#(said while trembling like a chihuahua) thinking of this again :) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

championwarnings · 2 years ago

Text

ً HONEY LETTER ୨୧♡

warnings. fluff, a lot of fluff, fluff that rots your teeth, friends to lovers !, jack being so cute and huggable

plot. jack and you are starring in a romcom and you think it's a "great" idea to tell him your feelings when you're practicing your lines.

— ♪ hey stephen jack

a/n. DUDE THIS IS TOO LONG, IT'S HORRIBLE, I HATE IT, btw it's my first fic, be kind ><

💌 ♡♥︎ ………………………………..........

Something you loved about being an actress was the confidence you had acquired over the years, you were so sure of yourself that, without even doing anything, everyone felt confident with you and admired the way you were. However, you would like to say that you always have that confidence in yourself, because at this moment you found yourself with your legs shaking with nervousness.

You were on the filming set of your next movie, a romcom, this was the first time you accepted a role like this, because you have always been more into suspense and horror. Being the lead in a romcom was not easy, especially when your co-star was the cutest guy you had ever seen. You had acted with many guys before, but none like Jack Champion.

You met Jack months before filming began, the director had suggested that you spend more time together so that the chemistry would be noticeable on screen and so you did. With every shooting scene you could feel your own character take over you, acting like a schoolgirl in love trying to camouflage your feelings for the boy who stole your heart.

Remembering each of your moments with Jack was like therapy, you adored him, yes, and he could say the same. Right now you find yourself looking into his eyes, your lips trembling and your legs weak, Jack must think you're too deep in your role.

You hold up a letter written in your own handwriting, so neat and tiny so that you can read it smoothly in case you forgot what was to be read. You had decided to rehearse your lines before you started recording the scenes and boy had you practiced a lot, you already knew what the other was going to say.

Jack was watching you intently for your movements, anxious for you to start saying your lines, his eyes going from your eyes to your hands, and so it went on until you made a small sound, so inaudible that Jack had to open his eyes wider for you to repeat it.

"I know... we've been friends for a while now and it may seem very sudden but... I think I like you."

Saying that, you tried to look around, looking for something to entertain yourself with or distract your thoughts, but you couldn't, all you could do was return your gaze to Jack's, looking for a response to what you said, but you decided to speak again, ignoring your lines and giving him the letter your character had written for his.

"I'd like to know if you can hear my heart beating right now" you took his hand bringing it carefully to your chest, Jack looked at you in surprise, diverting his gaze to your hand and then to the letter he held in his other hand.

Jack could feel how fast your heart was going and your hands so cold as an ice cube, he didn't know if you were being sincere or just winging it. His gaze rested on your lips, noticing how you were trying to keep them still as you licked them to calm yourself. He smiled softly, trying to inspire peace and tranquility in you, you looked like a chihuahua from shaking so much and that was very funny to him. He moved a little closer to you, leaning his body to bury his head in your neck being careful not to be rough. He kept his nose on your neck, wondering how it was possible for you to smell so good, but quickly fizzled out any thoughts not befitting the scene and opted to speak so nicely.

"What do you say we get serious?" he whispered into your neck, his response surprised you and his breath caused your back to arch a little. You knew you liked Jack, but you didn't know you could like him this much.

You pulled away from him slowly, looking into his eyes, searching for some trace of a lie in his eyes, but they only glittered anxiously. That reminded you of the times when you both flirted with each other before the filming of the movie started and as you still do, it became a habit between you to be affectionate with each other, let out teasing or just hugging each other during breaks.

You looked at him doubtful of everything, you were proposing, but you didn't know if Jack had realized that, maybe that's why he answered that or maybe he just wanted to improvise.

"Yah, stop playing with that, it's just a rehearsal" you gave him a somewhat forced smile, pulling your hands away from his and taking back the letter he was holding. "We should go get something to drink."

Jack let out a laugh, hugging your shoulders and starting to walk with you, your heart was still pounding furiously and you felt so silly for not continuing to talk.

"You did great, for a moment there I believed it" You raised your head to find Jack looking straight ahead with a smile, you thought about what to say back to that, did he like you too?

Jack seemed to be deep in thought as well, until he shook his head several times and looked up at you, depositing a kiss on the top of your head.

And so the days went by, in each rehearsal you said something different, like he was the king of your heart or that he brought you flying in the clouds, but again, you denied everything and said it was just you improvising and of course Jack was not far behind, he answered you new things, he said that the girl of his story had always been you or that you were the light of his eyes. You were so happy with something you started and you knew it was fake.

But one day you decided to finally confess your feelings, that day you opted to put on light makeup and wear a small necklace, not so flashy, but you knew Jack would see it because he once told you he liked shiny things. Comically you checked your horoscope to see if it was your lucky day, you had never been one to believe in such things, but you were so desperate that anything good would make you jump for happiness.

Today you hadn't gone to the recording set, you both agreed that you would practice in your apartment, so you took the opportunity to do a quick cleaning.

Jack arrived at the agreed time, you were surprised how punctual he could be, when you opened the door you felt like melting, you were so lost for this man that no matter what he wore, he would look so good, you smiled at him and let him pass, noticing that his mullet looked a little lacy and the skin on his neck was brighter.

"So, honey, shall we continue with the same today?" he asked you with amusement, he called your name to see if you had heard him and you, softly answered yes to both questions.

You got into position, Jack was admiring every corner of your living room carefully and attentively, he smiled when he saw a heart shaped pillow on your couch, so he decided to take it in his arms and hug it to look at you attentively, he wanted to know what statement you would give him today. He moved his hands towards you, implying that he wanted you to talk.

You stuttered a little, thinking about what you would say today but this time, you took the letter in your hands, opened the envelope and began to read, you wrote your character's statement inspired by your crush on Jack. Several times Jack had held the envelope in his hands, but never checked its contents.

"Hey, you're probably thinking, did this crazy lady write me a letter?" you blurted out mockingly, recited her character's name and again stuck your nose in the letter. "Possibly in this letter I won't tell you half the things I want to tell you, you're so brilliant and unique, you make me want to love you like I've never loved anyone before."

"Everyone wants to have you, but I'll always be the only one waiting for you in the coldest moment, you make me feel like I'm not alone" You looked up, only to notice how focused Jack was on your lips, listening intently to everything you said, he was fascinated by your voice, how confident you sounded to him, but you were so nervous that you didn't notice how determined you looked in his eyes.

"You don't know how much I want to kiss you, you look like an angel, I love every part of you, you make me feel unique, the way you say my name is... indescribable" you formed a smile remembering the times Jack called you by your name and not a random nickname, he smiled for the same thing too, wishing he was the one the letter was addressed to.

"I know there are a lot of girls wishing to have you, but will they be able to write you a letter highlighting their love for you?" you laughed, looking at Jack again, you extended the letter to him, this time, with the intention that he would read it, he didn't know if he would, in the script it wasn't written that he would read the letter, but you, however, he decided to ignore it and take it, brushing his fingers with yours, you both smiled at that act.

You watched Jack closely, enchanted by his long eyelashes and the polka dots that adorned his smooth face, you directed your gaze to his lips, which he moved, pretending to read, they looked so cute, immersed in reading that you stayed watching him until he finished reading. Jack looked up, giving you the most radiant smile you've ever seen.

"It's amazing, our characters are so.... wow!" you noticed the excitement in his voice, he sounded like a child after being given his favorite toy, he could only laugh and smile like never before "Your performance captivated me, I thought you would improvise again, I mean..."

"Jack..." You interrupted, already tired of the whole thing, it was time, you had to tell him your feelings yes or yes, maybe they weren't reciprocated, but you needed to get that weight off your back.

"I'm sorry, I lied in every scene we rehearsed, the truth is I like you and I had no idea how to say it" With all the courage you could muster you blurted out your feelings, you wanted to die, throw yourself off a cliff and never see Jack again.

But he smiled at you again and started laughing, with the letter still in his hand, he rubbed his hands on his pants and looked all around before looking back at you.

"Are you being honest this time?" He whispered longingly to you, his cheeks turned red and you could swear yours were just as red, you nodded repeatedly which gave you a headache.

Jack turned around, releasing all the air he was holding and began to hop lightly, reaching towards you and taking your face in his hands, he kissed your forehead, your cheeks and your nose, his eyes were paid to yours, looking at you sweetly.

"Can I kiss you, I just really like you too"

He teased you, you laughed and hugged his abdomen, drawing him to you and resting your lips on his.

At that moment you could have sworn you were in love with Jack Champion.

english is not my first language, sorry if there are some mistakes, i try to improve. also to mention that i don't write smut, just fluff !!, bc jack deserves respect. <3

#jack champion #jack champion x reader #fluff #actress!reader #ethan landry #jack champion imagine #jack champion one shots #jack champion x y/n #jack champion x you #jack champion headcannons #friends to lovers #jack is so cute pls

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 11 months ago

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From Hell to Home to Back Again

Summary: At the talent show, Chrissy Cunningham is so hungry that she nearly collapses. When she's found by Hopper, her parents ended up losing custody of her. She ends up being placed in the care of the Hendersons, and she finally finds the family she so desperately needed. She also ends up falling in love. What other changes are made in this alternate universe?

@emen-98

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chrissy was nervous. Today was her first day back at school since it all happened. It was an entire month of bed rest, healing, and trips to the lab to be prodded by the doctors who took over Hawkins Lab. Will had already gone back to school since he wasn't as messed up as she was. Her black eye had healed, but the claw mark that ran through her eyebrow and over her cheek would always be there to remind her. As well as the scar on her stomach and her leg. At least she can still cheer and play softball.

"Chrissy, honey, there's a phone call for you," Claudia said, popping her head into her room.

"When did the phone ring?" Chrissy asked as she headed into the living room to pick up the phone. "Hello?"

"Lady Henderson!" Argyle's voice yelled from the receiver.

"Argy!" Chrissy exclaimed happily.

"Hey, figured I would send you some positive energy your way since it's your first day and all," Argyle said.

"Thank you," Chrissy said and sighed. "I wish you were here with me."

"Yeah, man, me too, but Mama insists I finish out the school year," Argyle said and paused. "I just think she's having a hard time letting go of the house. I keep telling her it's not the house that makes the home but the people in it."

"That's actually nice," Chrissy said. "You know, Jonathan wishes you were coming to school with us this year too. I think he's more eager than I am to see you."

"Yeah, the dude's a good egg," Argyle said casually. "Dude's riddled with anxiety, though. He's like one of those trembling chihuahuas."

"So, you think he needs someone like you to help calm him down?" Chrissy asked teasingly.

"Oh, yeah, definitely. A little purple palm tree delight could definitely help that boy out," Argyle said and sighed. "Oh, man, I feel the sudden urge to call Jonathan."

"Maybe you can catch him before he leaves. I need to finish getting ready, anyway," Chrissy said.

"Good luck, fair lady!" Argyle exclaimed.

Chrissy pulled a dark purple cardigan over her dark blue turtleneck and slipped on her shoes before letting her hair down. It made the scar less noticeable. A car honked outside, and she frowned. She looked outside and found Steve’s car waiting for her. Nancy. Chrissy smiled.

"Oh, Nancy called earlier and asked if you guys wanted a ride. Dusty already accepted," Claudia said.

Chrissy rolled her eyes affectionately. She gave her mom a hug and a kiss before letting her fuss over her. Dustin dragged her out the door as she was pulling on her jacket, holding her hand protectively.

"I don't even know why you're coming to school anyway," Dustin said. "It won't be long now before we're getting off for Christmas break."

"I just need to get out of the house, and I'm ready to go back," Chrissy said. "I'm going to be okay, Dustin."

"It's just that they're already going hard on Will with the whole Zombie boy thing, and now you have a nickname too," Dustin said.

"I can handle a few assholes, Dustin. You do remember what I survived, don't you?" Chrissy asked softly.

Ever since she came back from the Upside Down, both her mother and her brother had been awfully clingy to her. Overprotective was the word for it, which she understood. She had been clingy to them as well and with Will.

"I know," Dustin frowned.

Chrissy hugged him tightly before moving towards Steve’s car. Nancy was in the passenger's seat, and Robin was surprisingly in the back. Dustin slid into the middle seat beside Robin while Chrissy slid in next to him.

"Thanks for the ride," Chrissy said.

"No, problem," Steve said. "Nancy was worried about you."

"Just Nancy?" Chrissy asked.

"I mean, I was too, of course. I didn't want you to face those assholes without backup," Steve said.

"Is this how you got Robin to come?" Chrissy asked.

"Oh, no, me and Steve are best friends now. Platonic with a capital p," Robin said.

"Yeah, you would think they were twins instead of me and Robin," Nancy rolled her eyes.

"So, you're not worried that Robin's going to steal your boyfriend?" Dustin asked.

"No," Nancy, Steve, Robin, and Chrissy all laughed.

It was in that moment that Nancy, Steve, and Chrissy realized they all knew about Robin being a lesbian. They laughed again, leaving Dustin in the dark.

"Am I missing something?" Dustin asked.

"Yes, Dusty, but you have to be a higher level to unlock that secret," Chrissy said seriously.

"Oh, shit, how high?" Dusty asked. "And what level am I at right now?"

"Pretty low, little man, but I think you can get there," Robin said, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Okay, what creatures are we talking about here? What do I have to fight?" Dustin asked.

"Demogorgon," Robin shrugged. "Several of them."

"Okay, do I get the assistance of my party members?" Dustin asked.

"No, on your own," Robin said.

"Well, that's bullshit!" Dustin cursed.

"Chrissy never shuts up about how smart you are, I'm sure you can figure it out," Steve grinned.

"Thanks, Chrissy," Dustin said and leaned forward. "What's my strategy here, Steve?"

"You know, Nancy's pretty good at that too, you know," Steve said, rolling his eyes.

"Okay, Steve and Nancy, what's my strategy?" Dustin asked.

"Talk to Steve," Nancy said in amusement.

"Flirt with them," Steve said snapping his fingers.

"Oh, you would be one of those people. Just flirt with the monsters," Dustin said, rolling his eyes. "You're not allowed to play with us."

"Damn, just when I was working up the courage to ask you if I could," Steve said.

"Really?" Dustin asked eagerly.

"Yeah, no," he said with a smirk as Dustin huffed, sitting back.

Chrissy, Nancy, and Robin laughed as Dustin continued to argue with Steve. She always knew that Steve would get along great with her little brother. The arguing made the journey to school seemingly go by quickly. As soon as Chrissy stepped out of the car, a blurry figure rammed into her stomach and hugged her tightly. She laughed as she hugged Will back.

"Jeeze, Will, you almost ran her over," Jonathan said in amusement.

"I'm just really excited to see you," Will said. "I'm just happy you're back. Are you nervous?"

"A little," Chrissy said as Will pulled back. "I guess Argyle wasn't able to call you before you guys left."

"Damn, no, he was going to call?" Jonathan asked, his eyes lighting up, his cheeks pink.

"Yeah, this morning when he got off the phone with me," Chrissy said and laughed when Jonathan pouted.

"He won't stop talking about him," Will whispered, and Jonathan jabbed him in the side.

"Go on with Dustin to school, butthead," Jonathan said, rolling his eyes.

The group walked towards the school and tried parting through the crowds of students trying to escape the cold. It took a minute for Chrissy to realize that they were walking behind Eddie Munson. She smiled, and it was gone just as quick. Suddenly, Eddie slipped, falling backward in her direction. Chrissy managed to catch him in time but not without falling on her butt. Eddie looked up at her in surprise.

"Hi," Eddie said breathlessly. "I'm sorry."

"Are you apologizing for falling for me?" Chrissy asked with a smirk.

