#I’d like to cancel my membership please | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thrillridesz · 4 years

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love hotline ▫ younghoon

➳ pairing: younghoon x reader ➳ genre: fluff, slight angst ➳ word count: 4.2k ➳ requested?: no

a/n: this is written as a birthday special for tbz’s one and only bread boy >< i’ve made this a little different from how I usually write my fics so I guess I’m experimenting? do let me know what you guys think of this writing style ^^

also this is so late omfg and his bday is almost over but here goes!

edit: successfully edited!

Love Hotline! This is y/n, how can I help you?

Hello?

Hi, is there anything I can help you with?

Um, yes. Is this the number to call to sign up?

Yes, it is! Are you looking to sign up for a membership?

Yes.

Great! Could I get your name and age?

There was a hesitant pause on the other end before the guy spoke up again.

My name is Kim Younghoon, 23 this year.

Ah ok, awesome. I’ll just need your number now so I can send you a link to our online form to fill up or do you want us to use this number you’re currently using? We’ll try to get in touch with you with your match within 3 days!

3 days? That quick?

Yes! We try to be as efficient as possible to ensure client satisfaction.

Ah… I see. You can just use this number that I’m calling with.

Alright! Give me a moment.

Ok.

I’ve just sent the link, did you receive it?

...Yes. Yes, I have.

Great, do you have any other questions?

No. Not at the moment, no.

Alright so I’ll end the call here? If you have any other questions, you can feel free to call again.

Ok. Bye.

Goodbye!

Hello?

Hello! This is y/n again from Love Hotline, I’m here to inquire about the online form you’ve yet to submit? Do you wish to withdraw your application?

Oh… Um… No, I’m just thinking about it.

Hmm, why’s that?

…. I’ve never dabbled in the online dating scene before. I’m just a little nervous and apprehensive about the whole thing I guess.

Ah! That’s completely understandable. All I can say is, it’s always worth a shot. No pressure at all in applying. If you’re ultimately not comfortable with it, you can always drop us another call and we’ll cancel it for you.

Really? You’d do that?

Of course.

I…. Ok, thank you. I’ll try to come to a decision by tonight.

That’s completely fine. Thank you so much! Have a lovely day ahead.

H-Hello?

Hello, this is y/n from Love Hotline. Is this a bad time?

*muffled sounds*

Um no, it isn’t. Sorry, I just woke up.

Oh! I’m really sorry, did I disturb you?

N...No, you didn’t. Don’t worry about it.

Um, ok.

A short moment of silence.

Is there a reason why you’re calling?

Oh, yes! There is, I’m sorry I was just a tad distracted.

You don’t have to apologise but go on anyways.

Right… Based on the information and preferences you have indicated on your form, I think we’ve found a few good matches for you!

Is that so? Tell me about them.

Ok, our first match’s name is Yeh Shuhua and she is 20 this year. She is also a first year criminal law student! Some of her hobbies include acting and singing.

Criminal law student?

There was a hint of surprise and awe in Younghoon’s voice.

Yup! Pretty cool, no?

I suppose so…

Don’t make up your mind just yet! I’ve got two other matches! Next up, we have Park Sooyoung who also goes by Joy. She’s a 23 year old florist who works for her family’s flower shop business. She has also mentioned that one of her dreams would be to travel all over the world.

Oh, that’s interesting… Does that mean flowers won’t work on Valentine’s anymore?

There was soft laughter from the other end of the line at his comment.

Maybe? Is that going to be a setback?

... I don’t know. Probably.

You’re funny, Mr Kim.

Please just call me Younghoon. Mr Kim makes me feel old.

Ah, alright then! You can just call me y/n then.

Sure.

Are you ready for your third match?

Yeah, go off.

Ok, so last but not least… Your third match is Jang Yeeun. 22 and a current freelance graphic designer. She claims to be vegetarian but doesn’t mind if her partner isn’t one.

Vegetarian? That’s a commitment I don’t think I could ever make.

Same here, honestly but hey! More props to her.

Right.

There is soft laughter in the background from Younghoon’s end of the line but it is barely audible.

So? Has any of these 3 ladies caught your eye, or should I say ear so far?

I… I’m not sure. Is that all the information?

Hm, I could send you a little excerpt of their profiles if you’d like?

That would be great, thanks.

Alright, hang on a minute.

Rustling sounds as the phone is placed aside. A short moment passes before Younghoon hears a crash followed by a yell.

… Hello?

Silence.

Is everything ok?

The silence continues and Younghoon contemplates hanging up and just calling another day. He is about to do so until he hears your voice.

Hi, hi! Sorry if you’ve been waiting long!

Is everything alright? I thought I heard a crash.

Ah, yeah. That was nothing! I had to go retrieve a few files, just to double check some stuff before I send it over! I guess I wasn’t looking when I rounded the corner because I ran smack into someone. It was carelessness on my part, really. I really should look where I’m going.

Oh, are you ok?

Yeah! I’m ok, thank you for asking.

No problem. Was just wondering. It seemed like a pretty nasty crash.

Oh um… Kind of, yeah.

Kind of?

Well… That person was holding a cup of hot coffee and it spilled all over so...

Hot coffee? Did you get scalded?

Um… Yeah, I did.

That must have hurt a lot! You should really apply some ointment on the burn.

I will! Thank you so much for your concern, Younghoon. I’ll send the profiles to you and get to that immediately after?

You can send me the profiles later. I can wait but your hand can’t.

There was a pause before you replied.

Ok.

Anyone could have heard the smile in your voice.

Hello?

Hello, this is y/n from Love-

I know who you are. You don't have to keep reintroducing yourself.

Ah, ok alright. Figures. Sorry, it’s just a habit at this point.

It’s no problem.

Right, I’m just here to check in anyways! Have you decided on which match to call?

Not really.

Why not?!

... Was there a deadline that I’m not aware of?

Oh no, there isn’t. I’m just surprised. It’s been about 3 days since we last talked over the phone about your matches. I just thought you’d have picked someone by now.

It’s not exactly a priority of mine.

There was a pause before he continued.

How’s your hand?

It’s much better! Thank you for asking, I’ve just been applying medical cream to it regularly so right now, it swells a little less.

That’s great to hear then.

Yup.

A short moment of awkward silence ensued.

I hope you don’t mind if I ask you this but... Why did you sign up for the Love Hotline?

Hm? Why do you ask?

Well... You said finding and making a match isn’t a priority of yours so that got me wondering. Most people would have made their decision relatively quickly and taking 3 days to reply is almost unheard of in the office.

... I don’t know. Now that you’ve put it that way, I’ve got no idea why I’ve signed up either.

Not even the slightest clue?

Not really.

A pause.

I think I was just bored.

You gave a snort which you quickly masked with a cough.

I heard that.

Younghoon’s voice was accusatory, almost even a little playful but not aggressive.

I mean, joining because you’re bored? Not going to lie, that’s a first.

Oh nice. For once in my life, I’m first at something. Thanks, y/n.

A melodious laughter rang out from the other end of the line.

How are you still single with humour like that?

I’ll take that as a compliment. Truth be told, I have no clue. If I knew, I wouldn’t be single.

That's true. Oh yeah, you still haven’t told me who you have chosen to call!

Do I have to make a decision now?

Preferably? The faster you do, the faster we can get this match under way.

... I’ll just let you make the decision for me then.

What? Why me?

The incredulity in your voice was clear as day at his words.

Since I can’t make a decision and you need me to choose a match, why don’t you do it for me?

I can’t for the simple fact that my boss will have my neck if it ever got out that I chose for a client.

Well, your boss doesn’t have to know that. It’s going to be between us anyways. If you don’t tell and I don’t tell, who’s going to know?

Well... It’s just weird. I’ve never been asked to do this.

Hm, there’s a first for everything. I trust your decision.

Really?

Yeah, why not?

There was another pause.

Just don’t betray that trust.

You chuckle.

I won’t because I’m not going to choose for you. How hard can it be to just make a decision? These are all great matches!

Precisely because they’re great matches, I can’t choose.

You're impossible.

Thanks.

Younghoon, I’m just doing my job here.

Isn’t your job to accede to your client’s requests?

That was a tone of mischief in his voice.

Oh my god. I don’t even know how you look like but I’m sure you’d look like a proper asshole.

Wow, language. Is that the way you speak to your clients? Can I speak to your manager please?

You laugh and Younghoon smiles.

You are incorrigible.

You’re too cute.

There is a short pause as the two of you registered what he just said. Flustered, he scrambles to say something.

I-I... T-That didn't mean a-anything. I was j-just saying-

That didn't mean anything? I’m hurt.

You giggle and he stops mid-sentence.

What?

I’m just messing with you, I know that didn’t mean anything. I call people cute all the time too, especially my neighbour’s dog.

Right...

So anyways! Pick a match!

No.

Please?

Just pick one for me. Client’s orders.

Fine, I’ll pick a horrible match for you.

I’d call your manager then.

I hate you.

I know.

Ugh, ok fine but this is the first and last time I’m doing this.

I’ll take it.

Great, I’ll talk to you soon then! Keep being annoying, bye.

Sure, I will. See you.

The call ends on a light note and Younghoon stares at his phone. What is this fluttery feeling in his heart?

Hey, y/n.

Oh, you recognise this number now?

Yeah, I have a decent memory for stuff like that.

Nice.

So to what do I deserve this honour of you calling?

Don’t be dramatic. I was just calling to ask about your call date. How was it?

Younghoon grins at your lighthearted reply.

I’m surprised you chose Joy.

Really? If I remembered correctly, you were the one who told me to choose a match for you.

I did but I don’t know why. I’m still surprised.

Maybe you should pick a match yourself next time so you can be a little less surprised? But that’s beside the point! How did the call date go?

It was not bad, actually. She seems pretty cool.

Right? See, I’ve got an ear for perfect matches. I know my matches when I hear them. I’m amazing.

Yeah, yeah. I guess we can expect a call from the Prime Minister any time now.

Stop being sarcastic and just admit that your matchmaker is capable and excellent at her job.

No, shan’t.

You are horrible. I get you a match and I don’t even get my thanks.

Well, fine. Thank you.

That’s better. Good boy.

Don’t call me that, I’m not your dog.

So you’d prefer good man?

At your reply, Younghoon nearly spat out the water he was drinking.

That's so weird!

Exactly.

Call me neither!

Fine, fine. I was just kidding anyways.

There was a distant call from the other end of the line and from the other end, Younghoon could vaguely hear your name being called. He felt his heart sink a little despite himself.

Oops, duty calls. I’d love to talk more but I’ve got a meeting. I’ll catch up more with you some other day?

Sure. Bye.

Bye!

Hey, Younghoon. Wow, this is new. You’re calling me first this time.

Yeah, hey. I just wanted to call to inform you that the match with Joy fell through. I’m going to need a new one.

What?! Why?

You screeched and he had to hold the phone away from his ear.

Geez, don’t screech into the phone.

Sorry, I’m just shocked. Why’s that? Didn’t you say she wasn’t bad?

Yeah, she isn’t bad. Just not my type.

What’s your type then?

The next word was out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

You.

There was a long pause and somehow Younghoon couldn’t bring himself to say the words that bit at the back of his mind. ‘Just kidding’, because subconsciously was he really kidding though?

Quit horsing around.

You laugh awkwardly and he frowns. This wasn’t what he expected.

Y/n...

Stop clowning. I know your antics, you-

Before you could say anything else, someone else called for you in the office.

Oh, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you next time? Also stop being a clown, it doesn’t suit you. See you!

Y/n, I-

Call ended.

“...Meant that,” Younghoon mumbled to himself.

Hello, this is y/n from Love Hotline. How can I help you?

Stop it.

Isn’t that what you always say?

Well, excuse me for following company policy.

I was just teasing you. Why have you called anyways?

What do you think?

My common sense says you’ve called to inquire about my call date with Shuhua.

Your common sense is right. So, how did it go?

It went fine, I guess?

Fine, you guess? What kind of an answer is that?

A perfectly reasonable one. You wanted an answer, I gave you an answer.

This guy...

You groan in frustration and Younghoon had to stifle his urge to laugh. Teasing you was becoming a hobby for him.

C’mon, cut me some slack here.

It went fine. We didn’t really talk about much.

Ok, so what exactly is ‘didn’t really talk about much’? You gotta work with me here, bud.

Well, we got along fine for the most part but as far as chemistry goes, there wasn't really any?

Tell me about it.

We basically talked about our day and ourselves and I think that was about it.

Are you serious?

I don’t get paid for lying to you, y/n. Of course, I’m serious.

That doesn’t sound like much.

That’s what a conversation lacking in chemistry sounds like.

How do you know there’s no chemistry as you say?

Your tone was indignant and internally, Younghoon felt a twinge of disappointment in his heart. Were you so bent on making it work between him and Joy first and now Shuhua?

Why are you so determined to get me and Shuhua to work as a match?

I’m sorry?

There was surprise in your voice.

Well, I mean... It’s my job. I’m a matchmaker, of course I have to make sure my matches match. The faster, the better.

Right.

Yeah, so how do you know there’s no chemistry or no chance between the two of you?

I guess we just didn't have much to say beyond the basics? At one point, it was beginning to feel forced.

Really?

Yeah, no point continuing something that’s forced.

Are you sure it wasn’t just awkward first ‘date’ jitters?

Younghoon couldn’t keep away the frustration in his voice as he replied, feeling weirdly angered for some reasons.

No. It wasn't.

A pause.

Are you alright?

Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?

You sound like you’re mad at something.

Do I?

Yeah. You do.

Ok, then I guess I am.

You want to tell me what’s going-

I like you.

Another pause.

What?

I said I like you.

You’re kidding.

You start to laugh but it died down as soon as he replied.

I’m not.

But... Why?

It’s just you. I don’t know why but talking to you has always been comfortable. Remember when we talked chemistry? We have that chemistry. It just came out of nowhere.

A-Are you drunk?

Younghoon felt anger course through his veins at your words.

Does it sound like I’m kidding?

...W-We can’t do this.

Why not?

... We just can’t. It’s company policy.

They don’t have to know!

I... I...

Realisation suddenly dawns upon him.

You feel the same, don’t you?

I...

If you feel the same, why do you keep pushing me on call dates?

I couldn’t...

There was desperation in his voice as he cried.

You can, they don’t-

I can’t.

He felt his blood run cold.

Why?

I need this job, Younghoon. I can’t lose this job. If they find out that I’m dating a client, I’m done for. I’ll be fired.

You could-

I can’t look for another job.

I’ll help you look for one.

It doesn’t work that way.

There was tone of sadness in your voice.

This is the only job I’ve found that manages to pay my bills. I can’t lose it. I need this job. This job is something I got because of my mom’s connections and if I lose it, I’ll be disappointing not just my company but also my mom. My mom worked hard to allow me to work here. We were never well off and my mom worked her guts off as a salon assistant assisting the rich. It was through years of work and making connection did she become friends with the owner of Love Hotline who also happens to be my boss now. I can’t embarrass her like this.

Y/n...

What are you doing?

A sharp voice that wasn’t y/n’s interrupted and even though he wasn’t where you were, he knew in his heart that something had gone wrong but before he could say anything, the line went dead.

Call ended.

A week and a half passes without any calls. Younghoon grows more worried by the day. Did something bad happen? Ever since that last call, there wasn’t a single word from you at all until one night. It was approximately 2am at night when the phone rang. Grunting in annoyance at whoever is calling at this time of night, he reached out and answered the call.

Hello, who’s this?

Hey, Younghoon.

At the sound of your voice, he perked up and he was immediately alert even though it was about 2am in the morning.

How’s it going? You haven't called in awhile. And whose number is this?

It’s my personal number.

There was light sniffling and immediately, Younghoon’s happy mood disappeared.

Hey, what’s wrong?

N-Nothing...

I can hear you crying. Tell me what happened.

I... I... Nevermind. It’s stupid. I should never have called you. This is so extremely unprofessional of me, let’s just forget I called you. Bye.

Wait, y/n! Don’t!

Call ended.

The number you’ve dialled is not available at the moment. Please try again later.

Younghoon:

hey y/n, are you ok? i tried calling so many times but you wouldn’t pick up

if you see this, pls reply. i’m worried for you

if you need someone to talk to, call me anytime

pls

don’t just ignore this, i want to help

Y/N:

I’m fine. I just need some time to myself

Younghoon:

ok. i understand. pls don’t hesitate to msg me. know that im here for you.

