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nervousgardenerkid · 2 years

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Say it

a/n: i planned to upload this earlier but i really wanted to enjoy my off day😭 i hope you guys enjoy this! credit to the gif owner <3

Eddie never had a problem with saying what was on his mind. If he was happy, he wouldn't be afraid to let everyone know. When he was sad he'd sulk all day until it was time to play d&d, and if he was pissed he had no problem shouting it from the rooftops. Eddie wore his heart on his sleeve and that's something he'd never change, and it's something you wouldn't want him to change.

"How come you haven't said it yet?” you asked.

His face scrunched into confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“We’ve been dating for six months, Eddie.”

Eddie smiles, not looking up from his d&d journal.

“And it's been the best six months ever.”

“Why haven't you said you love me yet?”

Eddie feels his whole body tense and he sneaks a glance at you, his heart breaking when he sees you on the other side of the couch.

“I say it…”

“No, you don't. I say it first and it's always followed with a kiss or you just mumble out me too.”

Eddie shifted in his seat. He does love you, he loves you more than anything on this earth, but for some reason, he can never say the words. You let out a sigh and brought your knees close to you.

“I know you have your way of showing me that you love me, but sometimes I need to hear it.”

Eddie kept his eyes on the papers in front of him, too scared to look at you. “Okay,” he muttered while writing something down.

You swallowed the lump that was in your throat and nodded your head. “I’m gonna go home now.”

His head finally shot up, eyes finally landing on you while he felt around his pockets for his keys. “Let me find my keys real quick-”

“I'll just walk. Bye Eds,” you said quickly while walking out of the door. Eddie’s shoulders slump. You always give him a kiss goodbye, and he always takes you home. He shakes his head trying not to think about it too much and goes back to whatever he was working on. He's sure you guys are fine, you always are, but there's a little voice in his head that's screaming at him to go after you. He's just choosing to ignore it.

the next couple of days are filled with you being less affectionate towards Eddie. he doesn't drive you to school or take you home anymore, you catch rides with Steve and Robin. You no longer stay after school to sit and watch him play d&d, and you stop by his trailer for a quick minute before going to hang out with Max. Eddie is sitting at lunch munching on his pretzels, his eyes are focused on you as he watches you laugh at something Robin said while you throw a grape at her.

“So Eddie, what time are we meeting up tonight?”

Eddie’s eyes left your laughing figure and focused on Mike. “What?”

“dude, d&d. What time are we meeting?”

“Oh. Uh,” his eyes drifted towards you once more and he shrugged his shoulders. “Usual time I guess.”

“Are you okay?” Dustin asked him. Eddie saw you waving goodbye to Robin and shot up from his seat ignoring Dustin’s question. He tried catching up to bumping into students here and there. When the hell did you walk so fast?! He grabs onto your hand with a sigh of relief.

“Woah there speedy, where you going to?” he asked in a teasing tone. You give him a sad smile.

“Just wanna get to class before the halls get packed.”

Eddie looked all around him seeing that the hallway was already packed. “Babe, it's high school, halls are always gonna be packed.”

You let out a chuckle and he tilted his head before dragging you into an empty classroom.

“Hey, what's up with you?”

You shook your head refusing to say.

Eddie frowned and placed his hand under your chin making you look at him.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Tears began to form, curse your fragile heart. “Do you love me, Eddie?”

“Of course I do-”

”Then why won't you say it?”

Eddie froze and realized he was put on the spot. His hands began to feel clammy and he rubbed them on the rough material of his jeans.

“Do we have to do this now?” he asked in a hushed tone, looking around the room as if dozens of eyes were in him.

“If not now, then when Eddie? The next six months of our relationship? I can't wait that long.”

His eyes met yours. “What are you saying?”

“I need you to say it, Eddie, please I just need to hear it.” you whimpered out.

The words were on the tip of Eddie's tongue. He wanted to say it, he wanted to scream it even, but he just couldn't bring himself to say it.

You let out a chuckle. “This was stupid.”

“Wait, y/n, please.”

You shook your head, wiping away the years that were streaking down your face. “I gotta head to class. I'm gonna be late, bye Eds.”

A week passed and you avoided Eddie like he had the plague. You'd hear his van coming down the street and sneak out of the window of your bedroom. You took different routes to your classes just so you wouldn't have to run into him, and you started going to robin’s to save Steve some gas money for taking you to school.

You walked into family video with your head hung low, hands running along the spines of the VHS cases.

“Jesus, are you okay?” you heard Steve ask. You look up at him in surprise.

“I thought Robin worked today?”

Steve pushed himself off the wall and leaned against the counter. “Nah, I'm covering for her since she saved my ass from Keith last week.”

You let out a soft oh before you hopped onto the counter to have a seat.

“So, what's wrong?” Steve asked.

“Boy problems,” you mumbled while swinging your feet back and forth.

Steve raised his eyebrows and rested his chin in the palm of his hand.

“Munson? Did he do something? Cause if he did I can-”

“Steve, you know I love you, but you don't have the best track record in fighting.”

He rolls his eyes and stands up straight, resting his hands on his hips.

“I'm trying to be a good friend here.”

You giggle at him and mumble out an apology.

“Lay it on me,” he says, resting his back on the counter and looking at you.

“I don't think Eddie loves me.”

Steve let out a snort. “You're joking, right?”

You stay quiet.

“Holy shit, you aren't. What makes you think that?”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“No, no. None of that, talk it out.”

You groan and throw your head back. “We've been dating for six months and he hasn't said it.”

“Do you say it?”

You nodded your head and put your hands on your lap twiddling your fingers.

“I say it all the time! He'll either just smile or say me too.”

Steve nodded his head listening to what you were saying.

“I just, I don't think he loves me.”

Steve cleared his throat, thinking of what to say next. Be sweet Steve. He thought to himself. Your friend is going through something serious.

“You're so stupid.” oops.

You let out a gasp and smack him in the chest. He lets out a laugh and puts his hands in the air surrendering.

“I'm sorry! It's true though.”

“How do you know?”

“I've never seen anybody look at someone the way Eddie Munson looks at you.”

You tilt your head in confusion.

“You really didn't know? Y/n, that man looks at you like you created life itself. I swear if you asked him to give you the sun he'd magically find some way to give it to you.”

You let out a giggle. “Why won't he say it then?”

“Y/n, you gotta remember he's been bullied like, forever. He can probably show regular emotions with no problem but being vulnerable is way different.”

You let the words Steve says sink in as you put your face in your hands. “I'm an idiot.”

Steve chuckles and removes your hands from your face.

“Yes but you're a pretty one, now go get ‘em, tiger.”

You hop off the counter but not before hugging Steve and telling him thank you. Steve waves goodbye as you run out the door and in the direction of Eddie's trailer.

“3…2…1…”

“Hey, can you drive me?”

You thank Steve once again before running out of the car towards the trailer. You smack on the door with both hands frantically. You hear a muffled Jesus okay! Give me a fucking second! Before the door swings open and you're greeted with Eddie's irritated face. Irritation leaves him once he realizes it's you. He stands straight and clears his throat.

“Hey.”

“Can I come in?”

He steps to the side letting you in the trailer. He gently shuts the door and means against it, his hands behind his back, his fingers gently tapping on the door.

“I'm sorry.” you rushed out. He widened his eyes a bit and watched as you began to pace the room.

“I know you love me, you're the best boyfriend I've ever had and you treat me like a fucking princess. I didn't even think of how hard it could be for you to be vulnerable. That was so selfish of me because you show me you love me by wanting to spend every day with me, and by sneaking into my room when you know that my parents could kill you.”

Eddie opens his mouth trying to say something but you're too busy lost in your own world.

“I'm so sorry for avoiding you Eddie, I was just lost in my own head and I thought things would be easier if I just avoided you.” tears were streaming down your face, and your pacing stopped. “I had to get help from Steve, but he was surprisingly helpful. Don't tell him I said that I don't need him getting cocky-”

“I love you.”

Silence fell over the both of you as you tried to register what he said.

“I'm sorry, what?”

Time seemed to slow down for both of you. Eddie was taking steps toward you, both of your hearts were beating out of your chest. He grabs your face and his thumbs rub your cheeks gently.

“I love you.”

You stood in silence from shock, but also guilt. Does he really mean this or have you manipulated him into saying it because he thinks you're breaking up? You don't want him to feel forced to say it, you wanted him to say it on his own, but you also begged him to hear the words. Now here you are, hearing the words but you're frozen with tears in your eyes.

“Say something, sweetheart I'm kinda putting my heart on the line here,” Eddie says with a nervous chuckle.

“Do you mean it? You're not just saying it cause you think we're breaking up?”

“We are never breaking up,” he says in a serious tone causing you to giggle. “and of course I mean it.”

“You don't feel forced?”

Eddie shakes his head and wraps you in his arms for a hug. Tears are streaming down your face and you're not even trying to hide them anymore, if Eddie can be vulnerable then so can you.

“I don't want you to feel forced Eddie, I want you to say it when you're ready, I'm so sorry for rushing you-”

Eddie cuts you off by kissing you. His lips are soft against yours and the way he's holding you lets you know that you're never allowed to avoid him like that again.

“You talk too much,” Eddie mumbles against your lips. You gently smack his chest causing him to let out a soft chuckle. “You didn't force me into saying it or rush me for that matter.”

He pulls away slightly to look at you, eyes soft and full of love.

“I know that you know that I love you, like you said I show you that everyday.” he took a deep breath and gave you a sad smile. “but this whole week I felt so miserable not hearing you say those three words.”

You sniffled. “It could've been because I was avoiding you.”

Eddie shook his head. “I was giving you your space, trust me sweetheart you're never going to get rid of me.”

You let out a sad giggle as he gently wipes your tears away. The nerves found their way back to your body as you looked at Eddie.

“Do you really mean it?”

“What, you want me to shout it from the rooftops? Cause I will find a way to climb to the top of this trailer right now. Hell, I'll climb onto the roof of the town hall and scream it.”

You wrap your arms around him, bringing him for a tight hug. You don't know how you let your brain convince you that Eddie didn't love you. Your heart swelled at the words he was telling you, and you think back to what Steve was telling you.

“What if I wanted the sun?”

Eddie pulls away, placing a kiss on your forehead, then both of your cheeks.

“Then the sun you shall have.”

#eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things blurb #stranger things angst #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fluff

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yeonboy · 11 months

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𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐞𝐬 ♡ choi soobin.

If it was up to you, you would worship the very ground Choi Soobin walks. No, you’re not a simp, he’s just that amazing – the star of your college’s broadcasting club, your role model, the reason why you even have a dream career, and…someone you’d really like to make out with if he’d allow it. But the first ever conversation you have with him has your rose-tinted, star-studded glasses shattering to pieces when he turns out to be a huge jerk. Is this just a misunderstanding or is it the end?

❧ choi soobin x f. reader | 16+ | college!au ♡ strangers to lovers!au ♡ angst ♡ fluff

❧ 10 k words

❧ warnings! inaccuracies wrt broadcasting journalism majors & college broadcasting clubs, profanity, some suggestive language, misunderstandings, allusions to slut-shaming, soobin being an accidental (?) asshole, some heartbreak, some conflict, some yelling, insecurities wrt social standing in college, yn is a certified soob simp™ but goes thru a hater era for half a day </3, stinky cute fluff later on, some cringe, so much blushinG it’ll make u sick, a make out sesh, cameo by yj & his girl from fic 1 bec i love them sm :(

❧ note! set in the same universe as no one but you. i’ve been working on this since marCh, idk why it took me so long to finish? the wc def ran away from me a little whoops! anyways, this gets rough in the middle – soobin might shock u with his behavior but it will all get resolved, i promise!

leave me feedback if you like this! follow for more! (:

❧ masterlist | inbox ⁘

“I’m sorry, the tryouts are closed!”

You blink. Take a step away. Peek at the huge poster stuck on the huger double doors to the auditorium. The notice says the tryouts would run from four to six in the evening – it’s presently five minutes past five. What the heck?

Around you, you notice a number of girls looking as disgruntled as you feel. You approach one. “Uh, hey…did you already do your piece?”

The girl twirls a vibrant purple strand of hair around her finger and rolls her eyes. “Nope. Choi’s bitch ass shut the doors unannounced ’cause he’s pissed off for some reason.”

Choi? Bitch ass? This girl can’t possibly be talking about the Choi Soobin, right? The prince of the university’s broadcasting club who always emcees every single stage performance the university hosts?

No, she can’t be. No one would refer to the Choi Soobin’s glorious behind as ‘bitch ass.’ Besides, you really don’t think he’d sit around judging freshmen entrants to the club when he’s got so many better, so much cooler things on his schedule.

Choi Soobin the Great has been in this club for three years, two of which he has spent as its president. That, in itself, should be pretty explanatory with regards to how skilled he is at the whole announcer, emcee, broadcast business.

His extraordinary talent with the mic is what inspired you to pick broadcast journalism as your major, in fact. You'd entered the university on jittery, scared steps because you didn't believe you would actually find something that interested you enough to make a career out of. You spent a whole academic year fluttering between psych and communication, aimless and despaired.

But then came sophomore year where you volunteered to set things up for the new freshman batch's orientation week – and that is when you saw Choi Soobin, a fellow sophomore, take the stage and blow everyone away. He was so good with his audience of the new admittees, providing them with all the important information without making them feel nervous because he used the perfect amount of jokes as a buffer.

It was love at first sight for you.

Okay, like, not like that. You did end up making an altar for Choi Soobin the Great where you continue to worship on the daily because he's a god on stage, but what you actually fell in love with was the art of emceeing.

So you registered your major in your third semester and began to work on polishing your skills. Now, two semesters later and midway through the junior year, you finally feel confident and prepared enough to enter your God's actual, holy shrine and join his praying circle.

…maybe you should stop with these metaphors before it gets weird.

Anyways.

Case in point – unlike this uninformed rodent of a girl who found it fit to disrespect your role model and gave up on these tryouts in favor of rolling her eyes and complaining in the hallway, you are nothing if not strong-willed.

You are finally ready to do something about your one true passion that you can actually see yourself pursuing professionally after college. Being part of the university's broadcasting club means guaranteed dream job; you've seen it happen with your eyes for two consecutive years. You're finally ready to follow suit; finally ready to join the ranks of the elite and learn from Choi Soobin the Great himself – and you are not about to let a gruff call of "tryouts are closed" from an overworked janitor deter you.

Checking this way and that for any onlookers, you sneak off to the narrow passage to the side that you know connects to this auditorium's back door, and in turn, the cafeteria. You're just gonna casually stroll through it, maybe loiter a bit around the doors until someone from the judges panel steps out so that you can beg them to give you a chance. And if someone catches you? You were just looking for the cafe!

It's the perfect plan.

Until, that is, your loitering ends with the legend himself, Choi Soobin the Great stepping out of the backdoor and freezing you to a statue.

You've seen the man from afar more times than you can count on both hands. You're a true fan, a great admirer, a semi-obsessed devotee (?) of his. But never once have you seen the guy from this up close. Needless to say, your brain's short circuiting a little.

Three things strike you all at one – that the university's emcee prince did, in fact, sit in to judge freshman entrants to the broadcasting club despite his various busy schedules; that the purple haired female auditionee actually did call this great man's glorious behind 'bitch ass' like an uncultured heathen; and finally, that Choi Soobin sporting a combination of dark black hair, bright red lips and stark white t-shirt should be banned because it can cause brain malfunctions in people.

Because while the guy's eyes widen and then squint as he looks at you, and mouth opens as if to say something to you – you stay absolutely frozen, literally turned to stone without a single muscle moving in your body. Including your lungs that are jammed because you're pretty sure you aren't breathing.

"Um… can I help you?"

Oh shit, his dimples…

His dimples!

You realise this is entering borderline creepy territory but you can't help staring at him. He's just so pretty. Though your brain functions are still experiencing a slight lag, you're starting to realize that your crush on the guy is winning over the admiration and respect you have for his talents, at the moment.

He's ethereal. He's unearthly. He's the most beautiful guy you've ever met. You're a simp.

"Excuse me?" Soobin's head tilts to the side in confusion. "Can I help you?"

He definitely can, in more ways than one, but that conversation is for another time.

His impatiently raised eyebrows suddenly push you back into motion, breaking your frozen state, but now you're on an overdrive, very close to hyperventilating in front of him.