"Yeah, I mean no! Jesus, I'm sorry, but that's just cheesy for someone so. . .," Eddie trailed off, his cheeks pink.

"Someone so what?" She asked.

"You look familiar," Eddie said, squinting his eyes at her.

"Yeah?" She asked hopefully.

"Eddie," a boy with curly hair said, bursting through the crowd. "Why is Chrissy Henderson cradling you like a baby?"

"Oh, you're - OH SHIT!" Eddie screamed.

Suddenly, Eddie was flipping her over and cradling the back of her head. Now, he was on top of her, and an icicle had crashed to the ground near their heads. Their faces were so close together that Chrissy could feel his breath on her face.

"Awww, the witch and the freak!" Someone from the crowd exclaimed.

"A matchmade in hell!" Someone else hollered.

"Is that what they've been saying about me?" Chrissy asked.

"Sorry," Eddie muttered.

"I wonder what their babies would look like," someone cackled.

"A lot better than your parents'!" Steve snapped.

"Oh, damn," someone said. "I think he's saying you're ugly, Kenny."

"Yeah, thanks, I didn't get that."

"There's nothing to see here!" Steve exclaimed. "Get inside!"

Steve and Nancy quickly helped them up as the crowd started to dissipate.

"You saved me," Chrissy beamed at Eddie.

"You saved me first," Eddie winked. "See you around, Henderson."

He disappeared into the crowd with the curly haired boy. Chrissy watched the spot where he stood for a moment, grinning and blushing. She was startled out of it by the sound of someone clearing their throat. She looked over to find Steve, Nancy, Robin, and Jonathan looking at her.

"What?"

"So, when you guys inevitably have grandchildren, are you guys going to tell them about this moment?" Steve asked, and Jonathan laughed.

"Shut up, Steve," Chrissy said, but she was struggling not to laugh with him.

"So, is this crush on Eddie Munson new, or have you always known?" Nancy asked they walked inside.

"I do not have a crush," Chrissy rolled her eyes.

"Oh! Look! Eddie's coming this way!" Steve exclaimed.

"Where?!" Chrissy asked, peering over the crowd.

She stood back and glared at him as he laughed. She punched him in the shoulder.

"Asshole," Chrissy said.

"That was kind of evil, man," Jonathan smirked.

"No, that was fucking hilarious," Robin said as she high fived Steve.

"It was kind of funny," Nancy admitted.

"Okay, fine, fine. . .it all started in middle school. . ."

The first few periods, Chrissy was fine. The distraction of the lessons managed to get her through it. . .until it all started to slow down. She became more aware of the people surrounding her and the nickname that spilled from their lips. Chrissy the Witch. Apparently, the scar on her face wasn't enough for them to believe that she took on a bear with a knife and survived. She had to have used magic. Chrissy actually wasn't bothered by the nickname (it was actually cool), but it was the sounds of their voices and their close proximity. It was all so. . .overwhelming. She could feel everything and hear everything. She could hear ringing in her ears, and then for a moment, she was back there. . .back in the Upside Down. The hallways were covered in vines, the particles were swirling in the air, and a dark shape was moving towards her. A voice echoed in the darkness, calling her name. Suddenly, she was back in the real world, and someone dove at her, pretending to be a bear. She screamed and reacted quickly by slamming her fist in his face.

"You bitch!" Tommy Hagan cursed as he held his bloody nose.

Chrissy didn't even bother apologizing. She took off and found the nearest empty classroom. She entered and slammed the door behind her, locking it. Chrissy turned around and pressed her back to the door. She was in the science lab, and Eddie was sitting at one of the tables, a notebook in front of him. Eddie's mouth was open, looking comically surprised to see her.

"I broke Tommy Hagan's nose with my fist," Chrissy blurted out.

"What the fuck?!" Eddie exclaimed and then he laughed. "So, you punched him."

Chrissy sighed and plopped down next to him. She winced and rubbed her hand.

"You know, punching someone hurts both parties," Chrissy replied.

Eddie chuckled and took her hand, rubbing her knuckles gently. Chrissy bit her lip, trying to contain the squeal that was ready to burst out of her.

"That's true. So, what did Tommy Hagan do to incur the wrath of Chrissy Henderson?" Eddie asked.

"He pretended to be a bear when I was in the middle of. . .having a thing," Chrissy said. "He made it look like he was attacking me, and it startled me."

"That fucker deserved it," Eddie said as he continued to massage her knuckles. "I'm sorry he did that."

"I bet he's sorry too," Chrissy grinned.

"I bet he is," Eddie cackled. "You know, this isn't the first time that we hung out."

"It's not?" She asked innocently.

"Yeah, I mean, it was a few years ago at the Talent Show. My head was buzzed, and I didn't have these awesome tatties," Eddie said and flipped the hand that was holding Chrissy's to show her his puppet tattoo on his forearm. "My band - "

"Corroded Coffin! How could I forget?!" Chrissy said teasingly.

"I don't know, you're a freak," Eddie giggled.

"I think you mean witch," she corrected. "You're the freak."

"The witch and the freak," he smiled.

"I was totally messing with you," Chrissy said, pausing. "I do remember that day. It was a hard day to forget."

"Right. . .cause of your mom," Eddie said softly.

Chrissy almost made a wistful noise with her mouth as she gazed into his chocolate brown eyes.

"My birth mom, actually. Claudia Henderson is my true mother," Chrissy said. "I mean, Laura will always be my mom. There's no denying it. She's actually up at Pennhurst, I visit her sometimes. She's actually doing better, but she's not ready to leave. She's probably going to be there forever, but she's happy there, and she's happy that I am happy where I am. So, I'm glad it all worked out."

"Then I'm glad too," Eddie said. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened to your dad?"

"Left town when it all happened. Who knows what happened to him, and I don't particularly care," Chrissy muttered.

"I have a dad who comes in and out of my life. My mom's been dead since I was six. My uncle's pretty much the only one who is there for me, I mean, besides Hellfire and my best friend Ronnie," Eddie said.

"So, you get it?" She asked softly.

"Yeah," Eddie said. "I never thanked you for cheering for me."

"You deserved it," Chrissy said.

"Well, if you ever need me to cheer for you. . .," Eddie grinned.

"You willing to wear the skirt that goes with cheering someone on?" Chrissy asked as Eddie leaned on his elbow, his cheek pressed into his free hand.

"Oh, yeah," Eddie grinned.

"You know, some people would find that hot," Chrissy teased.

Eddie snorted with laughter, causing his elbow to slip off the table and his head to hit the table. He dropped her hand with a groan and rubbed his forehead. Chrissy stood up to look at his forehead, not thinking about the fact that she was standing in between his legs.

"Well, what's the prognosis?" Eddie asked.

"Hmmm, you're an idiot, but you'll live," Chrissy said as she stroked the spot between his eyes.

"That's good, I like living," Eddie said.

"So, we had a funny interaction, a shared childhood memory, and we exchanged trauma. You totally made yourself look like an idiot. . .are we friends yet?" Chrissy asked.

"Friends? Yeah. . .friends," Eddie gulped.

Chrissy suddenly realized how close they were and that Eddie's hand had found its way to her hip to steady her. Friends? Why in hell did she say that? Her eyes dropped to his lips. . .his perfectly plump lips. BAM! A bird flew into the window, startling both of them and causing them both to shriek. Chrissy stumbled back, knocking over her stool.

"JESUS H CHRIST!" Eddie yelled out as he clutched his chest.

Chrissy picked up the stool and set it back up before sitting back on it. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she tried to take deep breaths to steady it.

"Tell me about what you were doing so I can calm myself down. You're working on your campaign, right?" She asked. "My little brother plays."

"Yeah, yeah, I can do that," Eddie said. "Jesus."

After spending time with Eddie, Chrissy managed to make it throughout the day. She met Steve and Nancy out by his car.

"So, how was your day?" Nancy asked.

"Well, it was going pretty great until I felt overwhelmed, and I was remembering what it was like there. Then Tommy Hagan pretended like he was a bear attacking me, so I broke his nose. I ran to the science lab where Eddie was working on his campaign, and just as we were about to kiss a fucking bird flew into the window scaring the hell put of us pretty much ruining the mood," Chrissy said.

"Jesus," Steve said.

"Are you okay?" Nancy asked.

"I mean, it could have been better, but it was pretty good considering I made friends with Eddie, and I got to slug Tommy H in the nose. I'm looking forward to seeing what it looks like tomorrow," Chrissy grinned.

"God, I wish I could have seen that," Steve said.

"Well, he's an idiot so there's a good chance it's going to happen again," Chrissy said, and they both laughed.

It wasn't long before Robin was also meeting them by the car and then Dustin, who threw his arms around Chrissy. Despite all that happened, she looked forward to the next day, and the next day after that. Eddie's dimpled grin swam in her head.

Chapter Five

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genocidehim · 2 years ago

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Hii🤍

I love all your works, just WOW.

if you’re taking requests could you maybe do something where Nacho falls in love with Lalo’s younger sister🙈

notes: render is female. words: 682

FORGIVENESS if this has no plot and feels very empty, I've been uninspired lately but I wanted to write something! Ask me for more Nacho x Render!LaloSister and I'll make sure to write something with a better plot!

The stay in Chihuahua seemed to be dragging on longer than desired. Ignacio wasn't happy about it, especially when Fring's failed attempt to kill Lalo didn't work out, and in a misunderstanding that occurred, Nacho ended up alerting Lalo before they could attack the Hacienda, causing Lalo to trust him even more now and his loyalty.

He had chained himself to the Salamancas by mistake and was now paying the consequences. Ignacio had the curse of being liked by absolutely everyone who knew him. Don Eladio marveled at Nacho's intelligence and presence, Don Bolsa met him and also formalized a friendship with him, not to mention the other Salamancas who were part of the Cartel, and each of them were detestable psychopaths and arrogant, none of them were spared.

But there you were, a young girl who shared traits with Lalo and his cousins, but seemed to be the calmest of all.

Nacho met you at a family dinner organized by the family on a Sunday. Lalo and his paternal family cooked grilled meat while the other family members hung out and talked. Nacho had noticed how numerous the Salamancas were, beyond those involved in the cartel. The women were beautiful and the children were unruly, and the family atmosphere almost fooled Nacho for a moment and made him feel comfortable, surrounded by the people he despised the most.

He approached the kitchen to grab a Corona beer from the fridge and seek some privacy to think. He opened the beer and took a big sip when a female voice caught him off guard.

"Are you Ignacio, right?" Your voice filled his ears, and the accent you had was somewhat similar to Lalo's, so Nacho quickly deduced that both of you were raised and educated in the same place, very different from the pronounced accent of the other Salamancas.

"I prefer Nacho" he said as he turned to look at you, realizing how good you looked leaning on the other side of the kitchen counter.

"Nacho" you repeated, and a smile illuminated your face. A smile that made Nacho tremble, the way your lips embraced your smile and your eyes sparkled reminded him too much of Lalo and his terrifying smile, but in you, it appeared much more genuine.

You courteously introduced yourself, indicating your place in the family and your familial bond with Lalo, which Nacho had deduced minutes ago. He feigned a disgusted expression and tried to be polite and friendly with you.

"Lalo hasn't stopped talking about you these past few days, about how you saved him and all that" you teased a little, gesturing boredom with your hands. "When he talked about you, I imagined a different kind of guy."

"Different in what way?" he asked with curiosity, noticing your boldness and charisma when speaking.

"I don't know…" you shrugged nonchalantly. "But not as handsome, that's for sure."

Ignacio felt his skin tingle just from hearing you. The way you spoke with such confidence and audacity to him, without even knowing him, felt familiar, and he wasn't sure if it was just your flirtatious personality or if you were actually trying to flirt with him.

"Handsome?" He laughed and realized that he hadn't forced his laughter; you genuinely made him smile. "And I haven't been sleeping well these past few days, I'm not at my best."

"And why haven't you been able to sleep, Nachito?" The level of trust you have taken with him truly surprises him. He usually knows that the Salamancas are distrustful and difficult to deal with, but you have been quite pleasant with him. "Is Lalo too demanding?"

Nacho laughs again and leans against the counter right in front of you. His hazel eyes carefully analyze you, and you can notice how he appears to have softened. "Maybe just a little."

"Well... I know some techniques to help you relax and sleep well at night."

Your words ignited something within Nacho. The sweetness of your voice and the audacity in your actions made him forget where he was and who he was talking to.

#better call saul x reader #breaking bad x reader #bcs x reader #nacho varga #nacho varga x reader #nacho varga fluff #nacho bcs #ignacio varga #request

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casspurrjoybell-20 · 7 months ago

Text

FOOLS - Chapter 12 - Part 2

BOOK ONE: The 'Fools Fall in Love' Trilogy

*Warning Adult Content*

Noah Wright

Kaitlyn's chihuahuas, Missy and Sugar, started yapping like crazy.

I pulled back from her lips and froze.

We heard the front door open followed by loud laughter of people as they entered the house.

It wasn't just her parents, there were other voices too.

We both panicked.

Kaitlyn pushing me off of her, then me stumbling to get my clothes back on.

"You didn't think to tell me that your parents are having company over?" I asked sounding a little more annoyed than she deserved as I zipped my jeans back up.

She gave me a stern look after putting her shirt back on.

"I didn't know," She whispered loudly, making sure she wouldn't be heard by her parents.

"How the shit am I supposed to get out of here without being seen?"

Kaitlyn's parents aren't too fond of me.

Ever since they caught us hooking up, they said I 'stole their only daughter's innocence'.

Some bullshit like that.

"Okay, okay. Um..."

Kaitlyn thought for a quick moment.

"Oh," she said, walking over to the window well and unlocked it.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I asked with exasperation.

"There's a ladder. What other choice do we have? I'm sorry," she gave me her irresistible Bambi eyes.

Damn her.

"I'll find a way to pay you back."

She winked suggestively.

I sighed before I hopped up in the window well and climbed up the short ladder to make my getaway.

********

Fuck, I didn't even get to finish at Kaitlyn's house.

Her stupid fucking parents.

Ugh.

I was laying in my bed still feeling horny and then also aggravated from the lack of getting off.

I took a deep breath.

It wasn't something to get annoyed about, I knew and it definitely wasn't Kaitlyn's fault.

I should probably text her an apology... well maybe after watching porn, I thought as I reached over for my cell-phone that was on the charger.

That was when I spotted Sam's pink crew neck on the ground.

I brought it into the house last night to put in my backpack so I could return it to him at school but must've forgotten.

I picked it up and subconsciously brought it up to my nose and inhaled.

It smelled like Sam.

I fell back onto my bed, that time, consciously smelling the sweater and closing my eyes.

Sam.

He's so... aggravating.

Aggravating that he was always so fucking nice.

And immature with his words and phrasing.

And always on my god damn nerves.

And so... captivating and his face was...

God, his face was so perfect, it was annoying.

My hands slid down to my boxers and slipped under.

I couldn't help my mind from wandering, imagining Sam with me.

Sam would lay next to me, with his leg over mine and his hand skimming down my chest until his hand was around my cock and began rubbing up and down.

I breathed in his sweatshirt again.

Sam's mouth went to my ear, his hot breath on me as he whispered...

"You like that, Noah?"

And, fuck, did I like that.

Sam continued his hand motions while dragging his tongue from my ear down to where my neck met my shoulder.

His mouth on my skin, sucking, licking, kissing.

"Oh, fuck," I groaned.

Sam was on top of me me, his hands on my chest as he looked at me, pleading...

"I want you inside of me."

And he'd kiss me and I knew his fingers would be soft and gentle as there laid on my face.

He'd ground his body on mine.