Y/N:

ok thanks

The number you’ve dialled is not available at the moment. Please try again later.

The day was bright and sunny as the sun bore down relentlessly on the earth. There was a slight summer breeze in the air which Younghoon would have normally loved but this time, it did nothing to uplift his mood. All he could do was stare listlessly at his phone, awaiting a call from a certain someone.

It’s crazy how the last time the both of you spoke was almost 2 weeks ago. To him, 2 weeks was an awfully long time and internally, he missed listening to your voice. There was always something so cheery and enchanting about your voice from the very first call the both of you shared even though he’d never admit it. The worry in him hadn’t dulled in those 2 weeks as he mulled over your whereabouts and wellbeing. The last time you two talked, you had been crying and in a depressive mood. Not being able to do anything killed him on the inside and as he entered a nearby café he frequented, the smell of bread which was usually his favourite scent in the world that would always bring him a sense of comfort did nothing to sooth his nerves.

As Younghoon stood before the cashier, he said absent-mindedly as he reached for his wallet, “I’ll have the cheese toast.”

“Ok, that will be eight fifty.”

Younghoon stiffened. That voice...

“Y/n?”

At your name, your head snapped up and your eyes widened as you made eye contact with the man in front of you. He had chestnut brown hair that fell in soft bangs over his eyes but not in an unkempt way. His dark eyes were large and soulful, seemingly containing whole galaxies in them and his demeanour was gentle yet firm. He was tall as well so you had to slightly crane your neck just to look at him. Although you had never met this man, there was something so deeply familiar about him.

Younghoon could hardly believe his eyes. Here you were, right in front of him and you were every bit as beautiful as he imagined. He felt his heart pounded rapidly against his chest as he stood transfixed. It was awhile before he managed to get a grip and slowly, he said, “We need to talk.”

As the two of you sat down over coffee after your shift, he peered at you with a look of concern on his face.

“What happened?” His voice was soft as you had remembered and immediately, you felt at ease.

“Well, long story short. I got fired.”

His eyes widened.

“From Love Hotline.”

‘B-But... How?”

You took a small sip of your latte. “Remember when I had to hang up abruptly in the office?”

He nodded his head, dread creeping in. Surely...

“That was the day I got fired.”

Younghoon felt his heart fall with a messy splat. This was all his fault.

“I... I can’t tell you how sorry I am, y/n. I-”

You placed a finger on his lips and you had to try your best to ignore the burning feeling on your finger at the feel of his soft lips.

“Don’t. Don’t apologise because it’s not your fault.”

“But I-”

“I think deep down everyone knew that I was falling.”

Younghoon stared at you with a blank look on his face, his eyes shining with an indescribable emotion.

“Falling?”

You smiled to yourself.

“You probably don’t know this but remember when you told me you liked me?”

He looked at you curiously and you continued, “Do you have any idea how happy yet conflicted that made me? I knew I’d lose my job but I knew that I liked you as well. I wanted so desperately to accept your feelings but I couldn't. I feel like my colleagues had already known about my affections towards you given the way I’d talk to you in the office. Someone must have told on me, I guess I was too obvious about it. That night when I called you at 2am, it was possibly the worst night of my life. I had felt so lost and hopeless that I didn’t know what to do. But then, I thought of you and this is so cheesy but... I felt like you were the only one I could turn to although I chickened out before I could say anything... I didn't want to burden you.”

You chuckled sadly and Younghoon reached out to grasp your hands in his. The feeling of his large hands on you was so heartwarming that you felt like you could cry.

Drawing in a deep breath, you said, “I get it if you don’t want me anymore because of how long I had ig-”

“Don’t say another word.” Younghoon breathed.

He reached his hand over to cup your face and caressed you as the both of you stared deep into each other’s eyes. To think that such a deep bond can be forged between the two of you over a series of phone calls felt almost surreal. If you had told him even 6 months ago that he’d meet you, the love of his life over something as tacky as Love Hotline, he wouldn’t have believed you but as he brought your face closer to his, he knew that there was nothing he’d trade in the world for you when his lips came into contact with yours.

“You’ll never be a burden to me,” he whispered. “You are everything that I always wanted and everything I never knew I needed.”

415 notes · View notes

cielcius · 3 years

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FANBOY | BAKUGOU KATSUKI

pairings: Bakugou x famous!g/n!reader

summary: It’s not like he secretly loves you or anything, he’s just going to your concert because his friends begged him to.

genre: crack, fluff

wc: 1.3k

notes & warnings: cursing, reader is an idol

“No. Absolutely not. I’m not wasting seventy bucks on each of you to buy a damn shirt.” Kaminari and Sero broke out their puppy eyes, courtesy of Kirishima, in an attempt to hoax Bakugou into buying the shirts. “Please? We already spent most of our money just buying the tickets, including yours.” Now came the pout, although it did little to nothing to persuade the pale blond.

The rapid fire of the word please from the duo only went as far to annoy Bakugou but Kaminari knew that was their chance. Dragging out the last word, Bakugou snapped like Kaminari knew he would. “Fine, just shut the fuck up and get in line.” Going to a concert on a Tuesday night was not on Bakugou’s itinerary and he wouldn’t have budged had it not been for the performer.

Y/n L/n. Super pop star carving their path in the world of fame through their killer vocals. As a very angsty teen who couldn’t bear to listen to anything except bands like My Chemical Romance or Bring Me The Horizon, or wear anything but black, he was surprised to find a connection to your music. Of course it was still a little too upbeat for his taste but you always seemed to use it as a mask to hide what you were truly saying.

For Bakugou, your music and words brought reassurance and confidence, two very important factors in his life. But was he ever going to tell anybody this? No. Even if he did have the chance to tell you, which he does since the tickets included backstage passes, he would never spill a single thing.

Pulling his hoodie up over his head even further, Bakugou was sure to look suspicious, clad in all black with a large duffel bag that actually held all of Kaminari and Sero’s snacks. “Which one do you want, idiots? You have fifteen seconds to choose.” Bakugou was being considerate, and Kaminari could tell or else they would have originally had only five seconds.

Sero and Kaminari shared a look and pointed to the most expensive sweater Bakugou had ever laid his eyes on. “You said a shirt, not a fucking two hundred dollar sweater.” The number seventy and two hundred were very different as Bakugou begrudgingly paid the vendor. He could’ve renewed his gym membership with that money.

“Hurry! They’re about to go on stage!” Bakugou was left behind by the pair with the bag of snacks as he watched Kaminari and Sero split up to find their assigned seats. Bakugou was positive that he would be the only one sitting down as the whole crowd rose to their feet to cheer you on.

The booming of your voice was almost overridden by the crowd in screams of excitement as you walked out on stage. Being back in your hometown, you had a special place for each and every person who came to see you, even if you didn’t know most of them. You smiled because little did they know, you had a special surprise for them in store.

You started off with the first song you had released, slowly working up to your latest song. Although before the last tune of the night could play, you stopped the band behind you so you could have a moment with the crowd. “Hey, everybody! How are you tonight?” The screams must have been deafening as you adjusted your earpiece.

“So, I thought that since this is where it all started, thanks to you guys, I’d give you a little treat and bring some of you up to talk.” As predicted, the crowd went wild. Thanks to your announcement, Bakugou had sunken even further into his seat, the noise canceling headphones blocking pieces of the context of why the whole crowd was cheering.

“Oh my god, oh my god, Bakugou! You have to record this for us!” Bakugou was only given five seconds before Kaminari and Sero shuffled out of their seats and onto the stage where you had called them up. Bakugou only grumbled to himself as he hit the record button on Kaminari’s phone and held it up, pushing back the headphones so he could hear what was actually going on.

“Hi, what are your names?” Your voice was as cheery as ever as you held out a microphone in front of the honey blond. “I-it’s Kaminari Denki.” Kaminari seemed nervous but he was shaking in ecstasy. Sero went to introduce himself, without stuttering, and you made small conversation with ice breakers with them along with more selected individuals.

“Thank you everybody and good night!” The cold air nipped your steaming hot skin as you tried to regain your breath after singing your last song. You calculated that you had about fifteen minutes to rest before the people with backstage passes would be let in. Walking to your dressing room, you hurried to change into a more casual wear compared to your stage outfit.

“L/n! Five minutes until the backstage meeting!” You thanked the stage hand, now relaxing on the couch with a bottle of water in hand. Meanwhile, the honey blond and licorice black haired boys stood excitedly in line with their grumpy companion standing behind them. “You just met them earlier, how can you still be so excited?”

But even Bakugou was excited. The little jumbled ball of nerves deep down in his stomach that had formed at the beginning of the night, was starting to show itself through the way Bakugou tapped his foot in anticipation and the tapping of his finger against his thigh. He could hear the people behind him whispering about how you looked good in your stage outfit. Silently agreeing, Bakugou held his breath as he watched you walk out in a more casual attire.

Yeah, you looked good in your stage outfit but to be fair, you looked good in anything to Bakugou. The line slowly started moving forwards and Bakugou couldn’t tell which he felt more, nervous to meet you in person for the first time or annoyed because of Sero and Kaminari’s squealing. “Oh, hello! Kaminari and Sero right?” Bakugou stood back, a little away from the three as multiple questions were fired into your atmosphere.

Bakugou could tell that you were getting a little overwhelmed with the way your smile was slowly starting to look forced so to help you out, he obligated himself to bonk the pair on their heads. “Hurry up and take the damn picture.” You smiled at Bakugou, a little glad that he was there to save you. That, and he was majorly cute. Trying his best to hide his burning ears, Bakugou turned away as your smile turned a little shy at the gesture.

After taking a few pictures with the pair, you noticed the third addition to the party was starting to walk off until you pulled him back. “Wait! Don’t you want a picture?” Bakugou stood there, astonished that you had pulled him back with your hands still wrapped around his wrists. “Uh, I don’t know. I’m not really, a picture person.” You waved off his grumbling and pulled out your puppy eyes.

This was the second time tonight he was shown the puppy eyes and the second time he gave in to something abnormal for him. The picture printed and you sneakily swiped at it before he could get a peek. “And may I ask who this is for?” You pulled out a black sharpie and pulled it open with the cap still captured between your teeth as you wrote. “Katsuki Bakugou.”

You smirked, scribbling a little extra before handing him the picture and capping the sharpie. “Nice to meet you, Katsuki Bakugou.” Bakugou risked a peek down at the picture and caught a chain of numbers along with a small message. ‘Talk later?’ Looking back up, you were already greeting the next group of people and got ready for the picture until you made eye contact again. You shoot him a small wink, assuming from the look on his face that he saw what you wrote.

‘Cute.’

Extra:

“Hey, Bakugou! You haven’t come out of your room the entire day— OH MY GOD WHAT IS Y/N L/N DOING IN YOUR ROOM AHH!”

“Shut the fuck up, Dunce face.”

#tea stained letters 🍵#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugō #bnha bakugou #bnha #bnha fanfiction #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha #mha x reader #mha bakugou #mha imagines

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captainsourwolf · 2 years

Text

I’d like to cancel my membership to adulthood please and thanks

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whentherewerebicycles · 3 years

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You seem to be really amazing at executing planned changes with food and exercise (and also generally better psychological habits) - can i ask for advice on this? I’ve finished up studying for now and realise my body has turned into a twisted up, pudgy, weakened wreck! Exercise hurts and sugar/processed food feels so cosy and I can’t seem to get through this part where i have to feel discomfort for a while before i feel better!

What works for you? Should i read that atomic habits book you mention? I saw another one recommended - the Kindness Habit - do you know anything about it?

(I tried journaling btw - but it didn’t get me anywhere)

hello!! i can share some things that have worked for me when it comes to implementing longer-term changes in diet and exercise. these seem really simple but i think that actually making big lifestyle changes is much less about summoning up colossal amounts of willpower and much more about making small but important tweaks to the way you think about/approach diet and exercise. here are five things that have been helpful to me.

(1) don’t think of diet changes in terms of restrictions (i.e., “what delicious cozy sugary things do i have to deprive myself of today to be Good”). instead, approach diet changes as a fun little game of adding in as many good things as possible (fruits, veggies, leafy green things, nuts of all kinds, whole grains, beans, etc.). every single time you are preparing a meal or looking for a snack, describe it to yourself as a chance to be creative and resourceful, as you think about fun ways to add in small good things every time you eat. especially in the early weeks, don’t restrict foods from your diet at all. focus solely on finding a creative way to add in something healthy and delicious every time you eat. (i really liked using the daily dozen checklist when i was starting out—they have an app and it’s very satisfying and fun to see how many things you can check off the list each day.)

(2) narrate this “adding-in” game aloud to yourself. for example: “oh—what if i eat a big handful of berries on top of that ice cream?”, or “i’m hungry—ooh, there are carrots in the fridge, aren’t there? i’ll eat three carrots with hummus before i switch over to pita chips”). and every time you figure out a creative way to add in a good food, stop and observe yourself doing it, and let yourself feel a little spark of delight at how clever and creative you’re being. this sounds silly, but i swear it works! part of changing your habits is changing self-talk & especially changing the kind of running narrative you have in your head about who you are and what you do. you can change that narrative in part by repeatedly reframing the way you tell it to yourself, ideally aloud (or aloud in your head) to help you can better “hear” and internalize the new story. instead of “ugh... i ate ice cream again. why don’t i have any self-control? why am i someone who just eats like crap?”, you’re offering your brain an alternate story, one that focuses less on things you perceive yourself as lacking, or on things you ‘failed’ to do, and more on the creative, positive things you did do (“i wasn’t going to eat any fruit today, but wasn’t it great that i remembered we had those frozen berries in the fridge? that’s pretty creative and resourceful of me, and plus it’s a good way to use up something i’d forgotten i even had”).

the “noticing and feeling delighted” part is just as important. to successfully change a habit, you need to find creative ways to make the new habit pleasurable in and of itself. the more pleasure you feel when you do it, the more self-reinforcing the habit itself becomes. you might not experience eating healthy foods as intensely pleasurable (at least at first, especially if you are comparing them with the intense brain-hacking pleasure that super sugary foods give us). so don’t try! instead, focus on making the choice a source of pleasure and delight. "look at how clever i was! look at how creative i can be! look at what a good choice i made! look at how good i am at this game of adding in!” that act of stopping, narrating, and letting yourself feel genuinely pleased with what you’ve just done makes the choice to add something in pleasurable, which in turn can help fuel your sense that this isn’t about having iron willpower or about cruelly depriving yourself of delicious things, but is about playing a fun little game with yourself, creating little challenges or puzzles for yourself throughout the day and then giving yourself positive reinforcement when you figure them out.

(3) manage your environment to set yourself up for success. to paraphrase the atomic habits book: the people who seem to have the best willpower are the people who have to exercise it the least. and they have to exercise it the least because they’ve very effectively managed their environment, arranging things so that the desired choices are easy and “frictionless,” while the undesired choices or habits are more inconvenient or introduce more friction (it’s harder to get to them).

the easy starter version of this (from atomic habits): put the things you want to eat in highly visible places and/or in appealing arrangements, and put the things you don't want to eat in places that aren't visible or that are inconvenient to access. ice cream goes in the very back of the fridge, buried behind all the other stuff. nuts go in a bowl on your desk so that you can idly snack on them while you work. apples and bananas go in a big brightly colored bowl right on the counter, so that every time you pass through the kitchen your eyes are drawn to them. chips go in the bottom cupboard, the one below eye level that you don't use very often, and when you get them out you pour some into a bowl and put them right back in there (instead of leaving the bag out on the counter). make the choice you want to make easy, and make the choice you don't want to make harder to get to.

eventually, the most effective way of managing your environment is just to exercise total control over what comes into your own living space. for me, if i don’t want to eat it, i don’t have it in the house. i typically also place a curbside delivery grocery order so that i don’t have to go into the store—anything that comes into my house is something i made a deliberate choice about ordering, not something i wandered by a shelf and added to my cart because i wanted a treat. something i’ve learned about myself over the years that moderation is just not in my vocabulary—i’m an all-or-nothing person, and it’s SO much easier for me to just not have stuff i don’t want to eat in the house. no ice cream in the house. no alcohol in the house. no fried things, no chips, no candy, etc etc. if someone kindly brings me baked goods that i did not ask for, i genuinely appreciate the gesture, but as soon as they leave i give them to my next door neighbor or dump them in the trash. (SORRY TO PEOPLE WHO BAKE FOR ME!) if it's in the house i'll eat it. if it's not, i won't, and i also won't miss it.

i did do this pretty gradually at first, though! when i switched to a primarily whole food plant-based diet, i focused on playing the adding-in game for a couple weeks, and then when i started getting competitive about it i decided to use my grocery order as a way of creatively boosting my fruit/veggie/etc consumption even more, and in the process i started winnowing out things that took away chances to add in a good thing. i would say it took about three or four weeks to get to my personal ideal state of Nope I Don't Have It In The House.

it takes time, but i’d say that within a month of having only things you want to eat in the house, your cravings will be gone, at least within your own managed environment (going to restaurants or traveling DOES require you to exercise willpower, but there are ways to prepare for this in advance). the good news, though, is that 6-8 months or so of eating like this usually brings with it such improved sleep, mood, energy levels, skin, hair, GI function, etc etc that you start to be like oh my GOD why would i want to eat that horrifying thing?? I KNOW HOW BAD IT MAKES ME FEEL!! I WANT TO POWER MY BODY WITH PLANTS!!!!! in other words, the pleasurable side effects of eating well becomes positively reinforcing in its own right, while the negative effects you experience when you reintroduce sugar or fried things tends to reinforce the idea that those foods Feel Bad.