"H–hey! I mean, h–hi. I mean, fancy bumping into you here! N–not that we bumped, just, uh—haha, you know? Fancy – fancy seeing you here, how have you been?"

God.

Did all of that just exit your mouth?

You need a shovel because this calls for digging up a hole and burying yourself alive. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Your entire face feels like it's caught on fire, and all the nerve endings in your body are tingling from embarrassment. You feel like you're vibrating. Wait, if you vibrate at a frequency that's outside of the visible range, can you voluntarily make yourself disappear?

The only thing holding you back from combusting into flames is the amused smile that replaces the previously formal tilt on Soobin's lips. "Hi. I'm sorry, where do I know you from? You look very familiar, but I'm just missing it…"

You look familiar? So he does notice you in class! Maybe getting that hair spa last month has worked in your favor, after all. You're getting a little googly eyed, but you do your best to control your reactions as you gauge his.

He looks so darn cute with his dimpled smile that makes his eyes squint, that you're left gaping for a couple of seconds before you're able to notice the hand he is forwarding you. Nodding haphazardly, you forward yours and let him wrap his huge palm around your significantly smaller one. Even though you try to repress it, the warmth his skin emanates sends a shiver running through you.

If Soobin notices the subtle shake your body gives, he doesn't comment on it.

He's being so angelically patient and kind, you need to get it together!

So you clap your hands in front of your face and pull your lips up in a smile, preparing yourself to say your thing without any unnecessary words this time.

"Uh, I'm – I'm in your class? I don't know if you know me, but I know you! I'm, um, I'm here for the broadcasting club. And – and I noticed that the banner said that the tryouts would run from four to six, but I've been told that the gates have been closed when it is barely past five, so I was… w–wondering…" You slowly trail off, stuttering a little when Soobin's facial expressions do a sudden one-eighty.

Gone is the sweet, dimpled, kind guy who was smiling at you with his eyes. Now his lips are pursed and eyebrows furrowed, a clear look of irritation on his face. Well, he's still got a dimple showing, but this one's part of his frowny face so you're not sure if you should be admiring it anymore.

"Wow. You're gutsy." His tone has changed now, too, really stiff with an underlying scoff in words. "Did you follow me here?"

You blink in surprise. "What? Of course not! The – the main doors were closed, so I was looking for another way in and—"

"Good God, please stop talking," he interrupts you with a groan, rolling his eyes as he tilts his head to look skywards – and you're fully paralyzed now, clueless and a little scared because Soobin looks so mean and intimidating with his eyebrows scrunched up like that. "I don't get what you guys' problem is. I'm – I'm trying to do something serious here. Why the hell do you not get it?"

Blinking slowly, you gape at your idol, your icon, the deity of all things broadcasting as he yells at you about something you can make neither head nor tail of.

'You guys'? Who?

You know that you of all people definitely get that he's doing something serious. You're as much, if not more, serious about the club yourself; the reason why you've taken so long to decide to audition for it. Besides, how's he judging you when you've never met before?

Willing your frozen lips to move, you attempt to clear the air. "We've – we've never met before. You don't know me. I'm—"

"Oh, I know you enough." This time there is vitriol in his eyes as he spits the words, and you take an actual, vary step away from Soobin. "I've been through twenty auditions and seen fifty applications in the past hour and every single one of the girls like you is dying to get to interview the hockey team and talk to Yeonjun about his strategy for his final season in college. So I know exactly who you are and exactly what you're after."

He is rolling his eyes again, this time with both his hands braced on his waist.

But his words are very confusing and a little hurtful. Why is he grouping you with whatever 'girls like you' he's seen so far? You've been a fan of Soobin for a while now, but you've never encountered any instance of even a mention of him being anything less than courteous and big hearted.

This attitude from him feels like living a fever dream – and not of the good kind.

"So for the last time – I'm not taking any of you groupies into this club because it is not a means to get into the hockey captain's pants! I need serious people who look at announcing and broadcasting with respect and not as something they can use as cover for their ulterior motives. Oh, and if it means anything to you at all, Yeonjun hyung has a girlfriend now. We probably won't even be covering him at all because his fangirls are always a bit too much."

Your head is spinning a little now.

Did he call you a groupie? Yeonjun's groupie? He thinks you're doing this to get into Yeonjun's… what the hell?

While you're still processing his previous words, Soobin gives a wince. "Look, I'm sorry if all this sounds harsh, but you've left me no choice. Trying to corner me was a really low blow, okay? There's a limit to acting desperate and you're clearly crossing the line, here. If you can't respect me or the club, at least respect yourself."

The pieces have finally fallen in place in your head. You couldn't make sense of it earlier because you didn't really allow yourself to think Soobin would go there. But given his last statement, now you have no doubts.

You don't live under a rock – you really can't afford to when you dream of joining the broadcasting club, of all things – so you obviously know hockey captain Choi Yeonjun and the hype surrounding him. And because you always do your homework well, you also know that he used to be somewhat of a serial dater before he got into a serious relationship with his long time best friend, just last month. All of Yeonjun's fangirls across campus have been disheartened by this development and have been acting desperate ever since.

But why on earth has Soobin pegged you as one of them escapes you. You did not say a word about the hockey team. You didn't get to tell him what your goals actually are. Hell, you didn't even get to tell him your name before he shut you down.

This is a very overwhelming generalization, and you really wanna give Soobin the benefit of the doubt here because going through fifty bullshit applications can be a lot – but he needs to hear you out for you to do that.

"Soobin," you try again, raising both your palms up in an attempt to placate him, "I don't know how you're getting this idea, but I'm not one of – one of Yeonjun's groupies, or whatever, okay? I literally told you I'm in your class."

“Look, I really don’t have time for all these tales,” Soobin interrupts you with a sigh, a huge hand raised up to shut you up – so you do. “You’re dressed… too prettily to be trying out for the broadcasting club, anyways. Is that a cheerleading skirt?”

He's looking down his nose at your miniskirt that you felt very pretty in, annoyance on his face, and now –

Now you're hurt. Now you're hurt beyond giving him the benefit of the doubt. Now you're hurt enough for your eyes to sting with offense.

“Are you trying to pass a judgment on my…clothes?” you ask him in shock, your voice low and a frown creasing your forehead.

He looks a little uncomfortable as he clears his throat. “I’ve seen the way Yeonjun’s fangirls dress, and you kinda… fit the description.”

He really isn’t giving up on the groupie allegations…

In any other scenario, you would honestly take that as a compliment. Because you have seen these girls as well and their appearance is honestly on another level. But this guy in front of you definitely means it as an insult. And he is still scowling, as if you have dressed up to personally offend him.

You’re at a complete loss now. He hasn’t let you talk, you haven’t even told him your name, and he is acting like knows everything about you. His mind seems fully made up too.

What are you supposed to do?

"You know what? Maybe I… I should leave through the front door,” he murmurs in your general direction and then moves to step back through the gates he’d emerged from.

You just stay rooted to your place, offended at his dismissal and still in partial disbelief.

Choi Soobin is nothing like anything you thought he was.

The smiling, giggling, squinty-eyed guy that you always heard being called kind-hearted, warm, understanding and sweet? Cannot be the same guy you just met. Part of the reason why you like him so much has been the overwhelming amount of praises you have heard about him.

At times, you found yourself wondering how such an important and busy guy could muster enough patience to be a sweetheart to everyone. Now you know that it’s all a sham – a character he has created to showcase. It’s all pretend.

This, the version of him you just met, is what the real Choi Soobin is like when no one’s looking.

Not just your crush, but your idol has broken your heart.

How are you gonna move on from this?

"Y/N!"

The sudden shout of your name makes you jump in surprise, wide, watery eyes turning to the end of the hallway. Soobin has stopped in his place as well, a frown on his forehead as he attempts to follow your gaze – but he's a little off center from the curved hallway to be able to locate a bubbly looking Yeji excitedly waving at you.

Oh fuck. Not right now. You don't need your best friend to witness you experiencing the worst moment of your entire life.

But Yeji being the loudass clown she is, doesn't stop speaking at the top of her voice as she marches down the hallway to you. "Where have you been? The janitor says they closed the tryouts? Did you pass? Oh, and a girl told me Choi Soobin was in the judging panel! Did you get to see him?"

Your eyes jump wide, traveling to the said guy involuntarily to witness the way confusion overtakes his face. He isn't moving, though, probably out of intrigue now that he has heard his name, and you're halfway scared to death that Yeji is about to reveal your secret and bathe you in the kind of embarrassment that you will never be able to live down.

"Yeji, I'm just—"

"Babe, why do you look so pale?" she cuts you off, squinting as she nears you, and before you can get another word out, her lips are tilting mischievously and eyebrows are wiggling. "Did Choi find out about your obsessive crush on him? Did he kick you out? Are you hiding from him?"

Yeji is done walking up to you and is now standing with her back to the still open door to the auditorium to look at you with her head tilted and hands braced on her waist. But your gaze is stuck to the person whose face you can easily see over her shoulder.

Soobin's eyes are impossibly wide and mouth is parted to allow his bunny-like front teeth to peek out. There's a subtle flush covering the top of his cheekbones, ears and the bridge of his nose – a sight that would've had you cooing in adoration if you weren’t so distraught, right now.

And then his lips move to form a broken sentence that makes you want to stab Yeji and then yourself: "You… obsessive crush… me?"

To her credit, Yeji seems to recognise the guy's voice and also the context of this ridiculous situation pretty quickly. Her eyes grow wide immediately before a wince overtakes her face as she mouths the word 'sorry' to you, probably mistaking your fallen expressions to be a reaction to the chaos she has caused. Little does she know.

Just as she has stepped aside, Soobin takes a step closer to you, heavy guilt and bewilderment sewn into the lines of his forehead and the twist of his lips. It's so weird that your heart is still skipping a beat when his gaze searches yours.

It's so unfair.

You inhale deeply and shake your head, though, steeling yourself against his deceitful innocent eyes. His dimples are just a facade to hide his arrogance. You know better now.

"Not anymore, don't you worry," you tell him with your chin lifted and eyes narrowed.

And damn, you feel so brave for that one. Especially because the words aren't even true. Getting over him will be a hefty task and you have no idea where to even begin, because your life has pretty much revolved around the guy for over a year.

Soobin frowns at that, looking almost hurt, and you want to laugh in his face at the hypocrisy. But you've had enough of him judging you and you're also ninety-eight percent sure you will end up crying if you tried to laugh, so you choose to just grab onto an embarrassed and confused looking Yeji's wrist and tug her with you to the other end of the hallway, exiting into the college's cafeteria.

"Babe, that was—ow!"

Yeji is cut off by you smacking her upside the head. "You're so fucking stupid, Hwang."

"I know… I'm sorry?"

"Shut up, you’re buying me lunch."

The next day, while you’re supposed to be attending your Media Law class, a mandatory course in your major, you find yourself sitting (read: sulking) in a corner of the library by yourself, staring at the laptop in front of you unseeingly. Your attendance is good enough to save your grades and you can beg Chaewon for notes later in the week.

But you truly don’t have enough mental strength to face the class’ star student after the shitshow that went down, yesterday.

While Yeji bought you lunch yesterday, you filled her in on everything that happened. Your best friend provided you with a shoulder for your tears, some tissues for your snot and four golden words of advice: never meet your heroes. Because now everything is ruined, and you’re beginning to wonder if picking this major was even worth it when the reason why you did has turned out to be a sham himself.

Your phone suddenly pings with a message, breaking your chain of spiraling thoughts.

11:03 | yeji 💘 dood. guess who i bumped into omw to the chem lab and guess what he asked me for

You blink and then squint at your phone. Why is your best friend trying to be so mysterious?

↪ wtf ji…? ↪ who asked u for what? ↪ are u okay?

11:05 | yeji 💘 what? yeah i’m okay choi soobin asked for your number

What?

↪ yeji… ↪ tell me u didn’t give it to him

11:06 | yeji 💘 of course not bestie <3 i told him to talk to you in person he’ll be there in a min good luck! 💋💋💋

You hadn’t even fully inhaled your breath of relief at Yeji’s first text when she cut it short with the next one. In person? In a minute?

Did Yeji tell him where you are?

“Uh, hey… Can we talk?”

She did. Shit.

Even if you don’t lift your gaze from your phone, Soobin’s tall form blocks the incoming light from the window you were seated next to and casts such an obvious shadow on your form that you cannot ignore him without making it weird. So you lick your lips and collect your nerves, preparing yourself to face the guy who single-handedly inspired and then shattered your future plans.

Soobin looks as devastatingly handsome as ever, dressed in a white, collared shirt. His hair is just as black, lips just as red, but there’s an additional pair of thick, black, round-framed glasses sitting on his eyes this time that make your heart beat faster. He just had to look like a runway model in glasses. The universe hates you. Figures.

The expressions on his face scream clear distress and the guilt you saw yesterday. He’s nibbling on his bottom lip, which is a great sign because his bitch ass should be antsy about his audacity of talking to you now when he didn’t wanna listen to you yesterday.

Wow. Maybe that purple haired girl really was onto something, yesterday. Choi Soobin’s derriere is most definitely a rude and a bitch ass.

Looking down at your laptop, you clear your throat and ask him, “What do you wanna talk about?”

You don’t ask him to sit, you do not smile, don’t even wave back in response to his lame ass ‘hey’ – just cut straight to business. You’re proud of the way your voice sounds the right amount of impatient and careless.

“I… I owe you an apology.”

That has you looking at him again. He’s frowning now, looking so conflicted, you almost soften. But then you stop yourself. This is probably not even that heartfelt. He heard about your crush on him and now he pities you. You won’t be a vessel for him to pretend to clear his conscience when he wasn’t even willing to get off his judgemental high horse for you.

“Soobin… don’t.”

He takes the seat opposite yours, ignoring your eyebrows that rise up in shocked outrage. "I have to. Please."

"You really don't—"

"I was horribly out of line, ridiculously ignorant, unprofessional and – and an asshole."

You blink at him in mild surprise. At least he knows; that’s an oddly good start. "You can say that again."

He removes his glasses and rests his elbows on the table, leaning towards you with wide, desperate eyes. "I do not expect you to forgive me, I just need you to – to know that I'm not… I'm not who I was yesterday. That's not – I was under pressure and I felt irritated, insecure and a little jealous? And I said everything I didn't mean. Especially that comment about your dress up! I didn't mean it, I swear! You looked pretty, your skirt was really cute, okay? I – I didn't mean to insult you, I would never stoop to that level."

Your cheeks involuntarily heat up at the compliment he tosses at you so casually. "Why say it when you didn't mean it?" you mumble, attempting to hold your ground and stay mad because he's saying all the right things to weaken your resolve and give him an ear.

He hangs his head as if in shame. "Because I'm a moron. None of the stuff I said was aimed at you. As you said, we hadn't even met before, and… I was frustrated and tired and just drew all these wrong conclusions about you and went off like an idiot. I feel so horrible. I'm so fucking sorry..."

Very slowly, you lean back in your chair and shut your laptop. He really knows how to apologize, damn.

You were preparing to knock Choi Soobin off the throne you had him sitting on, mentally, and then crush that very throne to pieces because if he could disappoint you like this, you were determined to never look for another role model. You were preparing yourself to leave Choi Soobin and his arrogance in dust and move on with your life.

But now here he is – apologizing like the decent human being you always thought him to be, saying everything you’d never admit you needed to hear.

He’s climbing back upon the throne that took you a whole day to make up your mind to remove him from.

You’re kinda pathetic, to be honest…

In an attempt to regain some of the dignity your inner monologue has stripped you of, you frown at him. But you are definitely intrigued now because if the kindness and sweetness he shows everyone is a facade, why is he being kind and sweet to you in private?

Could there possibly be… an explanation for his behavior yesterday? He said he was under pressure and frustrated. Although you understand the former, given his position and the auditions yesterday, you don’t really get why he would be frustrated.

When you meet his gaze again, you find Soobin looking at you with those wide eyes of his spilling desperate hope. So you decide to bite.

"You – you keep saying you were frustrated… Why was that? "

He thumps his head against the table with a groan, making you jump a little in surprise, and then looks up with a determined expression on his face. "I'll begin from the beginning. I owe you that much."

"You really don't owe me any—"

"Please, Y/N."

Oh. Did he say your name? Oh.