Sam would moan when I was inside of him.

And I could grip his hips.

Fuck, he would feel amazing.

"Cum for me, Noah. I want to lick it off your body."

And I came.

My hand slick with cum as I stroked myself a few times, more of my load came shooting out onto my stomach.

My body trembled from my finish with my breathing heavy.

Once down from my high, my eyes shot open.

Oh fuck.

I looked down at my sticky hand and God damn, I came a lot.

Then I saw Sam's crew neck in my hand.

I dropped it like it was a hot stove to my hand.

I just jerked off to Sam.

'Oh, no, no, no. Fuck.'

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to---the---ark · 10 months ago

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Hold and behold- I actually wrote about this.

Despite the title, this isn't necessarily romantic, even if I'm a Brim shipper you can read it as platonic too. But... y'know, pick the version that makes you feel the angst the most. :)

Hope you'll like it!

Regards,

[Redacted]

MY HEART BETWEEN YOUR HANDS

«Bad day, huh?» Brian murmured.

Tim nodded to his best friend. Brian had always been able to read him like an open book, and that had scared Tim a lot, at the start of their friendship, a couple of years ago... but then Brian had seen Tim at his worst, and had embrace that part of him with a welcoming smile.

Tim let out a trembling breath.

The minutes after a seizure were the worst.

His muscles were tired, his brain foggy, and he was pretty sure he was about to have a panic attack too, now, because he felt like he was dying.

Maybe it was the desperation.

Maybe he was just so tired of the consequences of his awful childhood.

«Hey, breathe with me» Brian gently said, sitting on the floor beside him.

Without thinking much, the blondish man passed a hand through Tim's messy hair, went down, wiped a silent tear away from his cheek... and Tim melted.

His mind went quiet. The bothering sensation that always picked at his skin was calming down, Brian's hand shooting it.

When was the last time Tim had been touched so gently?

He barely remembered it. His little hands gripping a pastel blue dress, his mother's voice talking with a doctor. It was the last time he had seen his mother.

So many years ago...

After years of being manhandled only to be dragged in his bedroom and locked in there, Tim had grown to never rely on physical contact to express affection.

But now...

Now Brian's free hand was on the other side of his head, he was cupping Tim's face, a thumb rubbing soothing circles on his cheek.

«You good?» Brian asked.

Tim opened his eyes - when did he close them? -, nodded slowly, and slurred out a little "sorry".

«Come here, buddy» Brian murmured, getting more comfortable against the wall of their college dorm. He pulled Tim in a tight hug, and the shorter man once again melted, muscles relaxed, putty between Brian's hands. «Everything's fine, Tim. You'll be fine.»

The shame had kept him from asking for more hugs for months. After a long talk, Tim had still found it difficult to talk, to ask relief for his touch starvation.

Brian had decided to take the matter in his own hands, so he had started to initiate contacts with his buddy.

A comforting squeeze on his shoulder, brushing their arms together while walking, leaning on him while sitting together...

Now things were a little bit different.

Now they had their respective apartments, Tim talked a little more, and he opened up a bit about his childhood - what he remembered about it, at least.

And now, while comfortably sitting on the couch's corner, Tim opened his arms. He wasn't vocalizing his needs, but he was still asking for help. This was a first.

Brian hid his surprise to not spoil the moment, and, like he had started to do, he just threw himself on the top of the other man, hugging him.

«Hello!» he said with a silly grin.

«Idiot» Tim laughed, cheecks a little red.

«This idiot is the star of a movie, don't forget it!»

«Oh, yeah, great movie, Mr. Loop Of Unhappiness!»

«Hey! That's the most iconic line!»

They laughed, and a cozy silence fell between them. They stayed like that for a while, the tv on, barely paying attention on what was on the screen.

Brian was supposed to get up after a while: «I don't wanna go.»

«Get up» Tim said, poking his side. «You're the movie's star, like you wanted me to remember. So now go and do your job!»

«But Alex is being an isteric chihuahua, I don't wanna go to that damn park with him» he lamented.

But he still got up.

Still went.

That hug was the last hug they shared as Tim Wright and Brian Thomas.

The fact that Tim wasn't at fault for being persecuted by The Operator was unfairly easy to forget.

Hoodie didn't feel bad about taking his pills. He had been doing that for some months, but he never took the last bottle of pills until now.

He thought about it for a moment. He knew Tim needed those pills, but- but he was so angry at the poor man. So bitter, so-

It wasn't fair!

Brian had a bright future ahead, he had big dreams, but now- was he still Brian? Was he still Brian, with that mask on, without a future and with a past that kept slipping between his fingers like sand? Was he still Brian when he barely recognized himself as such anymore?

And whose fault was that?

His anger was directed at Tim.

Especially today, after Jay interviewed said man. "I haven't heard from Brian either" Tim had the audacity to say, and Hoodie was so angry, because Tim had given up on looking for Brian, dammit! "Not for quite awhile, actually."

So.

Hoodie grabbed that last bottle of pills, and felt a twisted sense of satisfaction, as if he was getting a little revenge.

But that sense of satisfaction was short lived, because a few hours later, the fact that Tim was a victim too become painfully easy to remember.

That plastic mask was the last thing Brian would've wanted to see on Tim's tired face, if only he had knew what was going to happen during the making of a stupid college movie. And maybe Brian wasn't totally gone, not for real, because the hooded man approached the masked one, and muttered what he wanted to be comforting words, but came out as riddles and codes.

Masky pushed him away, forcefully.

Hoodie insisted, held that face between his hands, thumb adventuring under the mask, trying to rub soothing circles on that touch starved skin.

Masky stilled for a moment.

That hungry skin was always going to recognize Brian's gentle touch, always going to welcome it, to crave it. But thick gloves were covering those hands, and the masked man's altered emotions didn't even have the chance to register the familiar gestures.

Hoodie was pushed away once again, this time more forcefully, and the other's body language told him that a fight was going to happen if he kept touching him.

Was Tim still Tim, if he refused his touch?

The hotel room was silent, dark, the only light being the little red dot signaling that the camera pointed at Jay was recording.

Tim's skin was on fire, had been for ages now, but he refused to let people get too close, even physically. With Jay around it was difficult to not look for some contact, tho.

Especially now.

Tim was in his own bed, pretending to sleep. Maybe he was too good at that, because Jay felt free to cry.

Quiet sobs, face pressed against the pillow.

«I'm sorry, mom, I miss you» he whispered, voice so low that Tim barely heard it. «I forgot your face, I'm sorry.»

Jay's silhouette was trembling.

Tim wanted to just join him in his bed and to hug him. To hold him close, to comfort the both of them.

He missed Brian, but Brian had been his best friend, his cuddle buddy, and now- now he was gone. Had been gone for who knew how long. Brian had got too close to Tim, and Wright couldn't allow Jay to get too close too, he was already damaged, already broken.

Tim also couldn't handle another monumental loss.

Couldn't remain all alone.

So he closed his eyes, chest tight and skin on fire, heart breaking and tears silently running down his face.

Brian had been there the whole time.

Now he was gone for real.

Jay was gone too.

It was all his fault.

Tim sighed while driving towards Jessica's hotel.

He got used to his skin being starved, got used to ignore it.

Brian's hands were something both painful and nice to remember. His tired mind seemed to hallucinate them as a way to cope, now. Soft rubs on his shoulder blades, a bump on his arm while walking lost in thoughts, a gentle hold on his face whenever he couldn't stop the tears from falling...

It was such a bliss, to feel those familiar arms around himself, until he was lucid enough to know that Brian was gone...

Tim sighed again, and he murmured a blatant lie to himself: «Everything's fine.»

I'm touch starved, and now I'm thinking about Tim.

He spent all his childhood being terrified by a faceless creature and then locked in his hospital room by doctors. He was a kid who needed to be listened and believe to, but only got drugged up and locked in a damn room.

Then in college he met Brian.

Brian isn't seen much on screen, but all his actions in the serie, and the comic book special "Issue 3.5 - ToTheArk" speak volume: he loves his friends and he loves deeply.

Do you think Tim melted the first time Brian hugged him?

Do you think he realized how touch starved he really was? How burning his skin seemed to be, and how much relief Brian's hug was giving him?

Do you think Tim felt ashamed of that? Do you think he thought of himself as too clingy, or too needy? Do you think about all the times he probably cried alone in his bed, because he was loved for the first time ever but didn't dare to go ask Brian for even an half hug? Just an half hug, a quick one, he could've been happy with some pats on the shoulder, even when he really needed the grounding weight of someone lying on top of him.

Do you think he ever got embarrassed about those thoughts? About those needs?

Do you think Brian managed to make Tim spill the beans? And if so- do you think Brian started to just lay on his best friend whenever Tim got too fidgety, or too anxious?

Do you think Brian learned how to ground Tim with physical touch to help him after an episode, or after a seizure?

When Brian disappeared, do you think Tim got to force himself to ignore his touch starvation like he used to before Brian? Do you think he cried and shook, his skin on fire, his breath irregular, his mind racing?

When he finally understood the truth about The Operator being something real, Tim surely got scared of infecting everyone else.

Do you think he forced himself to keep quiet?

Do you think Hoodie ever tried to hug Masky, to calm him through a gentle touch, only to be smacked away? Do you think the negative emotions and the anger Masky felt were somehow sad too?

When Tim got closer to Jay, do you think he ever got the temptation to hug him?

And Jay, our young man who just wanted to help, got turned into an angry individual, maybe a little lost, and surely scared, but also so courageous or simply too far gone to stop. Do you think he ever wanted the comfort of a friendly hug?

Do you think Tim wished he could hold Jay close and relaxed, before losing him? Do you think Tim felt something familiar while looking for his own things in the pockets of a still Hoodie? When Alex showed him Brian's corpse, do you think Tim wanted to just crawl over there and take his best friend between his arms, squeezing him in a comforting way?

Do you think Tim hallucinated those college night, with those familiar arms wrapped around him?

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witchlyboo · 3 years ago

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Definitely, maybe.

Part five: The one who belongs to someone else.

Introduction. Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four.

Paring: Latina!reader x Logan Lerman x Tom Holland x Ben Hardy x Timothee Chalamet x Pedro Pascal x Michael B. Jordan

Warnings: Swearing, angst, misspellings, some Spanish, me learning how to write properly, and NY stuff that I've learned from movies that we all agree to pretend are real.

Word count: 6.4 k

a/n: You been asking for smut, I know, I know, I just wanted to introduce you to all the boys first, and we're getting there, just one more ahead. Also, I'm working on a masterlist because we are getting too many parts already.

All body types and skin tones friendly. You can also enjoy it as a no Hispanic reader. Constructive feedback and misspellings correction is always welcome.

Red and blue lights flash the driving mirror.

—No, no, no, por favor que no sea a mi—You beg to the sky looking at the patrol that is asking you to park, or someone else, there's a lot of cars in this part of the city, there's a big chance is the panic who's controlling your senses.—Dios, mi abuela fue a la iglesia cada domingo de su vida y nunca te pidió nada, please let me have some of her divina recompensa.—But that's not how it works, you end up parking with just a few seconds to think what to say. There's a perfect explication of why you are driving a car that is not yours in the middle of the night and smelling like a minibar.

Then this ridiculous thought comes to your mind, you look expensive, you've never seen the daughter of a senator but you must be close to it, it would make you less of a feminist if you just use your attributes? Ugh, you feel sick just to think about it but don't have enough money to pay a fine, and the constant paranoia of being chased all the time as an immigrant will only get stronger.

You pull down your dress a little so your neckline can do its job but you regret it immediately, and you're pretty sure you look more like an expensive prostitute who stole the car of his lover than some influential men's daughter.

—License and registration.—You hear him say when he approaches your window. You don't like this but you have to play the dumb tourist, the pretty foreign girl that is too stupid to be dangerous, with the look you have tonight it shouldn't be hard. But damn you hate cops, any uniformed man that works for the government is your eternal enemy, and you don't know how long you could keep the nice dumb Latina game before spit on his face.

—There's something wrong, officer? ...You?!—Your sexy and fake high voice is ruined when you see the face of the man who stopped you. This night couldn't get worse.

—Wait, what happened with the party?—Evan interrupts you while you finish some notes for work, little remainders for later when you don't have an eleven years old kid running around you, he's not usually this energic and you have to blame yourself for that, you're describing a life of excess and eccentric fun, something you let behind so many years ago that your own son doesn't know even a bit of it.

—Ugh, a nightmare doesn't worth telling.—You remember vaguely most of it but what keeps fresh in your mind is bad enough to don't want to bring it back.

—But if Timothée is my dad I have to know the important things, including the bad stuff.—Sounds perfectly reasonable and that's what makes you groan at him. Sometimes you feel blessed that your kid is better than you in any possible way, and sometimes you want to kill his brain with video games and reality shows like the rest of the parents.

—Ok, cool, but I'll keep all the +18 content for myself, so this part of the story might be blurry for you.—It kinda is for you anyway.

You should’ve known this night was cursed, you had a feeling because a) your earring fell off at the same time Timothée texted you to give you the party address and say he can't pick you up. And b) he won’t pick you up. Your mother would say that’s reason enough to not go, a real gentleman wouldn’t make you go to an unknown place in the middle of the night on your own in a city like this. But you decide to ignore it because you are a modern woman and because it’s worth it. It better be.

The outfit must be something special. You always take your time to choose what to wear, even if just another regular day, and since this isn't the case you thought about it for hours, that made your mind busy enough to not thinking about Tom and the whole love confession. He texted you saying he'll come for you to go to class together on Monday, which is completely impractical because he's way closer than you but is progress and you're going to take it.

You wanted to ask for Sheep's opinion but you thought she might not care, has been a few days since she started acting strange like she's bothered just to see you breathe. You want to blame his boyfriend to take all her time and attention from you but is probably just her new job, she got a small role in a Netflix show, and even when you're so happy for her, that's the event that has changed her into someone completely different. But you give her time, stress can do bad things to people.

The winner is the exact copy you made of the black and white striped dress Cameron Diaz wore in "The Mask" beautiful, classy, and sexy enough without being too scandalous, not that you have any problem with that, but this isn't the occasion, you don't want to feel like you're being too much or too little, just enough, it's supposed to be easy, right? you were born for this. Just adding some big shiny earrings you got on a thrift shop that look like real diamonds and you're ready, not that you own any to compare. Red lipstick, dark eyes, and a messy bun to get that disinterested pitch every look needs.

Getting there wasn't a problem, you were in the rich part of the city, everyone know who, where and what just to brag about it. The excitement is growing with every second, you check your makeup like thirty times in the elevator and send texts to your mom just to let her know where you are, and because you have to share that moment with someone and you are limited of friends these days.

Timothée opens the door with red eyes, drunk, high, or somewhere in between, you know then you were right about the bad feeling. He jumps on you to kiss you and no matter how much you try to explain the delicacy of your lipstick, he does it anyway, leaving a taste of alcohol and shrimps in your mouth. Taking you by the waist he walks you to a group of people you don't know while you're trying harder to fix the red color of your mouth without a mirror.

—Here is the companion I bought, look at her, that's how five grand per hour look like.—They laughed but you were too disoriented to process all the things he said, it was supposed to be a joke? if it is, why isn't he correcting? Instead, his hand goes straight to your ass and presses it to get you closer to him.

—I'm actually an intern in the costume designer department of the new version of "Sense and Sensibility".—You wanted to mention your recent promotion to hairstylist and makeup artist but that might be too pretentious. Anyway, they don't seem to care what you are or not, in fact, they don't even see you, all eyes are on Timothée

—Oh, well, is easy to forget when you're paying them—All laughs again. Who is this person? Who are all these people, actually? You recognize some influencers, a few cast members but there's no sign of the director, other main actors, not even his co-star. You feel like an extra in a movie where someone will be killed in a luxury party, hopefully not you. You take his hand from your body and clear your throat.—I'm just joking my love, she looks stunning, isn't she? I’ll get you a drink.