(4) it's not exercise, it's movement. i too used to hate exercise and found it extremely painful and tedious and horrible. so instead of exercising i just started moving. i canceled my membership at the local dog bar, where i had been taking my dog almost every day to let him run off excess energy, and started talking short walks with him twice a day instead. if you don’t have a dog, offer to walk your friends’ dogs—trust me they will lose their MINDS with joy lol. i think that starting to build in regular walks is the best way to get active again, because walking is typically quite pleasant and it becomes positively reinforcing to like, wave at the same neighbors every day, and see the cute kids next door running around, and notice all the ways that the trees and flowers are changing, and so on.

if you do not find being outside inherently pleasurable (sometimes i do not lol esp if i’m grumpy about having to walk the dog), tie another pleasurable activity to your daily walk. i listen to about six hours’ worth of hockey podcasts a week and i am only allowed to listen to them on my walks, so i end up looking forward to the walk because i’m desperate to hear people talk about My Guys. you can also walk with friends, or call a friend while you’re walking, which is even better than podcasts!! social walks are so much fun and go by so much more quickly. i started out just doing daily 15 min walks, and over the past couple years have built up to walking between 60-90 min a day when i’m at home. sometimes i hate/dread my walk; sometimes i love it and look forward to it. but regardless of how i’m feeling, i do it every day and if i miss it once, i don’t miss it a second time.

as far as activity goes, i think it’s totally ok to just be a person who walks a lot! but i’ve found that becoming someone who walked a lot helped change my own narrative of myself—I started to think of myself as a walker, an active person who moved a lot every day. and that made it easier to pick up other forms of activity too, or at least to adopt a curious, exploratory attitude towards other forms of movement. also once you start tracking your active minutes you tend to get quite competitive about it! or at least i do, lol. i keep a note on my phone where i write down the date + type of activity + total number of minutes I did after every burst of activity, then at the end of the week i add it all up and compare it to the previous weeks. it makes me want to do more, to beat my own numbers—or it makes me want to keep up a streak (like, if i have a five-week period where i’ve consistently hit a certain level of active minutes every week, i don’t want to break it!!).

my biggest suggestion for exercise, though, is to figure out what kinds of things you enjoy and what kinds of things you don’t, and then to spend all your time doing things you like. i HATE structured fitness classes and workout videos. i hate them so much!!!!!!!! but i love being outside, i love doing solo activities (as opposed to group workouts), and i love doing any form of movement that doesn’t feel like a Planned Workout, capital w. also becoming a hockey fan got me really interested in skating, so i picked up rollerblades and found that to be amazingly fun too (something i can do outside AND something that feels like gliding around effortlessly AND something that makes me feel closer to My Favorite Guys!!!!). you may not have passionate feelings about hockey fandom as i do, but i think it’s really just about being creative—finding a creative way to link something you don’t love to something you do love, or find pleasurable, so that you can start forging those positive associations.

i spent my first couple years of being more active just walking walking walking, and then this past year during the pandemic when i really ramped up my movement i added in longer walks, hikes, and rollerblading, and i also looked for ways to “habit-stack,” ie attaching an activity i don’t much care for (running; exercise biking indoors; doing squats and lunges) to one i do enjoy (i take my tennis shoes when i go skating and then go for a run immediately afterwards, before i have time to talk myself out of it). there are still all kinds of things i don’t do—i really don’t love strength training + bodyweight exercises yet, and i hate stretching even though I Know I Should, and i know that if i want to get stronger and faster, or build up my endurance, i will eventually need to introduce some element of structured training into my daily movement.

BUT the idea of making those changes seems kind of cool to me now, instead of Horrifying and Dread-Inducing! i feel like all the positive associations i’ve forged have made me more curious and open to ideas i would’ve resisted with my whole being not all that long ago. i found a way to make movement pleasurable, and then (thanks to sports fandom + my tendency to go down research rabbitholes) i found a way to get myself intellectually and emotionally engaged in the general concept of being a highly active person. for me, that combination of real pleasure + intellectual/emotional stimulation is what i personally need to build & maintain good habits.

(also, just shoehorning this in at the end because i like it: the “it’s movement, not exercise” mindset shift was also really helpful to me because it stopped me from thinking of exercise as like, this highly structured, regimented, torturous thing you forced yourself through for a set period of time each day, and helped me instead think of movement as something that humans are designed to do & to naturally enjoy. instead of Forcing Myself to Exercise, i looked for more natural-feeling forms of movement that didn’t feel so artificially divided from my “real life.” i think that helped with reframing my self-narrative, too! it made being active feel more integrated into my daily life, which in turn made it easier to think of myself as an active person, someone for whom movement was just a normal part of daily life and not a thing i had to psych myself up to do every day.)

(5) it takes time to build good habits, but not nearly as much time as you might think, and eventually you stop thinking about how long you’ve been doing something and you just start enjoying it (ie it becomes a genuine change in your lifestyle/thinking, not an artificial thing you have to work hard every day to maintain).

i am not yet AN ATHLETE and may never be, but i often remind myself that it took me a little under 30 years to build up a PROFOUND aversion to exercise, so it’s actually kind of miraculous that in just two years i’ve become someone who genuinely, earnestly, enthusiastically enjoys being active and feels antsy/weird/restless when i can’t get out of the house and move. every small stride i’ve made has strengthened my trust in myself and helped me reframe the narrative i tell myself about what kind of person i am and what i do/don’t do. every time i do the thing (whether it’s exercising or making a delicious healthy dinner) & happily notice myself doing it, i reaffirm to myself that i’m the kind of person who takes care of my body and mind by eating well and spending lots of time moving outside. (as a side benefit, when i spend a lot of time happily noticing things and speaking encouragingly to myself, i also reaffirm to myself that i am a happy person who treats myself kindly and who is always eagerly seeking out experiences that feel joyful and life-affirming.)

plus, the more often you do something, the more opportunities you have to have positive experiences while doing it! not every walk is AMAZING, LIFE-CHANGING, DEEPLY FULFILLING, but like, if i am walking seven days a week, that’s seven opportunities for something cool or fun to happen on a walk (not to mention seven opportunities to reap all the physiological & emotional well-being benefits of exercise!!). and if i am really conscious and intentional about noticing and actively delighting in those positive experiences, i help wire in those positive associations more deeply, and my brain/body increasingly comes to associate movement with happiness, joy, and fulfillment. as the habit of being more active becomes fulfilling in and of itself, i don’t have to expend as much energy tricking or cajoling or bribing myself into doing it.

i hope this helps!! i am literally always happy to write extremely long essays in respond to simple anon questions, lol, so if you want to talk more about your own ideas for building better habits please do share!! i can also rec you specific books that i’ve found really useful—both for just like, helping me figure out how to make big changes, and also for providing that intellectual stimulation that gets me more engaged in wanting to eat well & be more active.

(also, on the extremely slim chance that you are also a hockey fan: over in my fandom sphere, we are organizing a fun summer thing inspired by one of our fave hockey players, where we’ll be planning lots of fun fannish community things to get ourselves moving this summer. it’s going to be a good time!!)

#food #movement #mw

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bangtan-sonyeonddaeng · 4 years

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Jackson Scenario| He falls for you even though he doesn’t want to date until his contract ends

The first time Jackson saw you, he was walking into the gym at the same time you were leaving and he almost ran into you. He apologized, giving you a sweet smile which you gladly returned and assured him it was okay. You walked out of the gym in a daze, fully processing the fact that you had literally ran into Jackson Wang, someone you were quite familiar with as you listened to his group’s music for quite some time now. You didn’t react. Just took the small blessing you were given and hoped to maybe see him again.

The second time you two saw each other, it was quite late at night. He wanted to avoid being seen and had gone after midnight. You were the only one at the gym when he arrived, and you were loudly playing your music, and he heard you singing along just as loud.

“Oh when you call my name..” You were singing along to their newest song and even set the weights down and started doing their little hip shimmy they did in the choreography. He laughed and placed his hand over his mouth, not wanting to alert you to his presence. But he found you quite adorable. He snuck into the locker room to change, and by the time he came out you were gone again. Jackson vowed that the next time he saw you he was going to talk to you.

A week later it was the middle of the night again, but this time he was already there when you walked in. He spotted you and smiled at you, and you smiled back offering a small wave. You went to the locker room to set your stuff down, and splash some cold water on your face to settle your nerves.

“It’s alright y/n. It’s just Jackson. He’s friendly, harmless. He doesn’t know you’re a fan just breathe.” You gave yourself a pep talk before walking out of the room and into the gym to lift. Jackson had been jogging on the treadmill, away from where the weights were which you were thankful for.

He was watching you put the weights on the barbell. There’s no way. He thought to himself as he saw how much weight you were putting on there. When you lifted it his jaw hit the floor, and whoops so did he. He was so distracted he lost his footing on the treadmill and fell right off. You immediately dropped the weight and ran over to him.

“Oh my god are you okay?!” Jackson rolls onto his stomach and hides his face in his arms and groans loudly. He mumbles something but you can’t make out what he had said.

“What did you say? Are you really okay should I call an ambulance?” He lifts his head up and looks quite dejected.

“Only thing that is hurt is my pride. Just leave me here on the floor to suffer in silence please.” His head flops back down and he feels you gently pat him on the back.

“Hey, there there. It’s okay. It’s happened to all of us at some point.” He rolls over onto his back and looks up at you. He takes in your features and he scolds himself for not realizing just how beautiful you were before.

“You’ve made an idiot of yourself in front of a gorgeous person and fallen off a treadmill too because you were too distracted by them?” Your mouth hangs open in surprise for a moment but you quickly shut it and collect yourself.

“Uh not quite no. But I did fall off an elliptical once because I was jamming too hard to a song I liked. Tried to do the choreography and completely forgot I was on a piece of exercise equipment and fell right off in front of a ton of people. I cancelled my membership the next day. I was too embarrassed to go back. That’s why I come to this gym now.” Jackson looks at you for a moment before he bursts out laughing. You’ve always loved the sound of his laugh and can’t help but join him. If anyone walked in right now they would find the sight quite silly. Him laying on his back staring up at the ceiling shaking with laughter as you are sat on the floor doing the same.

“What’s your name by the way?”

“It’s y/n.” He sits up and holds his hand out to you.

“Well it’s nice to meet you.”

“Don’t I get to know your name too?”

“You’re really going to pretend like you don’t know who I am when you were humming Just Right when you walked in here?” Your face turns bright red. You did have a habit of singing and humming songs without realizing it. “And plus I saw your little dance you did to our new song the other day.” You hide your face in your hands.

“I am so sorry! I am so incredibly embarrassed. I swear I won’t tell anyone you come here and I won't tell anyone we met either.”

“Hey don’t be! I actually thought it was really cute. And I trust you. If you were going to say something you would have already.” You drop your hands away from your face.

“You think I’m cute?”

“I mean yeah. I told you that I thought you were gorgeous a little bit ago, remember?” You’re blushing now which just makes him fawn over you even more. “So this may be a little sudden or may seem odd to you but.. I’d really like to be take you on a date? You seem really funny and sweet and trustworthy and those are all things that are really important to me.” You stare at him incredulously.

“You really want to go out with me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Okay but, you’ve always said you didn’t want to date until your contract is over? What happened to that?” Jackson pulls out his phone and pretends to dial it.

“Hello! JYP! Yes this is Jackson Wang. I am hereby cancelling my contract so I can take this wonderful person out on a date... Okay? Great! Glad we’ve reached an understanding.” He slips the phone back in his pocket and you giggle at his antics. “See? Problem solved. No more contract.”

“Okay I know you didn’t really just cancel your contract so I am going to ask you again, are you sure? I don’t want to be the cause of a scandal for you or anything.”

“I am willing to make an exception to my rule for you. I won’t get in trouble if that’s what you’re worried about. We’re allowed to date, I just wanted to focus on my career but, well now I think I’ve found something else I want to focus on too.” He takes your hand and kisses the back of it, eyes shining with anticipation.

“Alright. I’ll go out on a date with you. One date! Just to see how it goes.” Jackson pumps his fist into the air and shouts happily.

“Okay! I’ll pick you up uh, well when are you free?”

“I am free this weekend.”

“Perfect! Saturday then? At say around 6:00?”

“That sounds perfect. Text me the details then later?” You hand him your phone so he can put his number in and he does the same for you.

“I should probably get going now. It’s getting pretty late.”

“Yeah same here. I’ll see you Saturday then?”

“Of course. I’ll see you.” You press a kiss to his cheek and head to the locker to grab your bag. When you exit the locker room Jackson is still frozen in place with his hand on his cheek over the spot where you kissed him. You chuckle and breeze past him and head out the door. Only to hear another shout. You turn around and see him dancing inside the gym and you burst out laughing. You can’t wait for Saturday and see what he has in store for you.

#got7 reaction #got7 reactions #got7 scenario #got7 scenarios #Got7 imagine #got7 imagines #got7 #Jackson wang #Jackson x reader #reader x jackson #Jackson scenario #Jackson imagine #Jackson reaction

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justjessame · 3 years

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Babysitting Butcher Chapter 9

Files, files, and more files. Billy and I worked through box after box as the days passed. We filled one notepad each, and then a second. We were on the third book each, and still have four boxes left. The dead files, as I called them internally, weren’t of much use other than to show how many babies, children, and adults died for Vought’s urge to create supes. The successful, but whereabouts unknown boxes were helpful in the sense that they offered the scope of how many supes were in mingling in the world without any way to trace them, but none of the files we’d gone through so far had proven fruitful in the quest to name our unknown spree killer.

The other files were successful and whereabouts known, and they were even less helpful. The names we’d found were ones that were easily verified. Through the supe pageants and Vought’s countrywide placement of supes in each state. Even without the chips that The Seven were given, and the other placed supes, the others tended to be known simply because a great deal of them craved attention.

I moved to open the next box, but Billy stopped me. “We’re not working through lunch, Ronnie.” He pulled me to my feet and smiled down at me. “Here or-” Shrugging to show that I didn’t have a preference he smiled. “Out, then.”

I was slipping into my shoes, rolling my eyes at his gaze focused on my toenails again. They were pale pink, I’d tried clear, white, purple, so I was giving this ‘natural’ one a try. So far, nothing forced his attention away. “I swear to God, one day I’ll find a color to make them boring to you.” He was chuckling as he led me to his car.

Over the course of our work, and our mealtimes, we took turns picking the take out or restaurants. Today was Billy’s turn and he pulled into a diner that may have made my mother pause and grab some sanitizer. I’d been here before, so I knew that looks were deceiving, because they had the best burgers in the city. And the fries? Don’t get me started.

Tucking into our meals, because I swear the owner could see us coming a mile away and it took no time to get our orders, Billy brought up a subject I’d just as soon forget.

“How many days til you go up on the block?” His eyes, as always, were locked on me. I groaned, and took a long drink.