Wow, this is why crushes are horrible. Now your heart is thumping wildly and your face feels really hot. Honestly, there should be a system where one can run a background check on an individual before they can be deemed safe enough to be crushed on so that one doesn’t end up embarrassing oneself.

You can only hope your face hasn’t heated up to a noticeable degree.

"I… Since the day I was made President of the Broadcasting Club and was given the duty to conduct interviews for the different sports teams our college has, there’s been this – this recurring pattern. Huge throngs of girls that want to join the club for a chance to interview the hockey team and get close to Captain Choi.” He gives a tired exhale and runs a hand down his face. “I’ve seen it repeat every semester. And this time it got really out of hand because I actually decided to sit in for the tryouts…”

You didn’t even notice when you leaned on your elbows to mirror Soobin’s seating position and focused your eyes on his face, so when he looks up to meet your gaze, your breath catches for a moment. And then you see absolute, sheer tiredness reflected by his brown orbs.

He cannot be this good of an actor, can he be? That would mean that he's really been going through something with this whole insincere signing up for the club thing.

"It was really wrong of me to explode on you the way I did," he continues in a softer voice, looking down at the table next to his palms. "I assumed you were one of the girls that had been giving me a hard time and… didn't even let you say your thing. I'm really, terribly sorry for being a jerk to you."

Your jaw drops a little at the sincerity that spills from his apology. He doesn't sound like he's doing this to clear his conscience or out of pity – he sounds really regretful. He almost sounds like he's in pain, in fact.

Does he really feel that guilty?

He would only be feeling so bad about this if… everything he has said so far is the truth and he’s actually not the kind of person he painted himself as, yesterday. You can sense the way your previously drawn conclusions begin to dissipate little by little.

"After you left," Soobin begins again, this time with a slight twinkle in his eyes and a tilt to his lips that makes his dimples pop, "I went looking for your application form and read about your interest in announcing. You… you picked your major because of me?"

Your cheeks are definitely on fire now and there’s no way Soobin can’t see that. Why did you put that in your form, you embarrassing imbecile?

Well. If Soobin has been gusty and virtuous enough to come looking for you and make an attempt to honestly explain himself and apologize, maybe you can be a little honest with him as well.

"You see… the freshman orientation you hosted last year left an impact on me," you reveal, unable to look at him. "And then I saw your sports coverage and realized that I want to be a sports announcer in future."

Soobin says your name, making you look up and meet his soft gaze. "I never thought I would do anything in life that would be worth an inspiration… so this means a lot to me. A lot.” His eyes are shining with sincerity and emotion, and you’re looking into them, spellbound. “I am so sorry I hurt you and I’m ready to try and make it up to you for as long as needed. I don’t really expect you to accept my apology, like I told you, but if you would please give me another chance, I would like to show you who I really am. And maybe initiate you, if you’d like?"

He finishes with a sweet, dimpled smile and maybe that is to be blamed for the way his question bounces right off of you.

"Initiate…me?" You cluelessly blink at him.

"Yeah. Into the club. All the members went through your application and some samples of you emceeing. So it’s not just mine, but everybody’s decision. Insistence, if you will. Request? We – we’d really really like to have you on our team."

Your eyes jump open very wide at that. Join the club of your dreams? He’s finally offering you the spot you thought you’d lost forever?

Wait, did he say samples? Of you emceeing? What?

"I’m sorry, what samples?"

A blush tinges his ears. "I contacted your friend Yeji about this, last evening. Please don’t be mad at her, she just wanted to help you. She told me how much this means to you… and then sent me a couple of clips of you managing a stage during a kids’ talent show in your neighborhood. You were really impressive, Y/N."

Holy fucking hell, you're going to scream.

First at Hwang Yeji for going behind your back and selling you to the enemy, no matter what her motivation might’ve been. And then because your idol just complimented you on something you've learned from him.

"Th–thank you, Soobin." You bite your lip at the stutter in your voice, peering up at him with hesitant eyes. And then you decide to be honest with him again: "Your praise… means a lot to me."

Soobin's eyes sparkle at that, a warm smile pulling at his lips. "And I promise to always remember, respect and honor that. Just one chance?”

You stay like that for the next few moments, looking at him with a soft gaze.

You’ve been polishing your skills to prepare yourself for a spot in this club for a year. If you had gotten the chance to audition normally yesterday, there is no doubt in your mind that you would’ve made the cut. So wouldn’t it be unfair if you give up now?

And then there’s Soobin, of course. It’s going to take you some time to trust him. But if he says he’s willing to work on it, says it with a sincerity in his eyes that gives you goosebumps, you believe it’s worth giving him a chance to correct the misunderstanding he caused yesterday.

You exhale, mind made up, and nod at the guy tentatively. “Promise me you will hear what I have to say before you draw any conclusions?”

He leans closer to you, bringing his face at the same level as yours and nods eagerly. “I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die. Do I take this as a yes to joining the club?”

His eagerness makes you crack a smile, which causes Soobin to scrunch his nose bashfully. You inhale deeply and give him another nod. “Yes, you may.”

Time flies really fast after that day as you attempt to find a stable way of juggling your classes and the club duties.

The work isn’t as much in bulk as it is in the details. Soobin is, as you’d known beforehand, a meticulous perfectionist. Every single activity the club is involved in has to be fully planned in bullet points and a step-wise-step itinerary, and uploaded to the club’s shared Google Drive, days in advance, or Mr. President begins to lose his calm . You, being the newest addition to the bunch of six experienced members, are mostly tasked with assisting the guy on building this very itinerary.

Not that you mind.

The more time you spend next to him, witnessing him in his element up close and actually getting to peer into the creative wonderland that his mind is, the more you find yourself in awe of him. He has been a role model to you for a reason, after all.

With each passing day, you pat yourself on the back for taking a chance by accepting his apology as you slowly begin to see the real him – the version of him that is absolutely nothing like the asshole you met that day. And little by little, your trust in him begins to grow.

Soobin, to his credit, doesn’t leave a single stone unturned to make you feel welcome into the club. He is incredibly patient and delicate with you – always pausing to check whether you have been keeping up with all the new stuff or if you need any guidance.

You’re beginning to understand that it is in his nature to be kind. The word that got around about him has been correct all along – he really is gentle, understanding and sweet. And if he is going an extra mile for you with the intention of appeasing you because he is apologetic? Well… he’s damn well succeeding.

The two of you have quickly fallen into a routine where you attend your 10 am Media Law class together, collect the communication majors Karina and Jongho from their block, and then report to Arin—the only senior in the club and known to be an effortless ace—in the broadcasting room. After a short briefing about the previous days’ tasks and a rundown of the fresh day’s checklist, you and Soobin depart to the library to work on it.

After that you both attend your separate afternoon classes, meet up at the broadcasting room at four in the evening for the college announcements that are alternated between Yunjin and Jongin, sophomores and the final two members of the club, and the lot of you finally take your leave some time around six.

The first week is so exhausting for you that you are barely left with enough strength to feed yourself before you collapse into bed every night, let alone think about your academics. You don’t even text Yeji for three whole days, until she accosts you in the library.

Soobin texts you, that evening, sharing tips on time management, task management as well as a small list of snacks that he munches on to retain energy. To say your heart nearly beats out of your chest at the gesture would be an understatement.

The following weeks are full of you being on the receiving end of more such thoughtful acts by Soobin. Getting you coffee – one that is made exactly the way you like it – before the evening meet-up, walking you to your dorm if you don’t have anyone from your building accompanying you, repeatedly checking in to ensure you’re well-rested and not overwhelmed by the sudden change in your routine.

And then there is that one time, some three weeks later, when you're filling in for an absent Yunjin and make a mistake during the announcement – landing yourself at the receiving end of Arin's ire. You feel really bad about your mistake as it is, and so the addition of a reprimand from the senior you've come to look up to has you immensely low.

"She said it was a mistake, noona."

Your head snaps up at Soobin's firm statement. His eyebrows are furrowed and arms are crossed as he looks at Arin. You, along with three other pairs of eyes, gawk at the rare sight of Soobin getting angry, and the rarer sight of him going against the club's queen.

"She's apologized thrice. What more do you expect?"

Arin looks taken aback at the brusque interruption, but doesn't put up a fight against the president. "She needs to practice her pauses, Soobin."

"And she will. I'll make sure she does." He gives a small nod to her before turning his gaze to you. Put in spot, you stare back at him with wide eyes. "I'll stay with her while she practices."

Flashing you a small smile of reassurance, Soobin turns back to the other girl and pats her shoulder to calm her down. And because no one in powerful enough to maintain a frown when Soobin unleashes the power of his dimples upon them, Arin eventually smiles in defeated acceptance and dismisses the meeting.

But your heart never quite manages to dismiss the way this incident makes you feel.

Because Soobin holds true to the promise he made as well – accompanying you to the college's courtyard whenever you're both free and practicing speech with you. To be really honest, he seems to be wanting to spend all his free time with you. You find yourself having to say no to his texts at times because you have plans with Yeji, or are too tired to function.

You'd be lying if you claimed that having so much of his attention on you doesn't make your heart to somersaults in your chest. Which is why you begin to wonder where his extra mile of apologetic appeasement ends.

The whole apology acceptance thing happened between the two of you awhile ago. He really shouldn't have a reason to continue to dote on you as if he has been hired to take care of you. Last time you checked, you were the one with a gigantic crush on him and not the other way round.

A few explanations pop up in your head, but none of them feel plausible enough for you to even think about. So you do the next best thing – share your dilemma with Yeji on an impromptu girls’ night in, one Saturday.

For a moment, your best friend squints her eyes in the way she does when she’s analyzing some complex situation. And then she shrugs a shoulder, pops a pretzel in her mouth and announces: “Sounds like he’s got a crush.”

You blink, caught so off-guard that you’re stunned into silence. It is only when she looks at you with her eyebrows raised that you manage to cough out a scoff. “What? Don’t be ridiculous.”

This time Yeji’s the one to scoff. “Excuse me? What’s so ridiculous about him liking you?”

“Dude. I…” You vaguely gesture to yourself. “I’m me. And he’s…him. Choi Soobin the Great, the prince, the God, the emcee of the year.”

“Uh, I’m sorry, what’s that supposed to mean? You’re you – the princess, the goddess, the prettiest girl on campus and the best student in our year.” She tosses a pretzel at you, scowling. “You’re amazing, bff. Choi Soobin is one lucky motherfucker to have the privilege to spend so much time with you. Of course he’d fall in love! I’d date you if I was into girls!”

The last part of her sentence makes you giggle. “Stop, no one’s talking about love just yet. Do you really think he could be doing all of that with… I don’t know… the intention to woo me?”

“Of course! He’d be a fool not to!” Yeji sits up from her recline on the couch, nearly aggressively grabbing onto your shoulders to shake you. “Didn’t you hear the part where I told you I would date—hell, Ryujin would date you!”

You gape at your best friend, feeling uplifted, reassured and confused all at once. “Wha—? Does Ryujin like girls?”

“No, but she’d still date you. She’s open minded that way.”

“Yeji, what the f—”

“My point is!” She raises a finger up to silence your protest. “You’re fabulous and amazing and gorgeous – have you seen your eyes? Bff, they’re fucking pretty. Do you know what that makes you? More fucking pretty. He likes you, boo, and he's probably got a list of reasons why.”

Yeji’s love language might be words of affirmation through… aggression, but it is surely effective at reminding you of the fact that you’re lovable.

And so more time goes by, with things staying mostly normal if you don’t count the way your cheeks seem to get extra warmer with every cup of coffee that Soobin hands you, lately. If your locked gazes stay locked for longer than necessary, or if his goodbye hugs linger a little and cause your heart to nearly beat out of your chest – it is no one’s business but your own.

You know, deep in your heart, that you never really got over the guy. He left you heartbroken for a total of 36 hours, while he's spent more than 36 days swirling up a swarm of butterflies in your tummy with every action of his.

It is inevitable for you to fall for him all over again.

You have absolutely no plans of doing anything about it, however, because you have come to really cherish the close friendship you share with Soobin. You like the wheel of routine the two of you constantly spin within and don't wanna change a thing about it.

Although, that is not to say that no change ends up happening.

The wheel of routine makes a detour around a week later, some five weeks after your initiation into the broadcasting club, when you find yourself wrapped in a jacket and still shivering, sitting next to the university’s star athlete on the bleachers in the hockey arena, at six in the morning.

“Is that all? For real?” Choi Yeonjun asks you with his eyes wide in pleasant surprise. “That was quick.”

While you just nod with a chuckle, his girlfriend peers at you from his other side and punches him in the side. “I’ve told you the important questions don’t take that long! Your fangirls just wanna extend the interviews because they wanna ogle you longer.”

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore, I promise,” you tell the girl with a grin, which she returns fully.

“Nah, you don’t even have to tell me because I can see it in your body language,” she mumbles, pressing her cheek into her boyfriend’s shoulder, over which he tips his own head affectionately. “You’re the first ever girl to not view him like a piece of meat. I’m not even kidding.”

“Ah, I’m sorry about that. Your man’s okay, but he’s not my type.”

Yeonjun grins widely at your words, while her girlfriend breaks into laughter because she apparently hasn’t heard anyone use the adjective “okay” for Yeonjun ever before.

Anyone that tries to get between these two must be crazy, you realize, because you’ve sat with them for less than an hour and can already tell how deeply in love they are. And how stinkingly cute they are together.

Well, the general consensus states that Yeonjun is cute, too. Along with being handsome, beautiful, sexy – and a whole plethora of other adjectives that his fans use for him. But it becomes hard for you to agree with the opinion when your heart, instead, chooses to skip a beat for the dimpled cutie seated two steps away from you, smiling at you from behind his camera.

Right as your eyes meet, Soobin waves a hand at you to let you know he has stopped recording. Nodding, you wave goodbye to the couple next to you and leave the spot to walk up to your cameraman.

“If I get hypothermia, you’re footing my hospital bills,” you announce as you settle next to a laughing Soobin, intentionally shifting closer to him to hopefully absorb some of his body heat.

“I told you to bring a jacket, didn’t I?”

“And I did, but it was useless.”

“Because it was denim!” He gives a full belly laugh at that, and the sound is so beautiful to your ears that it becomes hard for you to maintain your scowl of annoyance. “Who brings a denim jacket when asked to carry one?”

“Hey, you texted me at five am!” you whine in complaint. “I could barely open my eyes, my brain wasn’t working!”

“Is that why you didn’t question me?” His tone is a little teasing and so are his raised eyebrows as he smirks at you. “I asked you to come downstairs quickly and you arrived within ten minutes, ready to run away to the mountains with me if I asked. What’s up with that, hm?”

Your cheeks feel on fire at the implication of his words. Clearing your throat, you try to come up with a response, but your heartbeat is too loud in your ears and meeting Soobin’s playful gaze might just make it crash due to the onslaught of overwhelming emotions.

Well. At least you’re feeling a little warmer now.

“You – you said it was a surprise and a huge honor that I’d later thank you for… I got excited,” you mumble, entwining your cold fingers and stuffing your hands beneath your knees to warm them up. “Thanks for thinking of me for this honor but honestly…” You gesture towards Yeonjun with your chin. “I don't really care for athletes. They’re not my type. I prefer brains over brawn. This guy’s taken, anyway, so people should really…”

You trail off when you turn to look at Soobin and find him smiling at you almost knowingly, such unabashed affection in his gaze that your throat closes up with nervousness.

“I… I – I mean—”

“Yeonjun’s not your type?”

Swallowing past your nerves, you very slowly shake your head. “Is that a surprise?”

He shrugs his shoulders, trying to seem nonchalant, but you see the stiffness that enters his spine at the question. “Yeah, kind of. He’s… well, everyone I know either wants him or wants to be him.”

Wants to be him? Oh… Your lips curve up in a small smile as it begins to make sense to you. “Including you?”

His eyes widen in surprise as he looks at you. “He’s the most popular guy at our uni, Y/N. Who wouldn’t wanna be him?”

You should be surprised by his answer but you somehow aren’t. Because this ties up with a number of things you’ve been unable to fully make sense of about Soobin. Most of all, this explains why it would get him so riled up that people would try to use him and his club – one of the most sacred things he holds in his life – just to get close to Yeonjun. It would also explain why he would have felt insecure and jealous about it.