He leaves and the group of people surrounding you suddenly dissipated like boiling water, you were on your own again and despite some judgmental gazes is like you’re not there, you’re sure you could just take your dress off and throw it to someone’s face and unless Tim says something about it, no one would care. You’re there as his companion, an ornament, and that’s not enough to earn their attention because it’s too obvious you’re the one in turn.

You walk to the only window no one is smoking and check your phone, you know, the thing you do when you pretend you have important issues to attend, but no, you end reading some old messages, pictures, texting your mom of how much fun you’re having at the party, and somehow you check your filed Facebook messages to find Logan’s name. You cover the screen so fast you hurt your nail, his name is enough to make you tremble like a Chihuahua, you haven’t talked to him since that night, you know from his sister he lives in the house he bought for you two and he’s having the happiest life without you. You want to believe that because that means you took the right decision but deep inside… no, you can’t be that person, you want him to be happier than ever.

You find the guts to open the message, and you read as slowly as is humanly possible. “My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health…” Dios, just Logan could start a message like that, your smile is almost too big to fit in your face so you bit your nail to cover it a little. “I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you’ll be happy to know…”

—That’s a fucking long-ass message.—Tim appears behind you and takes your phone from your hand, spilling some of his drink on your dress in the process. Apparently, he's been there long enough to read part of the message.

—Give it back.—You command in the most severe voice you have, your magical moment got ruined and you remember the hole of hell you are.

—"My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health. I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you must know I still use them now and then"—Timothée starts reading the message, and even when no one is close enough to hear it and you don’t really care about this people’s opinion, that’s not for anyone to read, that’s one of the few parts of your life you treasure the most and you’re not ready to get over it.—You little slut, are you cheating on me with a med student?

—Give it to me.—You repeat trying to take the phone from his hand but he’s faster and walks away putting it out of your reach.

—"I meticulously preserve them, I certainly know any piece of art made by you will be priceless in the near future"—You don’t want to hear it coming from his drunk mocking voice, so you try to ignore what he’s saying and put more effort on chasing the phone.—Should I had kept the jeans where you left the wet spot on? I didn’t know you were an artist, my love.

—Timothée, por el amor de Dios.—Now you're trying to climb him, it wouldn't be that hard to take him down, he's skinny and you're fierce. That's what you thought but he's not moving even with you are on top of his shoulder and his opposite long arm keeps the phone away from you.

—Who is this guy and why is he talking to my girl like this?—You see the olive eyes getting darker and the tone of his voice went deeper than you thought he could do. You desist from taking the phone, you know the bullies love the attention, maybe that's exactly what he wants and give it to him just makes it worse.

—I'm not your girl.—You claim fixing up your dress having enough of games, and you have no reason to keep worrying about losing your job, the filming is done, and apparently your relationship with him too. You don't care about any of that anymore, just want to read Logan's text.

Even behind all the alcohol and the eyes injected in blood thanks for who knows what kind of drug, you can see the disappointment and anger, but it's not a broken heart, Is the hissy fit of a child that loses his balloon and now everyone will pay for it, especially you.

—Are you sure about that?—You can see him swallow hard, almost looking vulnerable, but his voice is defiant and threatening to prove you wrong. He just has to stretch out his arm to reach the open window with your phone in hand, his intentions are clear and the only thing you can do is raise your hands as a reflex.—You were mine the moment you put a foot on my trailer, and I don't fucking share my stuff.—Before you can say a word he drops the phone from the fourth floor.

You know is senseless but you find yourself running out of the party and going to search the device, using it also as an excuse to get away from that place. This is the first time someone makes you feel meaningless, you know the famous' world is cold and lacking in empathy but this is ridiculous, they're a bunch of parasites fed by attention and power. By Timothée.

The screen is crashed and the rest of it is probably beyond repair, not that you're surprised, its life is longer than you've been in the country and you admit you should have replaced it much earlier but you're not the kind to throw away things that still work. However, is not the phone you are worried about, not as much as what it contains.

—That was obsolete anyway, I'll get you a better one.—You didn't know he was following you, his voice interrupts your self-wailing. He sounds calmer and a little embarrassed, but not enough to say sorry, you don't think he's capable of saying it.

You shake your head and start to walk away without a word, you don't want anything from him, not materially, at least.

—Don't make a scandal out of it, it's just a phone!—He yells erasing any trace of regret in his voice. He doesn't see the reaction he expected and that's when he runs after you and with a hand on your upper arm pulls you back, you gasped for the sudden bluntness.—That annoying habit you have of leaving when I'm talking to you.

You push him away with all the strength you have, which resulted in him almost falling on the ground.

—I don't care about the stupid phone!—You finally break, but sadly is not as satisfactory as you thought it would be.—You are mean, vain, arrogant and the worst part is that you enjoy being this despicable human because you have absolutely no consequences to it. Everyone around you just accepts it and I feel so sorry for you because the only possible way for you to fill the void inside is to be surrounded by that crowd of mules licking your steps—To your surprise, he has nothing to say, he's just standing there with no facial expression, whatever he feels is easily covered by his years of experience acting, even drunk.—I can't give you that and it's obvious they don't want me either. What am I even doing here?—You ask yourself thinking where would be the best way of getting a cab, is a rich zone, must be easy.

—Everything is better when you're around—His voice is thin and fragile, you have to process what he said three times in your head to understand his words. You're not willing to look at him yet.—You're not like the others.

—Pure bullshit. You love to repeat that misogynist discourse of girls being in a certain way because is easier than be responsible for the people you choose to be—You were hugging yourself the whole time, is a cold night, but not enough to be bothersome, you enjoy Fall weather—You got me for a moment, I give you that, you fooled me but I'm too tired of guessing what version of you is real—When you return your gaze at him, he doesn't try to hide the guilt anymore, but there's still haughtiness in there.—Now, if you don't mind Mr. Chalamet, I need to get a cab.

—No, you came with me, you leave with me.—There's no trace of alcohol in his voice anymore, a good scolding is enough to put you sober, you know that thanks to your mom. Oh god, you're becoming her.

—You didn't bring me here, gigantic head—You look at him and put your hand in front of him with the palm up. He stares at it for several seconds before put his own on it—Not that!—You shake it and start looking inside his jeans pockets until you feel the metal of his key car.—You can't drive and I have to get home. You'll find it in the studio tomorrow.

That's how you ended with a car way more luxurious than you expected, driving so slowly and carefully that the police stopped you. What a night, but at this point, you couldn't care less about anything that is not that message, is been months and you can't get over it, over him. Not even Ben moans, Tom's comforting arms, or fight with a movie star at 3:00 am. is enough to get him out of your mind.

—So is true, you don't wear anything that hasn't appeared in a movie, huh?—Michael B. Jordan is leaning on the car window with a mocking smile and a sparkle of satisfaction that you would love to punch but his uniform keeps you in line, where you come from police is not equal to justice, most of the times is oppression.

—You know where it's from?—That was kind of comforting, no one at the party noticed. Not that you care.

—Is The Mask, not some Adam Hitchcock's blurb.—He smiles and even when you really don't like him, it's nice to be with a familiar face, you are really tired of running away, scaping for problems that are a result of your null capacity to deal with emotions. Ugh, what a word.

—Is Alfred Hitchcock, actually.—You didn't want to sound priggish, but you correct him with no time to stop yourself, an old habit.

—You got me, smarty, you know more than movies than me. Where did you get this car?—You feel really nervous even when you got this legally, you have your documents and license on time and he's being nice enough to not want to run away in a car that you technically borrowed for yourself.

—It's not mine.—No shit, Sherlock.

—No shit, Sherlock, I was asking where did you steal it.—You wanted to laugh but there's something with the uniform that just doesn't allow you to be yourself.—Are you drunk?

—No, no, fuck, no, it's just, I don't feel comfortable with cops—He raises his eyebrows but that is his only reaction.—Listen, is my boss' car, I'm doing the favor to take it to the studio, and I'm really nervous because is fucking expensive, he's an asshole, I haven't drive un almost a year because you people only use cars if you're rich or your work and lives depend on it. I'm starving.—The last part came out of nowhere, you haven't eaten anything in almost 13 hours, maybe that's the actual reason why you are that moody.

He doesn't answer right away, takes his time to look at you, what makes you blush, he's really close, closer than he's ever been. Does he smell like green apples? Not the actual apples, the artificial smell they had given to them.

—Get out of the car.—Oh no, is he arresting you? Is he finally taking revenge for every time you make fun of his Hawaiian-type shirts? You know you have too much karma accumulated and a cop making you pay for it when you don’t believe in their sense of justice is kinda poetic, and evil.

You don’t want to discuss with someone with a taser, gun, pepper spray, or who knows what else. So you take your bag, the key car, and get off defeated.

—My turn is almost over, I’ll take you to eat something, c’mon.—He walks back to his patrol and you stay still for a few seconds still processing his words, you must look totally devastated for him to offer that. How you see it you have two options, go with him and spend an awkward hour with a person you don’t like or risk getting a fine, Tim can pay it, it’s not a big deal but you don’t want to owe him even the minimal thing.

You get in the car holding on to your bag to feel calmer, this is the first time you’re fully alone with him since you found him half-naked in your kitchen. Those defined abs may never leave your brain.

—Are you cold?—He interrupts your thoughts with his question, you didn’t notice you were shaking. He looks for something under his seat and gives you an NYPD hoodie, you hold it doubting your next move, is not like you don’t appreciate the gesture but it’d be easier to take if it doesn’t get that words printed—Is clean.—He says chuckling when he sees the way you’re looking at it.

—Is not that, just, you know, fuck the police, defund the NYPD, demilitarize the pigs and that stuff.—You say putting on the hoodie anyway, is a cold night and you won't help the institution wearing their propaganda.

—Yeah, I get it, but you can't change the system just from within.—You decide is not the right moment to have a political conversation so you shrug your shoulders and discreetly smell the hoodie, a mix of cologne, green apples, and cheap soap, you know is cheap because you buy the exact same, do its job.

—I'm in the mood for pizza.—You say casually, making a deal to yourself to try to be his friend, he is a small part of your life anyway.—Domino's is open at this time of the night?

—Tell me you're not consuming that shit, dear Lord, you been here for how long, two years? I can't believe your idea of a good pizza is Domino's. Stella hasn't taught you anything?—You're surprised by the level of condescension with a pizza and you mirror his smile, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Your school program includes people from all around the world so you don't have that much experience with actual new yorkers. Logan is rich, so he doesn't really count.

—What's wrong with Domino's? I don't buy much street food, is cheaper to buy things on the food market. Besides, all pizza is good.—The mention of Sheep makes you a little tense, so you don't say anything about it, is not a conversation to have with him.

—Don't blaspheme in the patrol, I just washed it—You laugh, finally, after a terrible weekend. You can see why she likes him, there is something about his voice, smile, and his eyes that feel... calm, like watching Friends after a marathon of Lord of the Rings.—There are rules to survive this city, and I'm surprised you have made it this far without a proper guide.

—Chill out Mr. Miyagi, I'm not from the jungle, and I've learned a lot by myself.—He gives you a lopsided grin as a request, and you put your fingers up ready to enlist your acquired knowledge.—Walk fast, like you're about to be stabbed, something that actually happened to me, with an umbrella—He nods and laughs being related to it.—Number two, no small talk, no one cares, even if they ask. Number three, if you look a stranger in the eye, especially a homeless person, you have essentially invited them to approach you.

—Number four, we never eat from Domino's, Papa John's, Pizza hut, or any other chain restaurant, only trucks and local places are allowed.—You roll your eyes but you get the point, is just, again, you're not much into street food, it doesn't taste like home and the only way to eat food like that is preparing it yourself.

—Fine, fuck capitalism, let's support local places—You make an obvious fake enthusiastic tone but he nods proudly.—Number five, you don't need a car to live here, not even know how to drive. I would have successfully avoided this police brutality if I had followed that rule.

—For someone who is about to eat for free, you whine too much.—He parks the car and gives you a sign to go with him. You see him go to a pizza truck and order, you realize at the moment how ridiculous you look, so before chasing him you let your hair down, take your huge earrings off, and roll up the skirt of your dress until your mid-thighs letting the hoodie cover the rest, and clean the red lipstick with a Kleenex from your bag. Now you look more like a college person and not a rich girl who just got seized.

—Here you go.—He says giving you a slice as big as your head, looks oily and spreading cheese everywhere. Perfect.

—Is it vegan?—You ask receiving the food with an obnoxious face. His kind grind turned into a dread expression and you give him your second laugh of the day.—I'm kidding.

You are about to give it a bite when you see passing next to you a huge rat with the exact same slice as yours in its mouth, running into the dark of the night happy to have obtained the food for its family. They use to scare you when you just moved out but now they're like any other pigeon in the sky.

—Rule... whatever, a rat with a slice of pizza is a symbol for good luck, congratulations.—He pets your head awkwardly, not sure if you're ok with the physical contact, which, surprisingly, you are.

—I see rats with bagels all the time.—Pizza and bagels, that's the main culinary wonders of the city, you like it, not much to object but is hard not to compare it with your home's food.

—Is easy to confuse a rough diamond with a simple rock.—You both eat in silence, enjoying the mixed sounds of the city and all the different smells, the whole situation feels like one of those lofi music videos. You remember thinking about moments like this before getting the scholarship, what would it be like to feel normal in the city of your dreams.

—How do you know that much about movies?—He asks after a few minutes when you take a break to drink something, that pizza is not easy to take.

—When I was a kid a spent much time on my own, so my dad bought me a used DVD reproducer, and at the corner of my neighborhood was this movie store where you could buy 5 pirate movies for one dollar. They were blurred, with a terrible sound, and most of the time with the wrong movie inside but they helped me to not feel lonely. Eventually, the store closed but I've watched everything in it by then—He gives you a warm smile, you never told that story to anyone, not because is too intimate to share, but because no one asked, it doesn't sound like a question with a complex answer.—Anyway, I watched Marie Antoinette when I was like eight, and I decided at that moment that however is done I wanted to be part of that magic.

—You hear all kind of people chasing dreams in this city but is hard to find someone who actually deserves it.—You blush and you cover it with your hair but the smile on your voice is impossible to hide.

—Is that a compliment? You must really want me to like you to date Sheep.—You laugh but you can see his face tense, so you can guess your friend has been busy breaking everyone’s hearts.

—She hasn’t returned my calls in three days so I don’t think there’s much you can do—You nod, all this time you thought he was the reason she is ignoring you but apparently you are both in the same boat.—But yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking, what I should have said is, Marie Antoinette at eight? I can see where all the damage started.

You gasp and throw your napkin at his head, he easily catches it without even looking at it and laughs; that was unexpectedly attractive.

—Why a cop?—You ask, not sure where that question came from, maybe you authentically want to know more about him, he just bought you food, and honestly, that's the easiest way to win your trust.

—I wanted to be an actor when I was a child. This is the city of opportunities so you may think that if you want to chase the big wonder, this is the perfect place to do it. But I grow up surrounded by these people giving their entire lives to get something just given to one in a million so I decided is not worth it. For many years I wondered what I wanted to do with my life and the answer was really clear, my dad was a cop, a good one, or that’s what people say. I don’t remember much because he died when I was seven—Conversations about death are not your strength, everything can turn out uncomfortable if you choose the wrong words.—It might not be that glamorous but if my father died for it, it surely worth it.