“Three,” the auction was on Saturday. And trust me, I’d tried everything to get out of it, including calling the club and threatening to cancel my membership. Didn’t work, since the very smug and condescending woman who answered informed me that my parents paid my membership fees and would never stop. Fuck. “Hey,” I brightened up and smiled. “Why don’t you ‘accidentally’ shoot me?”

He snorted and spit a little of his own drink out thanks to my idea. “You always do that when I’m eating or drinking, Ronnie.” I handed him some napkins and he shook his head, but he was smiling. “I’m not gonna shoot you, even if there are days-”

“Oh, please,” I waved him off. “Our days aren’t anywhere near the irritating level they used to be, back when I wanted to throw my stapler at your head.” My tone sounded wistful and his eyes were twinkling. “Throw me a bone, Butcher, shoot me so I don’t have to go through with this archaic bullshit.”

Friday came too soon, and I would have worked through the entire day and into the next night if I could have. Sadly, Billy seemed to be working against my hopes. “Up you get,” he said, right on the dot of the time I’d usually quit. Fucking traitor. “You got to get beauty sleep so you get the highest dollar, right?” I flipped him off as I slipped into my heels. “Is that ladylike, Veronica?” It was the first time he’d used my full first name and the sound of it made my heart thump harder.

“Maybe if I’m not ladylike, they’ll kick me out,” I sounded breathless and sighed. “Then again, it might make me more alluring to these assholes.” He chuckled. “You could still shoot me.” Shaking his head, he led me out to my truck. He’d parked closer to me, as he started doing after the first week we worked together.

“Go, try to enjoy yourself, and for fuck’s sake, Ronnie, fetch the highest price would ya?” I rolled my eyes and he grinned. “Woman like you should get it easily.” And then he was walking away, still not saying goodbye.

The next evening I was putting the finishing touches on my hair and makeup when my phone rang. I knew who it was before I glanced at the screen, but it didn’t stop my sigh. “Yes, Mother?” I answered.

“Veronica, is that really how you answer the phone?” No, when it’s someone other than my mother, I’m polite, I thought. “We’re sending a car for you,” I started to protest but she cut me off. “That vehicle,” said in the same tone as one might ‘that dog turd’, “you drive is far too high up and I think a lady should exit a car with grace, not a jump.” My eyes were going to get stuck in the top of my head, I just fucking knew it. “Don’t rush, I just wanted you to know that the car will be there soon.”

“Duly noted, Mother.” I used the tip of my finger to wipe away a speck of mascara that dared to smear. “I’m almost ready anyway.”

“I do hope you chose a suitable dress, and please tell me your toenails are a normal color?” I glanced down at my toes, the polish bottle called it ‘mermaid green’, so normal for The Deep? “Especially if you plan on wearing open toed shoes.” I glanced at the strappy heels I’d chosen and grinned. “I’ll never understand-”

“If you don’t let me hang up, Mother, then I won’t make it within the required ‘decent’ arrival window.” She sighed, loud and long, but let me hang up. I rolled my shoulders and prayed against prayer that I would be one of the first on the block and that I could leave early.

A final look in the mirror once I had my shoes on confirmed that I looked presentable. The dress code for these things were always the same. Evening dresses, updos, and heels. Boring, boredom, bored. The dress I had on would make my mother sigh, but it looked good on me, and if I had to dress up then why not pick something flattering?

Held up by one thin strap, form fitting to the floor, with a slit showing ample leg (even if mine were short, they were toned). Black, because it was classic, and satin because I loved the way the fabric felt on my skin. The shoes I was happy to see, showcased the glittery green of my toenails. My makeup was only slightly more dramatic than I wore to work, my hair was twisted in contrasting waves into an updo. No jewelry, the dress needed no enhancement, but a small clutch with the usual necessities, including my house key, badge, office key fob, and cellphone.

The driver was waiting in my driveway, and he quickly opened the door for me while I locked up. And even with all the attention I put into my appearance, I really fucking hoped the evening would end quickly. Really truly, please.

The club. What could be said about it? Pretentious. That was one word for it. Filled to the brim with smug, condescending assholes with too much money and not enough empathy worked too, though a bit wordy. The driver got to stay behind the wheel as a valet rushed forward to open my door. Stepping carefully out, I sighed. This was going to be a long night, I just knew it.

John Alan Erickson was the highest bidder for my company during a meal that I was more than certain would be more torture than a root canal without anesthesia. He looked exactly how every other man who had won the bidding for me in the past, just a touch older than the ones that came before.

Tall, thin, wearing a well cut suit, and looking for all the world like a banker or something that would make my ears bleed as he inundated me with all the ins and outs of it during the meal I was now forced to share with him in the near future. I smiled through the introduction, knowing that I had at least two avid stalkers. My parents, standing just out of slapping range, watched as I nodded and smiled. Smile, nod, nod, smile. John didn’t need my active participation in the conversation, or monologue he was giving. I nearly danced out of my shoes when my cell phone rang loudly inside my clutch. Thank the fucking-

“Hello?” I answered, holding a single finger up to shush John who looked like he was going to tell me how rude I was to take a call during his speech. It was Billy Butcher and I felt like hugging him for telling me that I was needed at the office, pronto. “I’ll have to ask the driver my parents hired, but I should be there-”

“No need, Ronnie, I’m outside.” My smile grew. My fucking hero. “Tell those cunts that you have a prior engagement and get your ass outside.”

“I’ll be there in a moment.” I offered the slimmest of excuses to John and my parents who had come over to smooth his ruffled feathers. “Work calls.”

“Honestly, Veronica,” my mother admonished, but too bad. “Couldn’t you just-”

“No, I can’t.” I was firm. “I have to go, it was nice meeting you, John. Mother will give you my number so we can finalize dinner plans.” And then, without another word, I left.

I didn’t run, although it was a fucking close one, and seeing Billy Butcher waiting in a car that was making the valets take second looks at make my grin grow. I didn’t wait for the valet to make up his mind about the car, yanking open the passenger door and getting in, I told him to get me out of there.

#Billy Butcher x ofc #the boys #mention of smut #alternate universe

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ikenbar · 4 years

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Mr. Love: Ike’s Choice Pt 4

Warnings: Kiro fluff and neighbor angst (ok maybe not super angst but there is some tension lol) also sick burns. Also Cliffhangers :D

(Chapter One parts one, two, three, four, five, six, and seven here :))

((Please read the author’s note on part one if you’re new here :D)

Chapter one:

Part Four:

Finally reaching the door to my apartment, I slumped over in exhaustion. That day had been one of the worst of my life. It was one thing after another. And in the end, it might not even be worth the fight. At least my headache was gone.

“You look like a wreck.”

And it’s back.

I slowly turned my head to look at the person behind the voice. It was my neighbor. A tall, well-built man who was dressed in a white shirt, black jeans, and a light denim jacket. His chestnut bangs were swept wildly across his face, slightly obscuring his amber eyes. His hands were full of shopping bags. Four or five bags in each hand at least. He didn’t seem to mind the weight. Which meant one of two things; heavy things are a breeze to hold for him or, more believably, all he has in those bags are instant noodles because there was another sale. That was Gavin for you. Of course it was just my luck that the one day he had off from work was the worst day of my life.

“What happened? Did you miss your mouth?” Gavin asked in a tone that dripped mockery as he gestured to my shirt.

“I can’t miss what I wasn’t aiming for.” I replied through gritted teeth.

“... what?”

“At least I was productive today.” I blew off his questions to ask my own, “What about you, Mister. Two-Trips-Are-For-The-Weak? Did you only leave your cave because you were out of Cup ‘O Sodium?”

“Don’t get angry at me because you’re a workaholic.”

“Right, because making a living for myself is a problem.”

“The only problem here is your ability to relax. Oh, and your obvious drinking problem.” He stated, gesturing to the coffee stain yet again. Though, he obviously was not just referring to my shirt. I glared at him.

“You’re just angry because I can hold a beer better than you can.” I said, flipping through my keys, trying quickly to find the one that belonged to my apartment.

“Oh?” Gavin adjusted his stance slightly, “What makes you say that?”

“Well, suggesting my ongoing record of never being impaired in any capacity by alcohol, I’d say I am wAY more adapted to it then you are.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true!” I said simply, finally finding my apartment key, “You could say it’s my superpower!” I put the key in the lock, “You’re not the only one with super abilities, ya know.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah. We all know you have a special power, Gavin. You’re awful at hiding it.”

“...And just what kind of power do you think I have?”

“The power to be a major douche.” I pushed open my door, flipped him the bird, and walked into my apartment. I shut the door with a resounding Bang! but stayed and listened intently to the hallway. There was a moment of silence but then I heard the rustling of shopping bags as Gavin approached the door next to mine. After a few more moments I heard the door open with a creak and shut as he walked into his apartment. “Rotten cop.” I muttered under my breath as I switched on the lights to my room.

My apartment was no beauty to behold. It was a studio apartment with two floors and one bathroom. Nonetheless, I did what I could to make it homey. My living space contained a couch, two armchairs and an entertainment center that held more books than it did movies. A television sat in the middle of the entertainment center but it was only ever used to annoy Gavin with it’s loud stereo.

To the left of the living room was my kitchen. The kitchen was my favorite part of the apartment. I loved to cook. It relaxed me after a long day of being the tough manager. With cooking, I could be gentle and graceful in a way that still seemed strict. There was a precision and delicacy in cooking that was hard to find anywhere else. It was wonderful. My kitchen was small but the perfect fit for me. I had a four-burner stove and a beautifully marbled bar across from it, which had two stools neatly tucked under it. I had a beautiful fridge at the edge of the kitchen that was almost always empty. I liked buying things for dinner when I got back from the gym in the morning so that the ingredients were the freshest.

At the back of the kitchen was a large sink and cabinets that hung to the wall. The cabinets held most of my tools and utensils that I used in the kitchen except for one. That one held my bottles of scotch and whiskey. Though I hated to admit it, Gavin was right. Though he should mind his own business about it. Alcohol helped soothe my headache after a long day at work. It helped me forget about my problems. Both current and past. It helped me relax. He couldn’t understand that. He never would. I looked longingly at the cabinet. I could’ve really gone for a drink but I hated going to my foster parents house smelling like alcohol. It would just worry everyone there. So I had to refuse.

To the back of the room, there was a step that divided my bedroom from the rest of the apartment. A single bed sat towards the side wall closest to the kitchen and, across from that bed, was a bookshelf and a door leading to the bathroom. In front of the bed sat my gym bag that was used every day. Like cooking, exercising also gave me a sense of bliss. I wake up at an unnatural hour of the day to completely clear my mind and better myself. (Not to mention jam out to Kiro’s new music without anyone noticing.) Working out got me through my time in high school. After moving into my last foster parents house, they wanted to give me something that would be my own and a healthy way, besides therapy, to release my emotions. So, they signed me up for a gym membership. That’s where I found my love for Kiro. Where I found love for my family. Where I found my voice after three years of being selectively mute. It built my confidence in a way I could have never imagined. It made me stronger in ways most people wouldn’t understand. It made getting up at five in the morning worth every last minute of my life.

But the creme de la creme of the apartment was the windows on the very back wall but, more specifically, the fire escape. The opening to the fire escape left a small nook in the corner of the room. Which I loved to sit in and spend time to myself, watching the bustling of the city in front of me. Just to stop thinking about my own problems and start wondering what kind of problems those hurried people were having below me. Questioning whether they knew that someone was above them, watching over them, curious about how they lived. It was peaceful to me. Half of me wanted to cancel dinner at my Foster family’s house and people watch instead….. but I promised I would go. There is no turning back now.

Every inch of my apartment was a way for me to relax. Believe it or not, running a company where people hate you every day for being strict and wanting things to be done right was taxing. I needed to have a place where I could let my hair down and not have people yell at me for how long it was. I wanted my own space and I rarely had people over to my apartment because of that. Sure, I had the occasional family member visit, but I needed somewhere that I was certain that I could be myself. Where I wouldn’t be judged for who I was. Where I wasn’t given special treatment for my past. Where I wasn’t being bugged about what I could be doing better. Where I could just be me. And I thought I found it in that apartment… where I was alone.

I dropped my briefcase by the door and hung my keys up on the wall. I swiftly pulled off my shoes and replaced them with slippers before moving into my home. I pulled off my leather jacket and blazer in one continuous motion and threw them both on my couch. “I guess a shower is in order.” I muttered unbuttoning my shirt and heading to the bathroom. What I didn’t notice was something had flown out of the blazer and fluttered carefully to the ground.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I walked back into my bedroom quickly drying my hair with a towel. I rubbed my arm carefully. Thankfully, I had some aloe to ease the burns but I had better be careful of who I hugged that night. I looked down at my new outfit questionably. A white long-sleeved shirt and ripped blue jeans normally wouldn’t make me second guess anything but after today’s incident…. I grabbed a flannel from the dresser drawers under my windows and threw it on. That would have to do for now. I pulled my phone from my pocket and checked it for the umpteenth time since I had gotten home. No messages. Victor still hadn’t texted me. Sure, it was only five in the evening. He could still be working diligently but I could and should be a part of that work. I huffed and put my phone in my pocket. That man better not be doing this on purpose.

It was then when I caught a glimpse of something shining on the rug of my living space. I walked over to it and picked it up. It was Kiro’s business card. A soft warmth entered my cheeks. I can’t believe I had met him today. Of all days. When I was at my worst, he was there. Of course he was. That was just my luck…. Still. I turned the card over to reread his hurried handwriting.

Here’s my cell phone number! Just in case you want to avoid my agent :P

I had Kiro’s cell phone number. I can’t believe I had Kiro’s cell phone number. How lucky I must have been to have Kiro’s-... I had promised Victor the Kiro would be on my show. What if he gives me the funding? Would Krio have the time for me? What if he knew about me or my company and hates it? What if I offer him the job and he says no? What if he found out who I was and would never want to talk to me again? I mean, the only time my name was used outside of the office is when it’s a coworker complaining about how hard I am on them. What if he caught wind of that? What if he hates me…? There was only one way to answer these questions.

I took a deep breath and shakily pulled out my phone from my pocket again. After checking again for a message from Victor, still nothing, I opened the number pad and started dialing the number Kiro had written down. I brought the phone to my ear and regretted it immediately. What was I going to say?! Hey, this is the chick who saved you from that jerk earlier. I want you to do me a favor! And if you don’t, I could lose thousands of dollars and potentially my job. But hey! No pressure! I racked my brain for things to say when the call was picked up.

“Hello?”

The sound of his voice made every worry I had disappear. It didn’t matter what I said. He wouldn’t make me feel bad. He couldn’t make me feel bad. He’s Kiro!

“Hello, is this Kiro?”

“Yes, it is! Who is this?

“... Super Stranger.” I said this in a deeper voice as if I was masking my identity through the phone. Kiro gasped.

“Hey!! I was just thinking about you! Did you get to that call in time?” Kiro seemed genuinely excited to talk to me. The stress I held in my stomach returned. Now I was worried his excitement would be for not.

“Of course. I am a super hero after all.” I teased, trying to calm the storm in my stomach.

“Haha you got me there. So! Why are you calling? Is there a cat that needs saving from a tree??”

“Actually, a business. " I hesitated, "I… have a friend who is a producer at a well-known TV production company. The company can get massive funding on a new show but for that to happen, they need help with casting for it. Would you be interested?”

“Maybe…” Kiro sounded unsure, “What’s the company?”

“Ike ‘n Bar Productions.”

“What?! No way. You mean the same people who produced, Show me the Honey!? I love them! I’ve always wanted to be in one of their shows. Especially, The Pearl in her Eyes. They do such a great job with drama and tension. How do you know the producers?”

“... is that your way of getting me to reveal my secret identity?” I asked biting my tongue, “I’m just here to ask if you’re interested. And cashing in that favor you had given me.”

“Of course I’m interested! Any friend of Super Stranger is a friend to me! I’ll talk to my agent about my schedule and I’ll get back to you.”

“Why don’t I give you the producer’s extension instead? Your agent and… them can discuss details together.”

“Perfect! I’m ready when you are!”

I pulled out my wallet and pulled my business card from it. I read Kiro my work phone number and extension as he wrote it down from the other end.

“Great!” He excitedly giggled, “Then it’s a deal! So, tell me, am I going to be working alongside the great Super Stranger themselves?”

“You're really pushing to find my secret identity, huh?”

"I just want to know who I'm working with!"

