank was willing to change something about it.

“Okay, hold on,” her chuckle and a light push at his chest made him narrow his eyebrows in confusion, “I don’t think I’ve got enough energy today, Frankie.” Her whisper was followed by a reassuring smile. She weaved her fingers through his short hair and kissed the tip of his nose.

“What if I provide you with some energy first?”

“What, you’ll give me an energy drink?” She laughed at her poor joke and he chuckled, too, but more at her silliness than anything else. He laid her down comfortably and cautiously peppered her with kisses on her neck and the tiny bit of cleavage that was available without unbuttoning her shirt. She was slowly giving in, allowing him to get lower on her body and touch her. Frank either wanted to make her feel better, or was really horny. But whatever the case was, she didn’t want to stop him and ruin his enthusiasm. The glow in his eyes and admiration painted across his face were too intoxicating to back away. His touch was filled with sparks of emotions and a kind of drive that Millie was addicted to. She felt wanted and needed, and that’s what made her return the heated kisses despite her hooded, weary eyes.

They walked hand in hand through the chilly evening, sometime after she persuaded Frank to walk her to the nearest tube station. The wind was slightly tickling her neck, but other than that she felt at peace. She let her hair down, flowing gently with each blow of the air and lightly caressing her face like a safety blanket. They swayed their hands until they had to make room for a group of people passing by.

“Jane texted me about a little get together this Friday,” She mumbled into the night, trying not to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere around them.

“Ah, yeah. Aaron told me about it, too. I guess we’re going, right?”

“Yeah, it might be nice. The girls mentioned this new club near their apartment? I think that’s where they wanted to go.”

“Cool. I could use a little break.”

As they continued their walk, Millie mostly focused on leading the way through tight London streets. Franklin’s parents rented him an apartment in the city centre, close to everything you could dream of in London. It also meant crowded streets at any hour, so to have a nice walk around the neighbourhood usually requested it to be late at night. But it didn’t matter to him, as long as he had a short commute to the office and all other things that life requested from him, within reach. There were times when he would mention coming back to Manchester and supporting his parents at their law firm, but Millie saw how much he preferred his growing career as a journalist. Mathilda and William were a generous couple, so they shared their resources with him and tried to help him get into the business as smoothly as possible. Sometimes she wanted to ask him about his permanent position at The Guardian and whether his name had anything to do with it, but she never felt comfortable enough to do it. Some things were better left unspoken.

Reaching the staircase to the station, Franklin stopped and made her turn to him and look up at his smiling face.

“Thanks for coming over tonight. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too.” She smiled shyly, nodding her head in reassurance.

“I wish you could finally move to the city, though. It would be so much easier if you were a few blocks away.”

“You do realize that even if I moved out, it wouldn’t be anywhere nearby?” Her chuckle resonated through her body, almost as if she wanted to humour herself at the topic that had started to come up more often in their conversations.

“I could ask around the office if anyone has a room available to rent.”

“But I don’t want to share my personal space with strangers, you know this. Don’t try to change my mind about it.” She smiled tightly.

Frank has been trying to persuade her into moving out for months. He wanted to be closer to her, within a short train journey, rather than a whole commute in and out of Kingston. He felt comfortable in the business of London, and Millie liked to call him out on being spoiled by having an apartment on his own in such a lively part of the city. But she wasn’t financially ready to leave her family home in equally comfortable Southwest London, where she had all she needed within her reach, and her social life was just a tiny bit longer train trip away. It was a source of their small disputes from time to time, because it was Millie who spent more time on going to his place and spending time there. Naturally, it made her feel more engaged in their relationship and Frank tried his best make up for the difference. But one thing that never occurred, was Millie staying over for longer than a night. Even a night’s sleepover was a rare event, somehow always blessed by excuses from either one of them.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he pecked her lips and brushed her cheek with his thumb. “I talk about it out of concern, okay?”

“Okay. But I like my train rides and I like Kingston. So let’s just deal with it for now, yeah?”

