#flyers administration when i gets my hands on you

[retrievablememories]

cherry bomb | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: “get fucked or die” becomes the motto to live by when a serial killer begins targeting virgins on your campus.

genre: smut, horror/slasher, college!au

word count: 7.1k

warnings: multiple minor character deaths, blood, gore, violence (including gun and knife use), mentions of alcohol consumption. virgin-shaming and slut-shaming, oral (fem receiving), riding, virgin!reader, first-time sex, protected sex, hair-pulling, biting, fingering, dirty talk, virgin kink/corruption kink, fuckboy JK. is JK a sub or a masochist here? answer: i don’t fucking know!

a/n: inspired by the movie cherry falls (2000). heed the warnings. remember that this is fiction, not meant to be entirely realistic, and characters' views/actions don't represent my own. if this kind of content is not up your alley just block me or make use of the wonderful filtering option in your account settings

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 2

CHERRY BOMB

don't wanna die? come out and hook up with a sexy girl or guy.

virgins get in free!

THIS FRIDAY

NOV 3, 20XX

[address here]

"very corny." you shake your head, looking at the party flyer in your hands. you'd just torn it down from the bulletin board in your dorm lobby; unauthorized advertisements aren’t allowed, and your job as RA involves these menial-ass tasks. "this is literally life or death...why are they turning it into a joke?"

"it is a joke," your friend camille says, snatching the flyer out of your hands to look it over. "think about it. 10 students get killed since we came back in august, and the semester isn't even over yet. the school administration and local police haven't done nearly enough to address it or stop any more deaths. and the common denominator is that all these people were suspected or confirmed virgins?” you haven’t seen the evidence yourself, but the daughter of one of the local policemen claimed every victim also had virgin carved into some part of their dead body. “yeah, i'd say it's a joke to pretty much everyone at this point. this is what happens when you let the students come up with a solution."

camille hands the flyer back to you, and you hold it limply. "but...it's not like you can look at someone and tell if they're a virgin. the killer must've known them all personally. it just doesn't make sense."

"some of those people had no mutual friends. nothing connecting them whatsoever. not even shared extracurriculars. it's gotta be a perverted stalker with a fetish, maybe. a scorned hacker who somehow got into their private conversations 'n' shit? or maybe he consulted the cards to know who’d fucked before and who hadn’t.”

“oh please.” you scoff. “now you’re being completely ridiculous. tarot cards aren’t gonna tell you if someone’s a virgin or not.”

“then you come up with a better explanation. either way, these folks—" camille points to the flyer "—aren't taking their chances."

"hm..." you keep staring at the flyer, looking at the shiny-red cherries, condoms, sex toys, and other sex-related objects decorating the paper. whoever designed this really wasn't playing.

"so, are you gonna go?" camille asks with a sidelong glance. "free admittance, after all."

your neck burns under the collar of your shirt. "are you?" neither of you have had sex yet, for differing reasons. camille's reason was almost complete indifference to the whole act.

she gives you a look that says i could give a shit. "...you know the answer to that one, dear. so you're not even thinking about it? as much as you have cried to me and lorelai about not being able to find a man you like enough to give it up for, our killer here probably already knows. you practically have a ‘come kill me’ bullseye on your back.”

"i don't know," you say, because you genuinely are thinking about it. “and stop trying to fucking scare me.” despite your logical brain trying to reason with you, you still feel a sense of underlying terror about being the next victim. "the virgin killer," as they'd nicknamed the freak, clearly prefers a specific type of victim, and all kills have been random and unpredictable other than that—and the fact that every victim attended your university. he also seems partial to using a knife on his victims, but even that isn’t guaranteed—3 of the 10 had been killed in ways other than stabbing. "i don’t know why you’re so nonchalant about this, though."

camille shrugs. "if he comes for me, i'll just spray him with my illegal mace and kick his nuts into his throat. then tie him up and wait for my dad to come blow his head off. there are some advantages to having a gun nut for a dad."

you chuckle at the absurdity of it. "you've got it all planned out, then."

--

FRIDAY, NOV 3

taking a rideshare to the party was a smart idea on lorelai's part, because the two little shots you took to pre-game already have you feeling woozy. or maybe it's just your nerves.

the cherry bomb is located at a mansion that isn’t really a mansion, but a large once-abandoned house one of the fraternities fixed up years ago for throwing off-campus parties.

the party is stacked wall to wall with people when you enter, though from what you can see, no one has actually started fucking yet—maybe they're saving that for the supposed orgy later in the night. you just hope you can get someone in one of the backrooms before that happens, because you're not really keen on having everyone in your class knowing what your tits look like.

you have one simple mission here tonight—lose your long-held virginity and get off the virgin killer's radar. once that's done, you'll make your exit.

"actually, i'm surprised anyone else showed up. other than you, who wants to willingly admit that they're still a virgin in college?" lorelai shudders. you roll your eyes and try not to feel offended, sucking your teeth.

"you were more than welcome to stay back at the dorm."

"no! i'm here for moral support, plus i don't want to be alone tonight. i don't care who this killer targets, it's getting too crazy out here to just be letting your guard down anymore."

well, you won't argue that.

you and lorelai dance to the song booming over the multiple speakers, scanning the room for potential hookups all the while. you become more alert when you recognize a familiar length of black hair coming through the front door, plus the tattoos and piercings to match.

you're not surprised jungkook came. he has his pick of untouched and easily corruptible virgins here, which has always been his thing; you've heard him brag about it to his seatmates more than once in your shared elective. not to mention the stories you've heard from the women who actually fucked him. as far as you could figure, it was the usual male ego posturing bullshit about being able to say he was someone’s first—and likely best. for that reason, alarm rises when he makes eye contact and starts making a beeline for where you and lorelai are.

"oh, here comes the campus bicycle," lorelai says, voice deadpan.

you continue watching him from the corner of your eye, trying to see if he's just approaching someone in your general vicinity, but no. once he shoves his way through the crowd of dancers, some unashamedly groping at his body as he does, he stops right in front of you two.

"so, are you here for the same reason i am?" he asks you, grinning like the devil himself. "or are you looking to get that sweet little cherry popped?"

the backs of your knees sweat. "um—latter, i guess." you hadn't meant to answer that honestly, but to say you are caught off-guard is understating it. you can count on one hand the number of times you and jungkook have talked to each other in class, and never about anything of this nature.

"you're not gonna ask me?" lorelai says.

jungkook gives a hearty laugh; you didn't think it was that funny. "everyone knows you're not a virgin, why waste my time?"

"wow, okay. fuck you. you're no saint yourself." she huffs.

"anyway…" jungkook returns his attention to you. "have you really never done anything before? not even sucked a dick? there's no way someone hasn't tried to hit that. not even some 'backdoor action only' like those weird religious girls?"

"is that any of your business? i didn't know we had to give a rundown of our lack of sexual experience before getting laid around here." you snap.

jungkook's eyelids lower a fraction. "i'm tryna decide how easy i should go on you, babe. i mean, if you wanna take this in one of the rooms. otherwise, i'll let someone else have a go if you're not interested."

unfortunately, you are interested, despite his overly blunt manner and objectifying language. even though you know you’ll just become another entry on his long list of flings—someone he’ll tell his boys about later—maybe the fear of death is making you impulsive.

but maybe his looks are playing a part in it, too.

he's imposing with his physique and his all-black attire, his shirt so tight that you can clearly see his pectoral muscles and his nipples, his unbuttoned leather jacket doing nothing to hide those details. you can easily imagine yourself running your hands across those pecs, squeezing them, rubbing your fingers against his nipples and making him moan underneath you, feeling and seeing his abs contract through this stupid-ass shirt that must've been painted on. this brief fantasy immediately dampens your panties.

"…i'm interested," you affirm, dragging your gaze back up to his eyes, and he smirks from knowing you were obviously checking him out.

knowing the direction this is going in, lorelai taps you on the back and whispers in your ear. “have fun but don’t do anything stupid, yeah? i’m not playing auntie to any offspring you and this dude pop out, sis. use protection.” then she makes her exit to go find herself a partner for the night.

“so, come on.” jungkook nods his head in the direction of the stairs, and you follow him through the crowd as he leads you up the winding staircase. you squeeze past two girls kissing on the staircase railing, their motions a bit unsure as if they’ve never done it before but clearly still enjoying themselves.

jungkook pushes a few doors in until he finds an empty room, and you try not to ogle at the random couples you see along the way. not even an hour in and the two shots must be wearing off, because your body is beginning to buzz with nervousness again.

jungkook closes the door behind him when you both step into the room, which is lit by one lamp on a nightstand and the open window beside the bed. he reaches for you, and you shiver when his hand grasps the side of your face, the other snaking around your waist.

“scared?” he asks, his voice low. you shake your head, and he grins. “relax.” he leans in as if to kiss you and you part your lips, but he doesn’t do that just yet. he traces your top lip and then your bottom lip with his tongue, dipping it into your mouth as he switches. the teasing nature of his actions makes your body heat up as you watch a string of saliva spread and then break between the both of you.

he presses back in for a real kiss this time, his nose bumping yours. despite all your fears about tonight, you’re able to unwind somewhat and just focus on the full sensory experience that is this kiss—the warmth of his hands and his mouth, the sappy sound your lips make when they separate and come back together, the scent of his cologne, the taste of his spearmint-flavored tongue.

you find yourselves inching toward the bed, him walking you backwards while keeping you steady. just as the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, there's the sound of a woman's bloodcurdling scream from behind you, and you nearly shove jungkook to the ground in your haste to run to the door. your fingers are scrabbling at the doorknob when you hear a burst of laughter. a guy you don't recognize crawls out from under the bed holding his phone up, displaying a youtube video of the shower scene in the movie psycho, which is where the noise is coming from.

"that was funny as fuck." the guy laughs obnoxiously loud, holding his stomach. “don’t get too carefree or you just might die, girlie.”

jungkook grabs the guy by his jacket collar like he's a kid and throws him out the door; the guy doesn't object because he knows this is preferable to getting his ass beaten by the bigger man. "fuck outta here, you jackass." jungkook snaps.

jungkook stomps over to the closet to yank it open. "any more idiots in here wanna show themselves?" he checks a couple more areas before deciding the room is clear and closing the door again, locking it for good measure.

“okay.” he sighs, stripping off his jacket and shoes. he takes your hand and pulls you toward him as he sits on the bed. “relax, baby. forget about that fucking clown. come ‘ere. why don’t you sit on my lap?”

with a heavy exhale, you try to steady your still-shaking hands as you shuck your boots off and pull your dress up slightly to comfortably sit in his lap, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist.

he squeezes your waist. “so, where were we? i don’t really remember…”

you huff out a half-amused laugh. “really? i’m pretty sure it was this…” you lean forward with your hands on his shoulders and press your lips back onto his. jungkook follows in kind, his hands running up from your thighs to your waist and back again. the rhythm of his hands is hypnotic, distracting you as you try to keep most of your focus on the kiss, and you fear you may be getting overstimulated before anything has truly began.

as you continue kissing, jungkook’s hands creep your dress further up your thighs until your panties are revealed. still feeling up your legs, his hands press further toward your inner thighs, and you gasp into the kiss when his thumb pushes against the seat of your underwear. they have been damp for a while now and you know he knows this, so you aren’t surprised when he breaks the kiss to smirk, though it makes you roll your eyes.

jungkook whispers against your lips, “let’s try something. will you sit on my face?” you stare at him without a word, not expecting this to be the first thing he proposes. at your response, or lack of, he adds, “i want to make you feel good. do you want me to taste you?” his voice is so soft, so unassuming and cloying, that it makes you feel like a lamb clutched gently in the mouth of a wolf.

your brain is already surrendering to it. “yes.”

you get another kiss and a smile. jungkook moves you out of his lap, shuffles further up the bed, and lies down so that he’s flat on his back, his head surrounded by the pillows. he gestures for you to follow.

taking your time, you slide your panties off and crawl up the bed until you’re near his face and he’s lying below you looking like he’s struck gold. he grabs your hips to bring you closer until you’re right over his mouth. you’re embarrassed to have someone looking at you from this angle for the first time, and you’re about to get too into your head about it when he french kisses your inner thigh, blanking out your mind.

the only thing you know from then on is that his mouth is burning hot. his tongue is everywhere. he licks at you delicately to test the waters, and then more firmly when your thighs tremble around his head, in an effort to elicit the same response.

the way he fits his mouth over your entire pussy and sucks it with just the right amount of pressure so that it won’t hurt makes you feel faint. the way he slides the flat of his tongue over your clit only to suck it gently at the end of the stroke makes you cry out louder than you intended. you’re glad he moved further up the bed for this, because you’re holding onto the headboard for dear life.

the only things you’re aware of are your own out-of-control moans and the wet sounds of jungkook’s mouth working you over. all of it has you so overwrought that you’re already reaching your peak, your grip on the headboard weakening.

jungkook seems to know this without you telling him anything. he pauses and looks up at you with a fucked-out smirk and a wet mouth. you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for giving you a break. “before you come, fuck my face.”

“wh-what?”

“rub that wet fucking cunt on my face.” heat flares through your body at his frank words. “grab my hair and just ride my face.” he reaches up to take your hands off the headboard and places them in his hair. “you can do it, baby. fucking use me.”

it takes you a minute to get over the fresh wave of embarrassment and find a pace that works, because the connection between your brain and body feels like it’s frying and your coordination is off. jungkook helps guide your hips, especially with how you’re trembling from pleasure and close to falling apart. soon enough, you’re letting go of yourself and moving your hips enthusiastically, if a little clumsily, and chasing your climax. you savor the feel of your clit sliding across his wet tongue and his soft hair in between your fingers, and you push his head as close as it can get.

you come while screaming, dizzyingly immersed in the pleasure. you forget that you’re holding his hair as you yank roughly on it. the only thing that matters to you is that jungkook’s mouth is still sucking your clit through the best physical sensation you’ve ever experienced.

when he finally lets go and gives you reprieve, you collapse beside him on the pillows.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, disoriented. “about your hair, i mean?”

jungkook laughs. it’s funny how shiny-wet his face is—and that you caused it, which is kind of hard to believe in the aftermath of it. “the pain is what gets my dick hard. don’t worry.”

you chuckle breathlessly at that, and for a few seconds you both have that funny little moment to yourselves in all the ridiculousness of the overarching situation.

then jungkook’s hand is reaching for you again. “i’m not done with that pussy yet, though.” he brushes a finger over your hole, and your body twitches from the sensitivity. he slides that finger through the wetness and then uses the lubrication to push only the tip of his finger in. he dips it in and out, teasing the nerves at your entrance, until you’re shifting your hips closer to him to implore him for more. he grants your request by sliding his finger all the way inside.

having a finger inside you feels okay at first, though not as good as his actions a few seconds ago. jungkook decides to amplify your pleasure by placing his lips on your neck, leaving gentle and wet kisses behind, and you become all too aware of the feeling of your hardened nipples against the material of your dress. the pleasure begins to heighten when his finger finds a place inside of you that makes you throb, your walls clenching around him.

“ah…” you gasp and shift eagerly against his body as he keeps stimulating that spot, not thrusting his finger into you but simply stroking it across that area in a come here motion.

jungkook pulls away from your neck to smile at his handiwork. “that’s better, right?” he whispers, watching your reactions. your lips form around the word yes, though it’s difficult to try to speak, and you worry how unsteady your voice might sound. he waits until you’re clutching at his arm, leaving red lines on his skin from your fingernails, to carefully push another finger in beside the first. you try to breathe evenly, though his refusal to let up on that spot has your lungs stuttering for air all over again. his nose nudges your ear as he leans even closer and whispers, “there are so many different spots to find, so many different ways to make you come; i wanna go looking for them all.”

jungkook angles his hand so that his palm is also stimulating your clit, his fingers thrusting slowly now. you turn your head away from him as your body becomes ablaze, unsure what to do with yourself as your climax nears quickly.

“would you let me do that? learn your body like no one else has done?” he kisses the shell of your ear, and even that small action is enough to tip you closer to the edge with how your body is already so fired up. “who else could make you feel as good?”

this orgasm makes your eyes fill with involuntary tears, and little clear droplets bleed down the sides of your face and towards your ears as your body convulses. jungkook kisses the wet trails they make on your face, still fingering you steadily and forcing another urgent cry out of you. you feel untethered from yourself, like you’re not in control of your reactions, and you don’t know whether to be afraid of that or not.

jungkook pulls his fingers out when you have mostly calmed down, watching strands of your wetness drip between them before sliding them into his mouth.

after you come the second time, you begin to tire. the deeds have been done, and if you want, you can confidently go back out to the party now and say you’re no longer a virgin; you’re off the unofficial kill list and can live the rest of your days without having to look over your shoulder with every breath.

…but jungkook is hard against your hip, and in all honesty, you don’t want to leave without knowing what his dick looks and feels like.

“you tired?” he asks, and the casual air of it makes your stomach flip, for some reason. he says it as if this is something you two do all the time and he’s used to asking you this after wearing you out during a good session.

but now’s not the time to get delusional.

“no. i want more.”

jungkook smiles broadly, teasing his lip ring with his teeth. he sits up to peel that skin-tight shirt off, and you don’t bother to stop yourself from staring at all that skin in front of you. your eyes drop further down when he removes his belt and undoes his jeans, pushing his pants and underwear down enough for you to see his v-line but not taking them off. is that an invitation for you to do it? "you hold the reins here," he says, lying back on the bed again. "do whatever you want to me."

“whatever i want?” you repeat, already sitting up. he nods, hands behind his head, and you take the initiative to straddle him again, knowing you’re getting his jeans wet.

you reach for his pecs first, just like you’d imagined downstairs. the firm muscle of them is mesmerizing; but when you slowly circle your thumb against his nipple and his eyes flutter, a small and breathy moan escaping his lips, you’re sure you enjoy this much more.

you play with his nipples and even work up the boldness to purse your lips around one, sucking it softly, and every noise that arises from him makes your clit tingle.

you eventually move your hands to his abs, enjoying how they flex at your touch. you didn't think his navel would be pierced, not hearing that detail in any of the sex tales you've eavesdropped on about jungkook, and you wonder what else you might find out about him tonight.

“you should do your nipples to match.” you suggest it without much thought as you’re teasing his navel piercing, though you don’t regret saying it.

“would you be into that?” jungkook sounds like he’s actually considering it, watching you from below his lashes.

you grin. you don’t know if you’ll actually end up having sex with him again to see them, but you answer, “i’d love it…it’d be sexy on you.”

sliding your hands further down still, you come to the waistband of his underwear, which is peeking over the top of his lowered jeans. for a second the nervousness returns; jungkook notices how your hands twitch with hesitation. “it’s fine, i’m not gonna bite you…unless you ask me to, though. here.”

he slips a hand into his underwear and grips his dick, though he doesn’t take it out right away; he strokes the shaft a few times, observing your reaction with expectant and hazy eyes. the scene before you makes your mouth dry. jungkook quickens his pace, twisting his hand at the tip and using his own precum as lube, until you are overcome with the desire to see it and you pull his underwear out of the way.

his cock is thick and flushed and glossy with precum. you don’t have much to compare it to, but it’s a good size, and all the previous women have said that he clearly knows what to do with it. he releases it and it slaps against his abs, leaving a streak of precum behind. when you look at him in anticipation of what he’ll do next, he grasps it again and starts stroking himself quickly, like he’s trying to get off. the wet slap of his motions and his quiet groans make your walls clench.

“i could keep fucking myself and you could watch, since you seem to prefer it…” he murmurs.

“no, i—let’s go all the way.”

jungkook smirks and answers your decision by pulling a condom out of his jean pocket. you watch as he unwraps it and slips it down his cock. though you’re already straddling him, he grasps your wrist and encourages you to draw nearer to him. “come here, pretty thing.”

when you’re hovering directly over him, jungkook grips the base and teases his tip against your entrance. “ready?” he asks.

“yeah,” you say breathlessly.

it’s a little slow-going, but you eventually end up with him seated inside you. it’s uncomfortable to be taking something bigger than a couple fingers, but it isn’t terribly painful.

“now, try moving your hips like this…” with his hands on your hips, jungkook helps you grind against him so that your clit slides across his pubic bone with every move. the discomfort begins to ebb out of your mind after a little while of doing this, and you laugh quietly.

“i thought…i thought this doesn’t feel good for men,” you sigh, your eyes closing from the bliss of his firm abdomen stimulating your clit. “this grinding thing, you know. or so a friend told me…”

jungkook laughs too, but he doesn’t confirm it like you expect him to. his only answer is, “a sexy woman on my dick will always feel good.”

he seems to be more about showing than telling, anyway. his hands reach for your breasts, groping them over the fabric of your dress before sliding underneath for better access. sporadic moans escape you as he plays with your nipples, making your clit throb harder and sending more warmth pooling in your abdomen.

your breath wheezes out of you when jungkook starts pushing up into you, his hands still squeezing your breasts. “you’re okay, baby…” he tries a few different angles until he pulls a visceral reaction out of you, your walls fluttering around him and your body shivering intensely. “mmm, there it is.”

your motions start tapering off as jungkook continues thrusting up against that same spot that had you in tears earlier. noticing this, he slips one hand back down to your hip and encourages you to maintain your pace, keeping your clit stimulated while meeting his thrusts. “you’re doing good…” he murmurs. “go ahead, keep fucking me just like that.”

you’re glad lorelai makes you go to the campus gym with her every week, because otherwise you’d be about to collapse riding him for this long. it takes more of your strength and stamina than you’d expected. no wonder jungkook stays in the gym.

“oh, fuck…” the way all his muscles flex as he repeatedly pushes up into you makes you wetter; you no longer have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about the gushy noises your pussy is creating. your whole world has whittled down to this one room, and all you can think about is your next orgasm.

“pull my hair again,” he requests, his eyes dark and lost in lust when he looks up at you.