I thought for a moment. "... if your manager says yes… then yes. You will see me on set. But that's a big 'if,' Kiro."

“Oh, don’t worry! He'll say yes! Remember, I owe you my life! Starring in a show doesn’t even begin to make up for it. Consider this part one of many transactions to pay off my debt to you.”

“Doing this will be enough. No need for anything else.”

“No way! You can't talk me out of this, Super Stranger! I am going to knock you off your feet the same way you did to me! I'll be the best sidekick you have ever seen. Just watch!"

"Sidekick?" My heart fluttered.

"Of course!" Kiro's excited tone faltered slightly, "... unless you wouldn't like-"

"No!" My words jumped from my stomach, "I… I would be honored to have a sidekick like you." My last sentence was said in the most courageous way I could muster.

"Then it's settled!" Kiro's tone became overly cheery again, "I am now the noble sidekick of Super Stranger! What would be my hero name?? Super Singer? Active actor? Oo! Or-"

“How about I come up with it.” I interrupted him.

“Really?” Kiro sounded unsure again.

“Of course! You came up with my name, right? So I’ll come up with yours.”

“Alright, SS!” Kiro’s excited tone returned, “I’m all ears!” I fell silent as I deeply considered choices. Should it have to do with his singing? His acting? His charismatic aura? People have said that just looking at him they fell in love with him. Maybe I could use that? I looked around the room for inspiration. My eyes fell on the clock on my stove. 5:20. I cursed.

“Well, I don't think that would be a name that parents would want their children to repeat.” Kiro teased.

"I need to get going." I reluctantly muttered, "I've got… hero business that I need to attend to."

"Anything I can help with?" Kiro asked hopefully.

"Not unless you can find a way for dinner to be illegal." I decided to be honest.

"Ah, I'm afraid there are things even I can't do.” Kiro sighed, “So, I’ll be working with you soon?”

“You can count on it.”

“Alright! And you’d better be thinking of a good hero name while you’re at your dinner! I’m counting on you, SS!”

“I’ll find one. Don’t worry.”

“Until next time, Super Stranger!”

“Good night… Sidekick.” I hung up the phone and then brought it to my lips as if to kiss it. I’ve got a superstar on my side for this show. Now I just need captain capitalist to give me his money…Captain Capitalist... An image of Victor dressed as a Villain made the corners of my mouth rise slightly. I'd have to tell Kiro. I opened my phone again right as a message popped onto my screen. It was from Bart.

We are having spaghetti tonight! Can't wait to hear your news!!

My stomach turned and my smile fell. Thinking of useless and trivial things was fun, but I had dinner with destiny… I hope destiny isn’t disappointed with me.

End of Part Four

(Next)

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xathia-89 · 5 years

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Our Little Girl Part 1

Tagging @plumpblueberry for encouraging this.

This part hints at NSFW, but it’s nothing explicit. So read as you want.

MidCin AU

Sasha wasn’t even sure how she’d ended up at the bar on a work night. She wasn’t one for attempting to socialise with her colleagues, while she glanced over at her rather drunken co-workers who were hitting the liquor and dance floor somewhat hard. A smile and she sipped at her fancy cocktail, a set of eyes were tracking her and burning into her as she turned back to the bar.

The bartender who was lingering nearby was definitely up Sasha’s street. Dark blue long hair, a cocky smirk and eyes that she could easily drown in as the man finished attending to another customer before approaching her.

“Could I convince you to drink a mystery cocktail?” His tone told her everything she needed to know, and Sasha was already squeezing her thighs together. She trailed her tongue over her lower lip, pretending to be thinking before giving him a seductive smile.

“Maybe you can,” she slowly replied, dropping her eyes back to her now empty glass and trailing her finger over the rim. “But I need to speak to Giles Christophe,” she smiled, the name a murmur off her lips and made the male freeze momentarily before he pressed a buzzer under the counter. Sasha thought nothing of it and watched with interest as the bartender began to mix her a unique drink. She assumed it was a bar speciality, like most places and designed to draw in the public as her co-workers left the bar in a cluster. She wasn’t missed, and it made her smile and relax before the glass was placed before her.

“Strange how they don’t seem to be missing you,” a new voice made Sasha jump, and send her empty glass flying as the bartender saved her fresh cocktail from joining the same fate.

A hand to her chest and the woman was trying to not let the situation get the better of her. “You certainly know how to make yourself know,” she replied, turning around to face the owner of the voice. A handsome man that knew how to read people, his eyes were roaming her face, and there was a spark of recognition, while the bartender was cleaning up the mess from the broken glass.

“I understand you asked for me,” a business tone now, as they shook hands.

“Sasha Crawford,” her surname made the bartender tense and glare at his colleague from behind her back. “We spoke a couple of days ago. Please accept my apologies for not advising sooner I would be here, the circumstances were beyond my control,” as the woman was already getting her purse out. “I assume you are Giles Christophe.”

“Indeed,” Giles confirmed as he studied the licence and card. Sasha was savouring the cocktail, trying to distinguish the different ingredients in the conversational silence before a swift nod of his head and the woman was handed back her items. “Please, follow me, I will show you around and explain the house rules.”

Sasha knew how to make an exit, the bartender wasn’t the only one watching her. Half the bar was enjoying the way she swayed her hips before the pair disappeared out of sight.

The bartender passed the time, as usual, baseless flirting with anyone who showed him some cleavage or wanted the attention as he poured the drinks in an attempt to get the tips. It was usually successful, but everyone had their misreadings, of course. Then the two-hour mark began to pass about the time that anyone would be resurfacing.

The red buzzer was flashing silently next to the till which told the male that his presence was required in the manager’s office downstairs. There was no way of knowing how long it had been going off, but customers always came first as the bartender tapped the nearest co-worker on the shoulder and mentioned that he was taking a break. It was always code, and the staff knew better than to do anything but act like he meant what was said.

He pressed his staff card to the card reader next to the door engraved with ‘Private Lounge’. The door was always locked to anyone trying to get through, and many would always try to gain access naturally. Drunks were almost ingenious the bartender mused as he ensured it clicked shut behind him. It was waved off as a staff area, which it could be classed as the bartender humoured himself, passing by the break room where all of the staff’s possessions were safely kept. Then he kept going down the stairs.

It was a corridor lined with lockable doors, and thick enough walls to ensure that secrecy was vital. There was no way of peeking in, and the only way to get in and out was through finding a staff member to gain access. They all had buzzers in them to notify the office manager that they had finished, but the majority of the activity occurred in the enclaves. The ample space was made into semi-private areas, filled with a combination of oversized beds and couches. It was a strict policy about what had to be conducted behind closed doors and what was allowed in such an area. The members’ entrance lead from a side street, most people didn’t want to be seen to be in a bar to then go to the private area, so it was always designed with subtly in mind. Especially since this was the real money maker for the bar, and everyone knew it. People would pay vast amounts of money for the privacy offered by the lounge area, especially as the sound of leather hitting skin often permeated the air. Though it was the canoodling that would seem to excite people the most, as the bartender finally reached the manager’s office.

Giles’ name was engraved and coloured on the frosted glass panel, though that was only to give the illusion that it was as businesslike as possible once you stepped through the doorway. A single knock and the bartender let himself in.

He was more than a little surprised to see Sasha perched on Giles’ knee behind his desk. She had a sultry smirk on her face, and Giles’ hand was resting on her shoulder after trailing her hair over her other shoulder. It was taking everything in the bartender to just glare at the manager, and he kept his distance.

Then the smell hit the man.

She was aroused.

She was squeezing her thighs slightly and sitting tightly as though Giles had already been playing with her, and then arranged her as he liked. Her pupils were dilated to the point her red irises were nearly obscured, and her nails were digging into her skirt.

“Sid, I’d like you to meet our little girl,” Giles broke the tense silence with the announcement and drew the focus of the bartender onto the male.

“Have you lost your mind?” the bartender was encroaching towards them. “She’s the heir to the competition-”

Sid was prepared to grab Giles by the shirt collar until the woman coughed for their attention.

“Please, I stand to lose everything if this gets out,” Sasha calmly stated. “If it gets leaked that I’m sleeping with the competition, then my career is gone. I will be in ruins, and I will never bounce back from that because I’m a woman and I’m meant to have all repressed sexual needs,” she pointed out, already tapping away on her phone after Giles had gently pushed her to stand off his lap. “No company will take me in because I will create headlines with that scandal, and men will just use it as an excuse to deny a woman a chance to show them how to do their jobs properly,” Sasha only stopped as she stood in front of Sid, and then pulled him down by the tie for a heated kiss. She was nipping at his lip until the beast inside awoke. He pulled sharply on her hair, demanding obedience as she was pulled flush against him.

A cough from Giles was the only thing that stopped the display, and then he beckoned Sasha to him with a lone finger.

The kiss was softer but just as domineering. He had her head tilted back, allowing him the access he wished.

It had been far too long since Sid had seen Giles show anyone some form of affection, the man was starved of human touch, and it was as though he had found the perfect puzzle piece for now as Sasha’s arms were loosely around his waist. “Sasha has already signed the contract regarding membership to the Lounge, she should have also shared her calendar for availability with us both. Cancellations at the last minute may be inevitable, given her role as deputy CEO of course,” Giles ran off while stroking the woman’s hair. His business talk and his actions were polar opposites as the bartender smirked at the scene.

“You understand that taking us both on is something no one has truly managed before?” Sid teased the female, tilting her head up and allowing her chestnut locks to fall over Giles’ exposed skin on his arm.

“I’m sure that will change,” Sasha smiled, every ounce of belief in herself before Sid claimed her lips again, eager for another taste.

#sid arnault #giles christophe #midcin #midnight cinderella #bar AU

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heather1815 · 5 years

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My little test subject: Chapter 15

Chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10, chapter 11, chapter 12, chapter 13, and chapter 14

Angsty Tomtord fic with slight Paultryk on the side.

Warning! This fic contains: Foul language, scenes of torture, use of medical tools, drug use, self-harm, suicidal tendencies, violence, self-neglect, blood, and a little bit of stockholm syndrome and force feeding. Viewer discretion is advised.

A cold bitter wind swept over the town like an icy wave. Patches of snow covered the streets and sidewalks, glittering under the sunlight. Cars roared up and down the roads spewing fumes into the air; visible by the contrast in temperatures.

Exiting the department store, Eduardo breathed out an exasperated sigh; releasing a puff of steam into the air.

He absolutely hates to be away from work for long periods of time, but Mark had insisted they go out shopping together today. Eduardo didn't mind too much at first, seeing as how he is running low on basic goods and needs to replenish his stock.

Loud chattering following close behind him elicited a tired groan from Eduardo, and he kept on moving.

"Wowie! I can't believe I never considered getting a membership here – this store has absolutely everything! And for such a cheap price too!" Matt exclaimed joyfully as he walked out of the store alongside Mark, carrying shopping bags on both hands.

Eduardo rolled his eyes and frowned. He couldn't understand Mark's logic of inviting the ginger doofus to tag along with them. Hadn't they agreed to only make peace with their neighbours? Why is Mark being so friendly towards the airhead?

If Eduardo had to make a hunch; he'd suspect Mark was just happy to find someone with shared interests to hang out and go shopping with. Now that they are no longer rivals, it seems that the two narcissists have found each other like in those lame soul mate romance novels and saw how much they got in common.

Of course, if Mark wants to go ahead and be pals with their neighbour, he is more than free to do so. Especially since Eduardo doesn't have to allow or forbid anything in his life. But does Mark have to try and involve him on it constantly?

He tuned out their voices as they continued on their way home.

Matt jovially laughed at their shenanigans. He'd been spending more time with the duo over the past week. Ever since they made peace, Matt looked forward to their next "self-care" session. Eduardo is still pretty terrifying and he doesn't stick around for very long for Matt to really interact with him; but Mark just naturally clicks with him. It's nice to have someone who understands you.

"Anyways, how is Edd doing?" Mark inquired Matt after their laughter died down. "I don't believe I've seen you two together once since we moved in."

At the question, Matt's stomach tightened and he avoided the blond's gaze; searching for something to say. "Edd is... fine, I guess." He mumbled. "He's been pretty busy lately, so I haven't seen him as much as I used to."

"Well, sounds an awful lot like a certain someone that I know." Mark shot a pointed glare at Eduardo, who walked a pace ahead of them and merely huffed in response to the comment.

Worry jabbed Matt's chest as he reflected back on his current predicament with Edd. His first and brief meeting with Reagan haunted him. He can't shake the notion that there is something deeper going on. He gave a lot of thought to this situation to find the best way to go about this without upsetting Edd, and in the end, Matt decided he'll talk to the brunet as soon as he can.

Doubt gnawed away at him. I just need to play it cool – act natural! Matt reasoned nervously the closer to home he got. Edd won't suspect anything if I'm laid back.

His thoughts came to a crashing stop when his feet suddenly slipped on the icy ground as they were crossing the street, and Matt fell forward. Letting out a startled yelp, he instinctively raised his arms out in front of his face as the ground neared. "Ah! Not the face!" However, a hard tug on the back of his coat quickly put an end to his fall.

Matt looked up wide-eyed as he was hauled back to his feet, and realized that it was Eduardo who saved him from a nasty fall.

"Watch your step, dumbass!" The burly brunet scolded.

Gratitude flooded through Matt and he nodded fervently. "Y-yes! Thank you, Eduardo!" He squeaked, shrinking back a little out of fear. Please don't punch me! He closed his eyes and begged silently.

But Eduardo simply released his hold on him and walked away. Matt blinked in surprise. He's amazed that he hadn't received a punch yet, not even once since he started hanging with the duo. Eduardo hasn't so much as raised a fist at him so far. That gave Matt comfort, though he's still pretty weary of him.

He continued to chat with Mark for the reminder of their journey home, talking about more beauty tips and things they could do together.

"I guess I should start getting dinner ready, huh?" Mark spoke up, looking down at his watch as they climbed the steps to the hallway of their home. "Since it's pretty cold today, how about we have a good ol' beef stew?" He suggested.

"Sounds good to me!" Eduardo agreed. Being so busy with his work and having no culinary skill whatsoever, it's times like this he really appreciates his companion's wonderful cooking ability.

"You are invited to join us if you want, Matt." Mark continued, turning to address the ginger next to him. Eduardo resisted the temptation to roll his eyes and groan in frustration.

"Oh! Thank you!" Matt sheepishly scratched the back of his head. "I'll just… I think I will check on Edd first, and see how he is doing."

Mark nodded in understanding. "No problem. It will be a while before dinner is ready, but I'll leave my door unlocked for you!"

"Good! Guess I can take this chance to get back to work while we wait-"

Eduardo was about to stalk off to his own apartment when his ear was grabbed and pulled back abruptly by none other than Mark.

"Oh no you don't!" The blond man admonished. "You're not getting away so easily this time, Eduardo! I already let you off the hook last time and I had to set everything up by myself. But today you're going to help me prepare dinner!"

"Ow! Are you mad?" Eduardo exclaimed indignantly, trying to pull away. "Do you want me to set the food on fire?"

Mark huffed as he dragged the protesting brunet by the ear to his apartment. "Don't be so dramatic! It's high time you learned how to cook anyway."

Matt giggled as he watched the pair argue. They seem angry at each other, but he knew this quarrel was entirely good-natured. Mark and Eduardo have the tendency to get into a lot of arguments with each other for the littlest things; but they never escalate to dangerous levels.

When they had gone, Matt quickly put away his shopping bags aside, and padded up to Edd's apartment door. "Edd?" He called out and knocked. "Are you there? I'd like to talk to you." He pressed his ear against the door.

"Come in!"

Hearing the muffled cheery greeting through the door gave Matt hope. He must be in a good mood today!

At the invitation, Matt walked right in. The room was bright, the curtains drawn back to let sunlight filter through. Seated in the dining table, Edd leisurely sipped a mug of coffee with a steaming plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast in front of him. Ringo weaved her way around the chair, tail held high as she rubbed against her owner's leg.

"Hey Matt!" Edd smiled and waved tiredly.

Mirroring her owner's voice, Ringo meowed a particularly loud greeting as well; melting Matt's heart. But he did not gush over her for long, as his gaze settled on the contents on the table.

"Hey! Uh, are you… having breakfast right now?" Matt couldn't help but ask, confusion evident in his voice. It's nearly four in the afternoon, for crying out loud!