—For the good ones.—You raise your almost empty can of Coke and he does the same with a grin that warms the cold weather of the night.

—For the good ones.

The next two hours passed like minutes talking about anything and everything. It just felt right to talk freely with him, you didn’t feel judged for your awkward family moments or your random thoughts, not even once because he told you his too. At some point of the night he borrowed you his gym sweatpants, any of you could just suggest going home but that was off the table, end that peace just for weather reasons would have been a tragedy.

—I read Timothée Chalamet is a dick. Is that true?—The mention of his name remains you of your life and everything that comes with it, including the middle semester project that you must dedicate your entire day, one that is about to start.—What, you can’t talk about it?

—He is a complete dick with no sense of privacy or human decency—And when he interrupts a deep kiss to look at your eyes, smile, and caress your chin, you feel like a character of his Victorian movies. But he didn’t ask that.—But the next week he’ll be no longer my problem.

—That’s why we have rule twenty-three, don’t ask for a picture of a celebrity unless they are local—You have heard about it before but you haven’t got the opportunity to decide if you like that rule because the only celebrities you have seen are from work and that club’s party opening.—That means you’ll be free to go to the Stephen Kings’ movie projection there will be for Halloween.

You don’t know if that was a proposition, a suggestion, or just a simple recommendation, and whatever it is, you noticed he was nervous to ask. Is it wrong? It feels wrong like you were betraying your friend accepting to hang out with his boyfriend without her consent. But he didn’t ask you to go with him so is safe to answer.

—Yeah, I guess—You get a moment, four seconds top, where you shared innocent, curious, and tenting gazes like three graders in the playground. And that’s the further you will allow yourself to go.—We better leave, if the sunlight touch me I’ll turn into dust.

You get off the car hood and go to the side door, but this time he opens it for you. You give him a “seriously?” Look, receiving a little push in your arm as a response.

↬☀︎︎

A distant voice asks you to wake up, softly whispers that turn into caresses on your cheek, your eyes feel so heavy, even when you are well aware of your environment your eyelids keep closed.

—Good morning, Princess—This is the first time Tom calls you that way, the change from silly nicknames to Princess is enough to get you out of hibernation. He is squatting beside your bed, his smile is the promise of a better day, and chasing that idea you give him one small back.—Your mom has been texting me desperately all day, she said you're not answering her calls and is worried.

—Fuck, my phone broke last night, can I call her from yours?—That’s an oversimplification but in the search for a better story, that's what you decide to believe and tell. Tom nods and gives it to you, he looks happy, beyond that, this is the first time you see that subtle blush on his cheeks and the eyes sparkling. You sit on the bed next to his body looking for your mom's number, slowly he moves between your legs, you have shorts and an oversized Back To The Future t-shirt, you got took the time to prepare yourself to bed last night and keep Michael’s clothes inside your closet to wash them, like The Tell-Tale Heart, a little innocent secret who feels dirty somehow

The conversations with your mom are always long, nostalgic and the tears are hard to hold for both parts; after a long life sharing almost every day with her, her absence never feels smaller. But this time is different, Tom is exploring the bare skin under your knee with his warm hands, asking for permission with curious eyes, and when you don’t object to the touch the British boy keeps his exploring mission cautiously, giving special attention to see your eyes in case something change. Is time to hang up when he gives a long and loving kiss to your knee, the less erotic kiss you could think of but so intimate to bristle your skin.

—Not nice to touch someone's daughter when is talking to her mom.—The protest of your voice loses strength at every word, he heard that and just straight his back to reach your face, the gap is almost extinct.

—We're okay, she likes me.—He assures holding your hips and pulling you a bit to him. Tom looks very comfortable with the new closeness authorization, you like it but are not very sure about it yet, most of you still think of him as your best friend.

—Did she tell you that? Are you talking with my mom behind my back?—You laugh when he does, almost like nothing changed.

—She adores me, I swear, I'm invited to Christmas, you know?—You're not surprised, she invites everyone, Logan was too but the first time he got family plans and didn't make it to the second.

—You should go, maybe we can do...—His lips touch yours in a peak at the middle phrase and makes you forget what you were about to say.—Man, the audacity to interrupt...—Then he kisses you again, deeply, using his tongue to taste your inner lip and his hands holding your shirt in fists. That's a twist of events.

—Is that ok?—You hear a weak whisper coming out of his voice but you got so mesmerized on his lips that decided to ignore it and kiss him back instead. He responds to your touch and starts to lean over you to make you lay on the bed.

Jesucristo bendito, is this happening? like, actually happening? you must look like trash, you barely took all the makeup from the night before and didn't take a shower, you start to get so worried about smells, feelings, and what that'll mean to your already too much-spoiled friendship.

However, the time of doubts is done when Sheep starts yelling in the living room, you both reacted running to the sound and looking for your blonde friend. Michael is there but doesn't look like the same as a few hours ago, is annoyed and tired for the lack of sleep, a look that doesn't match him at all.—What did you do?—You ask him fast assuming she's mad for something he did.

—Just in time, the star of the movie, I was wondering how much it will take you to be the protagonist of this.—That is Sheep's voice talking about you and what must be your heart breaking from her words.

—Excuse me?—You wish your tone would be less savage but you can't help respond the same way she did.

—Logan wasn't enough, then you got the drummer, fucking Timothée Chalamet, Tom and now my boyfriend. I'm so glad I didn't leave you alone with my dad or I'd be calling you mom now.—You have no words to that, Michael doesn't even dare to look at you, he must have told her something she misunderstood, but Sheep, or well, Stella is saying things she actually thinks and keep to herself. Tom walks in front of you whispering things to her to calm her down but she is not looking at him, you didn't tell her anything about Tom either so he's taking responsibility this time.—Go ahead and fuck the whole city, Michael if that please you but you're crossing the line with Tom and you know that, you're going to ruin him as you ruin every man that enters in your life.—She has a very you moment having the last word of the dispute and getting out of the apartment with Michael going after her but not putting much effort in it.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Taglist:

@eridanuswave @cjand10 @deluxeplanteater @rorodendra @navs-bhat @coxxxxxpi @leviosatothestars

Thanks for all the love and support, if you have opinions, suggestions, or want to be part of the tag list (Or don’t want to be part anymore) let me know, I appreciate every message.

#ben hardy imagine #michael b jordan fc #tom holland x reader #timothee chalamet fanfiction #pedro pascal #logan lerman fc #definitely maybe #fluff #angst #timothee chalamet #Tom Holland #Ben Hardy

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trixree · 3 years ago

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STORY TIME! TW: discussion of assault.

So today I'm spending some time with my family because it's my mom's birthday, right? Well I suffer from chronic migraines and had been fighting an episode since the very moment I woke up today. Right as I'm getting ready to leave my parents' house, it gets so bad that I can't stand up anymore. Luckily, my mom is also a migraine sufferer and had medication on hand that I could take. I also live in a state where marijuana is legal (I'm 21+) and my mom offered to stop by a dispensary and pick me up some stuff for my debilitating nausea because I don't carry cash on me.

Well, I'm lazy as fuck and my drivers license has been expired for like 5mo now, so I just went into the lobby with my mom & explained what I wanted before going back outside. I left the store at the same time as a random man. As we walk through the door, he says to me and says under his breath, "mask-wearing c*nt."

I live in a very conservative state. I'm severely immunocompromised. I was wearing two N95s and Mr. "My Wife Took my Hairline in the Divorce" took offense to that. He clearly was not expecting the 5'1" twig-ass shaved head in the Ewok tee shirt to round on him and shout at the top of my lungs in a very busy parkinglot, "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?"

He repeats himself, walking towards his car, and spits in my direction. I flipped him off and invited him to "suck my fucking cock." Now, my dad is in the car, and he's like, "What the fuck did that guy say to you?" And I say, "well father, Unironic Bolo Tie kindly informed me I was a 'mask wearing c*nt'." My dad tried to follow the guy, asking him what the fuck his problem was (dude didn't respond, of course, because he'd clearly only cursed at me in the first place because he assumed I would just take it)

And I'm writing all of this to tell you that I was fucking scared. I was shaking. I could hear my own heartbeat. And all that I could think, literally my only thought in that moment? I was so fucking grateful that he hadn't touched me.

Before I transitioned, I had very long blonde hair. I went to a Catholic school with a uniform: skirts and polo shirts with tall socks. Needless to say, I've been groped in public. The first time a man I didn't know grabbed my ass, I was 14. And I didn't say a goddamn thing. You don't say anything because you don't know how, because you convince yourself that surely it had to have been a mistake-- surely it was all in your head, right? And even if you know in your heart that it wasn't, even when you know that you were just sexually assaulted, you don't say anything. I never did.

Today, I was just as afraid as I'd always been. I was baffled too, because I was dressed very masc. I have a shaved head. I was in a men's shirt and my partner's jeans with my keys clipped to my belt. I hadn't even said a single word to this man. And he called me a c*nt. He said it so casually, too. Said it again, louder, when I asked him what he'd said to me. Spat on the ground. And I was shaking. I was fucking trembling like a wet chihuahua and I told him to suck my cock.

My mom didn't see any of this and when my dad & I told her what had happened while she was inside, she was horrified. But she told me she was proud of me for fighting back.

I just feel gross. It didn't feel empowering to shout back, to curse back at him. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I did. I'm glad I didn't just let him walk away, I'm glad I didn't just take it! But I'm still scared, hours later. I keep remembering the moment I processed what he said to me and my skin crawls. I was so close to him; we walked out the door at the same time. He could have touched me at any moment. Hit me, groped me, pushed me. I remember this, and I think I'm going to throw up.

No matter how femme or masc you are, no matter how bravely you tell someone 3 decades your senior to fuck off, no matter who is with you or how comically absurd your assaulter is, it never stops being terrifying. This is what misogyny is. This is what it is to move through a sexist world. Men who haven't gotten any pussy in 20+ years will feel entitled to say whatever the fuck they want to you just because you happen to have one. You know what? Every employee in that dispensary was wearing a mask. I was only special in that this man felt empowered to belittle me in particular. And that, my friends, is the world we live in.

#trixree speaks #my posts #story time #TW: assault #covid 19 #i had a really shitty day. and im still really shaken. but i needed to share.#you never stop being afraid of what men want to do to you.#long post

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superbadassnatural · 4 years ago

Text

Mirth Motel

Summary: Y/N desperately needs her beauty sleep. After lots of begging and attempts at the perfect puppy-dog-eyes, she finally convinces Dean to stop at a motel. Square filled: only one bed Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 2,188 Warnings: mostly fluff I guess, some funny bits, flirting, lots of eye rolls A/N: Surprisingly, I had never written this trope before! I’m not gonna lie, I had fun writing it. This fills my square for @spndeanbingo.

(x)

“Please,” you pouted, batting your eyelashes. Dean averted his eyes from the road to look at you. “Pretty please.”

“I'm gonna kill Sam for teaching the puppy-dog-eye thing,” he rolled his eyes.

“Is it working? Who does it better?” you wiggled your eyebrows excitedly.

“Sam’s been doing this his whole life; he had years of practice. Of course, he does it better,” he pointed out. “Sam looks like a kicked golden retriever puppy, and you-” he chuckled. “- you look like an angry chihuahua pretending to be sad, so you can go to the dog park and scare all the dogs away.”

“I've always wanted to be a chihuahua.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know,” it was your time to roll your eyes. “C’mon, Dean, there's a motel in a few miles. We can crash there. I'm tired. I desperately need my beauty sleep and my feet hurt and I need out of these uncomfortable clothes.”

“Well, my head hurts from hearing you ramble, but I'm not complaining, am I?” he glanced at you, pursing his lips.

“It's late and it's raining. Do you really want to put Baby through this rain? I bet she's cold.”

“Nah, she likes it when it rains. She thinks it's romantic,” his lips pulled up into an asymmetric grin. “If you want to, you can go into the backseat, change into your pjs and get some of your beauty sleep. I promise I won't look while you change. Unless you ask me to.”

“Dean, c’mon.”

“If I pull up at the motel and we crash there for the night, will you stop whining?”

“I'll never whine again for the rest of my life. Cross my heart.”

“Hey, careful there.”

“Please,” you batted your eyelashes. “Do it for me. I know that, deep down in that cold heart of yours, you love me.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “You won.”

“Have I mentioned you are the bestest friend in the world?” you grinned.

“Nope.”

“Well, you are the bestest friend in the world.”

Dean drove for a few more miles. The rain cracked on the hood of the Impala. The sound was relaxing and lulling. The neon sign greeted you, and Dean turned left to head into the parking lot.

“Really? Mirth Motel? What kind of name is that?” he grunted.

“I don’t know, Dean,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “At this point, I couldn't care less about the name of the motel. As long as it has beds and a shower, it's fine by me.”

Dean took a few turns in the parking lot, struggling to find a spot he could park his car.

“Oh for fucks sake, everyone decided to stay here tonight?”

“Stop complaining,” you nearly whined.

“There isn't a single spot where I can park Baby. There better be a room available for us.”

“Stop being so grumpy. There's a space available right there.”

“Where?”

“There!”

“Thanks,” he huffed.

“You're welcome,” you pouted.

Dean parked the car, cutting off the engine. He sighed and glanced at you.

“We’re far away from the entry,” he pointed out. “There's no way to get inside without getting ourselves wet.”

“Fine by me,” you shrugged. “As long as I get to take a shower as soon as I step foot in there, it's okay.”

“Okay.”

You and Dean climbed out of the car quickly with duffle bags over your shoulders. You made a beeline to the entrance of the building, the rain mercilessly pouring down on you. Dean immediately went to the front desk, some of his wet hair stuck to his forehead. You took a few steps back, grabbing your phone and deciding to text Sam to let him know you had made a stop at a motel.

“Two queens, please,” Dean smiled at the old lady behind the counter. She nodded and checked on the system.

“I’m sorry, dear, we don’t have any room available with two queen-sized beds,” she offered him a sympathetic smile. “But we do have a room that will settle you for the night just fine.”

“Okay,” Dean frowned as the woman handed him the keys with a smirk. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome, dear. It's on the second floor. Have fun,” she wiggled her eyebrows.

Dean turned to you with wide eyes. You glanced up from your phone.

“All good?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Got it.”

“Great. Shall we?”

Dean gave a short nod and led the way.

“Dude, we’ve been to a lot of crappy motels, but this one takes the cake,” he mumbled as you climbed up the stairs. “Why the hell couldn’t I just park the car and get in a room like every other motel?”

“I don’t know, Dean, but complaining won’t make any difference,” you chided. “And we’re gonna stay here for less than twelve hours. We’re gonna be on the road first thing in the morning, so please, just stop complaining, or I’ll smack your head in the wall.”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes.

Dean twisted the key in the lock, swinging the door open. He stepped inside, flicking on the lights; you followed suit. Dean sighed and threw his head back with a roll of his eyes. You frowned with a tilt of your head before looking over his shoulder.

“Of course there’s only one bed,” you blew out a breath. “Are we in a movie? ‘Cause now it certainly feels like we’re in a movie.”

Dean placed his bag on the table; you did the same.

“I expected more from a place called Mirth Motel,” he said. “I am certainly feeling mirthless.”

“Very funny, Dean,” you rolled your eyes. “Look, I’m gonna take a shower now, and when I get out, you better not be in a sour mood.”

“Whatever. I’m gonna go get us some burgers. Call me if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

Grabbing the keys, Dean walked out of the room. You picked up everything you needed and headed to the shower. The water pressure wasn’t nearly as good as the one you had in the bunker, but, right now, it was everything you needed.