"jungkook..." you grip his sweaty hair in your hand and pull it to bare his throat, and he gives a desperate moan, his member jerking inside you. you've never felt so in control of a situation before in your life. it gives you a straight adrenaline-slash-dopamine rush.

his neck is just there and exposed, flushed from exertion, and his physical responses make you feel so primal, like you could do absolutely anything to him right now and he’d enjoy it. because of this, you decide to bite his neck, if only to give your mouth something to do. his dick twitches again when you do, another pretty moan leaving his mouth.

his voice is strained when he says, “bite me harder.” when you let go, your mouth travels the expanse of his neck to leave marks in a few other places, digging in harder just as he asked of you.

“fuck, y/n—” the pain of your teeth is pushing him close to the edge too soon, so he slips his other hand out from under your dress and brings it lower to circle his fingers over your clit. jungkook adding his experienced fingers to his constant stimulation of your g-spot is enough to cause your release. your body slumps onto his as you squeeze around him, your head falling into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and your eyes shutting so tightly that you see wobbling shapes in the darkness.

jungkook gives you a few more thrusts rougher than the rest, causing you to cry out. your climax and the aftershocks have your mind so dizzy that you only just realize that he’s reaching his own peak, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he fills the condom with his cum. you hear him groan next to your ear, the sound of it filthy and uninhibited.

jungkook lifts your head from his shoulder, his thumbs on your cheeks, and his lips meet yours in a final slow kiss, his teeth leaving their mark on your bottom lip as a parting reminder.

you're still trying to get your bearings and slide him out of you when jungkook suddenly says, "what is that noise?"

"huh?" you remain immobile for a moment so you can listen more clearly, and you recognize the sounds of screaming and feet pounding on the floors in a bid to run away—both upstairs and downstairs. these don't sound like the same screams of pleasure from earlier. "what the hell?"

you and jungkook scramble to collect your clothes and get dressed, thankful that neither of you stripped down completely, and he throws the used condom into a random corner of the room. you're still making last minute adjustments when jungkook stands up and unlocks the door.

"the fuck is—?" his voice cuts off as if he can't finish his thought.

"what? what is it?" you stand up to get a better view around his body in the doorway, and you scream when you see a lone blonde girl lying a few feet away from the door, slumped against the opposite wall with a slashed throat. her pink party dress bleeds red, and her face that catches the illumination of the string lights glints with tear tracks. you look away from her unseeing eyes before you can cry out again.

jungkook seems confused, peering down the other end of the hallway like there'll be someone there to explain. "it...didn't work?" he asks to no one in particular, as you have no answer. you walk farther back into the room as if putting more distance between you and the body will provide some protection. bumping against the window sill, you turn around to look out the window and see several cars peeling out of the makeshift grass parking lot, nearly running over other people or hitting other cars on the way. you release a stifled scream from behind your hands when someone is too disoriented to get out of the way of the speeding cars and is sent flying through the air before landing painfully, their body now unmoving. the offending car never stops to check on them.

the screaming downstairs worsens, countless voices rising to a fever pitch of shouting and wailing, and you imagine this must be what the pits of hell sound like. jungkook whips around to look at you. “we gotta get the fuck out of here.”

you two inch out of the room with him in the lead, peering into jarred-open doorways to see if anybody could be waiting in the shadows. there are a couple of other bodies in two other rooms, and you wonder—even with the loud music constantly reverberating through the house, did you really not hear the struggles that led to these deaths in your throes of passion? the thought unnerves you. the idea that maybe you were only saved by jungkook deciding to lock the door…

the stair railing you’d walked by an hour ago is now broken in the middle, splinters of wood lying scattered on the stairs, along with more bodies lying on the steps just as haphazardly. the scene looks like the remnants of a stampede; you hope most of these people are just unconscious and not dead.

the dancefloor is a swarm of people in various states of undress pushing and pulling each other as they rush for the exit. there’s not as many people heading for the back door, everyone attempting to squeeze through the main entrance in their unthinking panic, so jungkook grabs your arm and the two of you pick your way through the bodies to get down the stairs as best you can. when you enter the mass of people, you’re exceptionally glad for his strength because it’s easier to get through the opposing crowd.

to reach the back door, you must first get through the kitchen. beside the kitchen entrance in a dark corner, you see someone doubled over and grasping the person in front of them for stability.

you realize belatedly that they have a knife in their stomach; the other person standing over them is the virgin killer himself, calmly watching them suffer.

the killer’s face is hidden by the mask he always wears, which you are seeing for the first time now, up-close—a hairy werewolf head with lemon-yellow eyes and a candy-red tongue. it’s so unexpected that you would’ve found it comedic if not for the context.

a guy in a blue sweater grasps the killer from behind in an attempted surprise attack, causing him to jerk the knife out of the other person’s stomach. the sudden movement causes a spray of blood to come flying off the knife, and you have to hold back vomit when drops of the warm, stinking crimson hit your face. though it feels like time has slowed to a mere creep, all of this happens within seconds.

you don’t see much more before jungkook is forcing you to move again.

you, jungkook, and multiple others barrel out of the back patio door, nearly ripping the flimsy screen door off its hinges in your haste, while the classmate in the blue sweater fruitlessly struggles with the killer in the kitchen. your leg muscles flex harder when you hear the person's agonized shout and the mushy rip of flesh being torn seconds later. almost everyone else has taken the same idea to run for their lives rather than stay and try to fight or disarm the killer; the streets are dotted in every direction with students running for any possible safety, many not having arrived to the party in cars to escape in.

thankfully, jungkook is not one of them.

he grasps your wrist painfully hard in his panic and yanks you in the direction of his car, which is so pitch black that you almost didn't see it sitting in the shadows.

when you get inside, you've never been so grateful to be within the safe metal enclosure of a car in your whole life. hands shaking, jungkook jams the key into the ignition and presses the gas pedal so hard your head jerks against the headrest. however, in your temporary relief, you think of lorelai. your vision doubles as you scramble to open your phone and call her, your head spinning with a new spike of fear. it rings for a while with no answer, and you try two more times only to get the same result.

"maybe she got to safety somewhere else?” jungkook tries to reason with you, his eyes bouncing between your face and the road ahead so he doesn't hit any other cars or any random students still running across the streets. "i didn't see her anywhere in the house before we ran out."

"that just means she could be hiding somewhere in there!" you shriek, unable to control your terror at your friend possibly being trapped in the house with the killer.

"well—maybe just let her stick it out, he won't find her if she just—"

"oh god, but i called her like three fucking times; what if he heard the phone ringing? i'm gonna kill myself."

“y/n, you’re overreacting like shit, there’s no way he’d hear a phone ringing in all that noise—"

unlistening, you drop your phone and bang your fists on your head in frustration and anguish.

sighing deeply, jungkook forgoes any attempt to do a 3-point turn, which requires more coordination than he has at the moment, and drives straight up into someone's yard to make a U-turn back toward the house.

you hadn’t gotten too far from the party house, so in another minute or two and with a couple messy turns that cause the wheels to ride up onto the curb, you’re back on the street leading up to the house. before you can reach it, though, jungkook slams on the breaks, and you have to throw your hands out onto the dashboard to avoid flying into it due to not fastening your seatbelt. you’re not very successful; the move hurts your wrists, and you’re pretty sure some of your ribs just got bruised anyway.

“what the fuck?” jungkook shouts.

the virgin killer with his lycanthrope mask is standing in the middle of the street; he turns to face the car. he has a chokehold grip on a guy you recognize as a popular frat member, who is almost bare except for his blue-plaid boxers. you remember seeing the frat guy dancing with his girlfriend when you and lorelai initially entered the party; he was in the group of guys who put this whole party together as a way to “save” the campus’s virgins.

the virgin killer is holding a gun to the guy’s head, and you have no clue where he might’ve gotten it from. the guy’s demeanor is weak, and he’s barely able to stand, which is obviously from the profuse blood loss he’s suffering; the killer has carved sharp letters into his stomach to form two words—“FAIR GAME.”

“fair game?” you mumble, a sickly realization forming in your mind.

“fuck no—" jungkook is already throwing the car into reverse when you hear and see the first bullet go off, exploding the frat member’s head into an unrecognizable mess and making you scream at the top of your lungs. you hear more shots after you close your eyes and tuck your body down, along with the sounds of bullets splitting metal and hitting glass, and you think you might be actively dying—or maybe you’re already dead. even that would be preferable to experiencing this nightmare.

you can’t think as you feel the whole world spinning, your body tossed violently around. in reality, the only thing moving is jungkook’s car as he whips the vehicle around and speeds down the same street you just traveled up.

for a few long minutes, you only hear your own heartbeat, his murmured and frantic curses, and the strained breaths coming from both of you. you keep your body curled up with your knees tucked to your chest and arms over your face. the car’s engine roars as it races down the highway.

you’re afraid to open your eyes and find out, but you have to at some point. plus, the uncomfortable position is making your body hurt. carefully, you unfurl yourself and turn to look at him. “did you get hurt?”

“uhh—no? i don’t think…?” he takes one hand off the wheel to feel up his body as if he’s just realizing that might be a possibility. “but i’m wired off pure adrenaline right now, so give me a few more minutes to be sure…” he looks to you. “are you?”

“no.” your blood still runs cold at the thought of lorelai being stuck in the house or navigating the dark neighborhood streets at this time of night. maybe she doesn’t even have her phone; maybe it was lost in the commotion. the number of possible scenarios makes you ill.

there’s silence for a while; you assume he must not be hurt after all. you start seeing familiar roads that lead back to the campus, and the gears in your mind begin turning, powered by fear.

“do you think it’s safe to go back to the college?” you ask, your voice small.

after a pause jungkook asks, “why not?” though his face begins to look like he’s second-guessing things.

“the killer could go back to the campus…i don’t know. there was so much violence tonight. it’s like he really has a grudge against the students from our school or something. what if he wants more victims? the campus police are already incompetent, but with most of them off the grounds and on their way to the party house…” you don’t finish your thought. you’ll need to warn camille of the potential danger.

“right, yeah…” jungkook’s hands flex around the steering wheel a few times. “we should…probably go somewhere else, then.”

nowhere feels safe. still, you ask, “where?”

changing his route, jungkook glances over at you. “to a friend’s house.”

#jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fic #bts smut #bts x you #bts x reader #black reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #black fem reader #fem reader #female reader

[topgunruinedme]

The College Experience

Synopsis: Robert went to college with the rest of the squad, although right now he feels out of his depth. For some reason, he couldn’t help but smile at Jake Seresin.

Main Master List, Bob Master List, Prologue.

Inspired on @beachbabey image, here.

Of cause he was stressed, not only had his roommate for the last 2 years changed colleges without so much as a goodbye, but Robert also now had to move buildings. They had sprung it on them earlier that week. He remembered his heart drop, and something lodged in his throat at the flyer left on his door, they had a week to move their stuff out before the building underwent construction, and they had to move to the new building to meet their roommates.

He had read the list of people on his floor several times, it was imprinted in his brain. Cassie Newman and Natasha Trace were the only woman on the floor and were roomed together. Across from them were Reuben Fitch and Bradley Bradshaw, an unfortunate name. Roberts’s room was next to theirs; he was paired with someone named Micky Garcia. Across the hall from them were Javy Machado and Jake Seresin.

So many things could go wrong, what if his roommate hated him? What if they were messy? What if they were the type that left things out for days? Or had toe fungus? Or worse. He shuttered, what if they were the type to stay up late to party and bring girls home?

So yes, he was understandably stressed, he liked having things planned out. The administration had not taken kindly to his plan, he liked being prepared. He hated being unprepared it was one of his fears, he had been like this as a kid. His mum used to tell him about it, bringing blankets and winter clothes to the beach in case they had a sudden snowstorm despite the fact they were in Miami. He was always prepared, it’s just who he was.

-

When Robert stepped into his newly designated dorm room, he honestly hadn’t expected the man to be lounging back on his bed with a comic in hand.

“Superman or Spider-Man,” the boy said to him causing him to stop in the doorway blinking in confusion. Had he missed something?

The boy on the bed rolled his eyes and sit up “who would win?” he clarified. “Oh,” Bob flushed slightly at the boy’s attention, “uh- Spider-Man?” He answered hesitantly, the other boy’s face turned into a grin as he stood suddenly crossing the room wrapping his arm over Robert’s frozen body.

“Ah, I knew you would be a good man, come come. Let’s get you settled in” the boy said as he pulled him into the room, he extended his hand to the shorter boy “Micky” he offered. Bob found himself smiling despite being overwhelmed, “Robert”.

-

He had hardly unpacked his second bag, taking careful time to ensure his colour coding hadn’t been disrupted as he filled his drawers when the door bust opened. He startled flinching as the door slammed into the wall, he felt fiercely underdressed at the sight of the woman at the door. He quickly reached out and pulled on an oversized sweater in an attempt to feel safer with the unfamiliar person in his close proximity.

“Micky” she drawled, the boy on the bed hadn’t even acknowledged her he patiently flipped the page of his spiderman comic. Where did he keep getting them from? “Natasha” Micky replied in the same drawl, she rolled his eyes “Bradley’s not back for another day, Cassie is back and being a complete dick about it. Reubens went out with his boyfriend for the night”. “How is that my issue?” he asked her a small tilt of his lip showed he was listening to her rant, “I’m bored,” she said flatly, her eyes filtered over him and there was a spark of interest, oh no.

“Who’s this?” she asked, “Robert Floyd, the roommate remember?” Micky said flatly, already annoyed with the woman. “Come on Mickey, let’s show the newbie the grounds”, she grinned at him, and he swallowed sharply feeling small under her gaze, she reminded him of a shark, and not the friendly one from Nemo.

-

Books were safe he decided, they had sent him an odd look but hadn’t commented when he had grabbed the books from his bedside and carried them as he followed. They weren’t really guiding him; they were more just gossiping occasionally remembering to point things out.

He bit his lip quietly and drifted back grateful the two hadn’t noticed he was now walking a foot or two behind them. Deciding how quickly he had to be to escape back to his dorm.

He had been silently trailing behind Natasha and Micky when he stepped away, it had only been for a moment. Apparently, that was enough, he had turned the corner away from the pair only to collide with a firm chest throwing them both to the ground. The perfectly styled blond hair, and strong jaw that clenched. The stormy green eyes that gazed back at him, along with the hard earnt buff body. It was almost enough to steal his breath away; it was the collision he blamed. The man was built like a bolder.  

He was not prepared to meet Jake Seresin.

The man glared at him from the ground, standing without bothering to give him a hand to gather the books that had spilt from his arms onto the floor when he braced himself for impact.

“Watch where you’re going” he hissed in anger at him as he stormed off, the other man who had been by the man’s side and sent him a small apologetic smile before hurrying after his counterpart.

“What an arse” Micky scoffed lending him a hand, Natasha rolled her eyes “that’s Seresin for you, a rich boy who doesn’t even try in class”. She leaned in as if to share a secret “they say his parents sent him here just to get away from him”, she had an unfamiliar glint in her eye and her smile put him on edge. He silently stood his books firmly in his arms, he didn’t respond to the others as he muttered “I’m going back to the dorm”.

He stopped in the hallway hesitating at the closed door he knew was Serein’s, the whiteboard on the door had rubbed the bottom of the name off, if he squinted, he could see the leftover of it.

‘Jake Seresin’, underneath it was ‘H_ngm_n’. Next to it was a stick figure with a smile on its face jumping from the side of a cliff with a noose around its neck, he grimaced. That had to be a sick joke he didn’t waste a thought closing the distance between him and the door, at the absence of an eraser he pulled the end of his sweater over his hand and used it to rub out the stick figure. He didn’t think about it when he slipped the cap of the marker and scribbled on the board. Nor when he returned it to its place in the side of the board.

Determined to be a good Nambour, he looked down at his bundle of books in his arms and picked one out, Mayday by Clive Cussler and placed it outside the door. With a small smile, having filled his quoter of people for the day he stepped back to his door and walked inside.

Unaware behind his closed door that Jake Seresin had heard someone outside his door and the familiar whiteboard creak and scowled, still upset having found the dam message left for him when he returned to the dorm.

Javy watched him wearily from his side of the room, as Jake waited for a moment as something was dropped to the ground outside the door it was unfamiliar. He waited until the click of another door shut before he jumped up from the bed starling Javy with the sudden movement, caused the boy to curse as he quickly dabbed the spilt water with a tissue.

“Jake” Javy hissed, he ignored him opening the door to his surprise to find a book waiting for him he looked at it in confusion picking it up and turning it over. Clive Cussler? Where had he heard that before it had an old plane flying on the cover and he held it thoughtfully. He turned to go back into the room and his eyes stilled on the whiteboard that had moments before been the cause of his rage. But he found a void space where the morbid stick figure used to be, left behind was a single classic smiley face. Two eyes and a mouth. 

He found himself lifting a hand absently to trace it carefully not to smudge it. He pulled out his phone and took a photo. After living with these dick heads for years, he had grown used to their taunts and hostile behaviour, he had assumed the new roommate Micky had gotten would be no different with the company he keeps. Maybe the roommate wouldn’t be so bad, his eyes flickered briefly to the door across from him reading the new name, Robert Floyd.

His lip twitched; Robert didn’t suit the small innocent man he had met moments before. The one he had ran into shoving to the ground, the one he had spat at and neglected to help. He couldn’t help being defensive around the others it had been drilled into him at this point, he still felt a small sliver of guilt. Despite how he treated the man, he had still scene the morbid image and whipped it away. Replacing it with something of positivity.

“Do you want me to leave while you have a moment with the door?” Javy dry comment pulled him back into their room, he rolled his eyes and stepped into the room book held protectively in his hand as the door shut. “Shut up” he scowled at the man who had become his only friend at this stupid university, who took his attitudes in stride.

He dropped onto his bed, swiping his phone open and placing the image as his home page background where only he would see it. He had an image of he and Javy on his lock screen dressed as cowboys when they went out for his birthday to celebrate, despite that they got arrested in the end it was the single happiest day he had had with anyone in a long time.

He chucked his phone to the side and laid back on the bed, the book in hand. He opened it carefully not to damage the spine, finding an inscription on the inside of the cover.

‘To Robbie,

With lots of love, Your sister xx

Don’t have to much fun at Uni without me’

The soon becoming smiley face was scribbled in the corner of the page, something that clearly was often shared through this family. Robbie, that suited him better. He wasn’t aware of the smile on his face until Javy scoffed, “wow, you’re falling hard” the man said quietly as Jake threw the pillow from his bed at the man, “don’t be a dick”. He didn’t deny it.

-

He picked out a book he had in his collection from a English class, he remembered reading it many years ago and for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it. He pulled out the Jane Auston book and that morning before his normal 4am run, he dropped it quietly outside Robbie’s door.

He had already been running for 15 minutes when the man stumbled out his door, still dark out yawning quietly as he looked down at the offending object. He blinked slightly, a book.

Who was leaving a book outside the room? It was clearly for him, having heard Micky venomously declare he lived by comics and all books could die before he gave them up. He picked it up, it had clearly been read by not for a while by its yellowing paged, his eyes flickered to the whiteboard on their door and couldn’t help the small smile at the now slightly wanky smiley face next to his name, matching the door across from him.

Series Master List

Tag List: @tallrock35, @inthestars-underthesun, @luckyladycreator2, @fortunatelycrazyyouth, @abaker74, @happypopcornprincess.

A/N: Let me know if I missed anyone.

#top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun fandom #top gun maverick #top gun 1986 #top gun headcanons #icemav #jake hangman seresin #robert bob floyd #natasha phoenix trace #reuben payback fitch #mickey fanboy garcia #bradley rooster bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #iceman val kilmer #tom iceman kazansky #iceman x maverick #admiral ron slider kerner #roomates #college #alternate au

[xtruss]

A Real Social Security Office Gave Me A Flyer With A Scam Phone Number On It

Scammers have Infiltrated a Social Security Administration Building in New York, Imperiling Your Personal Information.

— Shawn Musgrave | March 17, 2024 | The Intercept

A flyer handed out at the Harlem office of the Social Security Administration in late February. The number printed for the Manhattan office was actually for a scam line. Photo: Shawn Musgrave/The Intercept

“We Need To Let You Know You Have Been Selected For $100 in Rewards.”

It was a cheery automated message, not what I expected when I called the number for the Social Security Administration’s Primary office in Manhattan. The message went on: “Simply press 1 now to be connected to a live agent and claim your gift today.”

I double-checked the number, which a Social Security employee had just given me at the agency’s local office in Harlem in late February. I needed to replace a lost card, which was a service only offered at certain locations, the agent told me. He slid me a flyer and circled the contact information for the office in the Financial District in Manhattan.

“You can call this number to try making an appointment,” the agent told me.

“There are a ton of scams that use government agencies. But nothing like this.”

Still sitting in the lobby of the Harlem building, I dialed the number a couple more times, and each time reached a different grifter: I was eligible for another $100 gift card to Walmart, then help getting “free insurance.” I just had to hand over my name and address, to “confirm you’re eligible,” one scammer said. These are prototypical phone scam scripts.

In a recent experimental study, researchers posing as employees of a fictious government agency convinced more than 16 percent of older adult participants to hand over personal information, including their Social Security numbers. In another experiment, with college students, more than a third of participants gave out personally identifying information to scammers.

Highly unusual about the flyer in my hands, however, was that a very real government agency had given it to me.

“There are a ton of scams that use government agencies,” said Kathy Stokes, director of fraud prevention at the AARP’s Fraud Watch Network, such as “pretending to be the SSA and saying there’s a problem with your number or that your card has been suspended. But nothing like this.”

“I find that very concerning,” Stokes told The Intercept. “I can’t imagine how that would happen other than that someone on the inside being involved in it.”

When I brought the flyer back into the Harlem office that day, the same window agent called the number with me on speakerphone. When an automated message about $100 gift cards began to play, his eyes widened with confusion and he quickly hung up. “I need to tell a manager about this,” he said.

“I Can’t Imagine How That Would Happen Other Than That Someone On The Inside Being Involved In It.”

Reached for this story, Social Security employees at the Harlem office did not answer detailed questions about how this version of the flyer came into existence. “We were made aware” of the scam number on the flyer, one ticket agent said, “and that’s why we stopped giving those out.”