Emotions such as these are hard to navigate. Within the month that you’ve spent working closely with Soobin, you’ve come to know that he cares about his friends a lot – he truly loves them and would go to extreme lengths to help them whenever and wherever. It pains you that he struggles with this burden on the inside.

You need him to know that he shouldn’t. That he doesn’t need to.

Which is why you shuffle closer to him, to the point where your thighs brush together, and look into his wide, bunny eyes to tell him that: “When I first saw you, I was fully convinced you were the most popular guy at the uni. And it stayed with me for months until I began my research into uni related facts and opinions and found out about our hockey team. This is why I could never gather enough courage to approach you, you know? You were this tall, handsome and sweet guy – textbook university crush material. How could you not be the most popular?”

Soobin’s cheeks turn pink, then pinker, then bright red, and by the end of your confession, he’s got a trail of redness climbing up to his ears. His eyes stay glued to yours, even as he bites down on his bottom lip.

When you see the way he exhales shakily, you finally release a giggle at his flustered state. “What? Are you really blushing that hard? How're you so cool as an emcee but your cheeks go red when a girl compliments you, Soobin?”

Soobin huffs out a laugh through his nose and rolls his eyes, pursing his lips to bite back his smile. Then he shakes his head. “Not just any girl.”

This time, you feel a similar blush begin to cover your face. You attempt to joke it away. “I… I’m h–honored, I guess?”

Smirking at your stutters, Soobin simply averts his gaze from yours and goes back to packing up the recording equipment. “Speaking of honors, by the way. This isn't exactly what I was talking about.”

You frown in confusion. “Oh? So what is—wait. Why did you wake me up at five, then?!”

“Woah, easy!” he laughs when you get up and brace your fists on your waist, ready to throw hands. “I brought you here because having your first solo interview with Yeonjun would give you a good boost of publicity for your future with the club.”

“Ow, are we using him for clout?” You scrunch your nose up when Soobin proudly nods.

“Precisely. And also to give you a small rehearsal so that you know what all to focus on when you prepare for the freshman orientation that’s coming up soon.”

You freeze in the middle of a nod.

To prepare you for what?

Your brain refuses to comprehend the words. He couldn’t possibly be talking about the orientation, right?

Eyes wide and jaw dropped, you stare at Soobin while he seamlessly continues to speak.

“You're pretty comfortable with the mic and you actually enjoy interacting with groups. I still remember the clips your friend had shown me. Orientation stage requires the ability to interact well and improvise upon the script efficiently, because you’re tasked with making sure these bunch of seventeen year olds feel welcome into their new surroundings. And you, ma’am, happen to be an ace at both the arts.”

Still in disbelief, you sit next to him again and forward a hand to hold onto his forearm, bringing his focus back on you. “Soobin… are you sure? I’ve – I’ve been here for a month, and—”

“And you were amazing even before you joined us.” He turns to you to take both your palms between his, and says your name. A surge of sparks passes through your nerve endings at the warm contact, but Soobin’s gaze grounds you – it’s so open and honest that it compels you to believe every word he says to you. “You’ve only improved with each day, right? You will be great, I’m absolutely sure.”

Nodding slowly, you begin to smile when he does.

Giving your hands a jerk, Soobin points at the couple seated a few feet away. “Just you wait and see, you’re about to go viral when this bit is released. The one girl that remains unaffected by Choi Yeonjun’s charm? Oh, you’re gonna pull so many admirers within a week. Get ready for fanboys crushing on you and sliding into your DMs. Bet they’ll have a fan page up and running before your next public appearance.”

You break into laughter, craning away from him at his teasing. But Soobin tugs at your hands to pull you back up, this time bringing you closer to him than you were before. The previous traces of playfulness have given way to a small, expectant smile on his face.

"Do I get brownie points for being the first in line?"

What? What? An awkward chuckle leaves you, quickly dwindling when Soobin's smile remains unchanged as he continues to look into your eyes. "What… what are you talking about?"

He tilts his head sweetly, giving your hands a small squeeze as he says your name. "As if I haven't been so obvious… You're the most talented member our group has seen in a while, you know? I can't look away from you when you're working and, like, initially I thought I was being a fan… But then I started to daydream about your bright eyes, gorgeous smiles, your cute giggles, your huge fucking heart that is always so kind to everyone, and…" Soobin pauses with a sigh, cheeks turning red and dimples flashing. "Come on, are you really gonna make me say it?"

Your breath comes in stuttered gasps as you try to gather your thoughts. "Soo–Soobin, I… I… Do you really…?"

"Really like you and really want to go out with you? Yeah, I do.” He smiles at you, bringing your faces close enough to boop your nose with his own. "Is there a problem?"

"You… like me?" You feel terribly confused, somewhat lost, and just a bit scared. If Soobin doesn't mean it with one hundred percent sincerity, you'll never recover from this hurt. So you just try to deflect: "But you barely know me?"

He pulls away with a small scoff of disbelief, eyes widening in surprise. "So it's believable for you to have a crush on me when you'd never even held a conversation with me, but you can't accept that I like you because you're the most beautiful, most intelligent and the most caring person I've ever met in my life?"

Your breath hitches on an exhale – and you're unable to breathe in again for long moments after that.

He thinks you're beautiful, intelligent and caring.

He likes you.

He actually likes you.

Yeji's words of aggressive affirmative circle in your head: He likes you, boo, and he's probably got a list of reasons why.

She was… actually right? Holy shit…

You're so freaking emotional right now, you might cry.

A cross between a chuckle and a sniffle escapes you despite your attempts of stifling it, catching Soobin by surprise. His hands immediately let go of yours to cup your cheeks in concern.

"Hey, hey, what happened? Please don't think too hard about—"

"Soobin," you cut him off with a whisper. "I like you, too. So, so much."

A slow smile begins to curl his lips up, beautifully. "You do?"

"I have for so long. I… don't think I ever stopped."

"Even with the way I hurt you so bad?" His face becomes somber for a moment.

"Yes, even then. You've shown me who you really are, Soobin, and that person is amazing. You've proven to me that I caught you in a moment of weakness, and… I think I understand it now more than ever." You smile when his lashes flutter, eyes gazing at you as if in wonder. "Besides, I think I forgave you when you first got me my correct coffee order with that cute smile of yours."

He blushes again. "Ah, so my smile is cute?"

"The cutest." You solemnly nod, cheeks still held in his palms. "Your whole face is."

"Well then, I hope you're okay with my cute face doing this?"

You know what is coming as you watch him erase the space between your mouth and his, and yet you're not nearly prepared for the way your blood turns electric the moment his plush, heart-shaped lips make contact with yours. Pure fire surges through you, body strung tight one moment and then fallen pliant in his hold the next.

Soobin's thumbs brush against the heated flesh of your cheeks, as if attempting to comfort your loud heartbeat – but it's to no avail. Your heart works faster and faster with every push of his mouth against yours, so full of giddiness that it eventually seems to levitaties up and above your body, leaving you weightless and breathless.

You try to kiss him back to the best of your abilities, but you feel like you've been entranced – held in a dreamlike state that has rendered you completely immobile and turned your brain to goo.

Soobin seems to recognise your condition, somehow, pulling away from the kiss with a chuckle brushed against your slightly parted lips. Lidded eyes look into yours with a smile held in them, his chocolate irises turned to thin rings due to how dilated his pupils are.

"You good?"

His voice comes out all hoarse and breathless, making your stomach clench with desire and you're instantly spurred into motion.

Reaching out with both your hands, you grip onto the back of Soobin's neck and the side of his jaw, and this time pull him in for a proper kiss with equal participation. His breath hitches for a moment, but is released in the form of a small grunt when you open your mouth against his – and that is all you need to absolutely lose yourself into the taste and feel of Choi Soobin.

You would've probably stayed lost for quite a bit too, had a loud whistle not echoed around the arena, making both you and Soobin jump apart with startled gasps. Wide eyed, you look at each other, and then two stairs above you.

Yeonjun's girlfriend is grinning at you with her entire teeth on display, while the guy himself has his arm extended towards the two of you, thumb pointed downwards.

"Her first interview isn't even out yet, dude!" he calls out, booing Soobin with his entire arm. "Literally obliterating her popularity before she could even gather bitches, you're so lame and insecure, Soob, boo hoooo!"

Soobin tosses a random plastic case towards the guy, whining into your ear as he rests his chin on your shoulder grumpily. You giggle at his pout, entwining your hands together to bring them up and press a soft kiss to the back of his.

"Are we going on that date before or after the interview is aired, then?" you tease the guy, wiggling your eyebrows.

Soobin glares at you through playfully narrowed eyes beneath lowered eyebrows, until you're giggling again and he's kissing your smile. "Definitely before."

#txt #txt x you #txt x reader #soobin #choi soobin #soobin fanfic #soobin x you #soobin x reader #txt imagines #soobin imagines #txt fluff #soobin fluff #txt fanfic #txt scenarios #soobin scenarios #txt angst #soobin angst #tomorrow x together

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octopiys · 7 months

Text

A lil bit of a started story based off of a comic by: @aidenlydia thank u for letting me write about it just in time for spooky season!!

every dream that shatters (another one comes true)

He had to get out. He had to clear his head. His shoebox of a house was too cluttered, too stuffed, and he couldn't breathe in there. Too many eyes watched him, too many eyes worried and never said a thing.

He had to go for a ride.

The bike was right under the tarp where he had left it, settled under half an inch of dust. He wasn't even really sure if his mum knew he had it.

He knew she wouldn't say anything, even if she did know. Her eyes only watched.

A gift to himself when he enlisted, the bike was just as beautiful as he'd first bought it.

Built in 2000, the gloss on his Harley Softail was just as polished, like a mirror. He smudged his hand on the black, before pulling on his gloves. The twin engine was still in perfect condition, after all, the bike was only a few years old. When he got back from Mexico, he buried himself in upgrading the bike. A radio modification or two, a compartment in the front, hiding a few secret things, a few close objects to him. Dog tags, a photo of the rest of his team, a letter that he wouldn't bother to rewrite until he got back home... He hitched up the wheels, buffed them out just a little bigger. They were more stable, and he couldn't help but puff up at the thought of how nice they fit the bike. He had to clean off the leather of the seat as he tugged it out of the shed in the backyard.

If his mother didn't know he had it before, she surely did now.

He needed to drive.

The radio station switched on, the gauges twitching as he kicked the bike on. Some rock band was playing. One of the newer ones he liked. Linkin Park. The engine revved, purred, and he felt slightly soothed. The sound scraped against his ears, grinding away the thoughts that berated him.

It felt like flying, strangely, and he'd been in his fair share of helicopters. The service granted him that much, at least.

He had decided not to bring his helmet, the one that was emblazoned with a bones of a skull. It would be a short trip. Just to clear his mind.

The house was deadly silent behind him, but for once he'd swear he'd never felt more alive.

Captain John MacTavish, or as his friends liked to call him, Soap, was going to go insane. His current mission had been completed, and since he was technically considered part of a private military company, all he had to do was wait for the next one.

The issue at hand, however, is that there wouldn't be another one for months, and he was tired of routine.

Strange, saying that as a Captain. Sure, he'd built himself a title through routine, and sure, he'd earned himself one by breaking it. He'd tell his team to take a break, but that didn't necessarily mean he himself would follow through with that.

But it was autumn, and apparently terrorists wanted to carve pumpkins or something like that because there was no threat on their radars, and it pissed him off.

He needed something to do. Something to get his hands working with, something to get his pent up aggression out. Drawing wasn't working as well as he'd wanted it to, and now he had filled journals of dead teammates that he'd drawn up in their honor. He'd probably burn them later, like a sacrificial pyre in memoriam.

There was a soft thud at his front door and his head shot up in reflex, shoulders hunched, prepared for a fight. But there was no knock, no sudden burst of entry. His hand had twitched for a gun that he didn't currently hold.

Creeping up to the front door, Soap checked through the peephole in the center of the wood. No one was there, much to his relief. Just the morning mail.

After he opened the door and seized the paper for himself, he saw the mailboy ride past on his bike with an armful of other newspapers to deliver.

Soap deemed it safe to take into his home.

He was so utterly bored, he thought he'd might explode. At least that would bring some kind of interest into his life.

His mother prayed that he'd find someone of interest before she died, and believe him, she wanted to die knowing that her son wouldn't be alone. That he had somebody to come home to.

The Captain, however, never found much interest in women. Or men, for that matter. Not that he didn't find them attractive! In fact, Sergeant Garrick often teased him for the way he'd be caught gazing at a bartender at a pub after a mission, or a nurse who'd had the misfortune of being assigned to their task force during a particularly nasty mission. But his field of work never allowed much time for a relationship anyways. Too much time apart, too much risk, and not nearly enough risque.

Most of the time, it'd be a quick fuck, and he'd be off on his way.

But this wasn't that kind of frustration, it was something else. Understimulation, if you will.

He was four pages through the paper before it occurred to him that he hadn't actually read anything since he opened it up. So he zoned back in, and started from the beginning.

Most of it was a few standard ads, some news articles, a morning prayer that he mumbled aloud. But something had caught his eye. An opportunity.

In basic print, on basic background, was a local advertisement from some old woman selling a wrecked out motorcycle. She stated that the condition was very poor, and it would require a lot of work to get it fixed up. However, she left a line to call beneath the brief description.

Before he knew it, he was dialing the digits into his phone.

It rang thrice before it got picked up.

"Hello...? This is Sara." The voice of an older woman answered, and from the way she spoke it didn't seem like she was expecting a call.

"Hi there, ma'am. My name is John, ah was callin' aboot yer ad in the paper?" He winced internally, having not prepared a proper greeting.

"Oh!" Was all he heard. There was some shuffling on the other end of the line. "Yes, I- yes, of course.... I'd assume you'd want to check it out before you buy-?" She seemed hesitant. Almost sad, even.

"If yer offerin', ma'am, I'd love ta." He straightened on his worn out couch, reaching to the nearby side table to grab a pen and the pad of paper.

She told him the address, and he wrote it down. It would be a decent drive, but the morning was nigh. He'd be able to get there and back by nightfall easily, even if it would take much more time to get there than to actually assess the bike.

He hated driving in Britain. He hated it. The traffic was horrible, why didn't he ever account for-

"Oh God dammit pick a fuckin' lane ye wee bastard!" He shouted at the car in front of him that could not hear, due to the fact that the windows of his truck were rolled up, and the car was in fact, just a car.

He was only ten minutes out, but traffic in Manchester was just not pleasing him at the current moment.

But soon enough he was driving down a free road to a residential area of more run down houses. He wasn't one to judge, having come from a place similar, but the GPS stopped him in front of a light blue house. The garage door was open, and a few shingles were missing from the roof. There were a few children's toys in the front yard, the weeds overcrowding the driveway.

Soap pocketed his wallet and locked his car as he approached the front door. There were a few flower boxes, and the paint was peeling. The flowerbeds held a few dying sweet pea plants.

He wasn't sure how he recognized the plant. Symbolism of some sort he was sure.

He knocked quietly on the door and waited patiently, pushing strands of his overgrown mohawk out of his face.

There was a bit of a scuffle behind the door before it opened, revealing an older woman with graying blond hair and soft wrinkles around her eyes. She was older like he'd thought, probably around the same age as his own mother, and she had the same kindness in her eyes that he missed.

"Are you John?" She asked, her hands finding purchase on the door.

"Aye, but ye can call me Soap if ya'd like." It was a force of habit, introducing himself. Everybody knew him as Soap. Wasn't that big of a deal.

The woman pursed her lips, but opened the door. "I'd let ya around the side o' the house, but my son's mowin' the lawn now. It's in the back shed, hon, follow me." She said, deciding that he was well enough on his word to come into the house.

The walls of the interior were light purple, and in the corner of the living room sat an old box television, smothered by two couches. There was a baby play pen near the kitchen, and some music that played somewhere deeper in the house. He could see the shed through the back windows, overgrown with ivy, and there was a pang of sadness in his heart that he could not place.

"My son was a lieutenant." The woman said suddenly, as they crossed through the living area. Soap hummed in response.

"What force?" He asked, not bothering to question how she knew. He chose to slightly overlook the use of past tense.

"S.A.S. His father hated it." She breathed a laugh to herself as she opened up the back door. "But he wasn't in it for the Queen. He wanted to help people, truly."

"Aye, ma'am, most of us aren't fans of the Queen." He scoffed, and the woman looked back at him with a soft twinkle in her eye, like she knew more than he did.