“’Course,” He sent her a tight smile before giving her one last kiss. “Text me when you get home.”

“Will do.”

Millie was one of those people who could be easily judged as thinkers. Years of taking trains and buses in and out of central London taught her to cherish every moment of peace she gets during her journeys. That’s how she learned to create playlists for each season – summer commutes were always different than autumn ones; they required different sounds and lyrical quality. Intense months during university semesters also showed her how to read fast between the stops and how to juggle standing on the tube and holding an open book without falling, as the train slowed and rushed every few seconds.

As she was approaching her station in Kingston, she stopped the music but kept her earphones in. A bunch of other people was hurrying to get out of the train and get home as soon as possible, but after leaving the station, she would have a lonely 15-minute walk to her neighbourhood, so she always tried to stay alert in the evenings. Getting on the sidewalk in the busiest area of Kingston, she closed her book and put it back in her backpack, pulled the jacket tighter around her middle and continued her steady walk.

The air was getting crispier with each minute outside. It was refreshing and calm, disturbed only by a few laughs from the pub across the street and two cars passing her by. She turned into one of the quieter streets, where the buildings were becoming shorter and more separated from each other. Brick fences and trimmed hedges adorned the concrete sidewalks on both sides of the street, illuminated only by a few lanterns. Most of the light was coming from the windows in a row of semi-detached houses that Millie has known for a good chunk of her life.

Right when she wanted to cross the street and take a right, she heard a subtle clicking of a dog collar and a leash. Soft padding from the back was slowly approaching her and becoming louder, as well as someone’s whistle.

“Tess, come here!” a hushed call didn’t disrupt the peace of the night, but rather added the familiarity that Millie adored. She slowed her walk and turned around, just in time to be met with lightly jogging blue Staffordshire Bull Terrier. She panted lightly with her tongue out and reached Millie’s legs, where she tucked her head and mewled timidly.

“Oh, and who do we have here?” Millie chuckled at the dog’s persistence in keeping close. She scratched her head and patted her on the back, “are you on your evening walk, Tessa? Is that right?”

“We didn’t mean to scare you, Millie,” Dominic reached them and sent Millie a kind and apologetic smile, “good evening.”

“Hi, it’s good to see you.” She beamed at the middle-aged man, whom she learned to adore like a family member.

“Likewise, yeah. Heading home?”

“I am, just got off the train.”

“We will keep you company, then. Is that alright?” He fixed his glasses and leaned down to attach the leash to Tessa’s collar. Millie’s insides warmed and her mind calmed down at the idea that she will get to spend a few minutes with a friend.

“Absolutely, thank you.”

“Ah, don’t mention it. I bet Tom would have my head, hadn’t I offered,” they chuckled at the mention of his son. Their laughter died off comfortably and escaped into the night air, while Millie reminisced about the caring nature of the Hollands. “How is it going at BBC?” he asked after a moment, letting her go first through a narrow passage.

“It’s… going,” she smiled shyly, not sure how to dress up her words. In Dominic’s company she always felt one step behind in her creative skills; his writing and comic abilities exceeded her capabilities, or so she thought. “but I feel like I’ve definitely hit an end with politics. I know it’s only been a month, but it’s just… it keeps on proving that I should be writing about something else.”

“Oh, it’s totally understandable. Rest assured, you’re not the only one stuck like this,” They turned the corner onto her street. “but I wish you luck there. They have some sensible editors, so I assume you’ll get a chance at something else as well.”

“I hope so. Today I asked them about switching departments and the intern manager told me she will think about it, so there is a tiny light.”

“Something will always work out. You’re smart, you’ll find your way there.”

Dom and Millie continued down the sidewalk, until Tessa stopped near the gate to Millie’s house. She sniffed the pavement and turned back to the girl who crouched down to pet the Staffy one last time.

“Thanks for walking with me,” her smile was genuine, coming straight from her heart. “please say hi to Nikki and the boys. Is Sam still home?”