On closer inspection, the scam phone number was off by a single digit from the real direct line to the Manhattan Social Security office, and the phone numbers for other offices were legitimate. Stokes noted that the scam flyer had some hallmarks of amateurish doctoring, like inconsistent formatting and fonts. (I found pictures of similar documents posted to nongovernment websites — including Yelp and personal blog posts about the Social Security process — which the posters claimed were from other Social Security offices in the NYC area. Unlike the scam flyer, none of these versions included the phone numbers for individual offices.)

“This looks like some guy made this in the FedEx down the street and somehow got this in the pile of things to be given out,” Stokes said, instead of more a “sophisticated” scheme.

The scammers on the other end of the line were “pretty unsophisticated” too, noted Adam Doupé, a professor at Arizona State University who studies phone scams, after I showed him the flyer and he called the number himself.

“I wonder if the scammers themselves actually know what they have,” he said. “Imagine you are a scammer and realize that your number is printed on an official government document. How would you make the most money from this opportunity?”

Unable to let it go, I called the scam line several more times from different phone numbers to see what the scammers were after. Above all, they wanted my full name and address, which can be all a fraudster needs to pull off a change-of-address scam.

Only one scammer pretended to work at the Social Security Administration and said they could help me get a replacement card. They asked for my full name and address, but not my Social Security number.

A few scammers offered $100 in various forms as pretext to hand over my info. A couple said I could have a free “medical alert device,” and another claimed to offer “ID protection services.” Only one asked for a credit card number in addition to my address, on the pretext that it was needed to “activate” a gift card.

Amateur or not, this scam number still managed to sneak into a pile of handouts for at least one busy Social Security office in New York City. The Social Security inspector general’s office, which investigates phone scams, is looking into how this happened, according to Rebecca Rose, a press officer for the inspector general. But Rose would not give details about the inquiry, including whether the agency knows how long this version of the handout was given out or if other offices beside Harlem were also affected.

The inspector general’s office was unaware of prior instances of scam flyers at government offices. Instead, “the most common technique criminals use regarding fake numbers is to spoof an SSA number or caller ID, so that it appears the call is coming from SSA,” Rose said.

Reached via the actual phone number for the Manhattan office, a Social Security employee, who did not give a name, said numerous people had called about the scam number. “We’re trying to figure out who created this flyer.”

#Social Security Administration Office #Scam Flyer #Scammers | Infiltrated #New York | New York #Personal Information #Social Security Administration’s Primary office in Manhattan

[placesthatchangedpeople]

Daisy H. at the Midwest Center For Youth & Families

I went to South Shore Academy willingly, asking my family for help. This facility's staff uses force and threats to control the patients. On their website, it says from their patient surveys that over 90% of patients were satisfied with their care, understood their medications, etc. I too took this survey, here's the reality: a staff member handed it to me while I was crying and stood over my shoulder while I filled it out. She then guilted me about my answers and told me I was lying and had me either justify my answers or choose a better score. There was a section where "favorite staff" could be listed and she "suggested" to me who to list. These surveys do not represent patient experiences.

Staff would do whatever they wanted. Staff would routinely express their controversial political opinions against the wishes of some other staff and the residents. Staff members would express their physical attraction to underage characters and actors in movies residents would watch. Staff at one point threatened my whole unit with "cavity checks". (They did not go through with it.) Staff would use blatant judgment and call patient's families' parenting styles "horrible". The "patient advocate" was also the head therapist (essentially the boss of the program) so when grievances went to her, it was nothing she wasn't already aware of, nor would she address the issues. In her defense, she may not have had administrative power to do anything, which is a bureaucratic problem in itself. Staff even gave kids with severe allergies (noted in the patient's charts, which they routinely admitted they did not read) food that would send them into anaphylaxis against the child's request, saying things like "it won't kill you". Staff spent a large chunk of their time complaining about how little they get paid and making a point of it to express how unfair their jobs are, mentioning things like how they can't get through their shifts without multiple energy drinks. A staff at one point was heard late at night complaining about a "frequent flyer" patient at the Kouts facility saying "I wish he would have just got it [suicide] done already; he's the worst!" I routinely saw staff put children in holds, once with four different adults lying on top of a child, one on each limb, kid face-down on the ground, with the nurse onsite checking their pulse every five minutes.

The nurses did not have personal boundaries and would routinely touch/hug/grab patients without their consent. Nurses also routinely attempted to give patients the wrong type/dose of medications and refuse to administer PRN medications saying that "the patient was becoming reliant on drugs and not trying hard enough to use therapeutic skills" (to kids with no history of substance abuse.) The doctor was a whole different story. He also used the "not trying hard enough to use skills" line. He refused to address my rapidly worsening tic disorder, telling me "they aren't tics" which my pediatrician and neurologist at home adamantly disagreed with, and dismissing me and all of my concerns and complaints about side effects of my medication.  

Patients were only allowed to talk about their feelings, diagnoses, beliefs, religion, past experiences including trauma, etc. about three times a week: once in individual therapy, once in family therapy (if you were lucky enough to be invited), and once in process group (group therapy) (again, if you were lucky enough to be invited). I could write a whole book about my experiences and the things I saw there. To her credit, my therapist was pretty good, especially given the (judgment:) impossible position she was put in at this workplace. In conclusion, please don't send your kid here.

#Indiana #Kouts

[derireo-galge]

Non-Sugar Free | 2,1k | bp!hoseok | sope✍🏼

Hoseok gets handed a leaflet advertising a new massage parlor nearby. He reckons he could do with a relaxing trearment. He comes in and falls for Yoongi's expert, successful and a little unconventional techniques.

massage parlor au | masseuse!yg/client!hs | bp!hoseok | erotic massage | nipple play | fingering | multiple orgasms | face fucking | come swallowing | cunnilingus | slight manipulation | could be dubcon but it's con

~♡~

Some people would say being naive could be very dangerous nowadays. Hoseok agreed with that. Yet he also thought that this particular quality of his let him get into many adventures and made his life a lot more fun.

Because it's obvious that being naive didn't equal being stupid so he was at least careful and had enough common sense not to get into anything shady. At least not overly shady. Not overly shady that he himself didn't want to get into, if that made sense.

Once he was walking out of the subway when he was given a leaflet for a discount at a newly opened massage parlor. It offered all kinds of massages and basic spa procedures and was not too far from where he lived. There was one named after probably every nationality that existed in their region. Hobi admitted that he didn't know the difference between let's say Japanese and Vietnamese massage and if there was one at all. You know what they write on yogurt cups: sugar-free, salt-free, whatever else free but was it supposed to be there in the first place? Who knows?

He decided that he deserved to pamper himself. His job was pretty enjoyable but it didn't make it any less harder to do and the stress that is accumulated through a long period of time earlier or later would start taking a toll on anyone's body. So a massage at the weekend sounded really nice. He looked at the leaflet again: the salon was open twenty-four hours a day which meant that he could finish his working week not in a crowded bar with his lovely colleagues and not in a high-end restaurant with tiny portions and a date that would probably end up being useless as any other that he's been on with lately. It could instead be spent with benefits for himself and himself only.

The massage parlor looked pretty inconspicuous. It wasn't positioned in a mall or a plaza, it was in one if the flats in an upscale apartment complex. The interior looked neat and expensive, heavily accentuated with dark red and burgundy colours and had gorgeous half transparent curtains visible from the foyer.

The man that opened the door greeted him and invited him in.

- Is it your first time at Dawn? - he asked in a deep pleasant voice.

To that Hoseok fished out a flyer out of his pocket and unfolded it before demonstrating.

- I've been given this and would really like to try a massage.

- Ah, that's great. What's your name?

- Hobi, - Hoseok smiled.

He loved that nickname a lot. The man smiled at him warmly as if he was their regular client.

- And what kind of massage would you like? We have many available.

Hobi got slightly shy.

- You see, I'm not very knowledgeable about those you listed on the leaflet...

- That's alright, - the man said softly, - Do you want to see the brochures?

- Maybe you could recommend me something? - Hobi asked cutely, not really enthusiastic about reading a whole new bunch of information.

- Sure. This, I think, you will enjoy the most. We have a spot available right now.

He tapped on one of the options and Hobi nodded. He spotted the word "relaxing" in the description and decided that was all he needed to know. After paying up a hefty sum (the one he luckily could easily afford) he was given a fresh towel, slippers and a set of clothing.

- My name is Yoongi. I will be serving you today.

- Oh, you're the masseuse!

- Indeed I am. Usually we let the administrator go earlier before another one comes for night shift. - Yoongi explained casually.

He had a very enjoyable voice. Hoseok felt instantly at ease and followed the man to the changing rooms and was shown where to go afterwards. Once he changed he looked over himself in the tall mirror. He was given a set of disposable underwear, a really fine one. It even had a short top to cover his chest. It must be suitable for any gender or aimed to fit any preference. Hobi decided to wear the upper part. If needed he could take it off later.

- You look great, - he heard upon coming into the room.

Yoongi was already waiting for him, dressed in a set of uniform of a burgundy colour. He was standing next to a massage table covered in a big white sheet gesturing at it invitingly. The atmosphere in the room was soothing, with soft, barely audible music playing from somewhere. The lights were dimmed and there were candles burning along with light incense.

- I think we should start with your shoulders, - Yoongi suggested, - Could you position yourself here?

He patted the spot in front of him and Hobi sat there cross legged, facing away from the masseuse. Yoongi got some oil and rubbed it between his palms, warming it up, before laying his hands on Hobi's shoulders. It took some willpower for Hoseok not to let out a drawn sigh of relief. When was the last time he allowed himself something like that? Lately all his therapy came down to shopping and maybe a cheat day once a month.

Warm hands moved along his shoulders and neck. They truly performed magic, pressing certain spots and working out the knots, making Hoseok feel like the tension that he has kept inside started slowly seeping out from his muscles. Yoongi's thumbs circled on the sides of his neck, sliding in an unhurried rhythm.

- Breathe deeply, - he instructed softly, - In and out.

Hobi followed. He felt blood rushing into his head and his cheeks were tinted pink, probably due to the correct blood circulation. He felt like he has spent a whole day in the nature instead of an office with artificially purified air.

Then Yoongi's hands moved onto his clavicles and further towards his chest. His fingers slipped under the thin top, circling the defined pecs.

- Could you take your top off please? - the man asked and Hobi immediately did as he was told.

Yoongi took more oil and slathered it onto Hobi's chest. Very thoroughly he massaged the muscles, getting closer and closer to his pebbled nipples. At some point his thumbs went over them, sending a jolt of pleasure down Hoseok's body.

- Ah! - a moan slipped out of his mouth.

He felt his face getting blushy. He shouldn't have reacted like that, it was simply a massage. Alas, he couldn't help feeling sensitive when the thumbs brushed over his nipples again.

- Hnn, that... - he tried to think of the best word to describe it and finally blurted out, - That tickles.

Yoongi chuckled.

- It's okay. I need to massage everywhere in order to make you feel better. Feel free to express yourself however you want, - he said, going back to Hobi's shoulders to relax they after they went up in a shy manner.

Hoseok sat through the occasional touches and rubs to his nipples, feeling his body growing slightly tense around his lower belly. He found himself waiting for Yoongi's fingers to touch them again, to maybe pause over the sensitive buds for a little longer.

When Yoongi was done with his chest he took more substance and put it over Hobi's belly. He came up close, all but pressing into his back. His hand moved towards the panties that were getting soaked in oil and traced the skin just above the hem. Hoseok's legs that were bent at the knees parted wider and the hand moved over his groin, not stopping the soft rubbing motions.

- I need to massage here too, - he murmured and Hobi nodded.

Yoongi massaged over his pussy through the thin layer of the underwear, dipping his finger between the labia, and Hobi didn't know what to do with himself. It felt nice, maybe a little too nice. He regretted not reading the description of the massage in detail because he had no idea this was a part of it. But Yoongi was a professional, he knew better, right?

- Now let's work on this area, - Yoongi said and hooked his fingers on the underwear, pulling them aside slightly.

Hoseok's knees moved closer to each other.

- Is it really necessary? - Hobi asked shyly.

- Yes, it is the important part of the procedure, - Yoongi assured. - Spread your legs and leave it all to me.

Hobi slumped against Yoongi’s frame. He let the masseuse pull the panties to the side and leave his pussy covered in oil completely exposed.

- Just like that, you're doing good, - Yoongi drawled and put his hand between Hobi's legs again.

He slid his hand with his fingers splayed over the folds once, twice and then started moving it in a steady rhythm. His pace was gradually becoming more rapid, followed by sticky sounds of oil and the wetness Hobi produced. He kicked his hips up, meeting the pleasurable movements of the palm, feeling the growing need to finish overwhelming his body.

Yoongi would slow down and pause before picking the pace back up. He took short breaks to gently tap over his pussy, coax more wetness out of it with his expert fingers that curled inside just right. Yoongi's hand was relentless and Hobi kept bucking his hips to meet it. The man tried to keep him still by pressing him against his body with his arm around the shoulders and kept on sliding and rubbing with purpose.

Hoseok moaned and exploded with climax, trembling and panting in the ring of the strong arms. But if he thought it was the end of it, he was totally wrong. Yoongi's fingers crawled back to his entrance and pressed and massaged his pussy further as Hobi shuddered with blissful aftershocks. He couldn't help but come again, this time from added gentle rubs over his clit.

- There you go, you're doing amazing, - the masseuse praised and laid his client onto the massage table.

He prompted Hoseok to position his head slightly tilting back off the edge of the table. He obediently followed the strong hands that navigated him and he slumped on his back, still dazed from coming so hard and rapid.

- You listen really well, - Yoongi praised again, - Now keep your head just like that.

Hoseok perked up at the praise. He looked up at the man who stopped next to his head and his skillful hands went to pull down the pants of his uniform. He whipped his cock out, hard and thick and gripped the base of it securely. It was nice and wide, with a bulbous cockhead that was already beading with precome at the tip. Yoongi navigated his cock to slide the tip over Hobi's lips and the other mumbled:

- I guess this is necessary too?

- Of course, - Yoongi replied seriously, - A very important part of the treatment.

Hoseok sighed and opened his precome stained lips. Yoongi slid his length inside smoothly and it got engulfed by the wet warmth of Hoseok's mouth. It barely fit in but he did his best to relax and take as much of it as possible.

Yoongi made several careful thrusts and started bucking into his mouth, burying his girth inside him, reaching the back of his throat. Hobi felt it sliding in and out hotly and took it to the best of his abilities. Then the man bent over him and put his face between Hobi's spread legs, hugging his hips. He felt hot wet tongue sliding between his folds, sucking at his clit and then reaching inside his pussy.

He didn't expect to be eaten out so hungrily. Yoongi dipped his tongue in, slumped up his juices and swallowed his sensitive clit just as expertly as he was doing a massage. He hugged his hips tighter, pushing his face further between his legs and his warm puffs of breath tickled at his sensitive skin. He was getting positively devoured and was well on his way to his third orgasm which he honestly thought was unrealistic before. Yet here he was, leaking onto this man's tongue shamelessly who was eating his pussy like a person starving.

He felt Yoongi's cock he was fucking his mouth with twitching and soon his throat got filled with the other's release. Hobi came right after with the generous help of Yoongi's restless fingers that gave his pussy the best treatment he has ever received. Overall, he thought afterwards as he was being cleaned up by Yoongi from all the fluids splayed all over his body, it could be deemed as very resultative massage. Because, truly, he felt spent yet most relaxed he has felt in a long while.

~end

#ai-ee au #ai-ee au sope #sope #sope au

[goteengrow]

“Speed Dating the Board of Education Candidates”

 Not long after school started this Fall, teachers, school staff, students and parents came to share and exchange important school information and procedures at “Back to school night” for Patapsco Middle School in Howard County. The halls were lined with teachers outside their doors greeting students and their parents with smiles. Organizations that support our youth, families and our community as whole had warm welcomes and arranged marketing materials with their information readily available.

Students are scrambling the halls and pulling the hands of their parents as if roles had switched. You can see the urgency and focus on each of these middle schoolers faces as they took their parents to each of their period classes. There was no time nor opportunity for slowing down. Though, can we agree it is a proud moment to see a child so committed to helping their parent get to class on time? That evening, it was us parents who were loss and certainly appreciated the children’s guidance.

Us parents required help, but we did earn a break to mingle among the administrators and the organizations present that evening. During this time, I came across the table and representatives for the Charles Miller Branch Library, they had a flyer that immediately caught my attention. It said, “Speed Date the Board of Education Candidates”, hosted by the League of Women Voters; I thought to myself, this is a great opportunity to speak with the candidates directly to get their ideas on where they felt could be the greatest opportunity to improve the dynamic of the Howard County school system if they made it on the board. As a Howard County resident and parent, gaining this type of opportunity is of the most importance; I decided once our evening ended at Patapsco Middle, I would register immediately.

As I scan the QR code of the flyer to complete my registration, I focus in on the words, “Speed Date.” Suddenly I feel a knot in my tummy and think to myself, “I’ve never been to a speed dating event!” My mind quickly referenced once when I saw a tv show where people were speed dating and how the timer whistled so quickly, they barely could finish answering one question. At that moment, I knew I would have to be prepared ahead of time with my questions; I wanted to make the most of every second I had with each candidate. I wanted answers.

I knew there were four (4) candidates, but I did not know how many people other than myself would be at the speed dating event along with me. So, I kept my questions quite simple and had them written down. I wondered what the thoughts of each candidate would be on topics of class size, school safety, special education, and budget strategies, so I decided to ask about those topics. A few days had passed, and the evening was upon me. For a moment, I honestly felt a bit nervous as if I were to really be speed dating. I thought to myself, “Well this will be practice.” I chuckled a bit.

When I arrived to Howard County Library System Miller Branch, I felt differently, I felt excited to be able to be apart of the event and ask the questions that many parents would want to ask and I also felt secure in knowing I would be representing my Howard County students and be able to engage with the candidates where I could ask questions of streaming topics and even offer insight from my perspective, and it just may make a difference for our students when the two (2) winning candidates make it onto the board.

Feeling excited and secure I make it to the room where we are to meet and I see our four (4) board of education candidates, “Tudy Adler”, “Linfeng Chen”, “Jacky McCoy”, and “Dan Newberger”. I smiled at each of them as I entered knowing it was going to be a wonderful experience, I greeted the host and found myself a seat in the very first row. It was important to me to be close enough to gauge the expressions and body languages of the candidates as the each gave the opening statements. As a parent, I have learned all forms of communication is important to receive and anything involving our students is of the most importance.

As they approached the podium one by one, I was so pleased to hear each of their backgrounds, values, and experiences they felt would be most vital to the Howard County school system if elected to the board. I found so much authenticity in each of them as they spoke of working within the school systems in different aspects, or being apart of the Howard county communities, having and excelling through developmental delays and some even understanding how the school systems budget works and how to disperse the funds so it gets to where they feel is most important. The opening statements were the perfect launch to our speed dating event.

Then it began, each candidate went to a table and each table had approximately five (5) chairs and we did a round robin style format of speed dating. I decided to go in the order in which they had presented their opening statements. As other attendees and I approached each of the candidates with questions, they all were very friendly, patient, and concise on their ideas as it pertained to the concerns stated at the event. It was very encouraging to see all of them very brave and confident in answering each of our questions.

It was quite enjoyable and enlightening to speak with each of them on their thoughts, plans and ideas for educational initiatives. With these four (4) candidates pursuing a seat on the board, I have no doubt the Howard County School System can look forward to even greater support and direction. I must say, I am impressed with all four (4) candidates.

Two (2) seats are up for general election for the Howard County Board of Education on November 8, 2022.

 HCLS Contact: Ms. Katie DiSalvo-Thronson

Community Engagement and Partnership Manager

Howard County Library System

Resource: Howard County Public Schools, Maryland, elections (2022) - Ballotpedia

By: Ms. Banks, the CEO with a Blue Heart www.teencheckassistants.com

#howard county #board of education #howardcountypublicschools #teencheckassistants

[rosecaffelatte]

abracadabra | kuroo tetsurou

plot: it’s april, a new school year! with your two best friends, you are now attending nekoma high. since the school puts great value on extracurriculars, every student has to join a club. it’s only the second day of your high school career when everything around you suddenly turns dark...

genre: fluff, love at first sight, slow burn | kuroo x gn!reader

cast: kuroo tetsurou, you, your best friends miyuki and chizuru

word count: 4.1k

warnings: none

a/n: this could have been a short drabble to another kuroo story i’ve started before this but no. i made up some friends for you and added “some” additional information which ended up in a 4123-word-long story. do my ocs actually only play a minor role? debatable. so please, enjoy and send me a message on how to write a drabble (I just never know when to stop, help)...

A new school year, a new beginning.

It has only been two days since you started going to Nekoma High. Why did you choose this school? Well, because of the uniform! A chic blazer in a rich navy blue that just looks good on everyone. Not to mention the black sweater which in addition to the dark blazer gives everyone a lovely figure. Gray uniforms remind you too much of boring office jobs where you sit quietly behind the monitor for eight hours. That can wait for at least three years, sorry Fukurōdani.

Fortunately, you aren’t the only one who thought so because your best friends Chizuru and Miyuki have decided to attend Nekoma High as well.

One of the school rules states that every student must join a club. That opened up many possibilities for students who could just start a club just for the sake of having one, giving themselves ridiculous names which is why it’s difficult to differentiate between the real and the gag ones.

Even though it is compulsory, all the juniors and seniors try their best to recruit as many new members as possible. There’s one good explanation for their hard effort: the more members, the more financial support there is from the school administration.

It’s 8 o’clock in the morning. Swarms of students are entering the school ground. Behind the gate, you can admire the blossoming cherry trees that form an alley. Their petals are spread by the wind all over the schoolyard, so that everywhere you look, you can discover small blush pink carpets of fallen petals. In front of these trees are tables, nicely lined up on the left and right. It could have been a calm spring morning…

“Join the Not A Club Club! We meet every afternoon for club activities, or not!”

“Water Club! Water Club! We analyze the quality of each bottled water brand to create to most comprehensive data collection of all time!”

“Join us, the Going Home Club! Together, we can calculate the most efficient route going home, using the concept of the Travelling Salesman Problem without return point!”