They were quiet as they walked out to the back shed. He heard the mower going as it turned around the backyard, before it appeared. A young boy was operating it, with shoulder length blond hair, and he paused, staring at them for a moment, before pushing the mower back towards the front of the house.

The woman had unlocked the shed, but she didn't open the doors just yet. She glanced at him, looking almost hesitant. "Its.... It's really just scrap metal, hon. It'll be a lotta work to fix up, if that's what you're lookin' for. He made a few modifications to it, but- well...." She pushed open the door, and he smiled at her, trying to mask the realization that this bike *was* her son's.

"Don't worry ma'am, I like a good challenge." Soap murmured, glancing in as she opened the door.

The shed was lined with shelves, most of them holding gardening tools or the like. Near the back corners was, well, what he figured she'd be talking about. He could see the scratched polish glinting in the soft sunlight that caught the dust mites. The front wheel had been completely torn off, the bike bent almost in half around the leather seat. A few wires hung loose, and the radio modification was shattered almost completely across. Whatever had happened to it, and it's owner, must've been a grizzly scene. He didn't want to think the two were interrelated.

"I'll take it." He said in a hushed voice, before clearing his throat. "Uh- I'll take it, ma'am. I'll fix it right up." Soap promised, and he knew he would.

"I'll have my boy help it out to the car." She responded, and turned away.

He ended up getting the bike for very cheap. Her other son, Thomas, had done well on her word, having gotten out a transport tarp and helped him drag it out to his truck. He looked much like the boy he saw earlier, the one who was mowing the lawn. Must've been his father.

"Mum says you're in the military." Thomas huffed. "Not a Queen's bitch, though."

"Nae, I kill terrorists." Soap said, tipping his head.

"You make good on that?"

"I do."

"You'll like the bike. It was practically new when 'e got it. I was the only one he told 'bout it." Thomas puffed slightly at the memory. "A 2000 Harley Softail... God, she was a beaut. I helped 'im put in the radio too."

Soap smiled, but it might've looked more like a grimace. He couldn't lie and say he didn't feel bad.

He handed Thomas the money, and thanked him. Thomas wished him luck.

Before he got into his truck, Ms. Sara hurried out with something in her hands. It was a black and white helmet. Even if the paint was fading, he could still see the slight tracing of the skull-and-crossbones patterning. It looked edgy. Soap thought it was cool.

"If... If you do get the bike fixed up, use the helmet for me, son. It'll be the best decision you make, y' best believe." She said thickly, setting it in the bed of his truck alongside the twisted metal.

His throat felt tight as he smiled at her once again. "Thank ye." He said sincerely, and he found himself strangely choked up. He didn't know these people, but yet there was something so familiar about them.

Thomas stood next to his mother, almost towering over her.

"Good luck." He said stiffly, and Soap thanked him quietly once again.

The family turned into the house, and he hopped into his truck. The door slammed loudly behind him, and he swore, just another thing he had to fix.

As Soap drove off, what was left of the bike rattled securely in the bed of his truck.

Behind closed doors, a tear slipped down Ms. Riley's face. She pressed her forehead to the cold wood as the Captain drove away and whispered,

"Goodbye, Simon."

#call of duty #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #incorrect quotes #captain john price #alejandro vargas #alerudy #kyle 'gaz' garrick #soap x ghost #ghost x soap #modern warfare 3

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lokigonnakmsforbucky · 1 year

Text

Secrets (D.W. x Reader)

Dean Winchester x Female! Reader Request: Could I make a supernatural request? Reader has written in her diary about her crush on dean and doesn't know he feels the same way. Jack doesn't know what a diary is and finds it sitting with a bunch of books or something and reads it. Since he doesn't know what the book is he reads a few passages out loud to the brothers. The reader probably gets pissed off and Dean says how he feels.

Warnings: Angst, Reader is mean to jack a little. Overall pretty fluffy. Rating: Anyone can read this!

A/N: I am accepting a supernatural tag list, if you like to join please leave a comment or send an ask! I also am still accepting Requests!

Gif not mine*

View my masterlist

It has now been days since you have had a case. This means you got a very long break that you deserved. The bunker was nice and quiet, for the first time in a very long time.

You were sitting at the table with Sam, Jack, and Dean. Writing in your diary. Yes, you understood that having a diary was kinda...childish. But, did you care? No. It helped you cope with everything that has been thrown at you over the years of hunting. It also helped you talk about the feelings you've had for a certain green-eyed hunter.

You have known Dean for about two years now and met through Jody Mills. During these two years, you both have been through quite a bit throughout the time you have known each other. Such as Dean with the Mark of Cain, demon Dean, Amara, British Men of Letters (They were so annoying).

Now we are now raising Jack a Nephilim, son of Lucifer. He looked like he was sixteen, but was technically only two months old. Very bizarre I know. It was challenging, to say the least. Teaching him everything he needs to know at a quick pace wasn't ideal. But, Jack was a kid. A very powerful kid, but a kid.

Jack was sitting across from you trying to help Sam do research about a ghoul, Sam wanted to take him on a case soon so he could learn the ways to hunt. Dean was beside you eating the burger he made earlier and reading an article on the news website, you decided to take your time and write in your diary.

There wasn't a day that you didn't go out to write in your diary. You wrote in it so much that even Sam and Dean picked up on your routine. You close your diary and lay it on the table, stand up from the table, and walk to the kitchen for a drink. When you walk to the kitchen you see the huge mess that Dean has made in there. For one burger, that man was messier than a two year old.

You could see the sliced-up tomato guts on the cutting board, lettuce leaves, and onion all around the table and on the floor.

"Dammit, Dean." You laugh seeing his mess before you grabbed the broom and cleaned the floor. Wiping all the tomato, lettuce, and onion remains off the floor and into the garbage can.

After you cleaned that mess up, you walked over to the fridge and grabbed a water bottle. Afterward, you walked down the hallway to hear Jack speaking, "I have no idea why I have been feeling like this lately. My feelings for him have become stronger and stronger that I can't even stand going on cases anymore to see him get hurt."

What is Jack even talking about? Does he have feelings for someone? But, he doesn't even know or understand how relationships work. He has only been on this earth for two months.

You walked faster down the hall to see Jack sitting beside Sam with your diary, but before you can say a word he read more.

"I really like Dean. There I said it. I like Dean Winchester. I fear losing him to a hunt and can't bear with losing him to a monster. I liked him for a few years now, but I have been too afraid to say anything. I'm sure by how Dean would rather be with other women that he doesn't feel the same about me. Plus, I wouldn't want to lose our friendship over my childish crush."

Before Sam had a say in anything, you were already crossing the room to Jack. Snatching your journal away. Your open water bottle was on the floor, spilled.

"Do you know that it isn't nice to read someone's diary?!" You yell at Jack. Jack holds his hands up, "Y/n, I didn't know. It was on the table with the other books. I thought it was re-"

You cut Jack's sentence off, "Research?? Really? What's your excuse? You see me write in it EVERY DAY Jack! How could you not pick up that it's something personal! Oh, wait. You're a little baby in the body of a sixteen-year-old!" You slam your book down in front of him, "Go ahead and read the rest. You read enough already!"

Jack had his head down hearing you yell at him while Sam and Dean looked at you and him. You know Jack didn't know what it was. But, you felt betrayed and hurt by the fact that now my secret crush was out. Dean knew. You could feel all the eyes on you and your own eyes burned. Tears were gonna start falling soon. You left the room and went down the hallway to your room and slammed your door shut.

You lay down on your bed and sighed. Hiding your face with your hands and sobbing. You could never look at Dean or Sam again. You got up and started packing your clothes. Everything was over. The friendships you built. Gone. The years of working with them—him was over after everything you've been through.

A knock on the door broke you out of your thought. You wiped the tears from your face and opened the door to see Dean leaning on the doorway in his red henley and blue jeans.

"Hey." He spoke looking at you, "Can I come in?"

You open the door wide enough to allow Dean in, he walks in and rubs his head with his hand while you closed the door.

"What do you want D?"

Dean took a breath before he spoke, "Look. You were really hard on Jack. He didn't know. He is just a kid."

You nod your head at Dean, understanding what he said. "Yeah. I know. I'm gonna to apologize to him later. I am just mad." You look at your feet not looking at his face.

Dean looked at your partially packed suitcase and sighed, "I understand why you are mad. But, I came to talk to you because I need-Dammit I ain't good at this." He took a breath before he spoke again, "Ilikeyoutoo."

He said that sentence so fast you couldn't quite make out what he said. You look at him confused and step closer to him, "What?"

Dean sighs and takes a step forward, "Screw it." He takes your face in his hand and kisses you.

His lips were soft but you could feel the passion behind them, You stood there for a moment letting Dean kiss you before you returned the kiss giving the same passion he was giving you.

It felt like pure bliss while the kiss lasted. You never wanted it to stop.

Dean pulled away, his hands still on your face holding it gently. He looked you in the eyes. His green ones are full of emotion and devotion for you.

"Do you get what I am saying now? I don't want you to go." Dean said, his eyes never leaving yours. You smile up at Dean.

"I never will go."

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sejjiplinth · 3 months

Text

my sejanus hc list that i’ve had in my notes for years and years

— he definitely loves all animals but he is a cat person all the way!!!!!!

— his closet is sorted by color

— he wore glasses as a child (and occasionally wears them in his older years)

— he likes to sew with his ma

— his favorite season is winter because he likes to wear scarves, but he loves spring too!

— he has a bird feeder hanging from his windowsill

— would absolutely hate horror films, his favorite kind of movie is anything that falls in the romcom genre

— hates white shoes / suits (yes he was miserable in the peacekeeper uniform)

— ma put notes in his lunchbox when he was little and he still has them in a small box on top of his closet

— he’d be a sandbox game lover. animal crossing, stardew valley, anything like that

— he surprisingly has really good endurance, and it’d piss coriolanus off when they’d have to run for their peacekeeper training because he couldn’t keep up

— double knots his shoe laces because he got tripped so much as a kid

— favorite pie is either peach or apple

— probably has a fish tank

— when he’s reading he makes his own bookmarks

— actually knows how to slow dance properly thanks to ma

— he draws on gum wrappers

— is deathly terrified of any kind of flying bug (but would pick up any spider to take it outside and set it free 😭)

— he had a pet duck in district 2

— his favorite flowers are tulips because they continue to grow even once they’ve been cut

— he loves to help ma cook. whether it’s handing her ingredients, or stirring the pot while she steps outside. anything to make her days a little easier

— his favorite color is orchid purple

— he’s a collector!!!! i think he’d collect rocks, stamps, pennies, flowers and leaves, literally anything he can find because he likes to make scrapbooks for them

— can’t sleep unless he’s cold

— owns tons of graphic tees and other colorful attire as an adult because his father only let him wear formal clothing growing up

— definitely gets motion sickness

— cannot drive for shit and should never be trusted behind the wheel

— his love languages are acts of service and gift giving

— his favorite treat of ma’s is her cupcakes, especially the ones she makes for his birthday

— diary / journal ownerrrrr (the fact that he had one in his box in the movie made my heart happy, okay lionsgate you get a point from me…)

— has a piece of jewelry that he’s worn for half of his life, and it’s either a ring or a necklace (maybe both!)

— the marble heart that was in his box in the book was from marcus

— in a present day au, i can always see him being a tutor in high school, maybe even a student teacher in his early 20’s (i think i’ve actually talked about this before on here LMAO) but i don’t think he’d become a full-on teacher in the end, and would diverge his career path to eventually become an EMT

— it takes him years to get through a bottle of cologne

— since he’s canonically good at science, i think he spent a lot of his childhood conducting fun experiments (DEFINITELY the baking soda-and-vinegar volcano)

— his home would be full of the silliest decor. cat cups and colorful paintings, and he has gnomes in his lawn… he gives them names

that’s all i have for now !!!!

#sejanus plinth #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #headcanons #come home😭😭😭😭#these were all based on book sejanus btw #i can’t really align them with movie sejanus because they’re so different to me #but anyway #sejanus4l….

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hisbutler-problematic · 1 year

Note

On the topic of Sebastian being completely enthralled about everything Ciel is, I personally love it so much more knowing manga context, because O!Ciel was the 'spare'. He was not supposed to carry the family nane and, frankly, people didn't think he'd be capable of it due to his poor health anyway (Remember Frances and Vincent's conversation in the flashback chapters? It's obvious O!Ciel was quite saddened by what he heard).

By all means, in a twisted way, Sebastian might just be the first person to regard O!Ciel as someone deeply capable, a shiny singularity that doesn't live in anyone's shadow. The adults around him were - tho not unrightfully - seeing his fragility first and foremost while his brother, despite seeing him as worthy, didn't wish for him to leave and forge his own path. R!Ciel's reaction came from childishness sure, but that isn't to say that it didn't feed into the idea that O!Ciel was 'his backup'.

Going off from this, Sebastian is also the one thing in his life and is irrevocably his. Again, twisted, but all O!Ciel built has been under another's name. The manor, the company, the engagement etc. None of them truly his, but his brother's. And the other servants? They are loyal, however ultimately their own people. Sebastian? In an entirely different spot. He'll be there until the end after all.

This is an aspect of their relationship that tugs at my heartstrings so much. It's so toxic and depressing yet strangely soft and tender somewhat at least to me.

Sorry, I just really wanted to pour my thoughts and I appreciate your posts. So here I am!

anon, i’m in love with you

i literally think about this all the time like. that conversation frances and vincent had? imo vincent just flippantly saying "i guess ill just have to give the estate back to the queen lmao" could be taken 2 ways which is: at face value OR (what i think is more likely) vincent just saying what he knows will piss frances off to get her to stop talking. tbh vincent seems like a good dad imo and like he doesnt super underestimate o!ciel (he seemed absolutely fine with the idea of o!ciel going off to london by himself and opening a toy store in the future), but he DOES know that o!ciel is frail and sickly, and it makes me wonder how seriously he considered the idea that o!ciel might inherent the title of the queen's watchdog.

honestly, i feel in some respects, r!ciel treats o!ciel more carefully than their parents. he very much has an attitude of "my baby brother NEEDS me, he cannot survive without me!!" (gasps and shock, to learn it is actually the other way around /s)

all this to say, whether you lean more towards my interpretation or yours, or a fun mix, or whatever, it is undeniable that all of o!ciel's relationships were 'tainted' (for lack of a better term) by his illness and the way it made others view him and treat him.

AND THEN COMES SEBASTIAN

sebastian, who takes one look at o!ciel, and goes "lmao what a fucked up lil dude. time for little a snacky". sebastian, who then sits down to forge a contract with said little dude only to realize Oh Okay So This Child Is Clever. And o!ciel being sickly does kind of come up when they're making the contract, but sebastian focuses more on the actual logistics of that and o!ciel says 'nvm we'll deal w it when it comes up' (which is hilarious imo. he really said a sudden chill can put me on my deathbed but thats a problem for future me).

and then it turns out o!ciel is hella sheltered. but also a huge bitch.

and at this point, all i can assume is sebastian is so bewildered by this experience that the fact that o!ciel is frail and sickly and fragile is like. just another thing about this kid. o!ciel has never made sebastian's life easy and it would be stupid to think he would start now, sebastian thinks as his young master suffers from yet another cold just bc it rained yesterday. "i never knew you had asthma" says sebastian, who has read every medical journal to date on chest colds. "you never asked," says the bane of sebastian's existence.

and the thing is you can say "sebastian is only worried about o!ciel bc if o!ciel dies, he loses his meal" which is true and accurate and tbh if i was sebastian and i had put up w that much, i wouldn't want to lose my meal to a mere cough.

BUT ALSO

then you see the way sebastian is so fascinated and intrigued and bewitched by o!ciel. i think to sebastian the fact that o!ciel is frail and sickly is just another contradiction in the sea of contradictions that makes o!ciel so fascinating. and i think sebastian is the only one who really sees all those contradictions, he's the only one who sees everything that makes up o!ciel. and he loves what he finds.

(not to mention the fact that sebastian is the only person o!ciel allows to see his every aspect. or, well, some he tries to hide, but only because he thinks sebastian will try to use something against him. either way, sebastian is still the only person who he lets see the most of him. because sebastian is the only person who knows who he really is, who he doesnt have to put up a front for. he doesn't have to pretend to be his brother, he doesn't have to worry about being the spare.)