By the time Dean got back, you were laying on the right side of the bed - knowing he’d rather sleep on the right -, reading your book. He held the paper bag in one hand and two beers in the other.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” he said, placing the food on the table. “The burgers are still warm, but I think the beers might need to go in the fridge for a bit.”

“Want me to wait for you?”

“Nah, there’s no need to.”

“Okay, I’m waiting for you,” you said, and he chuckled. “What? There’s no fun in eating alone.”

“It’s gonna get cold.”

“We microwave it.”

“Right,” he smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

“Hmm, this delicious,” you nearly moaned, mouthful.

“Yeah, it is,” Dean smiled as he finished his burger, taking a long swig of his beer. “Look, if you want to, I can sleep in the backseat of Baby. I don’t mind. She’s comfy.”

“No, Dean, it’s okay,” you assured him, hand reaching out to his thick forearm. “The bed is big enough for both of us. It’s a king-sized bed, after all. We’d be in trouble if Sam had come with us.”

“Yeah, we would,” he chuckled. “He hogs all the blankets.”

“And all the space. That giant.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“One-hundred percent sure,” you smiled. “Unless you are the one who doesn’t want to sleep with me.”

“Huh? I- uh- of course, I wanna sleep with you,” he stumbled over his words, his voice trembling. You blurt out laughing. “No. I mean- I don’t mind sleeping with you on the same bed. Clothed and all. Not, uh, the other kind of sleeping with you. Like naked and, uh- yeah, not that.”

“Easy, tiger. No need to get all flustered,” you chuckled. The point of his ears turned pink as his cheeks blushed. He took a long gulp of his beer. “For the record, I wouldn’t mind sleeping with you. I mean, the other kind of sleeping with you. Like naked and all. I wouldn’t mind in the slightest.”

His wide green eyes lifted at you before averting your face again. Dean cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.

“Would you?” you asked.

“Would I what?”

“Mind sleeping with me butt-naked.”

“Oh. No, of course not,” he stammered, shaking his head nervously. “Not even a bit.”

“Good,” you nodded. “It’s good to know we’re on the same page.”

“Yeah. Yeah, uh- I’m gonna go to sleep then,” he announced, awkwardly standing to his feet. “I’m tired.”

“Okay, you do that. I’ll be right after you.”

“Okay, good. Great.”

Dean locked himself in the bathroom, doing who knows what. You chuckled to yourself with a shake of your head. You loved making him feel embarrassed. Dean would get all cute whenever he felt uncomfortable. His eyes would widen, and he would lose every ability to talk. When his cheeks turned into a bright pink along with the tip of his ears, then everything was chaotic. It was nice to make him blush.

You laid on your back. The mattress wasn’t that comfortable. You didn’t expect it to be memory foam, but you hoped it would be a little comfier than it actually was. Your eyes were glued on the ceiling, your hands over your stomach as your finger tapped the back of your right one. An awkward silence filled the atmosphere as Dean, too, laid on his back without saying a word. His green eyes stared up as he chewed on his lip.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you said quietly, glancing at him.

“The ceiling is moving.”

“What?” you looked up with wide eyes. The ceiling was perfectly still.“Are you high?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure I've been staring at it for too long, and now it’s moving.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Thanks, you too,” Dean turned on his side, glancing at you. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that shirt.”

“My shirt?” you bit your lip to keep yourself from bursting into laughter.

“No, my shirt. You stole it.”

“You don’t remember, do you? You gave it to me as a birthday present.”

“It isn’t your birthday for the next month and a half.”

“You said it was an early gift,” you said firmly.

“I’m pretty sure I’d remember if I had given it to you,” he said. “But what do I know, right?”

“What do you know,” you licked your lips, turning to him.

“It looks better on you anyway,” he shrugged.

“Yeah, it does.”

Dean’s gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a moment, then backed up to your eyes. You drew a sharp intake of breath. His emerald green orbs seemed to unravel all the mysteries of your soul. You swallowed thick, avoiding his gaze. Slowly, Dean’s hand reached to yours under the blankets, his thumb caressed your skin. You looked up at him, his eyes locked in yours. As a way to avoid the growing tension between the two of you, you gave him a playful smirk and placed your feet on his legs.

“Fuck,” he hissed, pulling away; his hand didn’t let go, though. “Why are your feet so cold?”

“I don’t know,” you smiled innocently “You’re always hot, so now you’re gonna warm my feet since the blanket isn’t doing its job.”

“Jesus, it’s like the feet of a corpse.”

“Hey!” you smacked his shoulder. “Don’t say that.”

“Well, maybe if you wore some pants instead of shorts and actually put on some socks, your feet wouldn't be this cold.”

“You’re not fun, ” you pouted.

“If I had my feet against your shins, you wouldn't be too happy about it either.”

“Just admit you love having me this close to you,” you teased, a playful smirk on your lips.

“G’night, Y/N,” he turned his back on you.

“My feet are still cold,” you whined. “What should I do?”

“I don’t know. Use my calves maybe. Just don’t put those dead feet on my back.”

“Can I put them on your ass? I bet it would get them warm pretty quick.”

“Good night, Y/N,” he mumbled, you could almost hear his eyes rolling.

“Is that a yes or a no?” you insisted.

“That’s a no. Now shut it and go to sleep.”

“Fine,” you huffed. “Good night, Dean.”

Eventually, your feet got warm, and you pulled away from Dean. Some time, in the middle of the night, he found your back turned to him and decided to snuggle closer. His strong arm draped over your waist, knees tucked behind yours. Dean was laying on his back when the sun rose, and you rested your head on his chest, his arms once again securing you close. Of course, none of you would talk about waking up in each other's arms for the next four hours you’d be in the car. Perhaps you would only mention it once you were back at the bunker, forced to face what was said and done at the Mirth Motel.

What do you think of this one? Consider sharing your thoughts with me via reply, reblog, or ask!

Hunters: @hobby27 @thewinchesterandreidwhore @tatted-trina6 @doozywoozy @mogaruke @babypink224221 @leah-winchester

Dean’s Sweethearts: @maya-craziness @akshi8278 @miss-here-to-stay @witch-of-letters @weepingwillowphoenix @danneelsmain @mrspeacem1nusone @percywinchester27

#spndeanbingo #supernarural #dean winchester #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #deanreader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean winchester fanfiction

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darthnell · 11 months ago

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Hii dude!! Apologies for taking so long to respond, and thank you as always for your words ahhh ♥️🥺

LOL im glad u like my sentences :D they just. Emerge. And crush my heart too ;-;

The setting of this chap is so important to me ;-;

THE PROMISE SCAR IS ALSO RLY IMPORTANT TO ME.. ive had this last chap set in the brain for the majority of the story but the promise scar part 2 was a later development and when i cane up with it i was like ohhhh. I need to sit down ;-;

HA yeah Percy’s dad. Sucks 😭 the only few times hes shown up in the fic is to ruin semi-private gatherings and then proceed to get kicked out of said semi-private gatherings.. haha.. vens dad gave percy additional daddy issues but ven is also gonna give percys dad additional child issues LMAO.

Aha yes i Do love imagery.. it had to be just a little bit nasty, i cant resist making things gross apparently LOL.

The last few lines are also rly special to me ive had them down for a While as well ;-; (i think it was pretty helpful overall to have this very last scene and last lines already plotted out to look forward to when i was in the earlier stages). “Trembling like a chihuahua with barely contained emotion” WAHAHAHA I CAN VISUALIZE THAT RLY WELL FKFKDK..

WAAH IM SORRY I MADE YOU CRY IN THE BATHROOM OUPS 😭😭😭 if it helps, i cant listen to that song when im driving bc then i will start crying as well and thats Unsafe 💀

Ofc re: shoutout ! I had a lot of ppl to thank ;-; and ur enthusiasm for the story is so so appreciated always 🥹♥️

Statistics<3 i am a nerd about so many things this is how i show it didkdkd.. the end and the beginning yeah (‘: they rhyme… (for better or for worse). Worse as in. Venatrix and co have a Long way to go before trying to break free of this cycle. When the victims of a tragedy perpetrate the same violence that was enacted against them.. clenches fist..

Playlist !! :D id been keeping it secret because. The way i listen to music is extremely literal so i consider a lot of those songs spoiler-y

Yeahh ofc charcoal is ok 🥺 hes just a little guy!!

Hehe yes epilogue fic + april surprise… i have Many plans >:D (seriously though u should see my planning docs its kinda ridiculous)

Bro i cant believe its finished either, its still so unreal to me ;-; WAAH U WANNA PRINT IT.. ;__; …though like. Same NDJDJD.. im highkey planning to get into bookbinding simply so i can Make myself a copy of this thang. No idea how long thats gonna take but idk maybe i can try to post updates abt that on tumblr? That would be neat :0 …i still gotta format my docs correctly for it (and also. Since i am 100% going to be So extra about this im gonna have to design the chapter art and cover art and pick fonts and—)

Ohh man you are so sweet my dude 🥺🥺🥺🥹♥️♥️♥️ it’s really incredible to know that I can have such an impact on someone out in the void through just my writing, like honestly insane ;-; i really do love every comment you’ve left and hold them close to my heart, and your fanarts too WAAUGH 🥺🥺 really so awesome dude ♥️♥️♥️✨✨ thank YOU so much 🫶🫶

“Good luck with the trauma” HAHA she’ll need it for sure, poor thing 😭🫶 bye for now venny ♥️ (opens my epilogue doc to see her again >:D ) Thank you again friend !!!

Chapter 70: Pyrrhic Ashes

But if I can't let go Will you carry me home? Can we celebrate the end? I'm asking for a friend.

#venatrix #true vengeance 151 #hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #nell clownery here #the hunger games #hunger games oc #hunger games fanfic #venatrix pyke

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quokkacore · 4 years ago

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everywhere at the end of time | z.cl

summary: in his old age, chenle can’t remember any of it anymore. but you do. you do, and it burns.

pairing: zhong chenle x fem!reader

genre: ANGST, fluff, slice of life, parents au

warnings: dementia, themes of grief, depression, language, suggestive content, period typical sexism, mentions of domestic abuse (not from chenle!), traditional gender roles, body image, kind of implied postpartum depression

word count: 3.8k

a/n: this was inspired by the caretaker’s everywhere at the end of time, a compilation of albums meant to simulate memory loss from dementia when listened to in one sitting. i listened to half of it yesterday, and it was so haunting i needed to write about it. if you decide to listen to it, please be careful. several analyses i’ve seen about it talk about how it can be very emotionally distressing. i personally didn’t feel too upset by it, but be aware.

There was a boy who smiled at you once, from across a dance hall. Long, long ago. His grin, boyish and playful, made your face heat up and your body turn to giggle to your friends. And then, suddenly, he was walking over to you, and reaching out his hand to you. He didn’t seem nervous at all. He looked like he had not a care in the world, as if life were a calm ocean with soft winds and he were a sailboat.

“My name’s Chenle,” He’d said, speaking loudly over the music, “Wanna dance?”

Swing was the thing back then. You barely had time to tell him your name before he pulled you onto the dancefloor and spun you around like there was no tomorrow. You were quite literally swept off of your feet, flying across the hardwood floor as the two of you laughed and danced. When the song was over, you were out of breath. You weren’t quite sure if it was because of how hard you’d danced or because he managed to steal your breath and your heart within a matter of minutes.

Up until then, you were damn sure that love at first sight was impossible. But you were suddenly very sure that love at first dance existed. You’d tell that story for years to come. How you danced a few more songs, how he took you to the side and you spent the next hour or so talking. How your girls tried to tug you away, saying that it was getting late, but you simply didn’t want to leave. You were hooked on him, and he was hooked on you. He begged to see you again, and you very quickly found a napkin and a pen to scratch down your home phone number on.

You said you’d wait for his call, and had left with a lovestruck look on your face. The entire way home, the girls didn’t let you hear the end of it. That he seemed sweet, he was quite the dancer, and my, was he handsome. You probably looked like a fool, mind turning to mush at how gentle his hands were on his waist, how contagious his laugh was, how tentatively he’d listened to you speak.

Once. Long, long ago. It’s all just a burning memory, now.

There was a boy who kissed you, once. It’d been a few months after you’d met. He’d been careful, and you’d bided your time. When he called for the first time, he was very respectful when your father had picked up. The two of you spoke for however long your parents allowed it, talking about anything, everything.

Childhood stories of how he got the scars on his knees. Times you’d gotten into trouble at school. How you were both turning 18, and how adult responsibilities were starting to set in. How Chenle was set to inherit his father’s business and he was terrified of failure. How you desperately wanted to study but your parents wouldn’t let you, because men don’t like it when girls are smarter, and how would you have time to find a husband if you had your nose stuck in books all day long?

Desperately, you both needed a break. Your parents let him take you out because he was a Zhong, and the Zhongs had money, and because he seemed quite taken by you. That was exactly what they wanted.

Chenle was a gentleman first and foremost when he stepped into your home. He spoke with your father about politics while he waited for you to finish getting ready, complimented your mother, and opened the front door for you as you were leaving, promising to have you back by ten o’clock.

One date turned to two, two to three. On the fifth date, when he took you on a walk in the park, he took you to the gazebo to sit on a bench in it. The birds were chirping, and you felt content, despite the dull ache in your feet because of your heels.

Chenle looked down, before meeting your gaze. “I wanted to ask you something,” He murmured. You tilted your head to the side, uncrossing your legs.

“What is it?”

He took your hand in his, leaning closer. “I really like you,” He admitted, “And I wanna be with you. You’re sweet, and fun, and you’re so beautiful. I think about you all damn day, and I think I’d die without you here.”

He smiled fondly, those dimples making an appearance once again. “Be my girl, maybe?”

Your heart did a backflip, and your yes had tumbled from your lips before you could even really think about it.

And then finally, on your seventh date, when he’d taken you to a bookstore and bought you a book about the Amazon rainforest, he kissed you in his car. He tasted like mint and his lips were hard against yours, but not forceful. Like he’d been waiting eons to kiss you and now he simply couldn’t hold himself back anymore. His hands held your face the entire time.

When you pulled away, you no longer saw a boy in front of you. You saw a young man in his place, watching you with reverence and desire.

“I’ve been waiting to do that ever since I first laid eyes on you,” Chenle whispered.

“Well then, don’t just sit there,” You answered, nuzzling your face into his hands, “Kiss me again.”

Kiss you he did. The memory feels like a dream, a sweet one at that. A bit fuzzy but you can recall the softness of his hands if you think about it hard enough.

It’s a memory. Sixty something years later, at least you still have it.

There was a man who teared up at the sight of you in white, once.

He asked you to marry him a year and a half later. Your parents loved him, because he was kind and respectful and rich. His parents tolerated you, because you didn’t talk back too much and your family was respectable enough. Of course you accepted. Who cared about what your parents thought? You adored this man, with his high pitched laugh and his cheeky words. He worshipped the ground you walked on, with your caring attitude and your loving smile.

You were shaking the whole time, trembling like a wet chihuahua on a winter day as your father walked you down the aisle. You watched as his best man, Jisung, whispered something to him, and he nodded, blinking furiously. He looked awestruck, mouth agape and eyes glossy.

When your father left you at the front of the altar with Chenle, your lover squeezed your hand. “I love you so much,” He whispered to you, just before the ceremony could officially begin.

For the first time ever, you saw Zhong Chenle get nervous. His voice was shaking slightly, and you could make out a single drop of sweat on his forehead. You squeezed his hand reassuringly, unable to say anything back as the officiant began the ceremony. He knew what you meant.

Your vows were the traditional cookie cutter vows, the good old fashioned “I do”s. You didn’t care. You knew you’d whisper your own vows to him later tonight. You knew he would do the same.