The juniors and seniors are chatting everyone up who walks past them. You can’t even get into the school building without having at least three flyers forced into your hands.

It’s very interesting to see the different approaches every club has to recruit new members: the baking club is offering free cookies. The soccer club has their pretty manager drumming up their business and set her up in front of their table. Good-looking students from the drama club go down on one knee and proclaim their love in Shakespearian English in front of the entire schoolyard. In 3 out of 10 cases, it actually works. The rest of the clubs which unfortunately don’t have a secret weapon make their presence known by shouting, walking around with their banners, and distributing flyers.

You squeeze through the crowd with Chizuru and Miyuki, trying to avoid the upperclassmen as best you can. Finally, classroom 1-2, you plop down in your seat and let out a weary sigh like the other new classmates.

“They’re exaggerating a bit, don’t you think?” you say, looking at the two flyers that somehow managed to get into your hand after all. “What the hell is a host club?”

“Back in middle school, not even half of all the clubs bothered to recruit new members...” Chizuru keeps sliding down in her chair until her head was level with the back of the chair. She holds one of her three flyers above her, “Oh, Anything Goes Martial Arts Clubs?” Positively surprised, she sits up straight again. “Well, that’s more to my taste!”

“All the martial arts club put on a real show in the schoolyard, how could you have missed that?” you laugh. You look to your right at Miyuki who is struggling with her six, eight, ten, no, twelve flyers.

“Miyuki! Why do you have a whole catalog of flyers?!” You grab a few of the stash and look through them.

Curious what you mean by that, Chizuru looks up from her sheet and notices the stack of flyers as well. “Bet you couldn’t say no again, huh?” she comments dryly.

“Well, how am I supposed to do that?!” retorts Miyuki vehemently. “I always feel bad if I refuse because they might not get rid of the flyers otherwise...”

Chizuru sighs at the hopelessness of her friend ever getting her way and looks over at you, “Have you found something interesting yet?

“Anything that doesn’t take up so much time. We just started high school and I already struggle with the physics homework our teacher gave us yesterday. I hate science in general, I almost flunked out of that the last years…” you sigh and try to push away the thoughts of the upcoming strain with high school level science lessons. “Maybe a social studies club?"

Chizuru picks up a few flyers lying in front of Miyuki and reads them aloud. “What about the... Survival Game Club? Or Delinquent Gang, wow, they actually made flyers? Society for the Study of Modern Visual Culture! Wait, isn’t that just anime...”

“Oh wait!” comes from your right. Miyuki has picked herself back up and is flipping through her small collection. “Here! I think that would be perfect for you!”

Gratefully accepting the flyer, you read aloud what was lazily scribbled on by hand, “‘English Club. Join us! Together we learn about different cultures of English-speaking countries and practice our skills!’”

Chizuru crosses her arms on the table and puts her head down, “So another hour of English class, great. Who in their right mind wants to-“

“Hey, that doesn’t sound bad!” you say in amazement, looking up from the flyer. “Not everyone is as abysmally bad at foreign languages as you are, Chizu,” you joke.

“I will never ever need English in my life. Only keeping my muscles in shape is enough for my dream job,” she explains, raising her hands in defense.

You just roll your eyes and giggle at your friend’s carelessness. After taking a closer look at the flyer in your hands, you decide, English Club it is!

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ

As the bell rings to signal the start of lunch, loud and rapid stomping can be heard from upstairs. These are your upperclassmen, running as fast as they can to their booths at the school entrance. Some of them strategically position themselves in front of the entrance to the first-year hallway to head off as many potential newbies as possible right from the start.

“I’ll see you back in the classroom in 10 minutes for lunch, okay?” you call out to your friends and make your way out.

If I remember correctly, the English Club set up their table just past the entrance…

You politely decline any flyers held up in your field of vision, not knowing if the students have specifically addressed you or not. Your gaze focuses only on the booth that is directly in front of you. You elegantly weave your way through the crowd until you are only ten meters away from the booth.

Another five meters.

Only two more meters.

Just one more-

“Ah!”

Suddenly, everything turns dark around you. Something thin and soft lays on your head, something warm.

“What the-” In confusion, you frantically turn around, looking for a source of light.

You were so focused on your target right in front of you that you didn’t notice how a boy, standing on the side, threw his blazer over his shoulder with a little too much momentum. At that very moment, you just happened to walk by.

“Huh, where did my blazer go- oh.”

Turning around to where that little exclamation came from, the boy can’t help but giggle. At first, he doesn’t even see where his jacket disappeared to. But then, he lowers his gaze and, lo and behold, there it is, on the head of some student. The way you’re standing in front of him, covered by his blazer, makes him feel like a magician who is about to reveal his next magic trick.

After finally figuring out what’s shielding you from the sunlight, you feel the heat creeping up to your face. You don’t think this was funny at all. Did this actually just happen in front of the whole school?! And that on the first week of school! I’m sure the others are already staring at me, God damnit...

Slightly frustrated, you reach for the blue jacket and take it off your head to send the person responsible for this little situation an irritated look.

“What’s so fun-,” you are about to ask, but you’re taken aback by the sight before you.

Standing in front of you was a tall boy with jet-black hair that somewhat covered his right eye. He looked like he was trying to achieve that effortless but still stylish “I woke up like this”-look. You could see from his build that he does sports regularly, an athlete maybe? From his laugh can make out that he has a deep voice, a really attractive one. He is exactly the type of school crush most would go for: tall, athletic, charming laugh, suave aura, and a god damn attractive face. But something’s off: he looks like a playboy but doesn’t really give off that vibe of being an actual douchebag.

It’s his smile. It’s that smile that sets him apart from the other popular guys you’ve met in your school life. Not fake, not controlled in any way to get a certain reaction from others, no. It’s just a genuine laugh, just letting his current emotions run wild. Wait, isn’t that exactly how they get you?

Holy shit is he good-looking...

In awe, you quickly forget your previous annoyance and short panic of becoming the next hot topic because of your, in hindsight, not even embarrassing incident and proceed to stare at him. His cute chuckle is somehow filling your body with a tingly warm sensation. As he stops giggling and starts looking you directly in the eyes, you feel your heart stop.

“I’m really sorry,” he chuckles, “that wasn’t on purpose. To be honest, I didn’t even spot you at first as small as you are," he adds and gives you an apologetic look with a friendly smile.

You, still in staring mode, don’t utter a word.

Say something! Stop staring at him like a creep!

“Uh, well, here you go,” you reply briefly, holding out the blazer to him. Only then do you notice how you’ve been digging your nails into it the whole time.

What the hell am I nervous for?

You hand it to him and try your best to avoid any eye contact without making it too obvious.

As the boy takes it, he snaps his fingers as if he finally found an answer to something that has been on his mind for some time.

“Now I know why you look so familiar! You’re in my class, right?”

My worst nightmare, small talk. With new people. And then also with one of those popular boys. How does someone converse with attractive people, help.

“Y-yes, I’m sitting in the back,” you stutter slightly. I just want to get out of here real quick.

You think about saying quickly goodbye and getting lost in the crowds, hoping that he wouldn’t shout anything after you. Just getting away from here. Yeah, maybe sometime but not now. You’re not mentally prepared to do this. It’s not like you’re nervous talking in general but just meeting new people, alone without your friends behind you? Never.

“So,” you start, “b-“

No! What did I tell myself? New school year, new me. You hated how you were always so self-conscious in middle school or basically your whole life. There was no reason to be afraid of your former classmates. It was all just in your head. Fake it till you make it! Fucking eye contact, now!

After clearing your throat, you raise your head and look your counterpart directly in the eye. “My name is Y/N. You’re Kuroo, right?” you amiably ask with a smile on your lips.

Slightly surprised by the change of mood but also reassured, Kuroo returns the smile. He’s glad that he hasn’t made enemies on his second day of high school after all. “Exactly. I see, you paid close attention during the introductions yesterday,” he chuckles. “I can’t really remember 44 new names in just one day.”

An embarrassed laugh comes out of your mouth. What the fuck am I supposed to answer to that?! I’m not socially outgoing enough to have a witty comeback for that! Think. It shouldn’t be hard coming up with subjects to talk with completely new people… Wait, clubs! Ask about the clubs!

“Do you know which club you’d like to join yet?” you ask Kuroo as calmly as you can, hoping he doesn’t notice any of your nervousness.

“I was just about to sign up for the volleyball club.” He points his thumb towards the table next to you. Thankfully, the members, as well as everyone else in the schoolyard, are too busy shouting to notice your conversation and the little incident from earlier.

Volleyball? If I remember correctly...

“Oh, how cool! Since the old coach is back, maybe we can make it to the National Championship again.”

Kuroo’s eyes widen in shock, “Wait, really?” He quickly turns to the stand and slams his hands on the table. “Is it true that Coach Nekomata is back?!”

Taken aback by the sudden question, the junior behind the table just vigorously nods.

Slowly, Kuroo turns back to you, this time with a very different expression on his face. One full of excitement, spellbound as to what may await him in training with a famous coach legend. A determined grin on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes showing his longing for something he has been waiting for, something that is actually in reach now. But before he can keep on dreaming about his future career on the Nekoma boys’ volleyball team, he quickly realizes where he is and gets a hold of himself.

“Oh, sorry!” he sheepishly apologizes and scratches the back of his head. “Guess it just went through with me. How did you know Coach Nekomata was back? Do you play volleyball, too?”

You pause for a moment, Should I… No, don’t lie. You don’t know anything about volleyball. Why is that a question in the first place?!

“Uh, not really. I always choose volleyball as an elective in PE, but that’s about it. And, well, the volleyball club is really hard to miss.”

You both go quiet, listening to your surroundings for a moment. “Enter the volleyball club! The coach who took us to Nationals is back! Let’s go to the Main Court together!”

Both of you giggle after confirming your statement. Is this really happening? An actual conversation with a stranger? Wow, that “fake it till you make it” does work...

“I suppose you want to go to Nationals too?”

“Absolutely! My big sister took me to the Inter High Tournament at Tokyo Stadium once. The atmosphere was crazy, I still remember it as if it was yesterday. And ever since then I’ve always wanted to compete there myself,” Kuroo tells you dreamily, but quickly stops himself. “But I’ve been talking about me the whole time. Have you found something yet?”

“Uh, yeah! I was just about to sign up, too. Otherwise, I wouldn’t go here voluntarily,” you chuckle. You imitate his gesture from before, pointing your thumb back toward the booth of the English Club, however...

“Oh, you want to join us?!” A third-grader stands up from her chair with excitement and looks at you with hopeful and sparkling eyes.

And of course, out of reflex and without thinking, you quickly answer, “Uh, yes!”

“Really?! That’s great! Well, fill out this application form then! Here’s a pen! Unlike most clubs, we take our activity very seriously. We like to meet up every morning for a quick discussion for the activities later in the afternoon but it’s voluntary, of course. Also, we…”

Oh no… What have I done…

Still in shock and overwhelmed by the flood of information from the senior, you just nod and accept the pen she holds out to you. Suddenly, you feel something warm on your left shoulder. It’s Kuroo’s hand. You look up to him and see an understanding look on his face.

“The boys wanna show us the gym anyways. Talk to you later?” he asks and sends you a warm smile that elicits another wave of heat in your whole body. 

“Yeah, sure!”

You both wave goodbye to each other and you turn your attention back to the girl who hasn’t stop talking. Apparently, she hasn’t noticed that you had briefly turned your attention elsewhere.

“Uhm, excuse me?”

“Oh, I am so sorry. I didn’t let you get a word this whole time! Do you have any questions?” she asks, eagerly waiting for an answer.

This is so embarrassing…

“Yeah, well… actually, um…”

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ

“Y/N! Over here!” Miyuki waves over to you from across the classroom and points to the vacant chair they’ve already pushed to their table. They already have taken out your lunch box from your bag and have put it on the table. At this moment, Miyuki is a true personification of the sunshine, but upon closer inspection of your facial expression, her smile dries up. 

Slowly, you make your way to your friends, squeezing through the misaligned tables and chairs that the other students have moved for lunch. Your shoulders slumped over, your gaze fixated on the ground. It seems like an eternity. Finally, you plop down on the chair and let out a big sigh.

“Whasshup?” Chizuru has just popped a large portion of rice into her mouth. “Diddayrfuseyou?”

“No, that’s not it.” After letting out another big sigh, you slowly raise your head. “I accidentally joined the Science Club.”

“Huh?!” Both of your friends look at you with an extremely confused expression on their faces. Chizuru gulped and involuntarily swallowed the ball of rice without chewing it.

After successfully not dying from that, she speaks up first, “Wasn’t there this tradition that after a math, chemistry, and physics exam, you’d always come to school for three weekends for the makeup exam, or did I just imagine it all?"

“What exactly happened?” asks Miyuki, worriedly. 

“I-I don’t know how to explain it to you. I really don’t. Well, I was on my way to the booth and-“

“Y/N!” shouts a boy’s voice from outside the classroom. Everyone in the room, including you, turn to the door to see who is looking for you. There he is, standing in the sliding doors and waving at you with multiple drinks in his arm. Kuroo walks over to your little group. You are too surprised by his sudden visit that you don’t notice your friends quickly exchanging knowing glances.

“The team bought us some drinks as a welcome gift and still had some left. We’re about to head to the cafeteria, and since I saw you here, I thought you and your friends might want some.” Kuroo puts a small drink with strawberry milk, a bottle of green tea, and a bottle with caramel-flavored milk tea on your table.

I didn’t know we’d talk that soon again!

“Dips on green tea!” announced Chizuru quickly, immediately grabbing said bottle.

“Thank you so much, Kuroo!” you exclaimed.

“Yes, thank you very much. That is very thoughtful of you,” Miyuki adds. Your other friend just nods in agreement.

“Kuroo, are you coming?” shouts an older classmate from the hallway, peeking his head into your classroom.

“Coming!” calls Kuroo back and heads toward the door, not without sending you a sweet smile before vanishing behind the sliding doors. Lost in thought, you wave goodbye to him until you suddenly hear a loud throat-clearing from your side. You turn around, just to be met by knowing glances and sly grins from your friends. Both propped up their arms on the table and put their chin in both hands.

“Science Club, huh?” Chizuru drags out the last word while Miyuki only watches and giggles. “Doesn’t look like a nerdy type but I dig it,” Chizuru adds and wiggles her eyebrows.

“No, no, wait! It’s not what you think!” you quickly object. Both of your friends are waiting for an explanation without breaking eye contact with that look.

“This is a big misunderstanding, you’ve got to believe me. I–“

Already knowing that nothing comprehensible will come out of you, your friends let out a big sigh and turn back to their food. “Well, I didn’t know it would be that fast,” Chizuru simply comments, stretching her arms and legs.

“That’s true, but was there ever a moment when Y/N didn’t have an object of her desire,” Miyuki continues, calmly proceeding with her lunch.

“Listen, I am telling you! You better listen to me!” you prompt them both, trying to get their attention again, which you succeed in doing.

“No! We just talked and–“

“Let me guess,” Chizuru interrupts without looking you in the eye, playing with her bottle of green tea. “You tried to go to the English Club booth, something happened and you and Kuroo started talking. Because you were distracted by this good-looking fella and because your mouth is quicker than your brain, you somehow signed up for the science club.”

“And because they probably don’t have many applicants in the first place, you felt bad and didn’t have the courage to explain the misunderstanding. So you just accepted your fate and think ‘hey, maybe I can learn a thing or two’” concludes Miyuki.

“How do you do that?!”

“We had the honor of watching you drool over your crushes for the last 13 years.” Miyuki explains. “You see a good-looking person, boom, completely in love, even though you’ve never talked to them before.”

“You basically throw your feelings at them if they’re just above average-looking but that’s just my opinion.” 

Your mouth is wide agape from all the sadly true facts your friends just laid out for you. “Okay, well, yes, that is all true. But this time, I actually talked to him, so take that!”

“So, you admit that you like him?” Miyuki asks in a teasing manner.

“I admit that he’s very handsome? Pretty eye candy but that’s about it,” you state firmly and start to finally take in your lunch.

I was just nervous that I could hold up a casual conversation with someone I’ve never talked to before and that’s the whole story. Everybody is nervous when meeting new people and trying to make a good first impression.

Deep in thought, you just shove a chopstick full of rice into your mouth and chew.

But why going as far as thinking about lying to him that I like volleyball? I mean, it’s not a lie per se, I don’t hate it, I’m just neutral about it. See? No lie.

Meanwhile, both of your friends sit back and enjoy the view of you having an internal struggle with yourself. They’ve never seen someone angrily downing their food with a drink before. Well, downing is the wrong word: you took the drink where you have to poke the opening with a straw. You’re sucking so hard on the straw that you also sucked in your cheeks, looking like a pouty fish.

No, that’s not it. I thought about lying to him that I actually played in a volleyball team before. Am I that desperate for good first impressions? I mean, it’s just human right?

You think back to the schoolyard where you and Kuroo had your conversation. Just thinking about him,

Who wouldn’t feel all giddy and warm after talking with him? He’s really nice to talk to. It’s just a reflex.

His pretty face, his cute smile, his deep voice, the tingling sensation on your shoulder where he lightly touched you…

Warm?

How he let loose of his emotions after hearing great news. How excited he was for the upcoming three years of his volleyball career. That flaming  passion for his favorite sports in his eyes. How that dream of his doesn’t have to stay a dream any longer…

Oh no…

After finally seeing you come to a conclusion, Miyuki and Chizuru both look at each other first, exchanging knowing looks, before focusing back on you. As if on cue, both snap you out of your thoughts by saying:

“You like him, don’t you, Y/N?”

You look up to them, only to be met by sly grins.

Busted.

#hikkis posts #my fics #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo x gender neutral reader #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu fluff #love at first sight #strangers to friends #nekoma #haikyuu fanfiction #hq fanfic #fanfic #fluff #this will be a three part series #but each chapter can be read on its own so no pressure #especially no pressure for me so i don't have to follow a schedule haha #second real long fic open for feedback!

[writingmorsels]

Prompt: Missing

You suddenly disappeared on the journey between your workplace and your home.

Alex, your current fiancé, is informed about this and wants to be involved with the search. Sullins gets him off the case almost immediately when foul play is presumed, considering Mahone one of the first suspects because of his (lately rocky) relationship with you.

Eaten by the thought of you dead, Mahone launches himself in a private investigation to try and find you.

Based off the song “Where’s My Love” by SYML

It had been Lang, that saint woman, who told Alex the news: you were gone and no-one knew where.

After leaving the administration building next to Alex’s office, you didn’t come home. People noticed only because you didn’t show up at work the next day and the interviewed doorkeeper of your apartment building confirmed never seeing you that night.

It had been also Lang, who kept him in the loop. The first days of your disappearance Alex had been shaking with adrenaline, sifting every video, every photo, every interrogation transcript Felicia gave him after Sullins took him off the case.

“I know that look,” Felicia spoke softly as her hands went to grab his ones. “You were out of State, it’s not your fault.”

Was it not?

The both of you didn’t stop fighting about anything, in the last days before her disappearing. Sullins thought it was obvious proof of Mahone’s culpability and Alex couldn’t but agree with his superior, just on a different note.

It was his fault.

He pushed you, pushed against your love and your presence because it was too good, too warm. You were too good for him and he broke you.

How many times he snapped at you? How many times has he let his work take priority over you?

Did he see the signals and didn’t care?

Or was he so blind he didn’t even notice?

Did you just… run away from him? Or were you in danger?

“How many hours, now?” Alex asked, his voice a whispery, ragged strand of what originally was.

Lang sighed, seeing his friend with his head hung forward and shoulders slouched down. He didn’t even try to hide the lack of sleep and food, at that point. “Alex…” “how many hours...days…?” his voice didn’t stop breaking from time to time, hardly keeping emotions where they had to stay.

Felicia remained silent, thinking about the last time she saw you, waving as you came out of your small little office. “Five days, more or less.” she confessed. “We searched along the road she usually takes, but nothing came up.”

Alex didn’t move, but his brain churned. “Have you checked-” “Looked at the CCTVs, in the park near her home, around the neighborhood...we even asked for security footage from civilians. I went out there myself and found nothing,” Lang exhaled, shifting on her side of the sofa, uncomfortable.

“Search dogs?”

“It had been raining since she disappeared. They can’t find a lead.”

“Interviewed coworkers? Someone that fancied her? Hated her? Or me?”

“He asked everybody, twice. Nothing came up beside office gossip. Listen, Alex, I know you know your stuff, but we know too. God’s know how much I want to find her, but you need to listen to me.”

Mahone went silent again, for a few seconds.

“Have you… looked where I told you to-” “...Alex,” Felicia's voice grew stern. “We looked. Every. Where… You need to start thinking that...maybe... she might be-” “DON’T-...Don’t say it. Please Felicia...just...let me...” and with that Lang couldn’t speak more.

Her chest tightened as she saw Alex curl up, hands gripping his own hair and tremble in what little tears he still had left.

With a small, weak “I’ll see myself out” she walked out of Alex’s living room, leaving the man to be with his sorrows with just a soft pat on his shoulder.

They didn’t search enough, Alex thought as he jumped up from the sofa, starting to pace around. He looked at your face peppering the place with various photos, smiling memories he still could feel, trapped underneath the surface of that agony.

They didn’t search well enough…! She had to be somewhere! If only Richard would listen to him!

She could die!

She could…

She is…

Anger came over him in a wave and Alex let out a pained roar, as he kicked over the coffee table, sending all its nicknacks flying.

A glass vase shattered, papers and flyers and documents flew around, the small piece of furniture rolled to the other side of the room.

You weren’t dead… you were just out of reach of anybody else.

That was it.

Fuck Sullin’s suspects, fuck everybody’s incompetence.

You were somewhere out there and if Alex found killers, rapists and even former military, he would find the love of his life.

He exited his house like a hurricane, not even grabbing his heavy coat to fight the cold of mid-autumn.

He had to check that place again. Even if his colleagues assured him the place was empty when they looked, Mahone had a feeling.

Because if you weren’t there...then you really just up and left him without a trace.