#kuroshitsuji #black butler #sebastian michaelis #our ciel #sebaciel #sky posting #sky talks #sorry if this doesnt make sense i started thinking about them and blacked out

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kallie-den · 1 year

Text

Lifestyle Journalism Ch. 1

Emma is a journalist investigating abuses of mind control, but when she encounters Amara, a personal trainer with ties to the elite, she finds her intelligence and her career slipping away. Will her friend Mel’s warnings reach her in time? And who is really behind Amara?

Enjoy the first part of this exercise and bimbofication-themed commission!

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---

As the door to Melanie Adams’s obscenely luxurious penthouse apartment opened, Emma Park watched her friend smile, and then cock an eyebrow.

“So it finally happened, huh?” Mel sighed theatrically. “You finally pissed someone off badly enough to get yourself hypnotized.”

Emma rubbed her tired eyes. “That bad, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” Mel said. “Major eyelid drooping. Future Pulitzer Prize winner Emma Park, brainwashed into an obedient trance-slave to the rich and powerful. Such a tragedy!”

“Ugh,” Emma groaned. Smiling ruefully, she pushed past her taller friend. “Up yours, Mel.”

Mel laughed good-naturedly and closed the door behind her. “Make yourself at home, babe.”

Emma immediately did so. She threw herself down on Mel’s couch and let out an exhausted sigh as she looked out over the city from the huge, floor-to-ceiling windows of Mel’s penthouse. Mel was a perfect match for her high-class surroundings, with her well-trained figure, noble, aquiline nose, and fierce cheekbones. It was a little embarrassing to see her in such good shape when Emma knew she was such a wreck.

“You know,” Emma piped up after a moment. “If anyone was going to have hypnotized me, it probably would have been your mom. She’s the only rich hypnogarch around here who actually knows I exist.”

Mel rolled her eyes. This was familiar territory, and the use of ‘hypnogarch’ was deplorably cheesy.

“As you well know, dearest Mommy scrupulously follows all relevant laws, regulations, and ethical guidelines regarding the use of hypnosis and mind control to subvert the free will of others,” Mel recited, heading off to the kitchen. “Coffee? Or wine?”

“Coffee,” Emma replied gratefully. “I need so much coffee.” She yawned. “And yeah, I know. She doesn’t break any rules - at least, not in any way anyone can prove. But don’t you think it’s funny how all those regulations seem to get changed whenever she needs to get someone wrapped around her little finger?”

Mel rolled her eyes again, reaching back to throw out her wavy, pale blonde hair to further accentuate her weariness of the topic. This was seriously familiar territory. They’d been having this argument ever since they were teenagers. As college roommates, it had been constant.

“Money opens all kinds of doors, Emma. We both know that! It’s the way of the world, babe.”

“Yes,” Emma agreed, making no effort to hide her frustration. “Yes, it certainly is. The same money that bought you this penthouse, for example.”

“That’s right,” Mel replied, her tone mildly reproving. “And I was raised not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Here’s your coffee.”

“God, you’re a lifesaver.” Emma sat up and took the cup of coffee Mel offered her, smiling warmly. For all their differences, they were best friends, and always would be. She took a few sips, grateful for the caffeine. “I’m just glad you haven’t taken after your mom. That’s all I’ll say.”

“I haven’t yet,” Mel corrected, sitting down next to her. “No need to learn the family business while my parents are still in rude health. Hypnosis is hard! For now, I’d rather take it easy in my cushy, work-from-home consultant job with ridiculous perks and absurdly few hours. Another gift from Mommy.”

She paused, and looked thoughtfully at Emma, sipping her coffee.

“How about you?” Mel asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Any thoughts about… I don’t know, moving up in the world?” Mel asked hopefully. “Nobody can be a muckraker forever, Emma.”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you invited me over just to talk to me about this?”

“I worry about you!” Mel shrugged and spread her arms. “I worry about what you do.”

“What I do is important,” Emma replied defensively.

“I know, I know,” Mel assured her hastily. “But, babe, jokes aside? You look like hell. I know how much you care about your work. I really do. I admire it! But as your friend, I’m seriously worried about you.”

Emma sagged. She’d heard that before - from Mel and others. She knew they weren’t wrong. Her life was all late nights and early mornings, chasing leads and following up on attempts to gather evidence. She was exhausted, she lived on takeout, and she couldn’t remember the last time her spine hadn’t hurt. Her kind of journalism - digging deep for stories, looking out for the little guy - made for a miserable lifestyle. But it mattered. Some of her past exposés had been printed in major newspapers, and the independent piece she was currently working on was bigger still. She couldn’t give it up. She just couldn’t.

“It’s not that easy, Mel,” Emma replied quietly. “You know it’s not. I need to do this.”

Mel just nodded.

“Jokes aside, I don’t have a problem with you or your family,” Emma continued. She needed to say it out loud; to remind herself why she was putting herself through this. “I don’t have a problem with any mind controller who follows the rules. The rules are there to keep people safe. It’s why we have them.”

Her friend reached out to rest a comforting hand on Emma’s shoulder.

“Hypnosis is the way of the world,” Emma went on. “I get it. I do. But that doesn’t mean subjects deserve to be exploited or seen as weak! There are abuses of power happening each and every day, but since the rich and powerful rely on mind control, they turn a blind eye to them. Everyone does. But not me. I won’t.”

“I understand,” Mel said, in a low voice. “Your journalism is important. OK. But… can’t you at least take a break. You could really use one, Emma.”

Emma stared down into her coffee. She wasn’t stupid. She knew this job was taking a toll on her. Her deep, brown eyes were heavy and sunken, her face was thin and sallow even as junk food added to her waistline, and her dark hair hadn’t been cut for so long, it was becoming difficult to tie it up into the neat, manageable bob she usually preferred without knots forming or strands coming loose. A break did sound nice, but it was never that easy.

“I can’t,” she replied miserably. “I’m onto something big, Mel. I’ve been investigating the fitness scene. It’s rife with abuse - human trafficking, illegal mind control, permanent enslavement. Someone needs to bring it to light, and if I take a break now, the trail goes cold.”

“Damn it,” Mel whispered under her breath. She paused for a long time, as anxiety and dread soured the air between them. “You know,” she began again, hesitantly, “it’s not just burnout I’m worried about.”

“Yeah?”

“I was joking earlier,” Mel said, “but not completely. Emma, I’m scared that one day, you’ll put your foot in something serious. You’ll piss off a powerful mind controller without ethics to hold them back, and they’ll… they’ll take you away from me.”

“Hey.” Emma tried to smile at her. “You worry too much.”

To her surprise, Mel remained dead serious. “No,” she replied. “I don’t. Don’t you ever worry about the kind of people you might be pissing off?”

Emma lapsed into silence for a long moment. “Well,” she said eventually. “I still can’t stop.”

Mel buried her head in her hands, rubbing her face for a few seconds. When she raised her head again, she had a carefree but distinctly forced expression on her face.

“OK!” she announced brightly. “If I can’t get you to stop and I can’t get you to take a break, there’s only one way for me to be a good friend.”

Emma blinked, taken aback by her friend’s abrupt mood shift. “Uh… what’s that?”

“I’m going to help you, of course! I have a source for you.”

Emma blinked again, before she immediately snapped back into work mode. She whipped out her phone and pulled up her notes app. “You do? Tell me everything.”

“I happen to know someone deeply involved with the fitness scene you’re investigating,” Mel explained. “She’s a personal trainer. Very exclusive - she only works for the rich and powerful. Exactly the kind of mind controllers you’re digging into.”

“Oh shit.” Emma was taking notes frantically, excitement pushing her tired eyes wide open. “That sounds really promising, Mel.”

“You’d never get to see her on your own, but she and I have a good relationship,” Mel continued. “We met through my work. I could get you some meetings with her. You could pick her brain for all the information she has.”

“Mel, that’s amazing!” Emma threw her arms wide and went in for a hug. “You’re too good to me, seriously.”

“Wait!” Mel held her at bay with a hand. “There’s a condition.”

“Oh.” Emma eyed her friend suspiciously. Was this just another way to try and get her to stop working? “What is it?”

“Dinner!” Mel winked at her, and puckered up her pretty, cupid’s bow mouth to blow a kiss. “Here. With me. Every night, while you’re working this case.” She poked a playful finger into Emma’s stomach. “I know you, babe. I know you’re eating nothing but takeout while you’ve got your head buried in this story. I can at least make sure you get some healthy, home-cooked meals instead.”

Emma blushed faintly, embarrassed at having suspected her friend of any foul play. “Jeez. I really don’t deserve you, Mel.”

“Nonsense!” Now, Mel hugged her. “You deserve me for being so cute.”

As they hugged, Emma laughed gratefully. Once they pulled away from one another, Mel rose to her feet.

“Alright!” She put her hands on her hips. “Our little dinner dates are going to start today. That means I am going to go get cooking, and you are going to put your phone down, go into my spare bedroom, and nap until the food is ready. Understood?”

Emma was in no mood to disagree. She stood up and threw her friend a mocking salute. “Yes ma’am.”

With that, she headed off toward the spare bedroom. She didn’t need to ask; it wasn’t exactly her first time crashing at Mel’s place. Mel watched her go with a smile on her face, and waited until the bedroom door was shut. Then she sighed, took a moment to prepare herself, and reached for her cell phone.

“Hey, Amara?” she said in a firm, businesslike voice once her call connected. “This is Melanie Adams. I need to talk to you. And yes, it’s regarding the girl you called me about earlier.”

***

A few days later, Emma was waiting on the doorstep of Amara Rodriguez, fitness coach to the elite. As good as her word, Mel had gotten in touch and arranged a meeting. Emma was grateful - both for that, and for the home-cooked meals. It was a nice change from takeout.

The door opened within moments of Emma pressing the doorbell. “Emma Park?” asked the formidable-looking woman on the other side of the threshold. When Emma nodded, she beckoned her inside. “Come on in.”

Amara’s apartment wasn’t that far from Mel’s, and it was similarly luxurious and spacious. That was no surprise, given her apparent clientèle. The big difference was that a huge portion had been converted into a cavernous home gym, replete with exercise machines, mats, and weights. To her surprise, Amara led her in there, rather than over to her living room.

“Just to be clear,” Emma joked lightly, “Melanie booked me in for an interview, not a workout… right?”

Amara laughed. “No offense, Miss Park, but from what she told me, you could use both.”

Emma laughed too. “Wow, you got me. Just ‘Emma’ is fine, by the way.”

“And call me Amara.”

Emma nodded. Amara Rodriguez made one hell of a first impression. As a personal trainer, she certainly looked the part. She was tall and handsome, with a finely sculpted, muscular body that was obviously a source of pride. Amara looked like she’d just been working out; she was wearing a sports bra that left her abs on display, and tight-fitting leggings that highlighted all the lines of her form. There was a perfect sheen of sweat across her rich, brown skin which only made her look even hotter.

“Well, Amara,” Emma said, pulling out her phone, “anything I should know before we get started? Or can I consider everything from now to be on the record?”

“Sure.” Amara turned to face her and nodded. Emma took a moment to admire her hair; dyed green, and cut in a short, asymmetrical, punky style. “Mel and her family have been good to me, so you’re welcome to ask anything you’d like - although of course, I’m obliged to protect the privacy of my clients.”

“That sounds like a good place to start.” Emma shifted gears immediately. This wasn’t her first interview. “Your clients are overwhelmingly wealthy and influential. Is that fair to say?”

“It is.”

“And what does that involve, exactly?” Emma asked. “Being a personal trainer to such powerful people?”

Amara laughed. “A personal trainer is a personal trainer. It doesn’t necessarily matter how big your bank account is.”

“Then why do they all come to you?”

“I suppose I simply have a good reputation, in certain circles.”

“A good reputation for what?” Emma pressed. “If you had to guess, anyway.”

Amara shrugged, flexing her powerful shoulders. “Discretion, perhaps.”

“That’s interesting,” Emma replied quickly. “It’s just exercise, right? Why does it need to be so discreet?”

“It can be very personal, to some people,” Amara answered. “Some people want their exercise - their progress, their goals, their struggles - to be private. It’s only natural.”

“I see.”

It was a completely reasonable answer, but even so, Emma couldn’t shake the feeling that Amara was hiding something. There was a certain playfulness behind her words, like she was a cat toying with a mouse. The real question was: why? Why hide?

“For example,” Amara added, while Emma was still considering, “what are your fitness goals, Emma?”

That took the journalist completely aback. “Excuse me?”

Amara smiled down at her. “Indulge me.”

Emma wasn’t sure what to say. Confessing just how out of shape she was to such an amazon would be embarrassing, but equally, she didn’t want to be rude. Amara was doing her - and Mel - a favor here.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” Emma replied sheepishly. “Honestly, just getting some real exercise at all would be a win. I can’t remember the last time I made it to a gym.”

Amara arched an eyebrow. “Well, you’re in one now.”

“What?” Emma barked a nervous laugh. “Oh no, I… I’m just here for an interview.”

“I’m here to help you.” Amara folded her arms. “As per Mel’s request. But she made it sound like you needed more than one kind of help, and I can see that she’s right.”

Emma cringed. It was still that bad, apparently.

“You feel fatigued because you’re not eating right,” Amara went on, staring down the journalist with a professional eye. “Your spine hurts because you never stretch. You’ve clearly gained some weight, because your clothes don’t fit like they should, and even though you’re exhausted, you can’t sleep because you never move your body.”

“Jesus,” Emma exclaimed. “Is this how you talk to all your rich, powerful clients?”

“Yes,” Amara replied at once. “They pay me to be truthful.”

“And the truth is, I’m a total write-off?” Emma laughed.

“Absolutely not,” Amara told her, with perfect confidence. “You look good, Emma. You just need to take care of yourself a little better. From what Mel tells me, you have an amazing work ethic, and if you could put a little of that towards some self-care, it would make a world of difference. I could put you through three workouts a week, and in a month you’d feel like a million bucks.”

Now, Emma found herself blushing a little. “Maybe someday,” she said wryly, “if I get the time for it. And the money to afford your time.”

“You’ve already got my time,” Amara pointed out.

“You…” Emma found herself spluttering. “You’re not serious. Right?”

“Deadly,” Amara insisted. “Consider it a matter of pride. I won’t have a woman show up at my door, and then leave without being in better condition.”

Emma started shaking her head uncertainly. “I-I’m really just here for the interview.”

Amara wasn’t to be deterred. She started tapping her foot. “Let me sweeten the pot for you. I know you’re not just working on a puff piece about the lifestyles of the one percent. You want some real answers.”

That was more than enough to trigger Emma’s journalistic hunger. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll give them to you,” Amara said seriously. “But you’ll need to work for them. One set of exercises. One question. One answer, full and true.”

Emma hesitated. She didn’t like the idea of being drawn into some silly game. But her instincts were telling her that Amara knew something, and that unless she played along, she wasn’t going to share any of it.

Besides, Amara had made working out sound tempting. Maybe getting some exercise for a change wouldn’t be so bad.

“You’re on,” Emma laughed. “Just don’t make fun of me if I get winded and fall over or something.”

“Never,” Amara promised. “All I want to see is your best. Gym newcomers have to work twice as hard as everyone else, just to get started. They deserve twice the praise.”

That attitude was helping to soften Emma’s self-conscious embarrassment. “Well, um, how do we get started?”

Amara clapped her hands together. “That’s what I like to hear! First: clothes. I keep outfits for every size, and I’m a good guesser. Get limbered up a little, while I go grab you something.”

Emma started stretching as best she could, and Amara soon returned with clothes similar to her own: some stretchy leggings and a light, breathable tank top. The only difference was that it was all bright, girly pink. Emma threw Amara a look.

“It’s all I had in your size,” Amara said apologetically. “But hey - maybe you’ll come around to it.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue. She quickly got changed into Amara’s clothes and went back to warming up.

“So,” she said, “what’s first?”

“Let’s begin with some squats.” Amara winked at her. “A set of ten. Who doesn’t want a better ass?”

Emma giggled. “Sure. You might have to show me the proper form, though.”

“We can worry about that later,” Amara said, as Emma planted her feet apart and straightened her back. “For now, I just want to get you moving. Pay attention to your breathing, though. That’s important.”