After that, you danced the night away. Drunk on champagne and love for each other, you could barely remember the party. Jisung gave a lovely speech. You knew that the band played the song you’d first danced to on that one fateful night. Your girls danced with his boys, and he pressed kisses to your cheeks and the top of your head.

You remembered what came after better, after everyone went home. Chenle stole you away to the honeymoon suite to peel your dress off, take off your veil and press kisses onto your hips, and whisper promises of everlasting love against your neck.

That’s all gone now. Even though it’s gone, you’re glad. Because years later, you remember. You look at the faded photographs in the scrapbooks and remember the moment they were taken. They’re all you have now. Because even though Chenle is still in your home, he isn’t Chenle.

There was a man who had taken care of you, once. You’d had your doubts about love, about married life. All of them stemmed from your parents’ marriage. Late night arguments, slamming doors, hands laid on your mother that left her reaching for foundation to hide the bruises during the day. Chenle was there to cast most of them to the side.

Most of them, because no matter how much you love each other, marriage is never a walk in the park. You tried to study. Chenle was paying for your education, much to his parents’ disapproval. Three years into your marriage, and two years into your studies, you got pregnant. Chenle was ecstatic. You, not so much.

It was hard for you. Your body changed, it became hard for you to concentrate. You ended up dropping out because it was simply too much for your mind to handle.

A few months later and you were recovering, trying to adjust to not getting any sleep and having to take care of a tiny human and the house all day while Chenle was off at work. And he doesn’t just want one, he wants two more.

“God, Lele, at least wait until Jiali can sleep on her own,” You huffed, trying not to be too loud. You had finally managed to get your daughter to sleep after a particularly fussy day, and if she woke up now, you were pretty sure you’d start crying too.

“But why not?” He asked, sitting down. “Don’t you want to give Jiali brothers and sisters to grow up with?”

“I do,” You answered, trying to ignore the throbbing in your head. “But I’m too tired to handle another pregnancy right now. It’s way too much, Chenle.”

Chenle sighed, resting his face on his chin. “It can’t be that hard—”

“Are you joking?” You snapped, standing up, “I’m awake in the morning to make you breakfast and feed Jiali. Once you’re off, I have to make the bed, change her diapers, clean the floors and the bathroom. I have to make sure Jiali isn’t getting into trouble and figure out why she’s crying—and she cries so much, Chenle! I haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep since before she was born. I barely have time to take care of myself, much less another baby. I make breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and tend to the garden, and bathe her when she gets dirty, and—”

“Y/N, I think you should—”

“I can’t handle another baby!” You cried, “I can’t, I won’t!”

A high pitched wail rang from the nursery, and all the fight you had in you drained instantly. You hadn’t realized how loud you were being.

“I’ll be right back,” You murmured, voice breaking. Before you could walk towards the nursery, a gentle hand on your wrist pulled you back. Chenle’s gaze had softened, cupping your cheek and wiping at a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen.

“No, I’ll go,” He said quietly. “You go clean yourself up. Take a nap, I’ll make sure she gets back to sleep."

You didn't have it in you to argue.

About an hour later, he stepped into the bedroom, where you were curled up on the bed. You weren't asleep. He sat down on the other side of the bed, caressing your arm.

"I'm sorry," He whispered, bowing his head. "I wasn't thinking straight. I just got so excited at the thought of us finally having a family, I forgot to think about how you were doing. If you don't want anymore kids—"

"Lele," You murmured, "Of course I want to keep building our family. But I need time. I'm always so tired now. Let's wait until Jiali is off to school and then try for another one. I'm begging you."

He leaned over you, and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "Whatever works best for you," He answered.

You kept your promise. Once Jiali was off to preschool, you got pregnant a few months later. By the beginning of next year, you had a baby boy—Yanlin.

This time, Chenle was more mindful of your wellbeing. He came home from work earlier, helped out around the house, told you to go out with the girls every now and then.

Over the years, you had one last child, a girl named Mei. The kids were more than a few handfuls, but the two of you managed.

Things were by no means easy. There were nights when Chenle decided to sleep on the couch because of a disagreement that had grown into something bigger. Insecurities about your body that grew into jealousy of his secretary, who was younger, more beautiful. Issues with the in laws as the both of you had problems setting solid boundaries.

But at the end of the day, he was your everything. This life you'd built for yourself made it all worth fighting for. You saw it when he tossed Mei up into the air, catching her as she giggled, "Again, daddy, do it again!"

Or when he talked to Jiali about the family business, how if she wanted, he'd teach her everything. When he helped Yanlin get back to sleep after he'd had a nightmare, singing him to sleep with that soft, gentle voice of his. When he looked at you from across the dinner table, years of domesticity and love growing into all of this.

Chenle was your home, the father of your children, a pillar you leaned on when things got difficult. You were the same to him. No argument could take that away.

The kids grew up and went to college. Much to your father in law's dismay, Yanlin didn't care much about the family business, while Jiali did—he hated how Chenle encouraged them to do what they wanted instead of pushing the status quo.

Times were changing. More and more women went to college, and you wanted for your daughters what you yourself weren't allowed to have: a good education, a professional career.

Since time flies like birds migrating for the winter, soon all of the kids were grown up, and you and Chenle were left in an empty house. By then, the two of you had started to change, too. Gray hairs started sprouting from your heads. Your backs started to hurt with more frequency. Your faces were starting to sag.

And still, you loved each other. You found new things to do with this new freedom. You read more books, spent more time in the garden. Chenle started singing around the house more, something he didn't even realize he was doing.

When you turned fifty, Chenle took you on vacation to Malta, and Chenle decided to officially announce his retirement, handing the business to your oldest. From here on out, the two of you had time to simply do whatever you wished. Chenle had saved a lot of money over the years, allowing the two of you to live comfortably.

Your kids married, and had kids of their own, and the two of you spoiled as much as you could. You'd bake cookies with your grandkids and spend the holidays telling them stories of your youth. Their favorite story was how you met their grandfather, and you fluffed the story up to make them laugh.

"He was the handsomest man I'd ever seen," You told him, "Tall, sweet, funny, the best shincracker I'd ever danced with."

"What's a shincracker?" One of your grandkids asked. You blinked, before letting out a fake sob, raising your head up.

"I'm so old," You wailed, the kids giggling at your theatrics. When you looked down, you smiled. "In my day, that's what you called someone who danced very well."

The four of them ohhh-ed in unison, and someone in the kitchen doorway laughed. "So, I was the best shincracker you'd ever danced with, huh?"

"Honey, I've told you that a million times!"

He walked over to you, patting the heads of your grandkids as he passed them. "Your grandma looked so surprised when I asked her to dance," He said to the children, "But she was the prettiest dame there that night, I couldn't not dance with her."

"What's a dame?"

Chenle stared at you, eyes wide. He lowered his head. "God, we're old!"

Now, most of your grandkids have grown up, and barely have time to visit. But you have the photographs hung up on the wall, of past birthdays, holiday parties, of your wedding.

They work to help you remember. But now, Chenle can't even get out of bed to look at them.

There was an old man who'd broken down in front of you, once. He'd been having trouble remembering where things were, like his keys and his glasses. Initially, it didn't worry you, since you'd been having similar issues. You only started to worry when one night at dinner, you brought up the fact that Mei had called to ask the two of you to dinner next week. He'd looked confused, and stared at you like you were from outer space.

"Who's Mei?"

You scheduled a doctor's appointment the very next day. It took about two months for everything to reach the same conclusion: early dementia. Chenle had gotten very quiet as the doctor handed you some pamphlets on treatments and the different stages. The whole drive home, he said nothing.

It was only once you got home that he sat down on the bed and crumbled to pieces. You walked over to him, and caressed his hair when he pressed his face into your stomach.

"I don't want to forget," He sobbed, "I don't want to."

He tried to fight it. Once the family knew, everyone started visiting more frequently. In the beginning, he could remember your grandchildren's names. Jobs and school were a bit difficult but there were eleven of them—it was hard for you, too.

On the occasion he did forget someone, it frustrated him. He'd have to excuse himself from the table for a few minutes, and the energy in the dining room would change completely. Suddenly everyone was aware of the ticking clock, and your family was starting to crumble.

You wanted desperately to hold it together, to super glue it and force it back into place. But so many things were out of your control, on top of Chenle's diagnosis. Mei was going through a divorce. Your youngest grandson, Lijie, was having behavioral problems and Yanlin looked to you for advice.

Chenle tried to hold on. You watched your husband pore endlessly over the family photos, trying to place names to the faces. He remembered his parents. He started to ask you where they were. You didn't know how to tell them they'd passed over thirty years ago.

He wandered through the house like he was lost, and you knew he was trapped somewhere in his mind, everything disintegrating slowly around him. Sometimes he'd come up to you and give you a kiss.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," He murmured.

Some days were better than others. He would sing old songs from your youth, and try to dance with you in the kitchen. You both still remembered the steps but were too stiff and slow to do them properly.

Eventually, one of your grandkids came to live with you. Daiyu had studied to become a nurse, and now, Chenle needed around the clock care. It was simply too risky for him to be left alone. He'd try to go outside, saying that he was late for a meeting, or that Jeno—who had passed two years before his diagnosis—had invited him to his house to watch the game.

He forgot how to hold a spoon, how to walk properly. After four years, he became bedridden, speaking in slow, short sentences. You'd read to him after lunch, from books you'd acquired over the years. He seemed to enjoy one book the most: a battered old copy of a book about the Amazon rainforest.

You knew your Lele was in there somewhere. You could see it when Jiali and her husband came to visit, and he asked her about the secret handshake the two of them had even though he couldn't remember her name. When you reached for his hand, he would press a kiss to yours, unsure as to why he was doing it. And when you walked past the bedroom, sometimes you could hear him humming to himself—a lively, fast tempo song that a boy had once asked a girl to dance to, lifetimes ago.

There was a man named Zhong Chenle, once. He was good at dancing and a lovely singer, he was a loving father and husband. He's gone now. In his place is someone who has his face, but isn't really him. He can't remember how to speak. When you read to him, his lips move, but no sounds come out. His eyes drift across the room, looking for things he doesn't know the name of. His hands are gnarled and his fingers twitch, itching to do something, anything, but unsure of how to do it.

The last time you spoke to your Chenle had been three years prior.

"Do I know you?" He asked, voice small. You smiled at him, biting back tears. No matter how many times he asks you this question, it hurts every time. You'd learned to play along with it. Telling him the truth would only scare him, confuse him further.

"My name is Y/N," You told him, "I'm an old friend. We used to go out dancing together."

His eyes were void of anything until a second later, recognition pooled into them.

"Y/N," He sounded out slowly, "We should—we should go dance again someday."

"Someday," You agreed, nodding, "But now we have to wait until you're better."

"Until I'm better," He answered with a smile, dimples making your heart crack even further.

All he—and you—could do now was wait for the end. Truthfully, you've made peace with it. You'd be heartbroken to see him go but happy to see him finally rest. He started his decline seven years ago, and the past five have been spent like this. It's sad enough to see him in this way, to watch Daiyu try to feed him when he barely even remembers how to eat anymore. A shell of who he once was, a living ghost.

The family knew, old friends knew. That was all that mattered to you. That there had been a man named Zhong Chenle once, who wasn't scattered in the wind.

Once. Long, long ago. It's all just a burning memory, now.

#nct dream x reader #zhong chenle x reader #kwritersworldnet #nct angst #chenle angst #kpop angst #kpop au #nct au #nct dream angst #chenle x reader #nct scenarios #kpop scenarios #my writing

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sabraeal · 3 years ago

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Climb to the Rooftops

[Read on AO3]

Written for @another-miracle; a birthday fic that is COMING OUT ON TIME would you look at that (though I am definitely doing some fancy footwork to make it work out in both time zones 😂 Yixin asked for the Post-Rescue Tanbarun Tree Scene for WFB, and then I said, I could give you that, but what if I told you about a secret scene instead...

And then Yixin told me to write whichever one was Obi POV

He knows her.

That’s what keeps running through his head’s hamster wheel as he clomps up the student center steps. He knows her; he’s always known her. If he reached out on that park bench, if he’d grabbed her with both hands and just said, don’t leave me--

He would have been laid flat on his ass, courtesy of that mean right hook her dad taught her before he bounced. And there’d be another demerit on his record to boot, one more instance of anti-social behavior to make him even more unadoptable than he already was. Doc was always destined to go to a loving home, complete with cozy hideaways and towers of books, with warm firesides and even warmer grandparents, and he...

Well, he wasn’t meant for anything like that, no matter who he clung to. Sometimes shit just happens, and no wishing on stars thirteen years gone can change that.

It’s good to see her though. He’d always wondered what happened to his muppet girl, whether she’d gone off and had her happy ending just like she said she would. And now he knows she did.

He glances down at the peanut butter canister in his hand. Well, at least for a little while. That’s the thing about happy endings; they don’t really stick.

Obi hesitates, one foot poised over a step up, his hand wrapped around a ruddy safety rail. “Um, Doc.”

It takes her three steps to bounce to a stop, just enough to let her look down instead of up or across. He’s got double vision for a moment: Doc in the here and now looking at him with so much hope and anxiety that he’s half-afraid she’ll shake apart like a Hot Wheel in a blender; superimposed over the little girl in his memory, round face beaming up at him and her worries far behind her.

She’s got more freckles now, though most of them are hidden beneath her coat, fading without the direct application of summer sun. More inches too, though not as many as he’d given her in his head; for once he’d given more benefit of the doubt than nature could provide. And her hair-- well, that’s the same. Red. Fluffy. Muppety, too, if it’s the morning.

“Obi?”

He should really be paying attention to this conversation he fucking started, instead of just staring at her like a creep. “I just wanted to check in.”

“Oh.” She goes rosy under the freckles he can see, shifting the urn from her hands to her elbow. “I’m-- I’m fine. I’m glad that we could find--” one arm juts out, trying to encompass both them and the containers-- “everyone.”

“Yeah, I got you, but I meant...” He angles a pointed look over her shoulder. “Why are we going up?”

Doc’s jaw drops, and he sees it, the way panic crests right behind her eyes.

“Not that I’m suggesting we don’t.” He takes the next step slow, just enough to put them on equal standing. Except it doesn’t, it puts him a little above her; the beginning of really looking down. His heart flutters in the exact way it shouldn’t when he’s carrying human remains. “I’m just saying, if we’re going to carry geriatrics up a few flights, the elevator’s better for their hips.”

He expects her to laugh at that one, or maybe even roll her eyes, but instead Doc breaks out into a full-body Chihuahua tremble.

“Obi.” Her eyes are so big in her face they might swallow him whole. “We can’t take the elevator.”

“We...can’t?”

Her head jerks in the scarcest side-to-side. With one long, steeling breath, she informs him, “We��re going to do something a little illegal.”

His brows raise. “Illegal?”

The urn bobbles treacherously as her hands fly up between them. “Only a little!”

“You cashed in your favor with me,” he repeats slowly, savoring the thrill that zips through him with every syllable. “To do something illegal.”

Doc deflates with all the gravitas of a popped kiddie pool. “I’m sorry, I should have asked if that would be okay. Especially with, um...”

She’s far too polite to say, your presumed preexisting criminal record, Doc just hasn’t realized it yet. Not when she doesn’t know for sure whether it does exist or not. It’d be easy to help her along, but it’s kinda satisfying to watch her flounder, fishing for the pieces of him she does know.

“If it’s a problem,” she says finally, lifting her eyes to his. “You don’t have to--”

“The only problem is how hot that is, Doc.” He wraps a hand around the rail beside her, leaning in close enough that her eyes nearly cross watching him. “Are you gonna get into your old field hockey kit and punch a girl up there too?”