Edd chuckled. "Yeah. I woke up a little while ago." He broke off into a yawn. "I came home later than usual last night."

The brunet seems so upbeat as he scarfed down his meal. Matt can't recall another moment as of late where Edd behaved like his old self. This was how he used to look, back when there were three of them; for a while, after Tom's death, Matt had been afraid that this Edd had vanished forever.

Upon closer look though, Matt realized there were dark bags under Edd's eyes. Sensing his stare, Edd blinked back at him. "What is it?" He asked, words muffled by a mouthful of food.

"Were you out with Reagan last night by any chance?" Matt asked.

"Yup!"

"But I thought you only went out with Reagan on Wednesdays and Saturdays?" Matt inquired, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He is pretty sure yesterday was a Tuesday.

"I do. But apparently a client of Reagan's or something cancelled their plans together, and he invited me to hang out instead." Edd explained calmly, taking another bite out of his meal.

Pulling out a chair for himself, Matt sat down next to him; remembering his own advice of playing it cool. Since they're on the topic of Reagan, he might as well just go with the flow from here. Matt took a deep breath. "So… who exactly is this Reagan fellow anyway?"

He looked down at his hands nervously, bracing himself for Edd's humour to drop – thinking perhaps he overstepped his boundaries in asking. But when Matt looked up again, there was nothing in his friend's eyes except for intense interest.

"Reagan… well, he's an… interesting guy." Edd began coolly. "To be honest, I am not entirely sure what he does. But he is staying in town for a little while." He paused to take a sip of his coffee. "He doesn't know his way around the place, so he asked if I could be his guide during this period, and I said yes."

Matt thought over his words carefully. "Oh so… this isn't a permanent thing then?"

"Haha no." Then Edd's expression darkened as realization dawned on him. He had been having so much fun going out with Reagan, he hadn't considered that the Irishman isn't going to stick around town forever. What will he do when the time comes to say goodbye? "No I… I guess not." He muttered dejectedly, his posture sagging.

Sensing his sudden shift in humour, Matt panicked; desperately searching for a new topic to change to before things go downhill. But his mind was running so fast he couldn't think of anything appropriate to say or do. What do I do?

"Mrrrow!"

Coming to his rescue, Ringo hopped onto her owner's lap and peered at the food intently. Edd laughed, running his hands through her soft tabby fur. "Why you cheeky little thief! You've been eyeing my breakfast this whole time, haven't you?" He teased, blocking the food out of Ringo's sight. She mewed indignantly and tried pawing his hand aside. "Don't be so edgy! I just filled your food bowl. It's over there if you're hungry."

Matt laughed as the brunet placed the cat back on the ground. Thank you, Ringo!

"Anyway, what have you been up to?" Edd asked casually.

"Oh, nothing much honestly." Matt confessed, leaning back on his chair. "I haven't added anything new to my collection of trinkets in quite a while now. I've been hanging around Mark and Eduardo a lot lately. And there isn't anything new to watch on Webflick either-"

"Wait, what?"

Matt went rigid with alarm. Had he been too laidback? "What?" He echoed in confusion.

"You've been hanging with Mark and… Eduardo?" Edd spoke the last name with a mixture of venom and disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah?" Matt still wasn't sure what the big deal is. "I already told you they don't plan to bother us anymore."

Edd frowned. "And you believed them? I thought you knew better than that by now, Matt." His words caused a twinge of hurt within the orange-haired man, making him wince. "I mean, I can kinda understand you and Mark getting close; being vain and all that. But Eduardo? Really?"

Matt felt as if something massive got lodged in his throat. This wasn't how he had intended their talk to go. "They're not so bad." He began defensively, shifting around in his seat with clear discomfort. "I don't get to interact with Eduardo all that much, I will admit. But he hasn't done anything so far, and Mark is actually a really smart guy! They even invited me to have dinner with them – why don't you come join us for once? I think if you just try and give them a chance, you might find yourself warming up to them too."

But Edd wasn't so easily convinced. "Are you kidding? Eduardo and I in the same room? That's just asking for trouble!"

"It really isn't!" Matt insisted, frustration welling up inside of him. He so desperately wanted this arrangement to work. Maybe then Edd wouldn't need to keep going out with Reagan. "Eduardo won't even so much as glance at you; he's far too busy worrying about his mysterious job to say or do anything."

Sighing in defeat, Edd closed his eyes and leaned back on his chair. For a couple heartbeats, neither of them spoke. Then Edd turned to face him again. "Fine. I will... consider what you said."

Matt smiled, his heart fluttering with hope.

"But as for today, I think I will have to decline the invitation."

"What? Why?"

Edd stretched his arms. "I just woke up! I want to get some commissions done before I go out tonight."

"You mean… you're heading out with Reagan again?" Matt stared at him, huge eyed with dismay.

"Yup!" His friend drank the reminder of his coffee, none the wiser to the ginger's concerns. "I mean, I can't just say no now - Reagan is expecting me to meet him today. We'll probably eat junk food somewhere and get drunk-"

"I think you're making a big mistake, Edd!"

A voice suddenly exclaimed, and Matt realized with horror that it had been him. He slapped a hand over his mouth. His concern must have driven out all thoughts of being tactful, or of not upsetting Edd in the process. But it's too late to take it back now.

Edd stiffened and stared back at him through narrowed eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Matt took a deep breath. "About Reagan." He confessed, ducking his head nervously.

"And what makes you say that?" Edd sounded as calm as ever.

Gulping, Matt hesitated and shifted on his seat. It seemed clear that blurting out his suspicions the way he did hadn't been exactly the most sensible way to go about it. But I can't stop now. I have to tell him what I think!

Edd waited in silence. Matt couldn't tell what was running through his mind. "I am not… entirely sure. But when I met him I just didn't feel right about him." He went on, nervously aware that it was too late now to change his mind. He really regrets not having rehearsed this conversation prior this talk now. "There's something undeniably off about him – I can't exactly put a finger on it."

"So I'm supposed to take your word for it just because you have a bad feeling about him?" Edd asked, his voice still deceptively calm, contrasted with his rigid posture and glaring eyes. "No offence, Matt, but you only met Reagan for a total of two minutes. It's not exactly enough to judge a person's whole character off of."

"I know, I know! But I can't shake this impression that Reagan might be up to no good; and that you might have some part to play in it somehow." Matt continued. "Don't you think it's a tad strange to spend so much time around someone you hardly know? You don't even know what he does for a living! For all we know, he could be dangerous and involved in some shady business."

As he spoke, Edd began to look troubled, narrowing his eyes so that only the faintest sliver of brown showed in his eyes. He let out a long sigh. "I can see how in your point of view Reagan could be seen as suspicious." He murmured. "We haven't gone in any adventures for a while. Heck, I believe this might be the first time we've actually sat down and talked to one another. But there's no need for you to be jealous."

"Jealous?" Matt parroted incredulously.

"I see now that I have been ignoring you for a while, and I'm very sorry for that. I promise I'll make it up to you soon." Edd went on as if he'd never spoken. "But you don't need to hold it out against Reagan. He's a real swell guy!"

Matt blinked, incapable of believing what he was hearing. Could it be true his suspicions had been only conjured up by his envy towards Reagan? He literally has nothing else going against the Irishman but his first impression of him. Aside from that one time, he knows nothing about him. Who is he to judge? It is true that Matt misses spending time with Edd just like they used to. He supposed Edd did have a good reason to think he is jealous.

A twinge of apprehension flickered in Matt's belly as he remembered the look in Reagan's eyes when he and Edd had walked out the door. Those vibrant green eyes had glowed with mirth and something akin to triumph, Matt is sure of it. His gut was telling him that the Irishman should not be trusted, and he must somehow convince Edd of that, for the sake of his safety.

"You've… changed, Edd. I feel as if you're not the same person anymore. Truth be told, I'm having a hard time confiding you with anything because… I- I'm- I am always afraid of how you're going to react." He ventured. "We've only just started getting over our grief and get back on our feet when this guy shows up out of nowhere. Don't you think that's even a little bit odd?"

Edd looked up at that; his eyes trained forward with interest. For a heartbeat Matt hesitated to continue sharing his concerns about Reagan, but his determination to keep his friend safe gave him the courage to go on.

"I know I may not be the most reliable person you can count on. I forget things quite often, I'm clumsy, I mess up a lot – believe me, I get it. But we've been friends for a really long time now; so much so that we are practically family at this point." Matt didn't dare mention how short their already small family has become, and simply moved on. "We've been through adventures and hardships together, travelled through thick and thin and to hell and back again – literally! We trust, confide, and look out for each other no matter what! I don't have any definitive proof, but I just know for a fact there is something suspicious about Reagan. I… I don't want to lose you too! Please trust me, Edd; I really think you should stop seeing him. I sense something bad is going to happen if you don't." He gazed at him imploringly.

For a few heartbeats he thought Edd had not heard him, he was so still. Then he pushed his chair back and rose from his seat, staring at him with a stone cold expression. "And you fully expect me to stop meeting Reagan altogether just on the assumption that you have bad vibes about him?"

Matt blinked. "I just thought—"

"This isn't what I expect from you, Matt!" Edd growled. His usually warm eyes glittered like ice. "You would do better to mind your own business than to come here telling tales about Reagan." He studied him for a long moment. "Don't you trust me to take care of myself?"

"I—I'm sorry!" Matt stammered. "But I thought I should tell you the truth."

Edd let out a long breath. All the interest he had shown before had vanished, leaving his expression cold and remote. "Go." He ordered. "I'll talk to you later. And never—never— mention this to me again. Do you understand?"

Matt stood up wearily and began backing out of the room. "But what about Reagan? He—"

"Just go away!" Edd spat the command.

Wincing, Matt's feet scrambled against the wooden floor in his haste to obey. Once out of the apartment and closing the door behind him, Matt came to rest when he had put a good distance between himself and Edd. He felt utterly bewildered. At first Edd had seemed prepared to listen to him, but as soon as he suggested he should stop seeing Reagan, he had refused to hear any more.

A sudden chill swept through Matt. For a short time, Matt had let himself hope that he could make Edd understand how dangerous the Irishman could be.

God damn it! He thought. Now he won't hear another word against Reagan. I blew it!

Confused and unhappy, Matt made for Mark's apartment, almost unconsciously. Like the blond man had promised, he kept the door unlocked for him, and Matt walked in dejectedly. While Mark worked on the stove, Eduardo was busy cutting vegetables. There were several ingredients gathered in front of him.

"See how easy it is? I told you could manage!" Mark nudged his partner encouragingly, eying Eduardo's progress with approval as the brunet handed him a portion of sliced carrots to add to the stew. Mark wore a frilly white apron as he cooked. "Honestly, you were so stiff at first it was like you were genuinely expecting the vegetables to spontaneously combust or something!"

Eduardo grumbled under his breath and obediently continued slicing more vegetables.

Matt numbly stood there and watched them for a moment without speaking. He felt sad, drained after the quarrel with Edd. He couldn't help wishing it were Edd and Tom here cooking together instead of Mark and Eduardo.

Choking down his anguish, Matt offered to set up the table; hoping to take his mind off things and move on with his day.

(Meanwhile…)

Soft snores echoed faintly throughout the room as Tom peacefully dozed off, a book sprawled over his chest, Tomee bear clutched close in one arm, and a dribble of drool trickled from the corner of his mouth. The door to his quarters slides open with a hiss, and a shadow falls over Tom's unconscious form.

Nearing the bed where his test subject laid, Tord paused to study him. Look at this lazy ass motherf#cker. He snickered quietly, watching the steady rise and fall of Tom's chest. He'd come to escort Tom to his soldier training, only to find the eyeless man in the middle of a nap instead.

Any other day, Tord wouldn't think twice about jolting Tom awake to get on with their schedule for the day. Tord is a busy man, after all. However, looking down at Tom's relaxed expression as he slept, Tord's features softened and he couldn't bring himself to do it. He's so… cute!

Tord shook his head to clear away the intrusive thoughts. What am I saying? I am the Red Leader for goodness sake! I can't think like this.

Deciding to get this over and done with before his thoughts can betray him once more; Tord hastily adjusted the settings on his mechanical arm. The repulsor on the palm of his hand switched to a speaker, and Tord chose the 'air horn' setting.

Lifting his hand close to Tom's unsuspecting face, Tord grinned. Just like old times.

He braced himself and blasted the obnoxiously loud air horn noise through the speakers in his hand. Tom instantly shot up from his bed in alarm, falling off the side of the bed with wide eyes as he whipped his head around wildly.

"Wha- what?! What's happening?!" He asks panickedly, still bleary from sleep.

Tord couldn't help but burst into laughter at the Brit's dazed reaction. Tom's gaze finally fell on him, and putting the pieces together he glared at the Norsk.

"Rise and shine, soldier!" Tord grinned.

"What the f#ck, Commie?" Tom scrambled to his feet, clearly irritated by his rude awakening. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, especially not without the Dreamcatcher device, but this was still a pretty awful way to wake up to.

The Norsk stared at him in amusement and chuckled. "Somebody's cranky."

"And somebody needs to shut f#ck up." Tom fumed.

"Oh come now, Thomas; don't be so offended." Tord soothed, programing his arm back to the repulsor. "It if makes you feel any better, I play this exact same trick on Paul and Pat when they think they can sleep in!" Before they moved in to the same quarters, that is. "Now come, we have training to do."

Tom caught up with Tord as he headed for the long corridor and fell in step behind him. "Will Paul and Pat be joining us?"

Tord replied without looking back. "I've ordered them to help ensure that everything is top notch with the rest of the base. It's going to be just you and me."

Tom's heartbeat quickened and he gulped at the notion of being left alone with Tord. If something were to go wiry between them – and it very well could, given their relationship – there won't be anyone to help Tom if Tord decides he's had enough. Tom will just have to tread carefully from here on out. In theory, Tord won't hurt him unless he is provoked; so as long as Tom reframes from doing stupid sh#t he should be safe.

"What do you mean? Isn't that our end goal? ~" The voice pointed out with a scornful hiss, trailing a set of sharp fingertips teasingly along the side of his throat. Tom winced. "So what if it comes sooner? I say you mock him to your heart's content and just spill out everything you ever wanted to tell him right to his face before he pulls the trigger. ~"

Right, because that's not f#cking suspicious at all. Tom retorted dryly despite the fact that the voice's nails were digging into the flesh of his neck; drawing blood. He could feel the warm liquid tickling down onto his shirt but Tom elected to ignore it. This won't be the first time today that the voice will shed his blood. Even it isn't real. I have to play it cool. One wrong move and Tord could very well decide that any threat over my life won't be enough for my cooperation. Besides, not even Tord's anger management issues will be enough for him to lose all reason and kill me.

He heard the voice tsk in distaste. "Excuses, excuses… you'll run out of them sooner or later, but it will be far too late for you then. When that happens…I will be there to remind you of your place. ~" Tom could sense the voice grin against the back of his neck right before a set of claws scored down his back in a quick motion; from the base of his neck all the way down to his waist. Tom whimpered and the voice disappeared, its foreboding warning still ringing inside his head.

Returning to reality, Tom and Tord walked together along the large hallways of the lab level. Tom's mind raced as he shot quick glances in Tord's direction. This will be the second training session he's having with Tord; and if things weren't awkward enough before, they are definitely so now after their chat in the test room. What does he have in store for me this time? By the time they reached the training room, Tom's nerves were skyrocketing but he succeeded in maintaining his expression nulled.

They made their way across the immense gym toward the fighting ring that stood elevated just a meter above the ground. Tom followed Tord as he climbed the small steps leading into the ring and jumped over the railing into the cushioned arena.

"Now Tom, as a soldier it is important for you to be prepared for anything. Everything counts in the battlefield and you must be ready to face it." Tord explained as he strolled to the centre. "You can't be expected to rely solely on anything else aside from your own wits." He went on, turning to face him. "Depend too much on your gun, and when you find yourself without it you'll be done for. Like I said; anything can happen. Run out of ammo, get disarmed, captured, yatta yatta you get the idea." Tord raved on, twirling the fingers of his robotic hand in a dismissive gesture. "And sure, you'll be fighting alongside the rest of my army, but that's still no excuse to slack off. Teamwork may be key, but don't be surprised when you have to fend for yourself at some point."