“OK. Right.” Emma took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

Under Amara’s watchful eye, she started squatting. She bent her legs and lowered herself as much as she could, doing her best to keep a steady pace and her back straight. After another moment, she raised herself back up again, feeling her muscles burn at the unfamiliar exertion.

“Good,” Amara said. “Count out loud.”

It was easy to listen to Amara. She spoke with a natural authority that left Emma with no doubt she was a personal trainer who got results. Emma nodded.

“One,” she said, and started her next squat.

“Two,” she counted a few seconds later.

“Three.”

She wasn’t sure of her form, but Amara was right there to correct her with a gentle hand pushing against her lower back.

“Four.”

“Five.”

“Good,” Amara said. “Remember to breathe. Deep breaths. In at the top, out at the bottom.”

Emma nodded and did her best to obey. “Six.”

“Seven.”

“Eight.”

“Almost there!” Amara cheered.

“Nine.” Emma could hear how out of breath she already sounded.

“One more!”

“Ten!”

Emma pulled herself upright, and then bent double to catch her breath. Her thighs were killing her - but in a way that wasn’t completely unpleasant. Amara clapped her on her shoulder and smiled down at her, warm pride showing on her face.

“Great job!” the muscular woman said. “I knew you could do it.”

“Thanks.” Emma couldn’t help but smile at the praise. “So now I get my question. Right?”

“You earned it.” Amara nodded.

Emma was feeling a little fuzzy after the short workout but managed to slip back into journalism mode with relative ease. She mentally reviewed what she’d been intending to ask.

“Do your clients ever hire you to train other people?” she asked. “People besides themselves, I mean.”

This was one of several threads she was chasing. Unethical mind controllers often liked the idea of having their victims ‘trained’. Altered, through exercise and conditioning.

“Yes,” Amara replied at once. “Frequently, in fact.”

Emma licked her lips, and clapped her hands. “Alright! Let’s go again.”

Amara laughed. “You’re ready?”

“I want my next question.”

Amara gestured for her to get started, so Emma once again put her legs apart and started performing squats. This time, she made sure to breathe just like Amara had taught her. It helped. Once she’d finished her ten squats, she wasn’t nearly as out of breath, and she was finding it easier to sink into the rhythm of the exercise, letting her body perform the increasingly-familiar motions without her head getting in the way.

“That’s ten!” Emma exclaimed, as she finished the set.

“Nice!” Amara looked truly pleased. “You’re doing great, Emma.”

“Yeah.” Emma laughed. “By the time I get out of her, I’m gonna be in way better shape.”

“That’s the idea.” Amara winked. “Another question?”

“Uh-huh.” Emma already knew what she wanted to ask. “What do you think about hypnosis, Amara? More specifically, what do you think about people who get hypnotized?”

She’d done a little digging. Amara was very discreet about who exactly she worked for. Perhaps a little too discreet. Emma wanted to understand exactly where she stood.

Amara smiled. “Emma, I’m a personal trainer. I specialize in telling people what to do. In my experience, a lot of people greatly benefit from that. Only, sometimes, those people don’t realize what they need. Hypnosis can be one way of getting people on the right path, if they can’t find it on their own.”

“The weak-willed?” Emma commented. “I see.”

“I wouldn’t phrase it quite like that,” Amara replied. “But some people are leaders, and other people are followers, yes. Mind control is society’s way of figuring out who’s who.”

Emma frowned. It wasn’t an uncommon perspective, and didn’t reveal a whole lot. Amara seemed to think of mind control as ‘fair game’, the same as most people. Emma didn’t mind that too much, although she wished people weren’t so nonchalant about potential abuses of power.

“OK,” Emma said. “Time for another set.”

She began her next set of ten squats. Her body was protesting louder with each repetition, but it was getting easier and easier to push herself. The breathing technique Amara had shown Emma was working wonders. She just had to focus on her breathing, and on counting to ten. That was all. One, two, three. In, and out. In, and out.

“Nice going!” Amara commented when Emma was finished. She handed the journalist a sports bottle of nice cold water, and Emma drank from it gratefully.

“Next question,” Emma said quickly, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand. “Do you know of any instances of people like you - personal trainers, I mean - using hypnosis as part of their work?”

“Yes.”

As soon as she heard that, Emma grit her teeth and was ready to begin another set. If this was a game, she was determined to win. She needed answers. Almost effortlessly, Emma slipped back into the same rhythm as before. One, two, three, four. In, and out. In, and out.

“OK,” Emma panted, after her next ten squats were complete. “Have… have you ever used hypnosis like that?”

Amara tilted her head, looking at Emma intently. “Yes.”

A shiver ran down Emma’s spine. “How?”

To her immense frustration, Amara just smirked at her and lifted a single finger. “That’s another question, Emma.”

“Damn it,” Emma grumbled under her breath. “Fine.”

She immediately went to perform another set, but as she assumed the starting position, she became conscious of the way her body was starting to hit its limits. Amara noticed too, and swiftly stepped forward to stop her with a hand on her chest.

“Wait,” the personal trainer said, frowning. “You’re going too fast, and you’re gonna hurt yourself. Take it easy. Slower. Find your rhythm.”

Emma was impatient, but she knew good advice when she heard it. She nodded, and then blinked in surprise when she felt Amara’s other hand reach around to rest on her shoulder. Amara started applying gentle pressure, guiding the pace of her squats and her breaths.

“Here,” Amara encouraged. “Like this. One.”

Emma let Amara take over. She was the expert, after all. With Amara setting the pace, it was even easier to shut her brain off and focus on exercise.

“Two,” Amara counted.

As she indicated for Emma to sink down into the squat, she applied a light pressure to her chest, letting her know to exhale.

“Three.”

Amara’s pace was slower than before. Much slower. Exercising slowly like this was strange. Emma was discovering the oceans of time at the top and bottom of each rep, when all she had to do was hold, breathe, and wait. She wasn’t sure if it was easier or harder.

“Four.”

With Amara taking control, though, it was certainly easier not to think. Thinking was the enemy, Emma was quickly discovering. If she stopped thinking, it was easier to simply do.

“Five.”

Listening to Amara was much simpler than thinking. When she was thinking about the exercises, she had to push herself past the aching and exhaustion. But if she listened to Amara, she just had to breathe when she was told and let her body take care of the rest.

“Six.”

A smile flickered across Emma’s face. What was going on in her head? Thinking about not thinking? That was a little like how hypnotists loved to talk.

“Focus, Emma,” Amara warned. “You need to concentrate. Don’t lose your breathing.”

“R-right,” Emma said apologetically. She hadn’t realized how much her mind had been wandering. “Um. Sorry.”

Amara just nodded. “Seven.”

This time, Emma made sure to stay focused. She let her mind sink into her own body, until all she was thinking about was her form. Her movements. Her breathing. She became one with the strain that was flooding her body.

“Eight.”

Those numbers were starting to lose all meaning. Emma felt as though she might have been doing squats forever. And she might have gone on doing them forever more, without Amara there to stop her.

“Nine.”

As she heard Amara count that number, Emma felt herself on the cusp of something. Something big. But she didn’t know what. She just knew she had to keep going. Keep focusing. Just a little more. She could do it, with Amara there to guide her.

“Ten!”

After that, there was nothing. Amara stopped moving her. She was left completely still, simply waiting for what was coming next.

“Emma,” Amara prompted. “You’re done.”

Emma twitched, like she was just waking up. She certainly didn’t feel particularly awake, though. “O-oh! Right.”

She looked around. Amara was standing there, very close to her, with a strange smile on her face. “Feeling OK?” the personal trainer asked.

“Yeah.” Emma giggled self-consciously. “I think all this exercise is really taking it out of me.”

“That’s only natural,” Amara replied, nodding.

Somehow, Emma felt like she was both awake and asleep at the same time. That last set of squats had felt special. Meditative, maybe. She could remember feeling, just moments ago, a sense of perfect clarity, but now her brain was sinking into fog. Her body and mind both felt so heavy.

“You had a question?” Amara prompted again.

“R-right.” Emma blinked. She’d almost forgotten what she was even here for. How was that even possible? “I… uh…”

She couldn’t remember.

“Something about hypnosis?”

“O-oh yeah.” Emma’s cheeks turned pink. This was so unprofessional of her. “So, um… hypnosis and exercise. How, uh, does that work?”

Amara’s strange smile widened. “Well, ultimately exercise is all mental. It’s all about willpower. Discipline. Motivation. Some people struggle with that. They might find it easier if someone else takes over.”

“You just hypnotize someone and then make them work out?”

“That’s right.” Amara nodded. “You can see the appeal, right? I get the sense you know just how hard it can be to make yourself get to the gym every week. What if all it took was for someone else to snap their fingers?”

“Willpower…” Emma glanced at Amara’s prominent bicep muscles. “You don’t seem to struggle with that.”

Amara grinned. “I guess not. Maybe that’s why I’m such a good hypnotist, Emma. If it comes down to a contest of wills, I know I’ll never lose. Not everyone can say the same.”

Emma shivered. “Wow. That’s…”

It felt like a red flag, although she was struggling to figure out why. She felt so, so tired.

“Wanna give it a try?” Amara offered.

Emma shook her head slowly. “Uh… no thanks. I’d rather stay in control of my own head.”

Amara shrugged, her grin widening. “Suit yourself. Any more questions?”

Somehow, that left Emma dumbfounded. Of course she had more questions. But she was struggling to call any of them to mind. She felt like she’d had the perfect thread of questioning right there on the tip of her tongue, and now it had completely unraveled.”

“I… I…” Emma struggled. “Uh… yeah.”

“Well, you know what that means,” Amara replied.

Emma nodded. More squats.

Again, when Emma prepared herself for the next set, Amara stepped up to guide her. Already, it felt perfectly natural to have the personal trainer’s hands on her body, showing her how and when to move.

“Even slower this time,” Amara warned. “This is your last set. Time to warm down.”

Emma didn’t question her. She just nodded.

“You count this time,” Amara added. “But count down. From ten.”

Emma nodded. “Ten,” she counted.

As before, Amara set her pace. Amara showed her when to breathe. Once again, Emma slipped into that thoughtless, almost robotic state, simply going through the motions she knew she was supposed to.

“Nine.”

“I can tell you’re slowing down,” Amara told her quietly. “You’re getting tired.”

Emma’s ears pricked up, but she was too focused on her squats to answer, or to even really comprehend what Amara was telling. The personal trainer’s words simply passed, unfiltered, into her empty, open, receptive mind.

“Eight.”

“It’s why you can’t think,” Amara continued. “You’ve used up all your energy, Emma. None left for thinking.”

“Seven.”

“But you’re still working. Still using yourself up. You can feel your thoughts slowing down with each rep.”

“Six.”

“Meanwhile, your body is filling up with endorphins. It’s overwhelming your nervous system. Making you feel dizzy and light-headed.”

“Five.” Emma could feel it. It was just as Amara described.

“But you’re still going. Still exercising. You can’t stop. Not until you’ve finished your set. Even though it’s making it harder and harder to think with each rep.”

“Four.”

“It’s making you dumber and dumber with each set.”

“Three.”

“You know, when most people finish a hard workout,” Amara whispered, “they just drop. They go limp. Mind and body, all at once.”

“Two.”

“That’s what happens when you push yourself to your limit, Emma. Just like you’re doing now.”

“One.” With what little mind Emma had left, she expected to stop there - but Amara didn’t release her.

“One more, Emma,” Amara urged. “One more, and then you can drop.”

Emma was just a puppet in her arms. She couldn’t refuse. Deaf to her own body’s protests, Emma obediently completed another squat.

“Z… zero?”

“That’s right.” Amara was grinning like a wolf. “Now drop.”

Only some basic, fundamental instinct kept Emma upright. But her head fell against her chest and her arms slumped limply at her sides. It was just as Amara had promised. Most of all, her mind was completely and totally empty.

“Listen to me, Emma,” Amara said. Her grin faded; she was all business. “You’re hypnotized right now. Do you understand that?”

Emma just nodded. She had no other reaction.

“Good,” Amara continued. “But you won’t remember that. You’ll just remember being tired after your workout. Too tired to finish our interview. Understand?”

Emma nodded again, eyes blank.

“But you’ll remember enjoying the exercise,” Amara went on. “And you’ll remember that you agreed to come back for another session to finish asking me your questions.”

Emma’s open mind absorbed that information without question.

“And you’ll remember something else,” Amara added. “Not consciously. But in your subconscious, where it truly matters, you’re going to remember this one thing very, very clearly: working out makes it hard to think. Working out makes you dumber.”

Emma shivered, but nodded.

“Say it.”

“Working out makes it hard to think,” Emma intoned. Her voice was empty of emotion. “Working out makes me dumber.”

“That’s right,” Amara affirmed. “Working out makes you dumber. The more you work out, the dumber you get.”

“The more I work out, the dumber I get,” Emma echoed.

“But,” Amara said firmly. “Working out feels good. Working out makes you dumber, but it feels good.”

“Working out makes me dumber, but it feels good.” Emma shivered.

“And that means getting dumber feels good.”

Even that didn’t register to the hypnotized Emma as dangerous. She simply let that thought become part of her. “Getting dumber feels good.”

“Getting dumber feels good, and working out feels good,” Amara insisted. “It feels good here.”

She reached around Emma and started slowly, gently, rubbing a few of her fingertips against the front of Emma’s pink leggings. Against her pussy. Emma shivered and gasped, but didn’t wake.

“Working out feels good here,” Amara told her. “Getting dumber feels good here. Doesn’t it?”

“Y-yes,” Emma whimpered.

“Working out turns you on. Getting dumber turns you on.”

“Working out turns me on,” Emma chanted, her emotionless trance-voice now slightly soiled with pleasure. “Getting dumber turns me on.”

Her body was on edge after all that exercise, and responded eagerly to Amara’s touch. Within moments, she was distinctly wet.

“And hypnosis - that makes you dumber too.” A slight, crooked smile returned to Amara’s face. She was a professional, but she enjoyed her work. “Which means hypnosis turns you on.”

“H-hypnosis turns me on,” Emma echoed breathily.

“You want to be hypnotized.”

“I… I…” That suggestion finally prompted a moment of resistance - but only a moment. Amara’s skillful fingertips soon massaged it away. “I… want to be hypnotized.”

“Good.” Abruptly, Amara lifted her fingers away. “Then I think we’re done here - for now.”

Amara stood in front of Emma, raised a hand, and snapped her fingers to bring the hypnotized journalist back to wakefulness. Emma blinked a few times, then looked at Amara and blushed - embarrassed by the way her mind seemed to have wandered.

And, of course, by the sudden wetness between her legs.

***

A few minutes later, Amara said goodbye to Emma and closed the door to her apartment after her. Emma had apologized profusely for the way their interview had gone off the rails, and had eagerly agreed to a follow-up in just a couple of days.

If the poor journalist had been thinking straight, she might have noticed that she was feeling a little too eager.

But she wasn’t, of course. And this was just the beginning. Emma’s transformation had barely begun.

Amara was looking forward to taking her deeper. She was a great personal trainer and an even better hypnotist, but it wasn’t just aptitude that had led her down this career path. She loved getting into someone’s head and making them hers.

Emma wasn’t going to be hers, of course. Not in the end. This was client work, and Amara had to make sure her client got exactly what they wanted.

She picked up her phone and fired off a quick text message to her employer.

First session - total success

---

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

Artemis, Chloe, J, Secret Subject, Kathryn, Lucy, Dex, orangesya, Red, dmtph, Ember, Seph, MegatronTarantulas, Vanessa, Matt, Jeremy, Mattilda, Emily, William, ntad, Flluffie, Scarlett, Silgon, The Flock, ourladyoflilacs, Luna, Abigail, steb, Hypnogirl_Stephanie_, nicholas, Sue, Alan_, mintyasleep, Noelle, Lavender, Madness, Michael, Tasteful Ardour, Michael, Matthew, Full Blown Marxism, Anonymous, GrillFan65, Huge_Nerd, ZephanyZephZeph, Tram345, 8947jts, Chris, Breadloaf, Kyle, Larry, Emma, Jack the Monkey, Paul, Willow, Shadows exile, Drone 8315, Matthew, Alex, Madness, Sam, Selina, Daniel, Bubble_Butt, Francesca, WhyamIhere, John, Sarah, Crittergang, Setcab, Erin, Elysium, Bacon Man, Flintnsteal, JessieGinger, Arik, John, bluaph, Alexander, Kyle, Morriel, Jack the Monkey, Sola, NewtypeWoman, Envy, hellenberg, shoktherapy, L, Jim, Black Star, Kay, Michael, strange item, John, Praxis Memetics LLC, Frank, William, Olives, Christopher, Queenfisher, Charlotte, Faun, Riley, Brinn, Brendon, B, Jackson, Kyle, Dennis, Nandi, Jeff, Sanya, David, Morder, Myles_EXVS, Jade, Jophor, Skylar, Foridin, gabbermoth, Jennifer, Selina, Jonas, Violet, Slifer274, paxDulcetGirl, Roxxie, Hal, Devi, Phoenix, Laurel, Kyle, Ivy, Jim

Finally, special thanks to ntad for commissioning this story!