“He is, he starts his practice at the end of June. So, we all will be here to celebrate your birthdays.”

“Oh, that’s great! It’s been a while since we’ve all been together.”

“That’s true. But you’re welcome to stop by anytime.”

“I know, thank you.” With fondness painted across her face, she scratched Tessa’s ear and stood up straight, reaching for the keys in her pocket.

“Have a good night.”

“You too. Bye, Tess!”

Whenever she got the chance to interact with someone from their family, Millie instantly felt their love and care penetrate her straight to the core. It was this kind of relationship that had been built through the years, only making it stronger and bringing it closer to the concept of family.

Nikki, Dom’s wife and Anna, Millie’s mother met shortly before Millie and Tom were born. At first only neighbours, soon they became best friends to the point of engaging their families in a kind affair. Greetings at the doorstep turned into late night family dinners and weekends away with the kids. They were used to spending most of the birthdays and holidays together, especially when Millie and Tom’s birthdays two days apart brought them all closer. She raced her best friend in Anna’s womb and came out to this world right before the brown-haired boy. Ever since the Beavers celebrated the birth of their third and youngest daughter, the Hollands began their journey with four boys. They always stayed close and treated each other like family, deeming it necessary to nourish their friendship and turn it into something everlasting. The example of their parents taught Millie and Tom to mimic the closeness and made them create their own little world.

Millie’s older sisters also treated Tom, Harry, Sam and Paddy like brothers, but not as much as Millie did. Samantha and Liz were already grown toddlers when the families got together, so they figured more as the female patrons of their youngest sister and her adventures with the boys. But Millie and Tom’s friendship turned into something so effortless and harmless that no supervision was necessary. They were each other’s partners in crime, best friends from next door. Their mothers had signed them up for the same dance classes, helped them get to the same summer carnivals, and let them have late nights in makeshift dens. Millie was one of the first people their dog, Tessa, got familiar with. She missed him dearly when he started his journey as a young actor, but Nikki made sure he always made the time to call his best friend when the time zones were somewhat cooperating. They nurtured their friendship through Millie’s education and Tom’s career, not stopping even for a moment. He was there for her always, carrying her home when she scratched her knee after falling off the slings. She would help him with homework whenever he felt too embarrassed to ask his parents. Tom escorted her home from her disaster of a prom; he was the first one to understand her anxiety and help her through it. And Millie always read the books and scripts Tom needed to prepare for auditions. Just like that, they always found home in one another.

Their house smelled of baking and freshly watered plants. As quietly as possible, Millie took off her shoes and tip-toed into the kitchen, turning on only the least invasive, small lights. She put down her backpack and lightly stretched, letting out a tired, yet content breath. Her eyes scanned the kitchen in search for the source of the sweet scent, and there it was, on a cooling rack in the corner, covered with a tea towel – fresh lemon sponge cake, the favourite of Millie’s mother. Lightly dusted with powdered sugar, it added an extra layer of sweet comfort to the late night’s atmosphere. She left the cake untouched, but put the kettle on to quickly make herself a cup of tea for a good night’s sleep. She let out an overwhelming yawn and rested her hips on the side of the countertop, patiently waiting for the water to boil.

She felt her phone vibrate in the back pocket of her jeans. The brightness of the screen was almost blinding, until it adjusted to the low lighting in the room. She could feel the anticipation growing in the back of her head as she noticed a new message.

(Tom) I got you something today

After a second or two, a picture loaded under the message. Millie gasped and smiled like mad, when he showed her a pair of Minnie Mouse sequin ears. It was an artefact that Millie has always dreamt of, not having an opportunity to go to Disneyland ever in her childhood. She awaited the chance with high hopes and wandering mind, but she knew the trip had to be thorough, well-planned, and wholesomely happy.

(Me) You were in Disneyland????

(Tom) yeah we did promo for spidey today

(Me) I’m so jealous rn

(Me) THANK YOU FOR THE EARS!!!!!