Five Day Earlier:

“What?!” you snapped, pressing your phone against your ear. You barely heard Alex through it, the sound of chatter and keyboards muffling his voice. “But we had plans...you know we had plans!” you whined, making some coworkers turn their heads.

You huffed, storming out of the office and on the emergency stairs, just so you could chew him a new one in peace.

“We found a new lead for the Ragman case-” “Like I care! You’re not the whole fucking Bureau, Alex! Let someone else handle it!” you barked, your free hand grabbing the railing.

It was that or it was crossing the street, up to his office and smacking him to kingdom come.

He sounded angry just like you, his voice cold and strained. “I can’t just step down! I’ve been following this case for weeks, you know it!” “I know that I’m planning this fucking dinner since EASTER, Alex! It’s not even the real Thanksgiving because you ALREADY HAVE that day filled, but no! No, you HAVE to be on the other side of the fucking Nation even tho you assured meー no, SWORE me you WOULD BE FREE!” you found yourself basically screaming into the phone.

It was like a dam exploded and now days and months of pushing down emotions kept pouring out.

It wasn’t only for a missed dinner, it was for the rest. The feeling of being less than his job, being unimportant. Not being enough for him.

Those thoughts gnawed at you for quite some time and now they came back in full force. “You know what?? Fine! Go be a superhero! Go hunt your next bone, good doggy! While you’re there, marry your fucking job too!”.

With that you slammed the phone shut without even listening to his voice anymore.

One after another, his promises kept missing...and you were at your wit’s ends. There was some talking to do, for sure, but before that you absolutely had to cool down or you would totally wreck what was left between you two.

So, after finishing your boring day at work you went out and, instead of going back to your shared home, you got on a bus and straight to your favourite place.

The park was nice even when the summer was just a memory, a thick fog rising from the browny waters of the lagoon.

You walked down a wooden path, feeling the wet earth beneath it shift slightly, and you breathed a long, long sigh; you didn’t need to be so mean, but you were so tired. Tired of battling for every inch of attention. Tired of tiptoeing around Mahone’s always full agenda.

You didn’t mind his line of work, being a federal was a very dangerous and busy occupation, but Alex seemed to always do more of what was expected of him. No one ordered him to travel and manually grab the killer of choice to bring back. No one ordered him to stay afterhours for days on end, leaving you to wait up until midnight with an empty plate in the kitchen.

He was the one going the extra mile for his job...but lately, you wanted him to take some, not all! But some of that mileage and invest it in his relationship with you.

Especially now that he proposed.

You chuckled a sob, remembering the day.

Was it just so you wouldn’t run away? Did he really love you?

Or did he love the cooking, the cleaning, the company?

You stopped in the middle of the wooden road and looked left, seeing a faint path in the tall grass.

That small, invisible trail led you to the best place of the park, where you played cop and thief with your friends.

It was a small, round clearing among the trees, with one L-shaped stone covered in moss you called ‘The Couch’.

You hopped on The Couch and groaned your anger away, laying down on the soft greenery.

You didn’t know what to do anymore...

Mahone stopped his car inches away from the main gate of the park, leaving the engine on as he got off.

He grabbed a torch from the glove box and ran inside, moving the light around like a blade cutting the darkness. His eyes swallowed every little detail as he walked, combing with his gaze through the trees, the grass, the waters.

Frantically he moved along the main path, flashing the wooden boards now dark and soaking wet.

The recent rain erased any single footprint that would have existed, but Mahone knew your favourite place.

You showed him once, making him find a basket full of good food, a blanket and some wine. “Twenty steps from the crooked tree… thirtyfive to the left,” he mumbled to himself, finding the faint trail almost immediately.

He walked like a pirate in search of a treasure, careful to never stray from the path.

“Y/n! Y/n honey!” he shouted.

Alex had this foolish thought, this little movie in his head that, once he overcame the underbrush and pierced the thick veil of trees, he would find you.

Maybe angry, maybe scared, it didn’t matter. He just wanted to hug you tight, to never let go.

As he walked up into the clearing, his already broken heart shattered.

Everything was as he remembered: the long, thin trunks of the ashes, the big green rock, the blades of grass.

Even the smell was the same, humid and woody.

But you weren’t there.

You weren’t sitting on that strange rock or maybe laying in the grass. Not you or your body or any kind of hint you were ever there.

Alex’s hand trembled, the light of the torch vibrating. “No...no no no…” he sobbed. “Y/N! HONEY!” he started to shout, “Y/N PLEASE! Y/N!” his eyes darted left and right as the realization started to really hit him. “Y/N I’M SORRY! PLEASE! DON’T...Don’t...p-please come back...” his voice crumbled as did his body, overexerted by the long days without respite.

The flashlight flew from his fingers in a fit of desperate rage and Mahone wept alone in the woods, almost wheezing in the constricting pain holding his heart.

Tears streamed down his face as his palms pressed against his temples, nails digging into his scalp.

It was his fault, all his fault...if he just said no to Sullins, if he sent Wheeler instead...if he listened to Felicia…

You would be home with him.

Eating a warm, good dinner together and then crashing into bed, holding each other until morning.

Now you were gone and his heart was, too.

c l a c k c l a c k c l a c k s p l a s h

Amongst the sobbing and the sounds of the night, Alex’s ears picked up on something. A sound that seemed to come almost from underneath him, faint and muffled.

Then, raising his head, Mahone noticed he was in complete darkness. His torch was nowhere to be found.

No, there was something: a few strands of grass seemed to shine, but the light was too feeble to be his flashlight...or was it?

He moved slowly, furrowing his eyebrows for a moment...and then his eyes shot open wide, for what he saw there, at the foot of the big green rock.

You lingered in that place for at least a couple of hours, watching the sky turning from grey to black as the night progressed. Your phone pinged a couple of times with messages from Alex, asking you to answer his calls, to stop being childish, to please reply. The last one was a defeated ‘we’ll talk when I’ll be back. Write when you’re home. Love you’ that made you melt a litte. You sighed, closing the phone with a little clack and laying it on your forehead, thinking. Now that you were calmer and level-headed, what had happened seemed a little excessive. Sure you’ll speak to Alex about your insecurities, about how you felt being always brushed aside, but at the same time you had to make peace with the fact that you still loved him, so very much. He had that job before you came into his life, it was one of the things that made you fall in love with him: his stubbornness, his logic, his courage. It was a new point in your life and it just needed adjusting, that’s all… “ehh...fuck me…” you whisper with a strange, sweet tone in it, as you took your phone and started to slowly type ‘Going home. Love you too’ to him. As you hit send, the phone froze for a second before giving you a small error message. “No signal? Where am I, Narnia?” you grumbled as you jumped off The Couch, lifting your cellphone at arm-high in search of signals. You stumbled around in the clearing, eyes transfixed on the little screen above your head. “C’mon, now that I wasn’t that angry anymo-” your voice yelped as your heel sank into rotten wood. Something behind you, on the ground, gave away and your entire weight dragged you down, down deep into the earth. You dropped like a stone, your fingers trying to grab the wet, rough walls as you plummeted down. Then a splash, cold water enveloping you with its sharp claws, but it didn't stop gravity enough for your bones not to break. You heard a snap and suddenly a jolt of electrifying pain shot all along your right leg. You cried in agony, scraping your nails against the rocks like running away from the hurt. After a few minutes of intense panic, your eyes started to watch around, to assess your position after the fall. You recognized it, between tears. It was a well. An old well hidden from everyone's eyes but nature, still filled with a couple of feet of freezing water. “Oh no...oh--ffffuck…!” you wailed as you tried to stand up, letting out another cry as you immediately fell down again, your own body too shocked to manage to stand up. The sandy bottom felt grimy underneath your hands, your phone dead in the water where it fell right after you. “HELP! SOMEBODY!” You passed all night screaming for help, watching the mouth of the well light up with the cloudy sky of the morning after. If you squinted enough, its form could be mistaken for a full moon in the middle of a dark sky. Unable to stand on your remaining leg for more than a few seconds, you leaned against the stone walls around you, trying to stay as far as possible from the water. It was too cold to sit in it without freezing to death and you surely didn’t want to die. You screamed and screamed until your throat felt raw and your voice cracked. Your thirst found solace with the same water threatening your life and you drank it with small sips, feeling its coolness fight your body temperature as you gulped it down. Another night came and went. The light grey sky became black again. It rained, water trickling down the walls and slowly pooling at the base of the well, around her legs. You drank your hunger away, using the rain to quench your thirst now that your small reserve of water got, alas, corrupted by your bodily function. Your voice carried less far away, tired but still trying. Third day and leaning against the wall with just one leg had been unbearable. Your knee buckled from time to time, sending you into the water now one feet higher. You convened with your body that sitting down, even if in freezing water, could be done for a couple of minutes at the time. You tried to scream for help again, but your voice croaked pitifully

and never reached the edge of the well, hidden among the grass. Surely someone noticed your disappearance. Surely there was police involved already...it had to be. You secretly hoped he noticed, too. Would he care, after what you screamed at him? You could not feel your leg anymore and looking at its bent shape made you nauseous. Or was it the hunger? "Please….! Someone…" Fourth day. You could not stand anymore. Water reached your chest now and the only moments of warmth is when your bladder empties itself. Rain stopped flowing down that night and you waved goodbye at your only source of clean water. He wasn't there. No one was. Death was. Fifth. Cold. Light. Alex…?

Mahone carefully palmed the edges of the well, double the size of a manhole.

He looked down, the light of his torch now reverberating along stone walls, impressing on them the dance of water. And his heart sank down the same moment he saw you.

You were sitting down with water lapping at your collarbones, your skin so pale you looked like a ghost.

His voice hiccuped a second, before coming out in full force. “Y/N!” he cried, but you didn’t move.

Only a slit of your beautiful, beautiful eyes was open. So were your lips, turned a dangerous shade of blue.

Quickly, Alex grabbed his phone and dialed Lang’s number, knowing full well she would still be in the office. She was leading the search, despite her pessimistic view about it.

The woman replied almost immediately, her voice tense. “Yes?” “I found her!” he hissed, panicked. “Send me the firefighter, now! And paramedics! Please she’s unresponsive I can’t reach-” “Alex, breathe! I’ll send you a backup, but you need to calm down! Where are you?”.

Mahone breathed in, tensing his jaw, before moving his head to search for something to try and pull you out. “She fell into an abandoned well,” his voice was colder, professional. “There’s no time, just track my phone. I’m going down…!” “Alex wait-!”

With that, Mahone closed the call and safely left his phone a couple of feet away from the mouth of the well.

Without a second thought, the man slid one leg into the hole, then the other, slowly lowering himself inside with his feet searching for pursuit on the smooth stones. His fingers found cracks in between the rocks and slowly started his descent. Alex slipped a couple of times, holding on just enough for his shoes to find a ledge again.

The journey you made in a few seconds five days prior, took Alex at least one solid minute of intense climbing. When only a couple of feet separated the both of you, Mahone let go of the wall and fell down into the freezing water, feeling it gnaw at his legs. “Y/n…! Oh God honey...please answer me…!” he panted as he reached you, kneeling down into the stagnant water. His hot hands cupped your frozen face, thumb caressing your cold lips and your damp cheekbones.

For a moment there was nothing. No movements, no reactions but only the sloshing of water around your bodies.

Slowly, then, you came up from the dark, fuzzy place where you were drowning, your eyelashes trembled, stuck, unable to open.

Resuscitated by his warm touch, his presence. “A...lex…” your voice was barely a raspy whisper, but that was enough for Mahone.

He exhaled a deep breath, a smile cracking his tense expression as he lowered his head to kiss your damp forehead. “I’m here love… I’m here.”

For a moment you thought about wrapping your arms around him, searching for more of that scalding sensation against the skin. As you tried, a new explosion of pure agony rebounded in your body.

You couldn't move, almost frozen solid in that curled position. Your stone-cold body started to shake visibly, like a broken machine trying to power on. “h-h-he...reー” you whined under your breath, one hand fighting against the cramping muscles to reach his shirt.

You gripped on him with all the strength you had left, eyes rolling behind the eyelids from time to time.

Mahone immediately wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in his body warmth. “Yes Y/n I’m here. I’ll take you out darling...I’m here, I’m not leaving…” he whispered hurriedly in your ear, a big lump forming in his throat.

You yelped softly when he touched your broken leg, your only functioning hand pulling at his clothes in pain and Mahone furrowed his brows, watching down in the muddy water.

He saw your injury but didn’t say anything about it, only shifting his body to be able to hold you without causing any pain.

Cuddled into his arm, you let yourself mold into him, your heavy head resting on his shoulder and face searching the hot angle of his throat. “I’ll not let you die…” he sweetly spoke onto your wet hair. “You will not...leave me like this.”

You sighed against his skin, your trembling starting to subdue. Oh you were so tired, the weight of entire oceans on you… but you could not stand losing his voice into the fog. “h--urts-…” you let out a soft noise, desperate and scared.

Your eyes finally managed to unglue, lashes thawed and gaze glassy, but you watched his face, crossed by the undulating lights the torch created from the bottom of the water. If you died there, at least you managed to see the summer skies in his eyes one last time. “I let you down so many times darling…” Alex hushed, his voice low and closed in his throat. His hand never stopped caressing your face, brushing away locks of hair and heating up your skin with his palm. “But I’ll get you out of here...this is a promise I’m going to keep...you just...you just have to keep holding on.”

You wanted to speak, to reply to his sweet, sweet words. Transform your groan into words of love and pureness, but your hand felt heavier than ever before and your aching fingers lost grip on his shirt.

It had been difficult to even remain conscient at that moment, focusing on the beating of his heart in his throat. Focusing on your body now split in two: freezing death on one side, burning pain on the other.

“Stay awake Y/n, don’t sleep…! C’mon honey you have to stay with me now. Please..!” you heard Alex as if he spoke to you from the other side of a glass, the voice you always loved now muffled.

As your mind started to drift off again, a thought came into your mind.

You never managed to reply to his message.

You never said that to him. “ ーove... you…” your tired, hoarse voice managed to claw out of your mouth before passing out again.

Red and blue lights pierced through the trees and seconds after a group of men in uniform came rustling into the clearing.

Guiding them was Felicia Lang, her phone in her hand trying to reach out for Mahone without success. “Where are you, you dumbー !” her mumbling stopped as her eyes saw light coming through the earth, then a little mmmmhz-mmmmhz of Mahone’s vibrating cell phone.

“HERE! HERE!” she shouted, waving her arm. Both police and firemen crowded around the well for a moment, assessing the situation.

There was a man on the bottom of the well, standing in water up to his knees. He was holding a woman in his arms, trying to keep her as close to him as possible. “WE’RE COMING DOWN! STAND BACK!” one of the policemen yelled, as one of the firemen wore a harness.

Alex made one step back, watching intently at the man being lowered into the well by his colleagues. “C’mon…! C’mon!” he hissed under his breath, his body trembling with adrenaline while time slowed down to a crawl.

As soon as the fireman reached them, Alex neared him. “She’s hypothermic, unresponsive...I can’t find a pulse but I see her breathing…!” he spoke quickly, agitated and the fireman nodded. “Paramedics are on the surface, sir, don’t worry.”

You didn’t even make a sound as your frozen body passed from Alex’s determined hold to the arms of the unknown man.

Slowly, you were brought up and out of the moist hell you fell five days prior, and while the fireman carried you towards the on-coming stretcher, Alex was given a rope to use as a way to climb up right behind rescue.

He didn’t even feel the pain in his arms as training and fear both pushed him to move quickly, grasping at the edge of the well with one hand and the other being grasped by Lang. “She’s there, go…!” she whispered to him as soon as he came out.

Mahone neared the stretcher the same time the paramedics put it down for you to be laid on and start first aid.

They couldn’t find a pulse for a good thirty seconds, before one of them confirmed that yes, heart beats were present but slow.

“Shallow breathing. Have you temp?”

“25 degrees. She’s gonna collapse, wrap her!”

“On three. One, two, three-up!”

“Gently!”.

Alex walked near the stretcher, watching you being wrapped up in insulation blankets and with one of the paramedics pumping air into your lungs through a mask.

He never left your side, as the little procession sped through the park, towards the exit and into the back of an ambulance.

On the ride to the hospital, Alex never left your hand.

Your fingers never left his, too.

#prison break #Alexander Mahone #Alexander Mahone x Reader #oneshot #angst prompt #missing people #fanfiction

[monster-bait]

Monster Match: Torben the Werebear, NSFW

For @monstersandmaw​ I’m here for big squishy monster bois - werebears or werewolves or whatever takes your fancy when you get the chance in the new year. 

.

.

The morning sky was clear, pink-threaded golden light enveloping the valley between the trees, glittering across the lake’s surface. Noisy bursts of birdsong split the air from the tall curtain of pines that ringed the lake on one side, and you sucked in the crisp air. Breath...hold...exhale.

You would be fine.

After all, you’d taught this class before, for weeks at a time: had spoken in front of groups larger than this, had walked more people through the steps of sawing and filing, explaining the different flames of the soldering process, the difference in dapping and doming. To children, to teenagers. Never to adults, never to other creators…Teenagers who possessed more experience than this lot, you remind yourself. The intermediate class, teens who had been taking advanced classes in poetry and horseback riding in tandem, who had long since mastered the basics of your trade.

You would be fine.

.

.

Are you a tradesman of a dying art? 

Would you like to extend your creative repertoire?

We’re seeking hands-on artisans for an immersive ten day retreat

Teach your craft and learn from your neighbors!

Contact us to reserve your spot now!

The flyer had been hanging on the community board of the small, arts-focused school where you taught silversmithing to teenagers privileged enough to attend a school like Putnam, where “experience and collaboration unlocked the doors to the future.”

You’d made a promise to yourself that year: that you would start making you a bigger priority, that you would do a better job protecting your mental health and feeding your happiness. You loved learning new things, you loved travel, and you absolutely loved being surrounded by nature…

The job at Putnam was a good gig and you were lucky to have found it—the kids were mostly great, the administration treated the guest artists like visiting celebrities, and most importantly, it was flexible and paid well enough that you could definitely afford to fly across the ocean for a ten day retreat in the Canadian wilderness. 

Now you were here and today was the day—you’d be standing in front of the room, showing other professional artists the basics of silversmithing. You still weren't sure if being assigned to teach your class on the first day of the retreat was enormous luck, or if you’d pulled the short straw, but it was too late to dwell upon it now. Gripping the rawhide mallet you’d been swinging, you turned away from the lake. It was time.

What if no one shows up? What if you trip over all of your words?  A jumble of nerves tripped and climbed over each other as you walked back to the cabin where your class would be held; the same fears you’d had as an anxious seven-year old, waiting to see who would show up to your birthday party, the pony-shaped cake ordered for the occasion placed in the center of a long, rainbow-festooned table.

The door to the cabin opened as you plugged in the slow cookers full of pickling solution, interrupting your panic. A tall man ducked under the door frame, shouldering into the room and stopping your spiraling thoughts in their tracks. 

You’d noticed him the night before at the welcome dinner: ruggedly handsome and somewhat outsized, wedged between the organizer and the woman who wove intricate baskets and wreaths from long strips of tree fiber that she shaved directly from a large stump. He flashed you a lovely smile, even and white and beaming wide, before he took a seat near the front of the room. 

You wouldn’t have minded him being the only attendee, you thought, appreciatively eyeing his wide shoulders as he settled in the too-small chair. 

The fears of your seventh birthday proved to be unfounded, as the door opened again. For the next five minutes, a steady stream of participants flooded into the room, filling nearly every seat. You’d brought just enough material, you realized with a relieved sigh.

After a brief introduction, you told the group a bit about your background in a voice that only shook a little, when you made eye contact with the big man in the front. His eyes were like pieces of bittersweet chocolate, dark and shining, and his full lips raised in a small, encouraging smile as you straightened and pressed on, buoyed by the confidence his smile lent you. 

You’re a teacher, a master craftsman. This will be a piece of cake, you assured yourself, meeting his eye fleetingly once more. 

.

.

“Do you need a hand with these?”

He was hovering in the doorway, pointing at the crockpots of pickling solution, the last person in the room after your workshop.

“I would love that.” You beamed, craning your neck back to make eye contact. Broad shouldered and barrel-chested, he was as tall as a tree.

“You were really great, I learned a lot. I didn’t even melt the copper to my thumb! I’m Torben, by the way.”

His thick, dark hair was close-cropped on the sides and left longer on top, and his eyes crinkled when he smiled, again showing off that even row of white teeth as you laughed. He’d been attentive and studious during your workshop, asking you the kinds of questions that indicated his experience, to a decent degree, with the tools of your trade.

You sagged against the wall in relief as he dumped the steaming pickle solution down the utility sink’s drain.”I was so nervous,” you confessed. “When I signed up for this, I was so focused on the travel aspect that I forgot I was going to need to actually teach! I’m glad to hear I wasn’t just rambling...you seem to have a bit of experience, though. What class are you instructing?”

You learned, as he walked with you across the sun-dappled campus, that he was a glass blower, with a small studio right there in British Columbia. You’d unconsciously walked back to the commissary, you realized, smiling as he held the door open. When you’d left your small cabin that morning, you couldn’t have possibly imagined that you’d be practically strolling arm-in-arm with the handsome man you’d spied the night before, and wondered what the cost of such dumb luck would be.

Torben took his coffee with cream and two sugars, knowledge that seemed insignificant but strangely intimate, and you tucked it away as he chuckled at your dismayed reaction to the tea selection. 

“So what’s the plan for the afternoon?” he asked, after sipping from his steaming cup. You’d followed him to a picnic table outside the commissary’s doors, and the sun warmed your back and glinted off his sable hair. “Are we gonna do the fabric dyeing or the…” he glanced down at the schedule before him, cocking a full eyebrow, “...bread dough sculpting?”

We. Maybe it was forward of him to assume you’d be amenable to buddying up for the afternoon, or, you considered, maybe you were just reading too much into his words. You were, after all, in a rather small group, clusters were bound to form. He’s just being friendly.

You sat beside each other at a long wooden table just a short time later, once more huddled around crockpots, as a serious-faced hulder explained the different colors one could achieve through soaking their wool with onion skins and madder root. 