#story #Lifestyle Journalism

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invinciblerodent · 6 months

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I know it's not really a popular interpretation that's gonna win me a bunch of brownie points (from what I've seen many seem to like him more as a tortured romantic or a "crouching grouch, hidden softie"), but I personally am growing to really like characterizing Astarion as a... a weird, selfish, jealous little chaos gremlin that, while he of course has his reasons, is just kind of a crappy person, even when he's in love.

Like I can fully see him as someone who, as time passes between the first proposition and the commitment scene (and you're still not throwing yourself at his feet, blubbering and sobbing about how much you love him????? the audacity??????), starts to get annoyed at you every time you talk to someone a bit too long for his liking. Like I have a veritable plethora of shots of the amazing stankfaces and unimpressed scowls he makes over my girl's shoulder (I know it's probably because he's the second in the party lineup, but in-fiction it's still funny), and some of the stills I grabbed from his comment on fixing -and hugging- Karlach are... actually kind of incredible.

Like, if I presented to you with this screenshot:

and told you this is one of the faces he makes when he says "So, the untouchable Karlach is untouchable no more"? You'd probably assume that he's furious about it for some reason.

And there is a part of me kind of thinks he is, at least in a way, furious, because it takes him a few frames to compose himself, and put his pleasant smile back on:

-which is something I saw him do before. Making a very obviously blank/angry/sad face, taking a moment, and putting on a charming face right away. It's not new, really.

These three shots above were taken over the course of like 2 seconds, tops. It's a very subtle, "blink and you miss it" type of thing, but that's.... honestly all I need to think that Karlach suddenly being an actual option to you (in his weird, at this point in time very "physicality first" POV) is pissing him the fuck off. Like you doing that for her, collecting and lugging scrap metal around, and seeking out Dammon, means that you care for Karlach in some way. Which, then, makes her an opponent in his vying to be the sole recipient of your attention, and he won't suffer even an unknowing adversary. (And in my case, the object of his slowly blooming affections even hugged Karlach! Like right in front of his face!! What arrogance!!!!!! That's just rude, frankly!!!!!!)

I totally can imagine him being the type of person who, before starting a relationship, would use his lack of a need for rest to snoop through your belongings.

As someone who would casually violate your (and others') privacy in little ways, while holding his own sacred.

As someone who'd spy on your interactions with all the other companions from a crack in his tent's opening, and grip his bedroll in anger watching you dance with Wyll ("don't kiss him, don't kiss him, please don't kiss him, if you kiss him I'm fucked"), or steal your journal and get actually mad at you and be unreasonably acerbic to you the next day if it's in a language he doesn't understand.

This kind of also extends to me kind of imagining him as a boyfriend who, once he gets a bit more comfortable with physical affection, will just casually step up to you, and drape an arm around your waist or shoulders while you're talking to someone, to signal almost a sort of ownership. Someone who will make goading faces at anyone who dares look at you too long, or pull you against him in a brazen display if he catches someone checking you out. Like he'd piss on your leg to mark his territory if he could, but he'll settle for leaving a very obvious, crusted over bite mark on your neck if he must.

And yeah, that would get very annoying to any real person, but like I said about Gale before.... I think your character has got to be at least slightly not normal about them, just to match how profoundly not normal they are about you.

... Anyway, do carry on, I just like this edgy dumbass, I like him being both edgy and a dumbass, and him trying to slowly be better about this whole "~~relationship~~" thing is making my little heart happy

(yes, there's the Halsin thing. I have thoughts. But I won't kick the hornet's nest lol.)

#squirrel plays bg3 #i don't like possessiveness irl but in fiction? kinda good shit #and I kinda like the idea of Iona being a touch possessive in return too #not in the “you're MINE” way #but in the “well the truth is rather more complex; but as far as you're concerned I suppose you're welcome to think of him as mine” way #“you know; for convenience's sake; functionally mine in this specific scenario”#and she catches on of course- she knows that he's doing it out of insecurity #and in her mind the best she can do is lean into it #that possessive touch is a call for reassurance #and her letting it happen (and tbh enjoying it) is giving him that reassurance #again i could talk at length about her husband and sham-marriage #but it's nice to her to be wanted knowing that it's not as a trophy #not as "the perfect and demure; un-aging elven wife”#but as.... whatever she is to him at this point #yknow? yknow

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ieatyourbeauty · 1 year

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**Enemies With Benefits: Soap x OC part 1**

I used whyiseverygingerhot chat ai with this not all of it is going to be from the chat ai obviously I'm going to change alot of things but it did give me good building blocks to use. MDNI

slight NSFW no fucc just thinking about fucc.

I'm using a OC of mine called Josey call name Spider.

and if u see yellow text hi hello thats me

heres part 2

Spider and Soap DO NOT get along at the start of this thus the title so what happens when two drunk enemies meet in a hallway?

Soap was sitting in the chair writing in his journal waiting for mission briefing, Spider entered the room dreading when she saw the only seat available was next to soap she cant stand that man but she has no other choice in her eyes and sits next to him. Soap looked beside him giving spider a cold stare his tone irritated clearly showing his mutual distaste in her.

Soap: Spider...

Spider: Soap.

Spider gives him a glare and rolls her eyes already done with his tone of voice. Soap would simply huff in response focusing back on his journal he doesn't seem to have the energy or the interest to converse with her. Especially someone that doesn't seem to give him much respect he's the type of guy that demands respect and gives it as a rarity.

Spider focuses on the meeting she doesn't give men like him the time of day the type that disrespect her, she ignores his huffs and puffs. When the meeting dismisses soap leaves his notebook accidently on the chair. Soap not realizing this until he was halfway down the hallway runs back into the room seeing Spider with the journal in her hands. Soaps eyes would lock on spider and his journal she was holding it wasn't long before he walked over to her.

Soap: Give me that.

He was holding his hand out and ordering it not asking DEMANDING. Spider saw this as an opportunity to fuck with him her favorite pastime.

Spider: Oh is this yours? You know its irresponsible of a sergeant to leave his personal items around.

With that she gives the notebook back to him but also she has to have the last word which pissed him the fuck off.

Spider: next time keep better eyes on your things.

Soap eyes narrow on her as he goes to pocket his journal and gives a scoff. She's getting to him....he has to watch his temper here.

Soap: Thanks for the advice, Spider.

he'd reply sarcastically, with a sneer.

Soap: Don't touch my things.

He added after a few seconds, keeping eye contact to let her know his meaning. (fuck you dont touch my shit)

Spider: Don't leave your things in my reach then.

She bumps in him on purpose when she walks by him, Soap would let out a growl of annoyance as she walked past him. He would turn and watch her walk away not taking his eyes off her, thinking in his mind she is going to be a problem his petty mind thinking of ways to get back at her.

(lets jump at another scene shall we yikes at these two)

It was practice at the gun range Spider was shooting her targets out of the corner of her eye she sees Soap also practicing and instantly gets irritated. Soap would be a little ways down the range, taking careful aim at his target. Before sending round after round down range and sending them straight through the paper target, causing it to be shredded with each shot. Once he's finished he puts away his pistol, turning his head and giving Spider a cold stare. Spider returns his gaze with a vicious glare she shoots multiple round in the target mostly the head and heart its seems her irritation of him made Spider a better shot.

Soap watches, his eyes narrow as she manages a pretty tight grouping and sending multiple rounds at the paper target. He's not impressed after Spider is done she puts her pistol down and takes off her ear muffs she hears him clapping.

Soap: Nicely done, Spider.

He said this in a mocking tone, not to give her a compliment but to belittle her. Clearly this got to Spider cause she sucked her teeth she had to return the insult and clearly this was gonna do it.

Spider: I could challenge you to a sniping competition but why would I want to challenge second place to Gaz of all people.

Soap would roll his eyes before letting out a sarcastic laugh and shaking his head a bit.

Oh how little she knows.....

Soap: A sniping Challenge, eh? You really think you could outshoot me?

He's ask for letting out a chuckle, Soap pulled his sniper rifle out, give the barrel a once over and he's look down and over the scope, lining it up at a paper target, Spider doing the same focusing on her target taking a deep breath.

Spider: I know I can.

Soap: Ready?

Spider: Ready.

They both fired several rounds at different paper targets at different distances the other soldiers looked at them in shock and competition was so close it was undetermined.

Soap: hmm a tie then?

He would ask with a surprise tone in his voice. He'd look over at her, with a small smirk on his face, he was impressed even if he didn't want to admit it.

Spider: I guess so

She sighed she walked past him not acknowledging him. Soap looks at her as she walks away once more, and lets out a irritated groan as he crosses his arms. It was a tie so he really couldn't be all that mad with her for it, he would mutter some choice words under his breath to himself.

Soap: Bloody woman

Spider: I heard that! and by the way the 70's called they want their mohawk back!

Soap didnt even turn to look at her as she yelled, but a bit of red started to tint the tips of his ears, his jaw tightened and he huffed in frustration you could practically see the steam coming from his ears.

Soap: Oh really!? well, at least my hairstyle isnt....Spidery!

He'd yell back , making fun of her call name. He didnt really mean to yell, but his temper got out of hand. The insults wouldn't end here it was just the beginning of it for those two. Some of the other soldiers laughed Soap would give em a death stare shut them up real quick.

(its like watching a car crash so funny)

It was Sparring Practice Unfortunately Spider and Soap were partners that day (oh man I wonder who did that the writer did she did :p ) Spider said under her breath.

Spider: fucking dammit....

Soap eye twitched as she spoke under her breath. He was very good at hearing...a lil too good his eyes glanced at her.

Soap: What'd you say?

His voice stern he still pissed off over the previous events at his rate he was on his way from being annoyed from being full on enraged. Ignoring his question she put on her gloves giving him a snide look.

Spider: I hope you can fight better than u can insult. Really? spider hair? what does that even mean.

Soap would crack his knuckles, and look straight at her with that same cold look on his face. His fists were already balled up he looked mad enough to strike.

Soap: haha you're a real funny one.

He'd respond sarcastically, before getting right up in her face.

Soap: You've got a big mouth for a new kid Spider. you really think you can take me?

he's ask, his tone full of aggression, with no respect at all.

Spider: I'll lay you on your back faster than the blonde bimbos you like to fuck.

They enter the padded ring and put their fists up.

Soap's face darkened, It was clear that her insults were getting under his skin

Soap: oh is that so?

He'd ask his eyes locking with her's for a moment before he launched forward and sent a quick three punch combo, a right, a left and another right, all aimed towards her. Spider was able to block the first two punches but the third managed to hit her cheek, she staggered back and spit on the ground it was a mix of spit and blood (she gonna have a bruise tomorrow) . As far as strength is concerned Soap has her beat but technical skill no that's where she shines she runs at him giving a fake punch before she gives a hard kick to his ribs on his right side.

Soap eyes widen thinking she was gonna punch him but he wasnt fast enough to dodge the kick to his ribs, he let out a gasp as the air was knocked out of him. He staggered forward grabbing his side as he tries to catch a breath again...this fight was not going as he'd expected, and that was starting to get to him it seems he underestimated her.

Soap: you're better than I thought.

He'd say his eyes now his eyes full of poison, Spider goes to a more offensive stance.

Spider: Come on Soap, you wouldn't want your get your ass beat by someone shorter than you.

(this short 4'9 bitch is fighting this man with her shortstack ass lol.)

Soap's eyes narrowed on her as she spoke, and he let out a small chuckle. before giving her a dark glare and a smile that was more of a sneer than a genuine thing of kindness.

Soap: lil spider thinks she can take on a big one.

He'd say sarcastically as he rushed towards her throwing a full force jab to her face using all his body weight behind it. She would duck the jab roll on the ground and kick the back of his legs down before standing up. Her move would end up knocking him down and flat on his back. His eyes narrowed on her after he was on the ground, his fists balled up, and he was staring straight at her, so full of anger and rage..he rolls to his feet rushing at her tackling her down on the floor with him pinning her with his weight and pressure as he puts her in a chokehold he speaks....

Soap: you'd do well to show me some respect, spider...

Spider: fuck..you

Spider is pissed she manages to bite his arm hard drawing blood, Soap let out a loud shout of pain as she bit on his arm. He'd pull her by the hair to lift her up from the ground with one hand and grabbing her neck by the other he'd was breathing in her ear he was out of breath whispering in her ear. Spider seemed so cocky so arrogant and he had enough of it...

Soap: you want to see where this goes!?

His voice was full of fury he's never been this mad she's never seen him this mad... She elbows his chest HARD and he lets her go she staggered to the ground coughing from his choke. All this did was make him angrier.

Soap: Go On! Elbow Me again!

He shouted his voice dripping with venom, she looked at him with pure malice in her eyes when they both hear..

Ghost: ENOUGH!

(arianna what are you doing here ha ha ha ha!)

Ghost was leaning on the doorway the fight was over.

Spider groaned when she got up and gave Soap a look before throwing her gloves on the floor before leaving the room to the showers she was pissed. Soap's eyes followed her as she left, he turned to Ghost he was breathing hard an sweating like mad. Ghost noticed a certain amount of regret in his eyes this was Soap's temper getting the best of him again...Ghost could only imagine what he'd do if this continued.

Soap sat at one of the nearby benches....he looked exhausted. His nose had started bleeding he wiped it away and he had multiple bruises from the fight. He'd lean his head down and sighed.

Ghost: strange..you never let a soldier get to you before...why this one.

Soap: She's Arrogant, Cocky, with a big mouth!

He'd slam a hand against the bench lightly before sighing and leaning back

Ghost: ....looks like you two got more in common than you think....

Soap would give ghost a dumbfounded look his eyebrow raising a bit..

Soap: What?

He'd ask, his confusion on his face. He's obviously not catching on to the point that ghost is making..

Ghost: I remember when you were like spider, hotheaded and well...you still have the big mouth.

Soap gave him a "really?" look he would take a deep breath, and would shake his head at ghost. He laugh a bit ....

Soap: I wasn't that bad when I was new I had some respect ...I wasn't so arrogant.

Soap wasn't a humble guy, but even he had somewhat of a respect for the higher ranked officers so that must mean this girl is a whole new level of arrogance in his eyes.

Ghost: I think this a problem you can handle on your own Johnny.

(my guy really said not my monkeys not my circus LMAO)

Soap would grunt a bit was ghost really going to leave him to fix this problem alone? He didnt want to hurt the girl....but.....he needed to get through her thick skull somehow make her take him seriously.

Soap: that girl has got to learn..

He would say in a serious tone with a frown on his face. He was usually a chill kind of guy but she was getting to him....even thinking about her got him angry again.

Ghost: Dont worry you'll figure it out

(bye my baby daddy)

with that ghost leaves the room Soap is frustrated with Ghost's vague words words. he sighs sill pissed but he started to calm down a bit he took a deep breath.

Soap: well he's not going to be any help...

He grumbles before getting off the bench and standing up. he goes to exit the training area. he would mumble to himself.

Soap: If she messes with me again I won't take it lightly.

Meanwhile Spider is in the showers washing her body of the fight shes going to be sore tomorrow. She blushes thinking about Soap's eyes and muscles his voice, she felt hot in her pussy she thought about him just taking her in the middle of the ring with people watching. Reality hit her when the water from the shower turned cold.

Spider: God what the actual fuck is wrong with me.

She sighed to herself ending the shower and drying off putting casual clothes on she exits the showers.

okay this is part 1 Jesus I did not think my edits would make it this long lemme know what you think I haven't written since fucking forever. I am working on the second part so stay tuned.

#soap x reader #Soap x OC #call of duty mw2 #john mactavish x reader #soap smut #fanfiction #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x you

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