(Tom) it’s alright

(Tom) I didn’t get any weird looks at all

(Tom) Just casually carried around this shiny sparkling beauty

(Me) I bet you loved this feeling

(Me) I bet you bought yourself a pair too

(Tom) Don’t tell anyone

(Me) You could always pretend they’re for Tessa

(Me) I just saw her and your Dad btw

Whenever her and Tom texted, it always sparked a never-ending conversation about sweet nothings. They mocked each other, talked about their days, spoke about all things home. It allowed them a safe space from their daily hustles; Millie was able to breathe lightly and happily, and Tom had a chance to detach from the world he desperately tried not to drown in.

Almost spilling the tea, she slowly made it upstairs without losing the sight of her phone screen. She struggled to turn off the lights in the corridor without making a noise but somehow, she managed not to disturb her parents too much, as she reached her bedroom. Safe within her own little space, she put down the mug and let go of her backpack and jacket. She threw herself on the softest bedspread and waited patiently for Tom’s reply.

The text bubble stopped and a massage didn’t appear, but her phone started ringing. Millie answered the FaceTime call and waited for the camera on his phone to adjust and show his familiar face.

“I had a meeting with Disney and they want me to participate in one of their projects for a Marvel-themed ride at Disneyland,” from a crooked angle she could see his neatly gelled hair and uneven eyebrows. Tom was walking somewhere, but then sat down and perched his phone on the mug that stood on the coffee table, so that she could see him better.

“That’s exciting, right?”

“Oh, yeah!” She could see him rummage in a brown paper bag and pull out a box with some takeaway food. “But I’m telling you this because we could turn it into our Disneyland trip that you’ve wanted, right?”

“That would be nice, yeah.” She smiled back at the screen, but a terrible yawn sneaked in to her expression. Tom scrunched his forehead and took a large sip from a bottle of water.

“I didn’t wake you up now, did I?”

“No, I just came back home. I am tired, though.”

“Yeah? How was work?”

“Stressful and not nice. It wasn’t a good day.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Wanna talk about it?”

Tom spent the next minutes carefully listening to her words and trying not to spill his soup on his fresh clothes. He hummed to some of the stories and asked little intrusive questions, to get the whole picture. She kept rubbing at her eyes and stifling her yawns every now and then, at last making a mess of her mascara and getting it all over her skin. Despite the seriousness in her voice, Tom smiled fondly to himself at the view of her ruined face that probably mimicked her current mental state. It wasn’t something he should laugh about, but it was rather endearing to have her so comfortably sharing her lows with him, while he casually ate his lukewarm, very late lunch.

“Why are you laughing at me?” She returned his smile, knowing it was probably something she did.

“You made yourself look like panda.” He chewed on a chunk of chicken from his second plate. The wrinkles by his eyes deepened with each of her chuckles and proved to them that this is the lightness they need in their daily routines. “Well, it’s good you asked for a new placement. You should be comfortable in your work environment. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” she yawned again and stopped herself mid-rubbing her eye again, earning a wholesome, groggy laugh from her friend, “your dad thinks they will give me another chance.”

“I mean, he knows some people there, so he probably has a point.”

“Yeah, I just don’t want to get my hopes up too high, you know?” A comfortable silence rested between them after he nodded and continued munching on his food. Millie stood up from her bed and took the phone with her, but also started to slowly get ready for the night.

“You will know when the moment feels right and shows you something worth a shot. Trust yourself, Mills.”

“I guess…” she trailed off, making her way to the closet to find fresh pyjamas. “I’m glad my panda face entertained your… what is it, lunch break?”

“Sort of, yeah,” he chuckled, enjoying the playfulness of her tired self, “I should be coming back in two weeks. We could hang out then, if you’ll have the time.”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Alright, I’ll let you rest. Text me anytime, yeah?”

“I will. Thanks for the Minnie ears!”

“You got it, Minnie Mouse. Sweet dreams.”