“I forgot to mention,” he whispered, leaning in close enough that you were able to feel the heat of his skin, woodsey pine notes curling around your nose, making your pulse flutter, “I’m red-green color blind. This is gonna be fun, eh?”

You were given free rein to attempt creating your own colors for small bundles of processed wool, and your stomach bunched and swooped every time he leaned in to deliver some self-deprecating quip or exclaim in horror that he’d skipped a step in the instructions.

“Maybe we should have done the bread sculpting,” you tittered, barely able to hide your giggles behind your hand, as the scowling hulder examined Torben’s fabric swatches, which had all come out the same indistinct, muddy color.

Fabric dyeing was followed by a late lunch together, where you learned he preferred the peace and quiet of the wilderness to the non-stop hecticness of Vancouver, where he lived in a small apartment. 

“I come out here every chance I get. I live in a really cool area, there’s always a lot to do—lots of galleries and concert clubs, great restaurants, but it’s just non-stop. Noise, crowding, traffic...it’s nice to get away. I guess becoming a woodsman is my secret ambition,” he laughed.

“It’s so beautiful here,” you sighed, lamenting that free time during the day was sparse. “I’m fortunate to live outside of the city, I can pop off to be outside whenever I want. I wish we had the chance to check out some of the trails here, but I guess that’s not what we signed up for.”

"We have free time at night," he cut in, a bit cautiously, glancing at you from the corner of his eye to gauge your reaction. "I know this area like the back of my hand. If you wanted to go for a walk tonight, we could."

Butterflies trembled through you at the thought of spending time with him, secluded in the dark. More than just being friendly, maybe...You had no reason to doubt his sincerity or his intentions, you decided. All day he’d been funny and personable, talking about himself freely, never making you uncomfortable with his questions or nearness. He was friendly, he was disarming, he was...dead sexy. 

You bit your lip, unable to disagree with yourself. He was solid and thick-set, with a wide back and powerfully-built arms, if the stretched-taut fabric of his shirt was any indication. His big, dark eyes were framed by a thick fan of lashes most women would be thrilled to have, and you had the feeling that snuggling with him by a fire would be the coziest thing imaginable. Feed your happiness…your internal voice was right, you decided with a grin. This trip was about doing what made you happy, and you hadn’t stopped smiling since he’d hung behind after your class that morning.

“That sounds excellent.”

.

.

He had giant hands. 

You’d been remiss in not noticing earlier, you thought, watching the enormous span of them as he shaped the wet lump of clay on the potter’s wheel. Every time he dipped his thick fingers into the bowl of water, a fresh layer of the oozing clay would cascade down the side of his hands, cupping the sides of the spinning heap, carefully guiding the shape to take form. You’d felt the span of them the night before, the thickness of his fingers and the strength of his grip, but seeing them now, covered in clay, nearly took your breath away.

It was the fifth day of the retreat, the halfway point, you noted with a pang that morning, saddened that the relaxing time in the woods was nearly at an end. The camaraderie of the shared meals and the interesting workshops...and the time with Torben. 

Your supposition that he’d be an excellent cuddler had proven true. 

That first night, he’d told you about the wildlife in the area as you walked up the dark path, gripping his sleeve as the moon disappeared, once you moved into the treeline.

“Bears?” you’d murmured nervously, gulping. There were no bears in the wild in the UK, but you’d seen them in zoos before. They did not seem like the kind of animal you wanted to wonder upon in the dark forest.

“We can watch them, if you want.” His voice had been a whisper, one that you’d felt shiver up your spine as he pulled you carefully through the darkness. “Nothing will hurt you.”

You’d been clinging to him when he led you carefully to a rocky outcropping, overlooking the twisting river. Below, illuminated in the bright moonlight, was a bear and its cubs, nosing at the water’s edge. You’d watched, spellbound, until the trio ambled back into the treeline, amazed that Torben had seemed to know exactly where they were in the great pine forest.

He’d proudly produced a box of Yorkshire Gold at breakfast the following morning, to your delight, before once more consulting the schedule for the day. Your cheeks had been warm as he read off the day’s different offerings, butterflies once more flapping a riotous frenzy within you.

On the third night, you’d blurted the question that had been bobbling in your mind for several days at that point. 

“So are you part-orc or something?” You’d been pressed to his side, your arms wrapped around the thick tree trunk of his own arm, absorbing the heat and smell of him, feeling cozy and drowsy and turned on all at once. The rocky ledge had become your spot together, and you’d walked through the dark trees each night before sitting quietly to watch whatever animals visited the river below. He was huge, you thought dreamily, feeling the enormous strength of him against you...huge and strong and incredibly sweet. Dead sexy. He made your own curves seem positively dainty, a feeling you appreciated. Thickly built with solid, well-insulated muscle, heavy limbed, impossibly tall...being part-orc seemed a likely possibility, and the words left your mouth before sense could catch up with your vocal chords. 

His laughter had been a deep rumble, echoing down the rockface and raising the hairs on your neck. Torben held out an arm, examining it under the moonlight. “I can usually see green okay, but who knows?” He laughed again when you buried your face against his arm, groaning in mortification. “Not an orc. Wow, this is easier than I thought it would be...I’m a were–”

“A werewolf? You’re a werewolf?” You interrupted with wide eyes. You’d always had a thing for werewolves, had gone out with one a few times back at home. The butterflies took wing once more as you waited expectantly.

“Not...exactly. A werebear. I guess you probably don’t meet too many of us taking the tube into London.”

Your eyes, if it was even possible, had widened even further. It made sense, you thought—his immense size and solid physique, his cuddliness...you hadn’t planned on kissing him at that moment, but once again your brain was left out of the equation as you leaned in, gripping the fabric of his shirtsleeve for leverage as you lifted yourself to his mouth. 

Torben’s full lips were soft and warm against yours, a gentle pressure as he returned your kiss, again, then again. Your breath caught when he sucked your plump lower lip between his own, holding it there before your mouths broke apart. The soft sounds of the forest—the slight rustle of small animals in the underbrush, the wet lapping of the river—reigned in the comfortable silence that followed. 

“And you? Are you a good witch or a bad witch?”

You gasped in mock offense to his question, amused that he’d been wondering about you too. His rich laughter echoed down the canyon, stilling the animals in the brush. “I’m a plant witch,” you clarified haughtily. “And all that means is that I have a way with green things and I know how to use them. No broomsticks.”

“That’s a relief, I’m really not a fan of heights.”

Dinner the next night had once again been a group affair, and you’d met the wise-cracking lich who would be running the pottery workshop. He’d sat next to you, keeping the whole end of the table entertained with his stories of the little boy who lived next door to him who thought he was the grim reaper, and how he fed the theory by leaving dead plants and pet-less leashes on his terrace and peering menacingly through the blinds, while the bespectacled basket weaver had been on your other side, asking endless questions about arts education in the UK and the school where you taught. 

Throughout, your foot had rested comfortably against the ankle of the werebear across the table, as his chocolate eyes sparkled.

After promising you’d be at Jerry the Lich’s pottery workshop the next afternoon, you’d excused yourself from the table, Torben close behind. There’d been less preamble before your mouths met under the moonlight once more. His tongue was hot against yours, and your hands appeared doll-like against the massive expanse of his broad chest. 

“You know,” you’d said thoughtfully, once the heated kiss had broken off, “I’m starting to have my doubts that you’re actually teaching anything this week. You got wax everywhere.” 

“You’re the one who wanted to be a chandler! I wanted to do arrow fletching!”

Your laughter was muffled by the fabric of his beleaguered button-down as your hands smoothed down his heavily-built torso, wondering how far you were willing to allow this little forest-bound fling go. You could easily envision yourself astride his hips, dragging your nails down his bare chest as he moved within you. Feeding your happiness...Heat flooded your face as you squeezed your thighs together, your sneaky, independent hand rubbing circles down his stomach...when Torben’s head raised sharply. 

In an instant he was on his feet, gripping your wrists. “Don’t move.” His voice was practically a growl, gently pressing you to stay on the ledge. Your breath stuttered and stopped as he stepped away, staring intently into the impenetrable darkness of the trees. 

You heard it then, somewhere in the distance: the snap of twigs as something heavy moved through the brush, followed by a snuffling grunt. The other sounds of the woods had abruptly ceased, the small animals holding their breath alongside you, as the huge creature lumbered closer. Torben echoed with a similar sound of his own, before the night air was rent by the sound of a huge paw slapping the earth. To your shock, Torben glanced back with a grin. 

“C’mon,” he whispered. “The cubs are probably nearby and she wants us gone. Mama bear is not impressed with our canoodling...wait, what do you call it? Snogging?”

“This is not an angry bear in the woods conversation,” you’d hissed, allowing him to grip your hand tightly and steer you through the trees, moving off the trail and away from the threatened bear. 

You saw the vague shape of her, slapping the ground in warning again as you pressed through the darkness. Your heartbeat had been thunderous when you’d arrived at the stoop of your small cabin, adrenaline racing like lightning through your veins, dragging him down by the collar, meeting his lips and tugging him inside, once again leaving sense behind.

His giant hands had completely encircled your waist, pushing the thin jumper up your body, as you made quick work of his buttons. Your thudding heart seemed to be everywhere at once—in your fingertips as they dragged through the dark line of hair that moved down his chest, jumping in your neck when he sucked at your pulse point, pouding behind your eyes as his lips moved over your breasts, teeth catching on a pebbled nipple. The bedding bunched in your fists when his hot tongue pressed between your open thighs, lapping at the wetness that was already there, making you arch when his full lips puckered and suckled at your clit. 

This trip was about feeding your happiness, you reminded yourself after you’d come against his tongue, the ebbing pulses of your orgasm still quivering through you. 

You intended to be a glutton.

“This is the cheapest condom in North America,” he laughed, after you’d produced the prophylactic that had come in the little first aid kit you’d bought at the airport. “We could wash the dishes with this thing.” 

His cock was heavy and thick, slapping against his belly when you freed the swollen length of it from his boxers, stretching you deliciously when you lowered yourself, a knee on either side of the wide expanse of his body. The image you’d had in your head earlier couldn’t compare with the reality of actually fucking yourself atop him, the press and squeeze of his girth making you moan in a way that might have been embarrassing, if it hadn’t felt so bloody good. 

When he began to lift his hips, meeting your shallow rolls with a depth your short legs were unable to achieve, you came again, clenching around him, feeling like you were flying.

The pillow was a plump cloud as your head sunk into it when he’d shifted your positions, rutting into you with fast, powerful thrusts, chasing his own release. “I’m close,” he panted, his hips still hammering against you, “but I can’t come in this thing. It feels four inches thick.”

He didn't protest when you pushed him up, even though the press of your palms against his shoulders was tantamount to moving a brick wall, rolling to his back once more. In contrast to his, your own small hands and stubby-seeming fingers barely fit around his heavy cock, and you were obliged to use both hands as you pumped him. The reverberation of his deep groan of pleasure could be felt against your lips when you bent to suck him, moving your tongue over his swollen head, his big hips jerking. 

Another groan, a telltale throb, and then your mouth was flooded, his release running over your knuckles as you continued to pump him through an endless orgasm.

The circle of his arms was impossibly warm and cozy as you tucked against his side afterwards, his huge body completely filling the small single bed. You’d wondered, as you’d drifted to sleep against him, if Putnam would be amenable to giving you off for the winter months, allowing you to come hibernate in the Canadian wilderness.

Torben’s pot was surprisingly well-formed when it came off the potter’s wheel, perfectly formed by his huge hands, which was more than you’d been able to say about the misshapen cup you’d thrown. He’d laughed gleefully, gloating that he’d finally done something well. 

“You’re going to go home with so many presents!” he exclaimed cheerfully, as you laced your fingers with his, uncaring of what other attendees might gossip. “Two expertly-dyed bundles of brown wool, a blob-shaped candle, and a really nice bowl. And you can take that condom back and wear it as a rain hat. Your hair will never be wet!”

Your outraged laughter made the hulder, just ahead, turn back curiously as you swatted his arm. His workshop was the following afternoon, and you couldn’t wait to see him in action. There were only five days left to enjoy his easy laugh and sparkling eyes, four nights to spend wrapped in his arms...but then there would be texting and video calls, future trips across an ocean that didn’t seem all that big, not when you compared it with the way he made you feel.

Your happiness, you decided, had never felt fuller. 

.

.

Monster Matches available on ko-fi 

... booking for February now!

#Exophilia #werebear boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster lover #werebear #monsterbait writes #monster match #monster matchmaker #exoerotica

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression Ep 14 - The Party To Protect The People From The NHK (N Koku Party) commences "Same sex, same name stealth operation".

K: Hi this is Dir en grey's Kaoru, starting this episode of The Freedom of Expression. Joe san, Tasai san, welcome....Well, recently, who knows whats really happening?

J: Yeh, its troubling. I've been spending a lot longer looking at my phone and computer. I've been getting a lot of coupons. My favourite shops or brands are all going online...well, no ones going into the shops, so they can only sell online. So i've been getting coupons like, if you spend over a certain amount, you'll get 20,000yen off.

T: I see.

J: I think like, 'Waa, I wanna spend!'..but then I think, actually since April, I've had less work so I need to restrain myself. I experience this conflict every day for about 15mins. Like, whats wrong with me?

T: I see.

J: Thats thier strategy.

K: If you have free time...

J: Thats it.

K: You'll end up spending money.

J: Normally, they have expirations, and I just think 'Aghh', so its really...

K: You can't help buying stuff, right?

J: I do end up buying stuff!

K, T: *laugh*

J: I really do! I bet there are people out there addicted to coupons! Aren't you? Are you ok?

K: Well, im ok. I just shop by mail order.

J: Ahh

T: I see

J: People are shopping like that a lot right now.

T: Hiranabe san, who works at our place, he's got a lot of offers from night time establishments, and he's troubled as to what to do.

J: Oh, to get him to go there?

T: Yeah. He got an unprecedented amount of messages.

K: (quietly) Unprecedented?

T: Like, 'please come, please come, please come'.

K: He only gets them now? Cause he'll be quick to spend.

J: How is Hiranabe san doing?

T: Well, as expected, he seems scared. He's in his 50s, it looks like he finally understands that his life might be in danger if he caught the virus. He wears a mask, he wears pollen protection glasses. When he goes outside he's like..'the virus won't get in my eyes'.

J: Sounds like a terrorist! Thats just like him.

T: He flipped 180°. He used to be the guy who says, 'Im not wearing a mask'.

J: Oh, really?

T: He's that different now.

J: Well, Im a similar age to Hiranabe san...

T: I can't believe it!

K: I can't believe it.

J: So, what was it?..Its risky, if you are over 50 its more dangerous?

K: Ohh right, yeah.

J: If you catch it, there's a higher death rate at this age?

T: Also, men are more at risk, right?

K: Yeah.

T: They are saying the death rate is higher for men.

J: Well, we are among that group. Shall we get on with the main topic? I thought we'd go with a topic that is unrelated to corona this time.

' "N Koku Party's 'same name, same sex' stealth strategy for Shizuoka no.4 district Lower house by-election". With the death of Mochizuki Yoshio, the LDP's former environment minister, candidates standing for election are the LDP's Fukuzawa Youichi, an independent group of the unified opposition's Tanaka Ken, independent candidate Yamaguchi Kenzo, and the Party Against the NHK (N Koku Party)'s Tanaka Ken, whose name is the same as the unified opposition's candidate. N Koku's Tanaka Ken uses the same kanji, and has the same reading as the unified opposition's Tanaka Ken. The opposition parties, electoral commission, and local media are racking thier brains about it. If a vote is for 'Tanaka Ken', there will be no way to distinguish between the two. Its a proportional division system, so ambiguous votes will be split according to the overall percentage of votes. The electoral administrative committee have taken measures to change the rule that makes a ballot paper invalid if it includes anything other than a candidate's name, to allow a candidate's age to be written aswell. As a result of this, with the aim of reducing ambiguous votes, the unified opposition are promoting 'Tanaka Ken - Age 42' in thier election cars, posters, and online in order to attract votes. On the other hand, N Koku's Tanaka Ken surprisingly hasn't taken any action. He has refused pre-election interviews with the media, hasn't published an campaign bulletin, he doesn't appear in election posters, he has no plans to visit the area. There are expected to be people voting who are unaware that two Tanakas are standing for election. As for N Koku's aim, their leader, Tachibana, had this to say.."We want to test how the votes will be split when there are candidates with exactly the same name. We are not appealing for votes either online or on the ground. We are a weak political party, and want to know how we stand *1'.

There's also suggestion of running another female candidate named Koike Yuriko for Tokyo governer. I thought we could talk about this kind of same name/sex disturbance strategy which the N Koku party has set up.

T: Its amazing, isn't it?

K: So are they doing it to siphon votes?

J: It seems like it, yeah. Especially, that would be the aim if it was for Tokyo Governor.

T: They said they wanted to test how the votes would be split, so like you said Joe, for Tokyo Governor, if it was someone else called Koike Yuriko, they would want to get the data of how the votes are split.

J: Well, its not about freedom of expression, but there is nothing illegal about what they are doing in terms of the election, so its totally ok for them to do this. What do you think, Kaoru?

K: Well..*laughs*, even if you ask.....its interesting but...how will it end up? But, well, hmmm...its fine, isn't it?

J: As it happens, I've been on a radio event with Tachibana san once. And also...well, in this kind of election, a candidate who no one is expected to vote for is called a bubble candidate, the most famous example is Mac Akasaka. I've worked with Mac Akasaka before, so I've listened to what these kind of guys have to say. I mean, certainly, these guys are laughed at and made fun of a lot, but apart from the question of what Tachibana Takashi is doing, to be a candidate for Tokyo Governor, you have to pay a deposit of at least 3 million yen. And if you recieve under a tenth of the total valid votes, you have to forfeit your deposit. The Tokyo Governor elections get about 5 million votes, so if you get under 500,000 votes, you will lose your deposited 3 million yen. As for national elections, the deposit is 6 million yen. So you can call it a prank all you like, but they are spending a lot of money to do this. What a lot of bubble candidates will tell you is, its not free, so they are doing this with the intention to win, they do think thier ideas will improve the country, improve thier party. If there was no financial risk, it would end up at the level of annonymous postings on SNS. But after they've actually paid money, most of them will start electoneering. Making election posters costs money, and there's the cost of gas to run a car to go handing out flyers, and all sorts of things like that. It will end up costing another huge chunk of money in election costs. So in doing this, there is another side to these guys other than, 'they are just idiots'. Maybe they are trying to get people to change the way they see elections, instead of just routinely voting for the faces they know.

T: Well this case has great advertising effectiveness.

J: It does, yeah.

T: Tachibana san's name has really been sold with this.

J: It has.

T: Like, with his own business, and on you tube and stuff *2.

J: Well, as for my personal opinion, I remember Uchida Yuuya running for Tokyo Governor. You can still find his political broadcast on youtube, its great. If you compare Yuuya san to Tachibana san, honestly, Tachibana san seems to have more of a knack for it.

T: Its interesting seeing that kind of political broadcast on NHK. ????*3

J: Well, even in times such as these, we are still having elections. From now on, due to corona we'll probably see new ways to vote and new ways to do all sorts of other things.

K: Its created a need to re-think things, like with the custom of personal seals...in Japan there's a big custom of 'You have to do it this way', or 'You need it on paper'.

J: Yeah, as you mentioned Kaoru, the custom of using personal seals...in the end, even Japan's IT minister also stands as the head of the organization to retain personal seals. Somehow in Japanese society, one of the things companies insist on is the personal seal. There are those who ask why they can't just settle things digitally, but if the minister responsibile for advancing IT is also the head of a group advocating to retain the personal seal, there is a clash going on now. This is the kind of time to think about changing the political system.

T: Things would change a lot if we switched to online voting.

J: They would change, yeah. If young people started voting a lot online...

K: Yeah, right now, in the situation we have now, I think people are starting to think about future.

J: Yes, in that respect, although its very difficult with corona around, I feel like we are starting to wake up to the things we have just put up with till now. I mean, what comes next? In particular, with coronavirus, a lot of countries' governments have taken on huge powers, and in some countries its almost like a corona dictatorship. So, its very difficult, but we really need to slightly re-think the way we carry out elections and the way the state operates from now.

T: We, ourselves are a part of it, right?

J: Yes, yes...Yep, so, same sex, same name...it even hard to search for him. I wonder what this candiate actually intends. ?????*4

K: He's not showing his face much.

J: What will he do if he wins? ...Eh? Hello??

K: Is he sleeping?

Kami: Yes, yes.

J: Were you asleep, Kami?

Kami: No, I was waiting till you called on me.

J: Oh, you were waiting? Oh, sorry.

Kami: I've had a thought.

J: Oh, have you?

Kami: I have...Um, Joe should run for the N Koku Party.

J: *laughs*

K, T: Ohhh

J: Me?!

T: Thats a good idea.

J: Would it be ok, though?

T: In the Tokyo Governor election.

J: In the Tokyo Governor election? Which election?

Kami: It would be ok, yeah.

J: Would it?

Kami: Yeah, anything is ok.

J: *laughs* You couldn't participate in the election could you, Kami? You don't have voting rights?

Kami: No, I don't, but instead, I can make myself into substance.

J: What?

Kami: By pretending to be a citizen.

T: Prentending to be a citizen?

J: Oh, is that it?

K: So that means you could pile up votes for someone?

J: Right?

Kami:...No, I can only do it once.

J: Oh, so you can only take on substance once?

Kami: Yeah, yeah...a bit like Devilman.

T: Ah, like Devilman.

J: But if you could do that, surely you'd be able to do it will two or three people? I feel as if you've just made that up.

*K laughs*

J: Did you just make that up, Kami?

Kami:...Yes, I did.

K: *laughs*

J: He did.

K: I feel like his heart hasn't been in it for a while now.

T: *laughs*

J: Kami, has your mind been elsewhere?

Kami: Ye...uh, no no no.

K: He said yes!

J: *laughs*

Kami: Crush the NHK.

J: Yes, crush it.