Tom began to tune Tord out as his vision darkened once more. He whined as the all too familiar sensation of sharp digits grabbing hold of his shoulders made itself known to him.

"You hear that? Don't depend on anyone else. ~" The voice cooed mockingly into his head. "You are on your own. If you can't do things by yourself, don't bother asking help from others. You'll merely burden them more. ~"

"I want to concentrate on your fighting skills, and I want you to concentrate on them too—which means no distractions." Tord continued, pacing back and forth in front of Tom, emitting an air of authority to him.

"No one cares about you other than what you possess. ~" Whispered the voice, another set of phantom hands wrapping around Tom's waist while one sharp digit trailed his jawline and another pierced the flesh of his cheek. "If it weren't for the valuable serum currently running through your veins, believe me, people would not bat an eye if you were gone. As they should! ~"

Sudden movement flashed right in front of him. A blur of blue and red whirled past his nose, and Tom fell backwards as his feet were knocked lightly from underneath him. He landed flat on his back over the cushioned mats of the ring. Before Tom could get a chance to properly recover from the blow, the wind was knocked out of him by a heavy boot pinning him down over his ribcage. Gritting his teeth in irritation, Tom glared upwards to see Tord towering calmly over him. "Do I have your attention now?" He growled, although his one visible eye sparked with mirth.

Blinking, Tom realized what had just occurred and composed himself. "Yeah, you got me. Now let me up!"

Tord pursed his lips, as if genuinely considering the idea. "I'll let you up, if you address me properly." He smirked.

Rolling his non-existent eyes, Tom grumbled. Tord leaned downwards while simultaneously increasing the pressure of his boot over Tom's ribs. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Mind speaking up a little bit more?"

Clenching his eyes shut, Tom hissed at the building pain in his lower abdomen. At least the Commie managed to shut the voice up. He acknowledged, before sighing in defeat. "Sorry, Sir! It won't happen again, sir!" Tom growled hastily, glaring into his gray eye.

Satisfied with his answer, Tord lifted his boot off and stepped back. "That's better." The Norsk murmured, watching Tom stagger to his feet. "As I was saying; Thomas, you have been with us for many months now. Although you were never directly involved with any of the army's activities, you are no stranger to this type of environment." He commented, referring to their little adventure in the army countless years ago. Ah, the fond memories! "You have had some fighting experience; you are familiar with guns and… other weapons." Tord's voice slightly lowered, and Tom did not need to be a genius to know what he was implying with that remark. "Not to mention that you are quite clever and agile… when you want to be, that is."

Tom crossed his arms and stared at him deadpanned. "Are you going to keep on babbling or are you getting somewhere with all of this?"

He received a cuff to the back of his head for his snarky comment. It didn't really hurt, since Tord used his organic hand – it's more of a reminder to keep quiet and listen when the leader is talking. But Tom found himself rubbing the sore spot with a frown regardless.

Shaking his head, Tord tutted. "Patience is a virtue, Thomas. A virtue you unfortunately do not possess an abundance of." He went back to pacing. "Where was I? Oh yes! You are quite the formidable opponent when put in the right circumstances. But one day you will meet an opponent who is all of these things as well, and perhaps so much more – quick, fierce and clever." Tord noted, his voice lowered to an intense hiss. "And it is my duty as your leader and mentor to prepare you for that day."

Tom nodded, surprised to find himself so caught up on the Norsk's words. It's not in any way normal to hear Tord compliment him; and gathering from past experiences, Tom knows this doesn't usually end well for him. Tom's senses were fully alert, and on guard.

"Show me how well you fight." Tord ordered. "Attack me. Try to pin me down."

Tom blinked. Usually he would be static at the chance of punching Tord's stupid smirk and face in, just to payback for all the sh#t he pulled. But Tom couldn't help but hesitate, his fingers curling into fists in a repeating motion. There's something undeniably suspicious about this.

"Really? Just like that?" Tom raised an eyebrow sceptically.

"What else is there to it? A kiss on the cheek for good luck?" Tord argues, shrugging with indifference. He then smirks. "I didn't realize you would be so scared of going up against a half blind amputee, Thomas."

"Shouldn't you begin by teaching me some basic moves? Jumping straight to fighting seems really out of left field!" Tom tries to reason.

"I'm sorry, which one of us runs an army?" Tord remarked with a chuckle. "We both know you are not defenceless, Thomas. Before I can start teaching you I would like to see what level your skills are right now, so that I may pick up from there. No point wasting time teaching you things you already know." He explained coolly.

Seeing no other way out of this, Tom scoffed and rolled his non-existent eyes. He decided not to give Tord the benefit of seeing him flustered and just get this training session over with as soon as possible.

Narrowing his eyes and getting into focus, Tom analysed Tord's form, sizing him up and wondering the best way to go about this. Tord wasn't much bigger than himself; but what the Norsk lacks in height he makes up for it in muscle, surely. Nearly ten years leading an army – Tord can't possibly be weak.

Tom's mind flashed back to the incident when in a fit of rage he'd ripped out Tord's eye patch and invoked the Norsk's wrath. Perhaps because at the time Tom had been so weak and malnourished, but Tord definitely isn't someone he ought to mess with.

With that in mind, it would be a waste of effort to begin with mere punches and wrestling. The next best thing Tom could think of would be to aim for one side. But which one? Tord may be blind on his right side, but Tom isn't foolish enough to think that the Norwegian man would let himself be open to attacks with such a weak spot being exposed. Not to mention that his right has the deadly, metallic hand; currently flexing his fingers with anticipation and making faint whirring sounds.

"Today if possible, Thomas." Tord teased, taking notice of the Brit's clear discomfort and frustration as he could practically read his every move.

Grumbling a low growl, Tom shifted his attention to the Norsk's left side. Looks simple enough, aside from the aforementioned muscle strength. But here's the thing; would Tom rather be hit with a very probable painful punch to his face from a hand made out of flesh and bones, or from a robotic fist made out of hard metal and steel?

"What's this? ~" The voice returned to haunt him. "Afraid of a little pain? ~" Tom could practically feel it grin right up against his ear, and he suppressed a shudder.

Ignoring the voice's sharp claw-like nails grazing over his injured back, Tom focused his attention back to training. Perhaps if he could trick Tord into going a certain direction, while aiming for the other one, Tom could go behind his back and unbalance him with a powerful enough blow.

With a plan set in mind, Tom braced himself. Disturbingly enough, Tord hasn't taken his silver-gray eye off him for even an instant. Tom stared back at him and dashed forward.

He pretended to aim for Tord's right, and when the Norsk tries to block his blow, Tom would divert to his left on the last minute to land a punch on his side.

But Tord was more than ready for him.

Rather than blocking Tom's feint attack, like he had been hoping for, Tord lashed out with his robotic hand and tried to punch him square in the face.

"What the-?!"

Tom abruptly halted, blinking in confusion and barely managing to dodge the strike. He tried to retract his steps and go the other way around, still going along with his plan, only for Tord to block his path and grab a hold of him; easily flinging him away. Tom felt he had been knocked away like a bothersome brat. He hit the cushioned floor hard and lay winded for a moment, catching his breath, before scrambling to his feet.

"What the hell?!"

"Interesting strategy." Tord commented slyly. "But you'll have to try a lot harder than that. Again!"

Getting over his initial shock, this time Tom looked at his shoulders but aimed for his legs. When Tord attacks, Tom would knock the legs from underneath him as he ducks. Tom felt a surge of satisfaction as he charged, but it turned into confusion as Tord unexpectedly sidestepped out of the way and let him skid his leg into nothing where he had stood just a heartbeat before. Tord timed it perfectly – and before Tom could catch his bearings and formulate another plan of attack, Tord landed a kick with painful precision on Tom's stomach; knocking the wind out of him.

Panting, Tom staggered backwards with a wild look in his eyes. He spotted Tord coming his way, and in his haze, succeeded in blocking a couple of punches until Tord head-butted him, and pushed him backwards. Stunned, Tom fell on his back as Tord pinned him down, squashing the breath out of him.

"Now how about you try something I won't expect, hm?" Tord hissed into his ear, climbing off him and backing away with a challenging gleam in his one gray eye.

Tom scrambled up, panting, and shook himself crossly. He hissed and charged again. Tom was determined to win no matter at what cost. But Tord is just as equally determined to not go easy on him, or let him win at all.

Tord remained absolutely still, not moving a muscle as he watched Tom get nearer. Fuming, the test subject tackled him head on and tried to use his own weight to bring the Norsk down with him. However, Tord had endured the force of the impact with his legs digging into the floor. He watched with blatant amusement, as the other man tried in vain to overpower him. He is slowly, but surely succumbing to frustration. Tord mused. He almost felt bad for Tom at this point, seriously considering going a tad bit easier on him.

Well… Almost.

Keeping one of his legs tightly secured in the ground to keep his balance, Tord twisted his other one around Tom's, and used his hands to shove him away. Tom staggered backwards, tripping over Tord's leg in the process. He tried to regain his balance last minute, to stand up and keep fighting, but Tord kneed him in the gut and he flopped heavily onto his back.

"Thomas."

Above the roaring rush of blood pulsating in his ears, Tom barely managed to hear Tord's soft voice above him. Blinking his eyes, Tom saw the Norsk extend his robotic hand out to him. Knowing he didn't have the strength to get up by himself at this point, Tom accepted the offer without complaint. Once the Brit's hand was in his mechanical one, Tord hauled him up until he was back on his legs. Still stunned and dizzy, Tom nearly fell again until Tord grasped his shoulders to keep him steady.

A hand gently grasped Tom's chin, and raised his head to make eye contact with the Red Leader. "Tom, listen to me. You're strong and quick, but you must learn to keep control of your speed and body weight so that it's not so easy for me to unbalance you."

Tom batted the hand holding his chin aside pathetically. "Isn't all this a bit too much?" He complained, still panting. "I mean, what are the chances we fight other soldiers like this? In a real war, everyone is going to be equipped with guns; at least I sincerely hope so. Also, even if we're unarmed, the other troops will surely have guns and they'll kill us way before we get the chance to get near them and do something. So, I don't know, this all seems kind of pointless to me."

Tord chuckled. "Trust me, you'll be plenty thankful to have this set of skills on you if the occasion ever arises." He continued. "It may sound silly and improbable at first, I know, but it is a training requirement for any army and I cannot just overlook it." Once he was sure Tom wasn't going to topple down if he lets go of him, Tord walked away to stand on the opposite side of the ring. "Whenever you are ready, try again."

Tom backed away; hot, sweaty, and out of breath, until he found himself leaning against the elastic ropes of the arena. Groaning in exasperation, frustration raged through him. He just wants to get this stupid training session over with, so he can go take a shower and return to his quarters for a quick nap before his dinner arrives. Now more than ever, Tom is determined to get the better of the Commie.

He took his time in recovering and made another quick observation of his opponent, searching for any weaknesses he could exploit to his advantage. Standing all the way over to the opposite side of the fighting ring, Tord was stretching his limbs, popping some of his joints in the process. Tom watched him with something akin to fascination. The Norsk looks so at ease, and confident in his abilities. Was there even a bead of sweat on his face? The long, cobalt blue coat really made Tord's overall form and shape stand out. It gave an empowering and dominating air to him, but also graceful and elegant too. Sure, Pat and Paul wear them too, but for an unknown reason Tom thought it looked a lot more appealing on Tord.

Feeling reinvigorated now, Tom snapped his mind back on track. "I'm ready now."

Tord shot him a brief glance. "Well? What you're waiting for, Thomas? An invitation?"

Narrowing his eyes at Tord's teasing comments, Tom rushed at him. The Red Leader smirked and positioned himself into a defensive stance. Once he was within proximity, Tom raised one fist and swung it towards the Norsk's left cheek. Tord ducked to avoid his strike and raised his robotic hand, ready to swipe down right onto Tom's head. Thinking quickly, Tom fell back to the ground to avoid the blow, and in one fast movement, struck his legs forward to kick Tord straight on the gut. Taken by surprise, Tord hissed as he felt all air be knocked out of him. He doubled over and staggered backwards. Tom took his chance now that the Norsk is momentarily winded, and he swiped his leg against Tord's own.

Tord was knocked down and fell back onto the cushioned floor with a grunt.

Tom flipped himself over and leaped to his feet. He felt jubilant. He observed Tord's form, lying down completely still with the exception of the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in heavily. Tom approached him, his movements sluggish from fatigue, and yet for the first time in a long while he actually felt proud of himself.

Towering over him, Tom found Tord's one visible eye glinting proudly back at him.

"That... was much better." The Norsk puffed, out of breath. Tom smirked just a tiny bit, and lends him a hand, to which Tord gratefully took. Tom heaved him up, helping Tord to his feet as he adjusted his uniform and hair. "But you forgot to pin me down. That was a mistake."

Smirk wiped away instantly, Tom got no time to react as Tord pulled him forward hard, knocking him to the ground, then retreated and let Tom pick himself up before rushing at him again. Tom braced himself for impact, but Tord bowled over him easily.

"Look at my size, Thomas! Don't try to stand up against my attack. Use your wits!" Tord instructed, pinning him down with his boot. "If you are fast enough to avoid me, then avoid me!" He stepped off.

Tom scrambled to his feet again, preparing for Tord's next attack. This time he didn't dig his heels into the cushioned floor, but stood lightly, keeping his weight on his toes. As Tord advanced toward him, he hopped neatly out of his path, and struck out a punch against the side of Tord's face, sending him spiralling onward past him.

Tord regained his footing and whirled around to face him. A sly grin on his face as he rubbed his sore cheek. "Excellent! You learn quickly." He praised with glinting gaze. "But that was an easy move. Let's see how well you deal with this one!"

Tord sprang at him, slamming into Tom's side and knocking him off his feet. Tom writhed as he was firmly pinned down by the Norwegian man. Tord's silver-gray eye stared back at him when a mischievous expression crossed his features.

No harm in teasing him a little bit, right?

"Say, does this remind you of something?" Tord purred with mock contemplation. Tom stopped struggling to look up at him in confusion.

"No? Not really?-"

He cut off abruptly when Tord deeply inhaled, his nose scrunching up and his throat rumbling. Tom froze, his eyes widening. He knows exactly what the Commie has in mind. The snicker-snag!

Back when they were teens and started living together, it was common for Tom and Tord to get into lots of petty arguments and fights to breakout between them for the littlest things. Tord especially liked to tease Tom by pinning him down and subject him to a snicker-snag; a disgusting move where he would dangle a thread of saliva over his face until it eventually falls, and slobbers him. At the time, Edd would usually come to his rescue before such fate could happen. But Edd isn't here to save him now.

With that in mind, Tom's panic kicked-in and he started to trash around wildly, trying to escape but to no avail. His struggles only escalated when Tord began to droop the bead of drool, inching closer and closer to his face. "No! No! No!" Tom screeched, shaking his head frantically as his mind went haywire the closer the strand got until he couldn't take it anymore, and simply turned his head away. Eyes clenched shut as he waited for the humiliating defeat with one last desperate scream.

But it never came.

Tord slurped the thread back before it could reach Tom, and stared down at him as he laughed. "Jesus, Tom!" He wheezed. "With the way you're screaming it sounds like I'm subjecting you to some painful torture! Not a snicker-snag!"

Tom opened one of his eyes and gazed back up at him, annoyed that he's being made fun of, but at the same time relieved Tord wasn't going to go through with it. Or so he thought, before Tord's laughter died down and he let his saliva hang from his mouth once more.

"Oh c'mon!" Tom renewed his struggles, writhing beneath Tord from side to side to try and slip away. "Since when are snicker-snags included in soldier training, for f#cks sake?!" He hoped Tord would pull the disgusting slob back up again to give some witty remark, but unfortunately Tord merely chuckled and continued his insistent teasing.

In a last desperate effort to escape this awful humiliation, Tom thrust his legs up hard into Tord's belly, successfully throwing the Norsk off of him. He miraculously managed to dodge the droplet of spit at the last second, twisted and jumped to his feet before Tord could catch him off guard.

They continued training for hours in that gym. Without even feeling the presence of time pass between the two of them, they kept sparring for the reminder of the day. They laughed and bantered through the many punches and kicks being thrown at each other, but there was no sign of animosity between them. Only competitive playfulness.

All previous thoughts of suspicion, defiance and disdain have disappeared. There is only now; Tord and him, facing each other.