* * *

After her little mishap with Politics Live, Millie tried her best to keep up the hard work, but stay low. She tried not to focus too much attention and just assist other workers in their tasks, only coming up with ideas when necessary. She strived to come back to her public voice, but she knew she needed it to have a comfortable outlet, preferably in another setting and on different topics. She was greeting the intern manager with additional caution and kindness, trying her best not to leave her case forgotten.

Segregating files for the research team seemed to be the best solution to her temporary creative break. Her attention to detail and wholesome care about the task being done to its full potential came in handy. She volunteered to help the group of meticulously scribbling and researching men in keeping their documents in order.

The soft mumble of the radio in the background was interrupted by a guy named Tim. He always wore rock band t-shirts under his jackets and Millie swore she had seen him participate in a wild dance routine during the last year’s Glastonbury Festival. He stopped typing on his keyboard and started to quietly hum a song that was definitely different to what Scott Mills was announcing on Radio 1.

“Oh my God, do you guys know this song? I can’t get it out of my head!” he groaned in frustration, making a few people in the open space office chuckle.

“Do you know any words, maestro?” Millie’s head snapped up at the sound of Kim, the intern manager’s voice. She was passing by with a bunch of files and a coffee, before she perched herself on his desk, obviously making fun of her friend.

“It’s got this very cool, mariachi-like trumpet between the lines,” he mimicked a trumpet player and hummed some more, “and the guy sings something about stopping a feeling…”

“Justin Timberlake?”

“You know he’s not my jam, Kim! It’s an old-school song.”

“You’re the old-school one here.” Kim’s comment earned a couple more laughs at poor Tim, who was genuinely struggling. “you’re the researcher, have you googled it?”

“Of course I googled it, stop mocking me! People are watching.”

Their little light-hearted exchange brought a breezy atmosphere to the office and made Millie smile some more. She kept on looking up at Tim to check if he’s found the song he was looking for, but without luck. Her fingertips started to tingle with each swipe through the pages in a file, because she felt like she knew the song. Deciding to come against her decision to lay low, she gently cleared her throat and swallowed her nerves of speaking up in a new environment.

“Hey Tim, have you tried to find it on Spotify?” they both looked at Millie with playful smiles, as anyone would to the up and coming intern fresh out of university.

“I don’t think it’s the title of the song, so I won’t find it there.”

“But you actually could,” she offered, biting her lip nervously “since the recent update, you can now type in the lyrics into the search bar and the results will show you all licensed songs with the same or similar lyrics.” Tim instantly reached for his phone and started typing away.

“Oh really? I didn’t know that, let’s see…” Kim looked into his phone and watched his progress.

“And since you’ve remembered a catchy verse, it’s very possible that others also tried to find this song through the same words. So, it will probably come up within the first few results.”

“Alright, smarty.” He shook his head in amusement. Millie watched as Kim’s face got ridden of any emotion and just stared at Tim’s work.

“But if nothing comes up, you can always try ‘Hooked on a Feeling’ by Blue Swede.”

Millie waited with racing heart at their reactions. Tim clicked on one of the results and raised the volume, filling the room with a sound so familiar to Millie’s memory. She smiled shyly and internally patted herself on the back, before coming back to her task.

“How did you know this song?” His triumphant smile was radiating, as he did a little dance in his seat and twirled on his rolling chair. “It’s such an old tune, I didn’t think your generation would know it!”

“Yeah Millie, how did you know?” Kim encouraged his question and watched her carefully, almost as if she was studying her intern.

“It’s in the soundtrack to Guardians of the Galaxy. I wrote a paper on it.”

“Hm.” Kim’s unreadable expression was giving Millie chills, but in a positive way. She liked to be asked about things that interested her and prompted her to be creative, so the way this situation evolved was close to burst her heart into passionate flames. “I’ll ask the Radio managers if they want a music and pop culture geek, how’s that sound?”

It sounded like Millie put the trust in herself at the right time.

****

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