K: Well, on that note, I think we can finish here. Thank you, please tune in next time. Please subscribe, thank you very much.

J: Please do.

Kami: Vote for Joe!

*1 I think the confusion arises here, because rather than ticking a box, Japanese voters have to actually write down the name of the person they are voting for.

*2 Think thats what he meant.

*3,4 Couldn't catch these bits.

#dir en grey #the freedom of expression #tfoe #kaoru #薫

[softboywriting]

Christmas Lights | Peter Mendes | Mendes Triplets AU

Summary: Taking a chance on Peter Mendes may be the best thing you do this Christmas. [fluff] [triplet au] [college au]

Word Count: 4k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Making friends on campus is hard when you don't know a single soul in the town you've moved to. St. Augusta college has the exact major program you've been looking to get into. You spent two years back home at your community college doing your prerequisites since it was far cheaper than doing four to six years at St. Augusta. The only downside to college in a small town is that everyone seems to know each other and they aren't really looking for new friends.

Christmas is approaching and you've been planning on going home for the holidays but you can't exactly leave your cat alone in your apartment for a few days. Bugs is not exactly one for traveling either, so a three hour car ride home would be absolute hell. You decide to stay, to wish your family Merry Christmas via video chat and open presents with them that way. Well. That's the plan anyway.  

Thursday, four days before Christmas, you win tickets to go see the light display at the park in town. It's a huge event and people come from all over to see it. You honestly didn't think you would win and you only entered because you figured it would be something fun to do other than sit around your apartment and watch Netflix.

When you pick up the tickets at the administration office you find out that it's a pair of them. Wonderful. You've got no one to go with. For a moment you wonder if you should just give them back, to have the secretary redraw the winner. Surely a couple would love these. You know if you were still with your ex boyfriend you'd love to. No. You'll find someone to go with.

So the hunt for a companion begins. You text the girl you talk to in your psychology class, having her number from a project you worked on together a few weeks ago. She's got plans. You text your friend Amie back home to see if she wants to drive up for the weekend and hang out. Nope. Her car is broken down. Just when things look bleak you remember the community board in the courtyard of your apartment complex. There were always postings on there for lost dogs, tutoring, and private classes of all sorts. Why not just see if someone wants to go with you?

You get back to your place and take a seat at the computer. Bugs jumps up on your lap and headbutts your stomach. "You wanna go with me Bugs?"

He meows.

"Yeah I didn't think so. I'd probably look like a freak walking my cat on a leash."

He purrs, flopping over on his side and covering your legs.

You open up a blank document and sigh. Alright. This may be a new low for you, but hey, maybe you'll make a really good friend. You type up the flyer and even add a few clip arts of Christmas lights along the bottom. It has your school email address on it in case anyone wants to contact you. You were going to put your number on there but thought better of it. You don't want some douchebag sending you nudes or something.

One brisk sprint to the community board outside later and you've got it posted. Now you wait. If no one replies then you'll go alone and give your spare ticket to some kid in line at the display. Here goes nothing.

____________________

Saturday morning you wake up with you phone blinking with a notification. You grab it and slide up to unlock. It's your email. Your school email. A surge of excitement courses through you and you're hoping someone has replied to your bulletin.

You open the app and flip through some emails from your teachers about assignments due after the holiday break. Sure enough there is one that's from a student. You can tell because it doesn't have a name attached as a contact like the staff emails do. It just says unread from [email protected].

Hi, I'm Peter. I saw your post on the community board. If you're still interested I would like to go.

You chew on your lower lip, nervous about going. What if this guy is a creep? You can bring your pepper spray. Maybe you can assess him by showing up early to the community board and seeing if he looks like a weirdo. Not all creeps look like a creep though. Okay. You're not being fair. Not all guys are bad, besides if you don't reply to the email, he probably won't show up right? He'll just think you've found another companion.

All day you contemplate emailing Peter back. Do you want to go with a guy? Maybe you should wait and see if a girl wants to go. But then again, you didn't specify your gender on the posting. So he doesn't even know if you're a guy or girl. Well that changes things. You're gonna do it.

Around dinner time you email Peter back. You tell him to meet you at the board on Christmas Eve around six and that you're going to be wearing a white coat. You still don't reveal your gender, just in case. _____________________

The time has come. You put on your puffy white coat, boots and a pair of gloves. You give Bugs some kibble and head out to the community board in the courtyard. There aren't very many people out there, a few groups of people talking near the decorated trees at every corner of the yard. There is no one by the board and you're kind of disappointed but relieved. Maybe he would flake out.

"Hey, are you the one with the tickets?"

You turn and you're met with a guy quite a bit taller than you. He's got a mop of curly brown hair, flushed cheeks covered in freckles and greenish hazel eyes behind some cute round glasses. He's in a bulky pink hoodie with a jean jacket over it just like he said he would be. He looks familiar, you're pretty sure he's in one of your classes.

"Peter?"

"That's me." He pulls his hand from his hoodie pocket and you shake it. "I'm so glad you replied back. I really want to see the lights, I just don't have the extra cash for a ticket this year."

You smile big and he grins right back. "I'm glad you replied too. I didn't really want to go alone."

"Then why'd you buy the tickets?"

"I didn't. I won them."

"Oh! Gotcha. Well, let's go? We don't want to miss it."

"Right. Do you want to walk or..." You look over at your car in the lot and wonder how much gas you have.

Peter shrugs. "It's a short walk. Like twenty minutes tops?"

"Probably, and I wore my boots." You look down at your old black snow boots. "They're pretty comfortable for walking."

"Let's get to it then!" Peter says excitedly, patting your shoulder. "No time to waste."

_____________________

The walk to the park proves very interesting. You learn that Peter is studying to be a photographer and does photos for the school newspaper while also doing some freelance work on the side for a couple of students with blogs. Both of you love hot chocolate with cinnamon in it. You both love the color pink, and you both have cats. His is a girl named Peach after Princess Peach from Super Mario. He is also in your business management class, and you can't believe you didn't pay more attention to him. He's so cute.

When you get to the park you show your tickets at the booth and they let you skip the line to get in. Once inside you can't believe how much it has changed since you visited once as a kid. There is a ten foot tall reindeer, life-size snowmen with tophats, and a small replica of the eiffel tower that's all lit up with tiny star shaped lights and a big star on top. It's incredible.

Peter tugs your arm and you follow him over to where an old woman dressed as Mrs. Claus is handing out flyers. "We have to do the scavenger hunt."

"The what?"

"Hello! Join the scavenger for a special surprise at the end of tour of lights!" Mrs. Claus says, handing a flyer to you and a few kids who are nearby.

You look over the list. "Find Santa's belt, Rudolf's nose, the elves stockings, Mrs. Claus's glasses, and the magic Christmas bell. Take a photo with each object and show at the end of the tour for a special Christmas surprise."

Peter takes the list and looks like a kid in a candy store. "They changed it up this year. This is going to be so much fun."

You can't help but smile. Peter has turned out to be the best companion you could have hoped for so far. "What is the prize at the end?"

Peter looks up from the list. "No clue. It changes every year. Last year I got a stocking."

"Oh that's actually kind of cool. I figured it'd just be like one of those big candy cane sticks or something."

"Nah, they go all out." Peter looks around the park. "We should start the hunt, we don't want to be the last ones to find everything."

"Why not?"

"They could run out of prizes for the night. Plus, I want to stop by the elves workshop and get some hot cocoa." Peter puts his arm out and you take it, looping yours under his. "Let's do this thing."

_____________________

The scavenger hunt is a blast. You and Peter literally comb through every display trying to find the items on the list. So far you have found the elves stockings and Mrs. Claus's glasses. Rudolph's nose is your next target as you head for the sleigh display.

Just as you reach the sleigh you see the last person you ever expected to see. Your ex boyfriend Blaine. He's got his latest fling on his arm, some tiny little thing with dark hair. Honestly you have no idea why he ever dated you. Every girl he's dated since you, there's been five in the last nine months, has been your polar opposite. You're not sure if it's him trying to not think of you or if it's that those girls are his type and you just weren't.

"Can we look for Santa's belt?" You ask, stopping mid stride and Peter looks back, clearly confused.

"We're right here though?"

"I know...I just don't want to do this one yet."

Peter walks back to meet you and crosses his arms. "You're avoiding someone."

"What? No, I-"

"Oh come on. Who is it? Family? Ex best friend? Ex boyfriend?" He looks around at the people nearby.

You sigh and roll your eyes. "It's my ex boyfriend if you must know. I'm surprised he's here considering our hometown is three hours away."

"Oh, dramatic." Peter puts his arm around your shoulders. "Which one is he?"

"The guy over there with the Steelers hat on with the girl attached to his arm." You point out Blaine, clear as day.

Peter nods and pushes his glasses up. "He looks like a douchebag."

"He is."

"Why'd you date him?"

"Small town? He was the best I could get?"

"Ouch." Peter laughs. "Well, you wanna make him jealous? I can be your pretend boyfriend for a while."

You look Peter over and he holds his arms out. "You are way more handsome, and you're definitely bigger." You chew on your lower lip. "I do want to get back at him."

"I'm all yours." Peter laughs. "Sounds like he really hurt you. I'm all about getting back at a douchebag."

"Alright. Yeah. Why not?"

Peter wraps his arms around you and walks you toward the sleigh display. He grabs your gloved hands and holds them close to your chest. It's actually nice. You haven't been held since you were with Blaine.

"There's Rudolf!" You point to the front of the light display and sure enough it's Rudolph but his nose isn't lit up.

Peter pulls you toward a big present box nearby. It's got a lid like a chest. He lifts it up and you grab the huge pom pom like ball out of it. Rudolph's nose.

"Wanna pose for a picture together?"

"Yes." You pull out your phone and hold it out while Peter leans down behind you, both of you holding the pom pom as you make goofy face and snap the picture.

"Oh hey," Blaine says as he approached with his girlfriend. "Crazy seeing you here."

Peter wraps his arm around you and holds you against him, pressing his face into your hair. "Do we know you?" What a power move.

"Crazy? I go to school here." You roll your eyes.

"This is your ex?" Peter asks, as if you hadn't already told him. He's playing along very well.

"Yes." You lean your head back against Peter's chest. "Why are you here Blaine?"

"Date night." Blaine grins, kissing his girlfriend grossly and for way too long. "It's so romantic here, and Christmas Eve is the perfect time to see a light display. I couldn't imagine bringing my beautiful girl anywhere else."

Peter rubs your side obviously reading into how tense you've gotten with Blaine's asshole demeanor. "Isn't it the best? I brought her here for our six month anniversary." He looks over at you with a smile, having really put emphasis on six months and you bite your lip. "We're going to dinner afterwards, the steakhouse on tenth street. They do a Christmas Eve special for couples. Reservation only."

Blaine looks annoyed, and one upped. Which, honestly he has been because Peter is really selling the lie. "Funny, we were gonna do that too. Guess we'll see you there."

"Really?" Peter grins. "Because the only restaurant on tenth street is a McDonald's. Get over yourself and stop being a dick in front of your ex."

Your jaw drops and Peter threads his fingers between yours. He walks you away from Blaine and you can't help but let out a laugh in astonishment. Peter just destroyed him in a matter of seconds like it was nothing.

"I can't believe you did that," you say, looking back at Blaine and his girlfriend who's yelling at him about something. Probably for embarrassing her.

"Yeah, well, he was being a dick. You could tell he was trying to rub in that he was on a date with someone who wasn't you. I can't stand guys like that."

You lean your head against Peter's arm. "Thank you. You didn't have to do that, I could have just walked away."

"What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn't defend my fake girlfriend?" He laughs and you laugh too. What a crazy night it's been.

_____________________

You and Peter finish the scavenger hunt and go to the prize booth to show your photos. The worker hands you both a lidded box that's wrapped up like a present and you step aside to open it and see what you got.

"Fuzzy socks!" You squeal, holding up a pair of fluffy candy cane striped socks.  "These are awesome!"

Peter opens his box and he's got a pair to but they're green and red. "I'm not sure these will fit me, but you can have them." He looks down and sticks his tennis show clad foot out. "Maybe they will?"

"You'll have to see." You turn in your gift box at the little drop off bin for people who don't want to take it with them. "I suppose it's time to go back home now."

"Yeah." Peter pushes his glasses up. "I had a great time. Thanks for letting me go with you."

You chuckle. "I almost went alone. I didn't know if you were some creep or not. I'm glad I did email you back though. You're pretty cool."

"You are too. And I promise I'm not a creep." Peter crosses his fingers. "Swear I'm normal."

"You're a goof."

"Yep. That's me." He loops his arm under yours and the two of you head for the apartment complex. You really are glad you decided to say yes to him. This night was incredible, even though you saw Blaine, it was still great.

_____________________

"Any plans for Christmas?" Peter asks as the two of you stand outside the front door to your building.

"Nope. Just me and Bugs video chatting my parents some time in the afternoon. They've sent me a few gifts in the mail so I've got some stuff to open."

Peter runs a hand over his hair and bites his lip. "Well, if you wanted to, my brothers and I are making breakfast and stuff. I'm sure they wouldn't mind if I brought a guest over."

"Do your brothers live with you?"

"Yeah," he turns and points at the building to the left of yours. "We share one of the penthouse apartments."

"Fancy." You raise your eyebrows. "Those things are like super expensive."

Peter smiles sheepishly. "They are, but all three of us have full ride scholarships and Raul got a massive grant. We all pay our part from our grants pretty much but Raul pays a little more since he wanted the big apartment."

"Ah, I see. Well...can I get your number? I'll text you if I am able to make it?"

Peter pulls out his phone. "Of course."

The two of you exchange numbers and say your goodbyes. You head up to your apartment, smiling to yourself. Peter is kind of awesome. You finally feel like you've made a friend. Christmas miracles do exist.  

_____________________

Christmas morning. It's snowing heavily when you wake up. Bugs is on your head, asleep against your hair. Your phone lays on the pillow beside you, notification light glowing. You grab it and turn it on, seeing two messages. One from your mom saying Merry Christmas and one from Peter telling you their building security code and there is a photo attached.  

You open the photo and it's him in a Santa hat and the ugliest sweater you've ever seen. In the background there is another guy, his brother you assume, and he looks super similar. Maybe Peter was a twin. You reply back with a photo of Bugs in his little Christmas sweater you had put on him last night.

After a call with your mom and dad, making plans to video chat around one in the afternoon, you decide to go over to Peter's apartment. He's been sending you photos all morning of the food and you just can't resist. He's such a dork but he's so genuinely cute.

You bundle up and cross the courtyard to head to his building. Peter meets you at the front door and you laugh at his reindeer print pants. "You didn't have to come all the way down here."

"Yeah, I did." He chuckles as you walk down the entry hall. "I sort of forgot to mention something."

"Uh oh. What?" You stop short of the elevator doors. "Is there where you tell me you're a crazy psychopath and you're gonna eat me?"

"No!" Peter's face goes white but he quickly realized you're joking. "No, no no no. Okay that sounded bad. Okay no, I just forgot to tell you about my brothers."

"What? Yes you did, you said they live with you?"

"Not that. I mean, we're triplets."

"Oh!" You laugh. "That makes sense."

"What?"

"Well, in your photo of your Santa hat I saw one of your brothers in the back ground and I thought he looked super similar to you."

"Oh. Yeah, that was probably Shawn. We look the most alike." Peter pulls out his keycard to the elevator and swipes it to go up. "Raul still looks like us, but his hair is darker and he's got a little bit more angular of a face. Anyway, they're really excited to meet you."

"Why's that?"

Peter rubs his neck and blushes. "I don't bring a lot of guests over."

"Like just female guests or?"

"Any really. My brother's always tell me I'm antisocial. Whatever."

You step out of the elevator and Peter heads to the left. "I wouldn't have guessed you're antisocial. You're pretty talkative with me. You told me about so much yesterday."

"Yeah well, you're easy to talk to." Peter pushes open the door to the apartment. "And-"

"Damn Peter!" One of the brothers says as you walk in. "How'd you manage to get the balls to talk to her?"

"Shut up Raul," Peter says, throwing a pillow at him from a nearby sofa.

Raul stands and walks over to you. "I'm Raul. His older brother."

Peter rolls his eyes. "By minutes."

"Every second counts." Raul smirks and shakes your hand. "Merry Christmas, welcome to our shithole."

"Raul!"

You stifle a laugh. "Merry Christmas to you too. I was told there would be breakfast?"

"Just missed it. I ate it all." Raul says with a shrug and a tummy pat. "Christmas morning munchies."

"Oh shut up," Peter says and motions for you to follow him to the kitchen. You do and Raul flops down on the sofa laughing at his own dumb joke. "Shawn, this is the girl I told you about." He introduces you and you shake Shawn's flour covered hand.

"Hey, welcome. We've got a ton of food, please eat. It's just us." Shawn says, gesturing to the counter with plates of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon.

Peter hands you a plate from the cupboard. "Don't be shy okay? I promise none of us will judge you for eating a bunch or something."

You take the plate and grab some of everything. "Don't worry, I'm starving so I won't be shy."

_____________________

Post breakfast the guys open gifts. There are quite a few under the tree and you're surprised to find there are three for you. Considering you just met Peter yesterday and the other two today, it's a shocker. How could they even know what to get you?

"How...how do I have gifts?" You laugh as Peter plops a small red box in your lap.

"Well, last night I went out and got some stuff in case you did decide to come over. I really hoped you would, and I didn't want you to feel left out."

"That's so sweet." You lift the lid and inside is a little bag of cat toys and treats. "For Bugs!"

Raul chuckles and hands you another box. "Open this one."

You tear open the small box and inside is a hot cocoa mix in a mug that says Meowy Clawsmas. All of you have a good laugh at that.

Peter hands you the last box and he's flushed.  You give him a look and open it. Inside is a flat small envelope. "What is this?"

"Just open it," Peter says.

You tear open the little seal and inside are two printed tickets to the ice rink downtown. "Ice skating?"

"I think Peter is asking you on a date," Shawn says from where he's cleaning up wrapping paper on the couch.

You flush, warmth spreading across your cheeks. "You want to go out with me?"

"Y-yeah. The light display was so much fun I thought maybe... y'know, we could do something like that again." Peter pushes his glasses up and clears his throat. "It doesn't have to be a date. We can just go as friends, or if you want to go with someone else that's okay."

"Peter."

"Yeah?"

"I'd love to go out with you." You lean forward and give him a hug. He seemingly melts into you, big hands coming up and resting on your back. "Relax."

Raul and Shawn let out a little chorus of awes.

"Thanks for not making Christmas suck this year." You laugh, pulling back and pushing Peter's hair out of his face. "I'm glad I took a chance and invited you to the light display."

"Me too. Merry Christmas," he says with a smile and you smile back.

"Merry Christmas."

_________________________

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed this and reblog to support and encourage myself and fellow writers. Next part coming soon! - A

Custom header per part made by the incredible delicateshawn

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes au #peter mendes #mendes triplets #mendes triplets au #the mendes triplets #mendes triplets fic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes au fic #shawn mendes fanfic

[sodalitefully]

Duff and Izzy meet at the funeral home

oops I said headcanons and then I wrote a ficlet

(worst fanfic prompts)

Working at a funeral home wasn’t as boring as people seemed to think.  Izzy got to observe all kinds of fascinating family drama.  His administrator’s intense mood swings always kept him on his toes.  And then there’s bullshit like this:

“Izzy! There’s kids in the cemetery again!” Axl yelled from his desk in the other room.

“Great.  Do you maybe want to go talk to them about that?”

“I’m busy processing the Adams funeral expenses, so no.” And with that Axl slid his headphones back over his ears.

Izzy sighed and looked down at the fresh line of sutures that were keeping the corpse’s arm attached to its body.  He tied off the thread, then peeled off bloody latex gloves, removed his apron and finally glared at Axl as he headed out the door leading to the cemetery.  

Sure enough, there were three kids (well, they looked a little younger than Izzy, anyway) who definitely didn’t look like they were paying respects.  Armed with leather jackets and a decent camera, they seemed to be in the middle of an amateur photoshoot.

Izzy approached and cleared his throat.  “You can’t do that here.”

The one holding the camera jumped about a foot into the air, the one draped over a grave marker just offered Izzy a mellow smile.  “No, no, it’s cool, this is my grandfather’s grave.”

Izzy resisted the urge to facepalm.  “It’s disrespectful to the people who come here to mourn, this isn’t a public park.”  There was no one else in the cemetery and the model was obviously about to point that out but the photographer spoke up first.

“I’m Duff, this is Slash and Steven –” Slash on the gravestone nodded, Steven waiting his turn piped up with a greeting. “– We were just trying to get some shots to put on concert flyers, we didn’t want to disturb anybody.”  Duff offered Izzy an apologetic smile and some of Izzy’s annoyance melted away.  “We can find somewhere else, it’s okay.”

(”Aw, we didn’t get to take my solo shots,” Steven moped, Slash comforted him with a pat.)

“Thanks.”  Izzy was relieved he wasn’t going to have to fight them on it.  “So, uh, you’re in a band?”

“Yeah!” Duff lit up as he launched into a detailed description of their band, Steven and Slash occasionally chiming in when they weren’t busy looking for bugs on the moss-covered grave.  Izzy wasn’t really listening to what Duff was saying, he was paying more attention to the way Duff emoted with his hands as he spoke, the way his padlock pendant rested in the hollow of his collarbone and the way the late afternoon sun made his bleached hair glow.  He only tuned back in to the dialogue when Duff suddenly pointed a finger at him.

“– You know, I’m glad we met you because I just had a really cool idea for an alternate photoshoot!  You must have all kinds of cool props in a funeral home, right?”  He looked at Izzy with hopeful eyes as Izzy realized what Duff was getting at.

“Oh no. No way.” 

“Please, Izzy? What’s the harm? We can pay you, plus we’ll throw in some free tickets!”

“That would be so metal,” Steven gasped, and Slash chimed in by announcing: “I want to lie in a coffin.”

The worst part was, Izzy knew that Axl would be all for it.  And it was a slow day, and he did just clean the chapel, and, well, he wouldn’t mind spending a little bit more time with Duff.