"That's enough for today." Tord stopped and gathered to his feet.

Tom couldn't help breathing a sigh of relief. He's completely spent after today's workout. Though he would personally never admit it out loud, he enjoyed the training session with Tord. Mostly because it was the only chance he got to pummel his fist in Tord's face without any repercussions after holding in his anger this whole time. But there was also this underlined pleasant sensation Tom couldn't possibly ignore that manifested sometime during training.

It felt weird.

He followed Tord out of the ring. The Norsk seemed a little tired; stiff and with a slight limp but he still walked with grace. Tom fell in step next to him, panting heavily and still a little exhilarated from their training.

"Good work, Tom. You did great today." Tord began as they walked into the hallway.

Tom glanced at him and scoffed. "Yeah right! I couldn't even manage to pin you down!"

Tord chuckled. "To be fair, no one can. Maybe Paul can, but he hasn't so far. When I set the challenge for you I knew you wouldn't succeed, but I wanted to see how you would try to anyway; and just as I expected, you did not disappoint." He went on. "You get frustrated very easily and that tends to cloud your judgment when it matters, but you are a quick learner and that'll be essential for the rest of your training."

Only half-listening at this point, Tom realized something strange. He wasn't feeling the least bit tired; in fact, Tom felt quite the opposite. He feels as if he could run laps around the track all day, his feet skimming the ground as the exhilaration of speed coursed through him, and Tom had a feeling he could stand up to anything. This sensation was new and refreshing to say the least. Tom wanted more.

"Hey Tord." Tom spoke up after a few brief minutes of silence. "Am I allowed to use the gym whenever I want?"

Tord glanced back at him questioningly and hummed. "I suppose."

"Then if it's all the same to you," Tom stopped walking and glanced over his shoulder. "I think I'll head back and train a little more by myself."

Tord stared at him in surprise, and then Tom glimpsed a flicker of disappointment in the Norsk's eyes before he settled for a calm demeanour and a lazy grin. "As you wish. But don't be surprised if you get a scolding from Patrick later for overworking yourself. I practically have to put up with it every day!"

Tom forced himself to chuckle casually before whirling around and going back the way he came. Something about Tord just then unsettled him. Why did he appear disappointed so suddenly? Tord had that exact same expression at the end of their talk in the test room. It had been brief, but it was still there.

Is Tord expecting something from me? Tom couldn't help but wonder. If so, what?

(Meanwhile…)

Reagan whistled a happy little tune as he led Edd toward their destination for the night. He couldn't stop thinking back to the ginger-haired man he encountered a few days ago. It was hilarious how awfully easy it was to unsettle him, and he can't wait to play more games with him in the future. Will he be brave enough to even try? Or will he stand back and watch as I steal his friend away? Reagan snickered quietly to himself. He surely can't wait to see.

"Hey Reagan, are you sure you know where we're going?" Edd's voice cut through his musings and he glanced back at him over his shoulder. "I must admit I've never been to this part of the town before, so I am kinda blind here."

Reagan clasped a hand on his shoulder dismissively. "Don't worry. I've been to this place a bunch of times over the past few weeks – I practically know this area like the back of my hand at this point."

Edd blinked in surprise. "Really? Why?"

The Irishman hummed pensively, grinning as he fished his pocket for a cigar. "Work related stuff, mostly."

They continued walking through the suspicious looking neighbourhood. Despite Reagan's reassurance, Edd remained on high alert; his brown eyes flicking all over the place.

The buildings they passed by were old and rundown, their windows cracked or barred with wooden planks. The streets they tread in were narrow and dark with barely any light posts to illuminate the way. The farther they went the fewer cars seem to drive by the area, leaving them in an eerie silence with nothing to take its place.

It was only when a bottle shattered ominously close by their location, startling Edd so badly he visibly jumped, did he finally voice his increasing worries.

"Reagan? Are you absolutely sure this place is safe? Because I got a really bad feeling…"

Expecting to hear another reassurance to calm his nerves, Edd was completely unprepared for Reagan's response.

"Well… I said that I know this place – didn't say anything about being safe."

"What?!" Edd exclaimed only to slap a hand over his own mouth in fear of attracting unwanted attention. He grabbed Reagan by the shoulders and started shaking him in desperation. "You mean to tell me we are currently walking through a danger zone and you are okay with this? Are you mad?"

Reagan stared at him wide eyed before smirking. "This is the fastest shortcut that I know of. Plus I thought you trusted me, Eddie. I would never lead you into danger on purpose unless we didn't have any other choice. But I promise you, as long as you stick close to me, we are safe." He brushed Edd's hands off his shoulders. "Trust me."

Edd stepped back hesitantly, still unnerved by the reality of the situation. "I do trust you, Reagan. It's your judgment that worries me a little." They resumed walking. "I mean, what if we get jumped on by a mugger? Or surrounded by a gang of bandits? Or worse?"

"Calm your tits, Eddie. I'm sure we'll get through this just fine."

"You know, there's been a lot of rumours and sightings of a beast wandering the area. Well, it's been a while since the last report, but in any case, I think we should be careful-"

"Beast? Seriously?" Reagan interrupted, rolling his eyes. "Where the f#ck are we? The eighteen-hundreds? Sh#t Eddie, I forgot my pitchfork and torch at home – guess we're f#cked!"

"I'm serious! People got killed by whatever it is, and it was a huge deal a while back. It kinda became this town's version of the Mothman or Bigfoot; everyone knows about it."

"As fascinating as it sounds, I'm still confident we got nothing to worry about." Reagan eyed him curiously. "You seem to know a great deal about this case though."

"It was all over the news when it first started occurring; it's kinda hard to not pay any attention to it when it's everywhere! Besides, it's quite an interesting case." Edd half-lied.

True, he had watched the news back when everything first happened, but Edd had never given the situation much thought. He was concerned for Tom and Matt's wellbeing at the time and often cautioned them to be careful. Then there were no more news about it and Edd thought everything was all good again.

Until Tom died that is.

When Edd finally snapped out of his denial, there was a stage in his period of grief where he tried to find the culprit behind his friend's murder. During his search, Edd had stumbled upon many articles surrounding the mysterious cryptid but Edd instantly brushed it off. Not that he doesn't believe in the supernatural in any way – his adventures have more than proven their existence. But it's highly unlikely this creature had anything to do with the situation, since Tom's death did not match the description of any of the other victims. Still, didn't stop Edd from doing his research on the matter.

"But I don't think we got to worry about anything. No one's going to jump us, and if they do, I'll make them regret it." Reagan's voice cut through his thoughts, jerking him back to reality.

"How can you be so sure?" Edd prompted.

Reagan gave a low chuckle. "I got… briefed before arriving in this town. Let's just say I know exactly what I am dealing with." He then paused, his tone taking a serious turn. "But I can't guarantee your safety if you decide to come here on your own for whatever reason. So I advise you to stay clear from this area when I'm not with you, or you're going to get beaten to pulp with an inch of your life left."

Before long they finally reached the end of the dreadful alley and left the horrid neighbourhood behind them. Edd released a sigh of relief when Reagan nudged him, prompting him to look up.

Their destination turned out to be a bowling alley. Reagan thought it would be fun if they played a few rounds and ate Chinese takeout together. Edd squinted as he took in his surroundings. The dim lighting combined with the harsh neon lights that bordered each one of the bowling tracks and walls hurt his eyes, and the obnoxiously loud pop music that blasted from the speakers didn't help matters. It genuinely feels as if they're on a rave rather than a bowling alley.

They sat in a booth on the far side, closer to the lanes and away from the other players in the establishment. While Edd busied himself on setting all their food down, Reagan went ahead and got the game started.

"And… strike!"

The blond flicked his hand forward and released the ball, flinging it across the smooth lane with such strength it thundered loudly above the blasting music. However, contrary to the Irishman's wishes, the ball dashed straight to the gutter and harmlessly passed by the pins.

Reagan frowned. "Boo! Game's rigged!"

"Tough luck." Edd chuckled, opening the last of the food wrappings.

"It's your turn now." Reagan turned to him, holding a bowling ball out for Edd to take. The brunet swallowed.

"I, uh, why don't you go ahead and play my round as well? I'm sure you can make a strike this time!" Edd suggested nervously.

The Irishman raised an eyebrow and scoffed. "That's not how this game works, Eddie." He shoved the ball into the Brit's hands. "C'mon! I'm the one paying for all this; the least you could do is try and enjoy yourself!"

Shoved closer to the lane, Edd staggered forward and approached wearily. He had never gone bowling before – In the past, Tom would forbid Edd and Matt from ever stepping foot into one of these establishments. It's not like he's here to complain now. Edd thought uneasily as he crouched into the address stance. Still feels wrong to be here playing though.

Pushing his nagging anxiety aside Edd held the ball up to his face, preparing to throw. However, as he peered at the dark holes of the ball, it appeared to shift – morphing into a face with empty eyes and spiky hair, glaring back at Edd as if scrutinizing his actions and a pang of guilt scorched through the brunet. Edd leaned closer to the apparition, yearning for the real thing to manifest out of it and change his reality from what it currently is.

"Hey Eddie, are you gonna throw the ball any time soon or are you planning on frenching it first?"

Reagan's teasing jab cut through Edd's thoughts, effectively erasing the illusion and jerking him back to reality. Blinking rapidly, Edd hastily threw the ball and watched as it went straight for the gutter.

"Yeah, sorry… I'm not very good at this game." Edd laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly as he tried to brush off his embarrassment. "I think I will just... sit down and eat instead. I'm really hungry. Maybe you should take a break too?"

Reagan stared at him intently for a couple of heartbeats before shrugging. "Whatevs, Eddie. I am gonna keep playing, if you don't mind."

However, not a minute later and Reagan called it quits when the ball went to the gutter again. They sat down on the booth and began to chow down their food and talk.

"So Reagan, what did you do before coming to this town?" Edd asked through a mouthful of food.

Reagan tsked. "You know I'm not allowed to answer that."

"Oh not work – I mean, like, life in general?" His earlier argument with Matt caused a bit of unease within Edd. He knows Reagan better than Matt does, that's for sure, but the Irishman is still as enigmatic as the day he first met him. The weight in his conscience would lessen considerably if Reagan were to shed some light into his background.

Humming deep in thought, Reagan tapped his chin repeatedly. "Not much, honestly." He took another forkful of his meal. "Just hopping from one place to another, looking for new thrills, hang around for a while before eventually moving on to the next best thing. Guess I was kind of a wanderer before settling for my job."

Edd contemplated his words. "Sounds nice, but also a bit lonely though." He stirred his food with one fork. "Don't you have a family to get back to? Or a home, or something?"

"What? And be tied down to only one place and having to depend on others all the time? Pass!" He scoffed, raising his chin. "I can't think of anything worse than being held back by others when you can accomplish so much more out of your life. I like to be free, thank you very much! I met a lot of people in my travels, and I can tell you, no one sticks around forever – and hey! Life is short! Can't afford to settle for a handful when there's a whole world ripe for the taking." He finished his speech with a wide grin on his face. "Why despair when there's a bar in every corner of the world?"

Edd opened his mouth to protest, but stopped short when Reagan reached for one of the fortune cookies. Rather than cracking one open to take the fortune from within, like you're supposed to, he simply tossed the full thing in his mouth and started chewing without a care in the world. Edd stared at him wide eyed.

"Reagan… you do know that's not how you eat fortune cookies, right?"

The Irishman stopped chewing, staring back at Edd in confusion. "What you mean?"

Flabbergasted he was actually going to have to teach such a basic concept to someone who claims to be so independent, Edd took the remaining fortune cookie and cracked it open; taking the slip of paper to demonstrate.

"Oh!" Reagan deadpanned in understanding. He stuffed his fingers inside his own mouth, poking around the mush of food inside. Edd nearly gagged in disgust and had to look away. Reagan finally pulled out the wet slip of paper from his mouth. "Blimey! You mean to tell me all these years I've been eating fortune cookies wrong? Well, this is embarrassing."

Edd chuckled half-heartedly, brushing the incident off. "So what does it say?"

Reagan unfolded his fortune to read, flicking away the bits of food clinging to it. "The greatest danger could be your stupidity." He deadpanned, earning a chortle out of Edd. "Aiight, sounds sensible enough. What about yours, Eddie?"

The brunet unwrapped the slip of paper eagerly. "All things are difficult before they are easy." His smile fell as he read the words out loud, the phrase resonating within him. It seems things are always difficult. He thought frustratedly. The image of a ginger-haired Brit smiling brightly back at him flashed in his mind, and Edd shifted in his seat uncomfortably. I shouldn't be here.

"I think I'm gonna head back home now." Edd stood up from his seat, ready to leave.

Reagan's head snapped up to look at him before he'd even finished his sentence, giving him a look; one that says he'd mistepped. Instantly, Reagan's hand shot up to grab Edd's elbow to stop him. "Whoa whoa whoa! Not so fast, Eddie." He spoke coolly. "Are you forgetting that I'm the one paying all expenses here tonight? After all the trouble of booking a place for us, you mean to tell me my money is going down the drain cuz you can't put up staying out a little bit later?

Silence descended between them like a thick fog, and stayed for a full minute as Edd contemplated his words.

"C'mon, Eddie!" Reagan grinned, tipping his head lazily to one side. "Where's your sense of adventure? Live a little!"

Edd bit his lip. He squirmed uncomfortably under that smile; it made him feel like a dull-witted child who still needs parents' permission to stay out late with his friends, and a tight knot of anxiety congealed in his stomach. Giving in with a small sigh, Edd shrank back into his seat and dropped his gaze, sipping his cola from time to time to relax.

"You know Eddie, I gotta be honest with you man, from one friend to another; but I think you might be just a little bit too uptight."

"Huh?"

"I mean, just look at your lifestyle!" Reagan motioned to the Brit's entire being. "You are an artist, hoping to strike big someday, and maybe even find yourself a fancy lady to court – or dude; I don't judge! – And you are really open with people." The blond narrowed his eyes. "And that's dangerous."

Edd stared at him, perplexed by the Irishman's way of thinking. "What do you mean?"

"Well, how many other people out there do you reckon have the same goals as you do? It's gonna be a competition, regardless if you think you got talent. Someone out there could be even better, and what will you do then?" Reagan kept going, acting composed and laid back as he delivered some harsh truths to really knock some sense into Edd's reality. "Put it this way, Eddie; you keep letting people in, you are just asking to get yourself hurt. I speak from personal experience that they will leave you in the end – one way or another."

Contemplating his ominous words, Edd couldn't help but tilt his head to one side. "Why are you telling me this?" His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion, watching Reagan tip back his head and take a massive gulp of his beer.

"Because we're friends! I thought that was obvious enough by now. I care about your wellbeing, especially since you lost a friend not too long ago, and I don't want to see you get hurt." Reagan responded as he slammed the tankard on the table, oozing confidence to back up his words. His tongue swiped around his lips briefly to clean away the foam the tasty beverage had left behind. "Those rose-tinted glasses you have on can only take you so far before it becomes too much for you to handle, so I advise you to start building some walls."

Edd drank his cola, unsure of how to respond and just letting Reagan's advice replay in his head. "Kinda bleak way of viewing the world, don't you think?" He speaks at last, a small faint smile on his face as he tries lightening the mood. "The world is pretty harsh, and life can be tough on us; but it's not all bad! There's so much more to it."

"Sometimes people die, sometimes they live, and sometimes they break apart." Reagan murmured coolly, slowly churning the beer in his glass. "In my line of work, you know, you learn the worst of humanity, and you sure don't see a lot of best to balance it out."

His sombre tone convinced Edd that he was speaking from personal experience. He felt a sharp prick of curiosity, wondering for the life of him what could Reagan's mysterious job be, but Reagan said no more, and Edd didn't feel that he could ask him about it.

Last time I asked you all on your update preference: long pause followed by weekly updates, or irregular updates like I've been doing so far. I read each and every one of your comments, but in the end the majority of you have decided on weekly updates. So after this chapter, I will take a long break and write up to 5 or 6 chapters and then start updating the story again at a later time. I will announce the return date in the next chapter! So please don't think this story is dead, cuz it's definitely not, k?

And with that, I ask you this; how much of what Reagan is saying do you believe is true?

#Tomtord #eddsworld #ew tom #ew tord #MLTS #angst #my little test subject

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