“... Fine.  Why the fuck not.”

#reply #really liked the idea of axl having the ball sto say he's busy while izzy is elbows deep into some guys rib cage #but this is a funeral home not a forensic lab #izzy stradlin #duff mckagan #motley crue slash #steven adler #axl rose #gnr #guns n roses #duzzy #sodafics

[omgrachwrites]

Schooled (Bucky Barnes)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/OC

Summary: After the passing of Ava’s father she starts acting out which drives her right into the arms of one gorgeous Professor Barnes.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, mention of dr*gs, implied smut

Words: 2624

A/N: Sorry this took so long guys! Now that England is in lockdown I’ll probably be writing and updating a lot more! I wanted to add a roommate into this fic to spice things up a bit! Three guesses who Ava’s roommate is! Hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think and if you would like to be tagged! I love you all xxx

Part Two - Sour Patch and Thunderstorms

Ava chewed her lip impatiently as she made her way through the ocean of people at the seriously crowded airport, along with Wanda and MJ. She absolutely hated crowds, they didn’t necessarily give her anxiety, it just annoyed her that some people dawdled like they had all the time in the world. She was extra moody today because their flight to Greece was currently delayed because of a thunderstorm on the island and it was extremely early in the morning.

Ava huffed as she reached into her family sized bag of Sour Patch Kids – her favourite candy – and popped one onto her mouth. She could eat candy at any time of the day, especially Sour Patch. Wanda turned round and grinned at her.

“MJ and I are thinking of going to get some breakfast, wanna come?” she asked.

Ava smiled and shook her head, the smell of food cooking first thing in the morning made her think of her dad. It seemed like a silly little thing but it still made her sad nonetheless, “no thanks, I’m good. I’ll just meet you guys in the lounge,” she smiled and waved at her friends, wandering in the direction of the airport lounge.

She had hoped that the lounge would be somewhat empty but she was sorely disappointed, the only empty seat was right next to an attractive older guy. Sighing, Ava made her way over to the seat and sat down, she noticed the guy was bouncing his leg and chewing his lip nervously, she felt bad for him.

“Hey,” she looked at him in concern, “you alright?”

The mad started to nod before he changed his mind and shook his head, “nervous flyer,” he mumbled, “thunderstorm isn’t helping either.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that, but hey, pilots are pretty talented,” she tried to sound reassuring but it didn’t look like it had worked, “want a Sour Patch Kid?” she smiled, “I’m Ava by the way.”

He chuckled and looked at her for the first time and she saw that his eyes were startlingly blue and pretty, “thanks,” he smiled as he took one, “I’m Bucky.”

“So, I take it you’re going on vacation?” she asked, it was an obvious statement but she wanted to keep his mind off his worries, she cared about people, even if they were mere strangers.

“Yep, one last vacation before I start my new job,” he looked at his watch, “my damned friends are late though,” he smiled, the edges of his eyes crinkling as he did so, “what about you?”

“I, um,” she didn’t want to tell him the true story of why she was going on vacation, “just a girl’s holiday.”

The both of them made small talk for a little while – Ava wasn’t interested in getting to know a beautiful stranger that she’d never ever see again. In no time at all Bucky’s face had regained some colour and he had stopped bouncing his leg. About fifteen minutes later Wanda and MJ walked up to the both of them.

“We’re gonna go get some duty free, wanna come?” MJ smirked, looking between Ava and Bucky.

“Sure,” Ava smiled and looked at Bucky, “it was nice to meet you Bucky, have a good vacation and try not to worry about the whole flying thing.”

“It was nice to meet you too Ava, have a good one and thanks so much for making me feel better,” he smiled cutely.

“No problem,” Ava smiled and flushed slightly as she ignored Wanda and MJ’s smirking faces. Ava could hear her friends giggling behind her, she rolled her eyes as she tried to hide her bashful grin, playfully glaring at her friends, “you guys coming or what?”

It was when they were in the perfume store – Ava and Wanda were testing out perfumes while MJ looked for an aftershave for her boyfriend – when Wanda spoke up.

“So, who was that man you were talking to? He was so good looking and a little older to boot, he looked like he was built in a perfect man lab or something,” she giggled and MJ nodded, making a little noise of agreement.

Ava smiled and chewed her lip as she lightly sprayed the inside of her wrist with a musky smelling perfume, “just a beautiful stranger, Bucky his name was, he was nervous about flying so I was just trying to make the poor guy feel better,” she shrugged, “it’s really not a big deal.”

Wanda laughed as she shook her head, “you are such a lovely person, doesn’t it get tiring sometimes?”

“Sometimes it does,” Ava nodded in agreement before she smiled slyly, “but I’m gonna forget about all that on this holiday and go absolutely wild,” she’d never really been much of a wild child before but according to her friends it was enormous fun, she wanted to experience that for herself and she couldn’t pick a better time, or better company.

“Hear, hear. I’ll drink to that,” MJ laughed as all three of them knocked their water bottles together, the water bottles that they’d secretly filled with vodka and lemonade. The three girls wanted to be entertained while they waited for their delayed flight.

Finally, Ava decided that she was hungry and MJ and Wanda wanted to have a second breakfast so they decided on going to Burger King. As they sat down Ava’s phone vibrated and on closer inspection she saw that it was an email from her friend who worked in the administration department at NYU.

“Oooh, my friend who works in the administration office at college has just messaged me. Apparently, my roommate is some really hot guy who’s transferring in from a university in London. She says she won’t tell me anymore because she wants to leave it as a surprise and she’s not entirely sure that’s she’s supposed to be giving me information like this,” she giggled as excitement simmered in the pit of her stomach.

MJ clapped excitedly, “I’m sad that we aren’t rooming together but this is so exciting! If you like him are things going to happen, are you going to go for it?”

Ava thought about it for a second, in the past she never would have even thought about fraternising with her roommate from fear of making things awkward but there was a part of her telling her to live a little.

“You know what? Yeah if I like him and he likes me then I’ll consider it probably. The old me would pale at the notion of it,” she laughed as she fiddled with the straw in her cup of cola, it felt a little strange to be talking this way about someone she’d never even met before.

Wanda made a small sympathetic noise, her eyes softening as she reached over the table to take Ava’s hand, “y’know hun, there doesn’t have to be a new Ava, we love the old one just fine,” MJ nodded in agreement and Ava grinned at her friends, her heart swelled with the pure love she had for them.

“No, there does need to be a new me, I’m tired of being so sad, my dad wouldn’t have wanted me to mope. He would have wanted me to be wild and free, live for the moment, and seize the day or whatever. Live the way that he did before he had any real responsibility,” she smiled.

“Well, we can’t wait to meet her!” MJ grinned.

The three friends browsed the shops for a little while longer before Wanda looked up at the flight board and checked her watch, “they’re preparing us for boarding in thirty minutes, we should wait in the lounge.”

The flight was only a couple of hours behind schedule so it wasn’t too bad and the flight wasn’t too bumpy or anything and with a small smile Ava thought back to the man she’d met in the airport lounge – Bucky – and wondered whether he was coping alright. It seemed like no time at all that the plane was landing and they were in Santorini, it certainly felt like a long time coming.

“Let’s make some memories girls,” Ava beamed at her friends and they finally started their holiday.

The first five days of their holiday pretty much started like any other holiday, they swam, ate, read and sunbathed. They ventured out of the resort one time to visit the little chapel on the hill to take in the Greek architecture, MJ took loads of photographs, she was really into photography and she had a travel blog. Ava kept emailing her friend, begging for more information on her roommate, apparently he looked like an angel and he had a voice that could melt hearts or at least that’s what her friend said after speaking to him on the phone. Ava was rather looking forward to meeting him.

Along with all of the usual holiday activities, the girls got slightly intoxicated one evening and Ava got her first tattoo and she adored it. Her father had had an arc reactor to protect his heart and she got a picture of it tattooed on her wrist with the words, ‘proof that Tony Star has a heart.’

On their sixth and final night – they were due to fly back the following afternoon – they decided to go to a karaoke bar, they were determined to go out with a bang.

------------------------------------------

Bucky was laughing and shaking his head at his tipsy friends as they sat in a gorgeous little bar in Santorini, “you two are completely ridiculous, I can never take you guys anywhere,” he pushed his thick hair off of his forehead as he took a swig from his beer bottle.

“You’re just no fun Buck,” Steve slurred as he hiccupped, his normally perfect hair was sticking out at all ends, it was kind of a good look for him to be fair, Steve could never hold his liquor, especially when he hadn’t eaten much.

“Seriously Buck, c’mon. It will be hilarious,” Sam chuckled, he was pretty much sober, he had a little edge to him but that was all.

“No, I’m not going to a karaoke bar,” Bucky was an alright singer but there was pretty much no way that he was singing in front of anyone, even if he was never going to see them ever again.

“All those gorgeous Greek ladies will love you though,” Steve winked and threw him the finger guns. Bucky felt embarrassed for him, it was very cringe worthy to finger gun anybody when you were above the age of ten.

“You really think so?” Bucky laughed, deciding to humour his drunken friend.

“Oh yeah, seriously man, I know from experience. Always gets you laid,” Sam said, looking proud of himself, Sam barely needed to smell alcohol before he was up doing karaoke. Bucky thought about it, Nat was his last so he was well overdue.

“Fuck it,” he muttered and drained the last of his beer, “come on then guys,” he chuckled as his friends cheered in victory, the things he had to do just to get laid.

True to Steve’s word the karaoke bar was full to the brim of gorgeous women and as the boys went to get the round of drinks in Bucky concocted a plan in his head, a plan that was a sure way to get him laid. As soon as the person who was currently performing on the karaoke finished Bucky volunteered straight away. He walked to the front of the bar and he noticed some of the ladies eyeing him up as he did so.

“Good evening everyone, I’m a little nervous and I could do with some help, my friends have convinced me to sing tonight but I’m too nervous to do it on my own. Would any of you lovely ladies be willing to do a duet with me?” There was silence for a second but it was long enough for Bucky to be embarrassed.

“I will,” a girl at the back stood up, she was a gorgeous blonde bombshell and as she got closer Bucky recognised her, it was the woman from the airport.

“Ava,” he grinned, “hey!”

“Hi Bucky,” she giggled and gave him a hug, she smelled so good, like chocolate and strawberries, “what a small world!”

“Ready to do a duet?” he chuckled as Ava nodded eagerly, “how about a Disney song?” The pair decided to do ‘A Whole New World’ from Aladdin and was met by raucous applause and people begging for an encore so they performed a rendition of ‘The Pina colada song.’

After they took their bows, Bucky, Sam, Steve, Ava and her friends MJ and Wanda decided to sit together to get drunk. They talked about everything and nothing, they laughed a lot, Bucky and Ava even made out up against the hard brick wall in the smoking area, and Ava tasted of coconut rum. The guys all learned that the girls were 21. Bucky and the guys thought the girls were really cool and they wanted to continue the party so Bucky decided to ask them if they wanted to go back to their hotel, completely platonic. Though Bucky was kind of bummed it would ruin his plans to get laid.

“We’ve got a pull out double bed that you guys can sleep on,” Bucky held up his hands, an innocent smile on his handsome face.

Ava and her friends smiled at him, Ava chewed her lip somewhat nervously, “just give us a second,” she pulled her friends away but not far away enough, Bucky could still hear their conversation though he tried not to eavesdrop, “what do you guys think? We wanted to go out with a bang; a party seems like the perfect opportunity.”

“Yeah but we’ve never met them before, what if they’re weirdos? We don’t even know how old they are,” Wanda said and Bucky made a mental note to tell them that they were only 28.

“We took advanced self-defence in high school, and besides we can sleep on the pull-out bed, I’m not looking to be unfaithful to Peter,” MJ countered.

“Wild and free?” Ava asked.

“Wild and free,” her friends said in agreement, Ava walked back over and grinned at Bucky, “let’s go.”

Once they got back to the hotel one thing led to another and Ava and Bucky ended up in bed together in their underwear, Bucky kissing down her body, “are you sure you want to do this?” he asked the gorgeous girl, kissing her stomach, making her squirm and giggle in the process.

“Yes Bucky, I’ve told you a hundred times,” she giggled, pulling his head up and drew him into a passionate teeth clashing kiss, “just fuck me you gorgeous man.”

Bucky blushed and chuckled, grabbing a small bag out of his jeans pocket, coating his finger in white powder before sucking it into his mouth; he hadn’t done it since high school.

“Hey, can I have some?” Ava asked and Bucky looked at her with her golden hair splayed around her head like a halo.

He searched her eyes for any uncertainty, when he saw none he gathered a tiny bit on his finger. Ava grabbed his hand, sucking his finger into her mouth, nipping playfully at the skin. Bucky’s underwear tightened at the sight of it, she really was beautiful. He laughed when she winced at the bitter taste of the powder.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he murmured, kissing her neck and smoothing his hands up and down her soft skin.

“You know Bucky, actions speak a lot louder than words,” she purred before pulling him in for another head spinning kiss.

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[pinnithin-writes]

I Realized. Then I Couldn’t Stop Realizing.

Chapter 7: C-53

Depending on where he looked, it was still beginning.

“Wow, you really have a thing for organics.”

C-53 hummed innocently. “I can’t say I have any idea what you’re talking about, Bargie.”

After he and Pleck had cleaned up the medical mess in the kitchen, the tellurian had disappeared in search of his old Zima scrolls, leaving C-53 alone in the common area. Well, as alone as one could be on a sentient ship. The Bargarian Jade’s attention span was selective, so one could never be sure whether they were being actively observed at any time.

“I saw what just happened,” Bargie said. “The tension between you two is - well, let’s just say it’s high. It’s very high.”

“That was a private conversation,” C-53 responded, somewhat defensively.

“If you wanted to have a private conversation, you should’ve had it off the ship,” Bargie said matter-of-factly.

“We’re in space ,” C-53 argued. “And I don’t see how this means I have a thing for organics.”

“Aw, come on,” Bargie’s rough voice insisted on the loudspeaker. “I know what I saw when we accessed each other’s memories a few years ago. You definitely have a type.”

“So do you,” he shot back, deflecting.

“Oh, I have a type?” Bargie exclaimed, affronted. “Do you know who I’ve dated?”

C-53 tuned his audio sensitivity down as the ship launched into a monologue about her exes. Out of courtesy, he uploaded a subroutine to offer various hmm s and ah s as a placeholder for listening while his cube went elsewhere.

Whether he returned Pleck’s feelings was not the priority right now. His friend needed help, and C-53 was going to help him. It was as simple as that; there was no need to complicate things with whatever feelings he may or may not have for the tellurian. So what if he had a type? That didn’t apply to the current situation - Pleck was different. He was vulnerable, and it would be unfair of C-53 to take advantage of that.

He was becoming increasingly overwhelmed with tenderness every time he laid scanners on Pleck, and his loader programming urged him to stick a label on him that read FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE. That particular instinct was easier to bypass than the instinct to lift, and he was left wondering if picking Pleck up had been a good idea after all. His one-eyed stare, aching and exhausted, had stirred something in C-53.

At least it had gotten his message across. I, C-53, am going to care about you. On purpose. Whether you like it or not.

He had to set his romantic notions aside. There were more important things to worry about right now. He dimly registered Bargie still steamrolling overhead with her story, and he broke in respectfully.

“That’s all very interesting, Bargie, but I don’t see how it helps me.”

The ship sighed cantankerously. “I’m just sayin’ you’re gonna have to confront this sooner or later,” she said.

“Hm,” C-53 considered. “I think I’m going to choose later.”

---

“Okay, I brought all the scrolls we got copies of from the library and uh, all the originals I have that Nermut didn’t make into a nest,” Pleck said around the box of papers in his arms.

He carried them over to the dining table, pausing when he saw the pre-existing mess of administrative documents, campaign flyers, and junk mail that already cluttered its surface. Hardly anyone used the table for eating these days.

C-53 watched bemusedly as Pleck nudged the mess aside to make space for his new mess, dumping the contents of the box out. This was not going to be a very organized process. Things involving Pleck rarely were.

“Are these texts all about the Zima religion in general, or you specifically?” he asked.

“Ah, well,” Pleck paused to brush a lock of hair out of his eye, gazing down at his chaotic archive. “The thing is, I don’t really know how to interpret all of them? I mean,” He began to shuffle through the stack, “there’s… here, this one says my actual first and last name,” he extricated a page and held it out for C-53 to read.

“A ticking clock, in which Pleck Decksetter stands, to spin and draw nearer to the void, ” the droid echoed aloud.

Pleck nodded, grimacing. “But then, like, then there’s this one,” he unrolled a tight ream of parchment and recited,

“Whose stick is that? I think I know. Its owner is quite happy though. Full of joy like a rainbow, I watch him laugh. I cry hello.”

C-53 paused. “That sounds… dumb,” he said.

Pleck chuckled, rolling the parchment back up. “A lot of it is pretty dumb,” he admitted. “And I don’t know what all is relevant to, y’know, my whole thing, and what’s just some old Zima getting creative with their meditations on the Space.”

“Well, let’s see if we can’t sort them out,” C-53 said, lowering his frame enough so that he could read the texts from his vantage.

That was their afternoon, reviewing and puzzling over the pile of ancient scrolls. C-53 had never given the Zima religion itself that much thought, but the more they dug into their teachings, the more he was convinced it was mostly just nonsense. He did have to give them some credit, though. A few of the scrolls had predicted Pleck’s life almost exactly. It was… kind of eerie, if he was being honest.

The crew wandered in and out while they worked, checking in on their activities curiously but quickly losing interest once they realized they were essentially just studying. At one point, AJ asked if he could help, and they gave him a flowery poem to slog through until he gave up after about ten minutes.

“You did a good job, AJ,” Pleck smiled as the CLINT left the room to find something else that would hold his attention. “You’ll get it eventually.”

Pleck was looking significantly more relaxed since that morning, C-53 noticed. His shoulders had returned to their usual easy slope and his smile sprang readily to his face. The droid found himself distracted from his task on more than one occasion, choosing instead to fixate on Pleck’s careful hands as he leafed through papers, or his delicate neck as he bent low to decipher some stray scribble. By the time the evening rolled around, they had stopped trying to make sense of the scrolls altogether, and were instead pointing out ridiculous lines to one another.

“Wait wait wait, here, check out this one,” Pleck brandished a photocopy in C-53’s face, barely containing his laughter.

“To pass through the eye, one must first pass through the butt?” C-53 read aloud, incredulous. “Do they mean literally?”

Pleck was fighting to get the words out through his giggling. “Who wrote this? This was a Zima?”

“This is a sacred text .” C-53 insisted. “A sacred religious text. This is your religion, Pleck.”

The tellurian shook his head, still laughing, as he set the paper aside. “Good Rodd.”

“Oh, here’s a good one,” C-53 raised a careful claw to slide one of the documents in Pleck’s direction.

Seeing the grin spread across his friend’s face was like watching a sunflower bloom. “Oh my Rodd,” he exclaimed, “is this a love poem?”

“Heaven hath no elegance like you, my radiant swan,” C-53 recited the first line, his vocal modulator lilting with his own laughter. “I have no idea why this was preserved as an ancient text.”

“We’ll put that one in the ‘dumb’ pile,” Pleck said, cheeks still rosy with mirth. He was smiling wide enough to show off his dimples, and it was a pleasant sight to C-53’s scanners.

They continued to shuffle through papers in companionable silence. Pleck managed to assemble a fairly linear timeline of his own prophecy, and was attempting to piece it together with anything that seemed relevant. He had a better eye for patterns in the texts than C-53 did, something that the droid was surprised by. Perhaps deciphering the ancient words of the Zimas was something that was only inherent to other Zimas.

“C-53, look,” Pleck exclaimed suddenly. “I thought I had lost this one. It’s the scroll you’re mentioned in.” He excitedly uncurled the parchment and held it flat against the table.

C-53’s head tilted with interest. “ I’m in the Zima scrolls?”

“I mean, you’re not mentioned by name,” Pleck admitted. He scooted the scroll toward the droid so he could get a better scan on it. “But I’m pretty sure it’s talking about you. Based on, y’know, context.”

And the humidifier will rise from its slumber Newly untethered, a free soul in a rectangle And the Great One will feel a lump in his throat To wonder if this appliance would entrust his soul to him

“Wow, this is… very specific,” C-53 commented. His coding was already drawing connections for him about the implications this had on his and Peck’s relationship. He was inclined to dismiss it as mindlessness, like so many of the other texts, but a small, irrational part of him clung to the words. Was the tellurian meeting him destined? Better question: did C-53 want it to be?

“Yeah, I thought it was weird that they included that,” Pleck said, pulling the scroll back.

“You were worried I didn’t trust you?”

“Well, I mean-” Pleck’s ears reddened. “Up until that point you’d had your restraining bolt on, so I couldn’t be sure.”

C-53 nodded pensively. “True, I didn’t have a lot of allowance for personal expression back then.”

Pleck gave a small exhale of a laugh. “Yeah, it was like you became a totally different droid after that.”

“It was a punishing part of my life, to be sure.”

Pleck’s eye brightened. “Remember that time Nermut made you pick up that marble over and over again for like, an hour?” he asked, turning his sunny grin on C-53.

“Oh, Rodd, yeah,” the droid sighed, amused at the memory. “And you and Dar asked me to do it all sexy so I’d actually have some fun with it?”

“That was great, I really enjoyed that.”

“Oh, you did?” C-53 prompted, servos humming. “You enjoyed that?”

“No, I mean like-” Pleck went a darker shade of pink. “Not like, sexually, it was - I was just-” he stopped, gathered his thoughts, and restarted. “It was nice to see you having fun, is all,” he said. His smile softened as he reminisced.

C-53’s voice lost its teasing edge. “It was nice,” he agreed. “I’m glad we were able to become friends despite our initial differences.”

“Yeah…” Pleck trailed off, staring up at the droid earnestly. “Yeah, me too.”

Rodd, C-53 felt he was going to combust in that pure sunshine smile. He would fight wars and burn down cities to keep it safe.

Chapter 6 <-----> Chapter 8

#ink #fanfiction #mission to zyxx #part of my endeavor to relocate all my ao3 work