She blinks, heels clunking into the concrete rise. “I don’t think it would fit. The skirt would be too short, at least.”

Are you sure, he wants to say, stretching every last inch over her, but instead he rumbles, “Honey, you’re saying all the right things to me--”

“Hey.” A finger presses into his nose, hauling his words up short like a pileup. “No call list.”

“Ahh.” Her mouth twitches as he pulls back, rubbing at his nose. “Haah. You know I hate that.”

“Then stick to the list,” she informs him pleasantly. “Besides, are you really trying to flirt with a girl in front of her grandpa?”

“Well.” He holds up the tin, giving it an experimental shake. “You think they’d mind?”

There’s a quality to the silence in the stairwell that clues him in to the fact that he’s cocked up real good this time. First with the tomb joke, now asking if grandma might be watching from beyond the grave, objecting to his game. At least he knows he never had a chance; otherwise he’d have to go take his hopes out behind the woodshed--

“No,” she hums, confident. “They’d like you.”

It’s a good thing she doesn’t get it in her head to try the nose trick again; it’d push him right over. He can survive a lot, but four flights is pushing it. “Doc,” he huffs, scratching the bristle at the back of his head, “I don’t think--”

“Well...” She’s thoughtful when she puts her back to him, bouncing up the next couple of stairs. “Opa would. Oma would think you needed to be fattened up.”

He laughs, but even to his own ears it sounds busted up, wings broken. “Sounds like my kind of lady.”

“Ugh,” Doc sighs from one landing up. “She’d love that you said that.”

“That just makes her even more--”

“Don’t.”

RESTRICTED ACCESS, the doors says, bright red letters fading against the plastic sign. ALARM WILL SOUND.

Doc’s been bullish these last few flights, pushing a pace that makes him want to remind her he’s a hitter, not a runner, but now--

Now she shuffles on the stairs, daunted. “Do you think it will really...?”

Obi thinks this might be a private university, funded by mommy and daddy’s pockets to keep their babies safe, but alarms go off all the time. Unless this building has a rent-a-cop watching daytime TV down in the atrium right now, it could take hours for someone to answer the call, especially mid-afternoon on a Saturday.

“Who knows.” He’s not sure what she’s got up her sleeve that involves two dead people and a rooftop-- especially when even Doc is quick to admit it’s got at least a toe on the wrong side of legal-- but it probably won’t look good if they’re interrupted, even by the Diet Coke of the law enforcement vending machine. “Maybe you should plan to keep the fancy speeches to a minimum.”

“Eulogies.” Her thin fingers flex over ceramic, white where they press in. “You mean a eulogy.”

“Gesundheit.”

Doc turns her head, real slow, letting him soak in every drop of her disapproval. Well, that’s one pigtail successfully pulled.

With a breath so deep it makes her pea coat really earn the name, Doc nods. “Right. Okay. I think...”

Obi expects some dithering, some real soul-searching doubts being dragged out for airing right here in the stairwell. Doc likes that sort of thing, taking everything out of her head so she can fold it all up real nice again, but instead--

Instead she barrels across the landing, plowing right through the metal door, a whole stretch of gray winter sky stretching out before her. There’s one blink, two, and then-- well, the sign wasn’t kidding. The alarm does, in fact, sound.

He catches the door with a hand; it’s weighted, ready to swing right back into place and-- if he knows his doors-- lock right behind her. Not that it’d be a problem if he meant to stand around on the stairwell and act as look out; a role he’d be happy to play if that’s how Doc wanted this whole show to run. But right now she’s slumped at the ledge, every last ounce of her usual moxie wrung out.

Maybe she might tell him to stand back, that this is something she’s got to take on alone, but Obi knows every aching line of that pose by heart. A car can keep going for fifty miles once it hits empty, but that just means you’ll never know when the tank runs dry. That’s where she is right now, stalling out at her limit.

And that’s what he’s here for, to push her that last inch over the finish line. Besides, he can’t just stand back, not when he’s grandpa’s ride.

“So.” There’s a shim in a corner-- a naughty thing to have around an emergency door like this, but Obi’s not about to tattle. He’s perfectly happy to wedge someone else’s problem right where the paint’s flaked off the door. “What’s the problem?”

Doc blinks, one hand trembling on grandma’s lid. “W-what?”

He settles grandpa on the ledge, arms folded around him, taking in the sprawl of buildings below. Clarines isn’t as big as one of those state universities, but it makes Tanbarun look like a college playset instead of a campus. Both of them have those stuffy brick and marble buildings they like up here, the kind that say academic and too good for you loud and clear, but whereas Obi’s walked across Clarines for thirty minutes and still never hit the edge, it looks like he could lap this place in twenty. No wonder Doc was miserable here; the real mystery is how she managed an entire year in this fancy rat cage.

“There’s got to be one.” He knows better than to look at her; if he’s going to make her talking about feelings, the least he can do is give her the privacy to have them. “You were all gung-ho a minute ago, ready to do your thing even if you had to punch out a cop to do it--”

“--I didn’t say that,” she murmurs--

“--but now you’re just standing here.” He shrugs, chancing a glance from the corner of his eyes. “Looking lost.”

“I just...” She shifts, head twisting toward him, he doesn’t need to meet her gaze to know it’s wild, desperate. “It doesn’t feel right that they don’t go together.”

It’s his turn to stare now, lost. “O...kay.”

“What if...” Her teeth fold over her lip, worrying at places already worn. “What if I left them go, and they don’t find each other?”

“Ah...?” It seems like a bit of an oversight now, not asking what the plan is, but he ventures, “You mean...the ashes?”

Her mouth twists up, annoyance in every wrinkle. “It sounds weird when you say it like that.”

“No, no, I’m just...” He glances down at the tin between his arms. “I’m just putting things together. There’s nothing wrong about how you feel, Doc. Not like anyone’s really written a book about how this works.”

She looks up at him, so guileless. “Of course they have, Obi. There’s a whole section in the bookstore for it. It’s just that they’re all written by charlatans and quacks.”

Whatever the conversational version of whiplash is, Obi’s experiencing it now. For a minute all he can do is stare, taking in the abject disapproval rumpling her face, and then he-- he--

He laughs. Because this is what he’s into. The sort of person who pumps the breaks and spins the conversation 360 without even a courtesy ‘buckle up.’

“Listen, I’ve been thinking...” He taps the top of the tin, the metallic ting drowned out by the blare of the siren. “What if we just...mixed them? Then when you release them--”

“--They’re already together.” Doc blinks up at him, eye shining like he’s her savior, the center of her world, the answer to her cosmic question--

The way she really shouldn’t, when she already belongs to someone a hundred times better than he’ll ever be. Not when she’d never mean to get his hopes up.

“Thank you, Obi,” she breathes, a smile dawning on her lips. “That’s exactly what we need to do.”

Like all his good ideas, it’s easier said than done. On the ground, it’d been breezy, the sort of gentle push he’d come to expect from New England right before it got its first good snow, but up here--

“Here, take this.” Obi shrugs off his jacket, hurriedly pushing it into Doc’s boneless hands, but it’s too late-- they’ve already lost a bit of grandma. “Hold it up.”

She stares down at it, thumbs rubbing over the leather in a way that makes his shoulders itch. “Hold...?”

He swings out one arm-- the one not holding a geriatric-- yanking it wide. “Like a wind screen. I don’t want to lose Oma’s pinky toe or something.”

Doc blinks, stretching the coat between her hands. “Pinky toe?”

“Wouldn’t that make you cranky in the afterlife?” he asks, shaking more of Oma loose in a lull. “Losing a toe? Or a finger. Like just the last knuckle. A bit of your nose.”

The leather starts to ripple as the wind spins back up, and Doc stomps a foot down on the end of it to keep it from smacking up into his face. He appreciates the effort; it’s hard enough trying to pour from a large container to a small one without his zipper clocking him over the eyebrow. “Would that really matter?”

He shrugs. “To some people, probably. I got plenty of nose to spare.”

Doc mouth curves shyly, hunching down to hide behind his coat. “I think it’s fine just as it is.”

“Haah.” It’d be nice if she could give him a heads up when she plans to make his heart pound like that. “Think you might be the first to think that.”

“I don’t know,” she hums, eyes electric with some mischievous spark in their depths. “Maybe I’m the first to say so, but you certainly weren’t getting any complaints a few nights ago--”

He huffs. “Drunk college girls aren’t exactly arbiters of taste, Doc.”

She fixes him with that steady stare of hers, the one that’s so earnest it makes his heart make a bid for freedom through his throat. “I think,” she says, each word weighed before she lets it free, just like a good scientist, “that they did just fine.”

He smothers a whimper into a sigh. “Maybe your grandparents don’t mind me flirting,” he mutters, hunched over that stupid peanut butter tin, “but I’m sure they wouldn’t like you returning the favor.”

She blinks, head cocked. “Did you say something Obi?”

“No,” he says, just a little louder. “Just talking to myself.”

“You know--” he sets down the urn, wiping the sweat off his forehead-- “this would have been a lot easier going the other way.”

“We can’t.” Doc’s mouth twists up into that troublesome knot. “Opa always said he never wanted to be in one of those big fancy vases. And even if he would never know, I...”

Obi sighs, hanging his head. “Yeah, I know, I get it, just...complaining to complain. You know how it is.”

She stares down at him like he’s a fish on a dock telling her about the dangers of air. He shakes his head, stifling a laugh. Of course Doc wouldn’t get it; she could lose a limb and she’d still be thankful for the other three. Probably point out how much better things were now that she didn’t need to keep track of all of them. He might complain like it was as easy as breathing, but Doc-- Doc would take every last uncharitable thought to the grave.

Haah, give her some time. A few more months around him, and she’d discover some things to complain about. People always did.

“So,” he says, picking grandma back up. “Why here?”

Doc blinks. “Huh?”

“You know, on top of the roof of the campus center at one of the prestigious universities on the East Coast?” He raises a brow. “I know you used to go here, but most people just settle for leaving dog shit on the stoop when they want to send a ‘fuck you,’ you know.”

Doc unleashes a sound that can only be termed a squawk. “What? What do you mean most people--?” She shakes her head. “No, I don’t-- I mean, it’s not supposed to be a, um...”

“Fuck you?”

“Ah...yes. That.” She grimaces. “They met here. And when I tried to think of places they might want to be...”

Her words drift to a stop, but it’s gentle. They don’t abandon her, leaving her high and dry, but she just...stops saying them, letting the wind carry them away.

“I couldn’t think of any place else,” she admits, fingers tightening in the leather. “They always talked about Tanbarun so fondly, and I...I always thought it sounded like paradise.”

“But the roof?” Obi asks, incredulous. “Is it just easier to scatter the ashes, or...?”

“It’s where they met,” she repeats, like that makes any sense at all. “They used to have movie nights up here, played on one of those reel projectors,”

Her gaze swings out over the concrete like she could see it; all the hippy bean bags piled up, big screen pulled down and movie hardly able to be heard over the wind. Not a bad picture, he’ll admit. Wholesome, just like he’d expect out of the people who raised this Precious Moments doll of a person. Doesn’t really explain Mukaze, but well, shit happens. Half the people who raised him don’t deserve the person he’s become either. “Nice story.”

She’s hardly here with him, eyes hazy and distant, stuck in a past only she can see. “That’s what I always thought. I always wanted...” Her voice trails off again, but this time her smile falters, topping like china from a wobbling shelf. “I always wanted to have a story like that too. But it, um, didn’t really work out that way.”

He shouldn’t say anything. He’s not some neutral party, here to give her that impartial, unbiased pick-me-up she wants to hear, like telling her won’t rips a strip right off his back, so-- he should keep his big mouth shut.

But he’s never been good at any of that being smart shit. “It’s not like you didn’t have your own meet cute, it just wasn’t here. It was, er...”

Huh, now would you look at that. He’s never actually asked.

“At a record store,” she supplies slowly, like she has to think on it too. “Between the aisles after I missed my bus. No--” she laughs, more bitter than he’s ever heard her-- “after I chose to miss it.”

“See?” he hums, vibrating the knife deeper. “That’s already a good start.”

Her lips press thin. “I suppose...”

“No supposing about it.” He taps grandpa so the ashes sit flat before he starts another pour. “If I know anything about your Oma and your Opa-- and I don’t know nothing besides what you told me--” and what he saw a decade ago, sitting on that park bench-- “I don’t think they care whether you met your person at a rooftop movie or in a Walmart--”

“Record store.”

“They have CDs too,” he informs her, just as prim as Doc gets with him when she indulged the one pedantic bone in her body. “But the point is, they wouldn’t care where it happened, they just wanted you to find what they had.”

“I...” She deflates, the leather bowing over her legs. “I know. I think they used to worry that I wouldn’t, especially since I wasn’t really, ah...”

“Looking for it?” he offers.

She nods, relieved. “Yes, that. After my parents, I think they expected a much more, um, active interest in...anything. And I wasn’t.”

He doesn’t need to hear her say it to know that there’s more to it than that, that what she means to say is, and I don’t think they understood.

“Well, nothing for them to worry about anymore, is there?” She blinks up at him, alarmed, and he adds, “You and chief are kind of a done deal right?”

“Ah!” It’s hard to tell with the wind slapping both their cheeks red, but he could swear Doc’s blushing. “I don’t-- it’s not-- we haven’t really talked about--” she heaves a heavy, resigned sigh-- “I mean, I...I guess?”

“As done as it can be without getting PR involved.” He gives her the sort of eyebrow Kiki might. “I’m sure that if they’re out there floating on clouds or whatever, or, i don’t know, free energy in the universe, molecules just bumping around...they’re happy for you.”

“Right.” Her reply’s so faint he nearly misses it, but the wind that snatches it away carries it right by his ear. “Yeah.”

“All right, I think I’ve done as much as I can do.” Obi levers himself to his feet, brushing off his lap before handing her the tin. “You ready for this?”

Doc stares down at the canister, jaw set, the same way he’s sure it looked right before she threw herself out a window. Certainly looks the same way it did when she tried to bean Itoya with her purse.

“Yeah,” she breathes, fingers tightening around the metal. “I think I am.”

The wall’s not tall, but neither is Doc; she has to go up on tip-toe to throw an arm over it, the wind already pulling at the ashes laying loose at the top. Her brow furrows, mouth working for a good minute before she manages, “It’s time to say goodbye, I think.”

Obi stares. Sure, he’d said to keep it short and sweet, but if it’s taken this long for the rent-a-cop to hustle up, maybe she can spare the people who raised her more than--

“Thank you.” He’d thought it might be hard to hear her over both the alarm and the wind, but somehow all her words fly true, brightening the air. “For...everything. I don’t really know how you...”

Her breath catches, but her eyes are clear, no tears streaking down her face. “But that doesn’t matter, does it? You did everything and more. But I think...” She sniffs, taking a moment. “I think I can take it from here. I’ll miss you, Oma. And Opa...”

She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I forgive you. For whatever still needs forgiving. Rest well.”

Her hand tips, just the barest degree, and the ashes scatter, wind whipping them past, twisting high over the quad.

“Hey.” Obi steps up beside her, shrugging his coat on over his shoulders. If it’s a little gritty-- well, good thing Doc thing thinks Oma would like him so much, because part of her might linger until the next wash. “I’m pretty sure it’s super illegal to scatter human remains like this.”

“Oh,” Doc hums, shoulder bushing his arm. “It absolutely is without a permit. I was not joking about the slightly illegal thing.”

Obi grins. “Well good thing that no one ever came to check on the--”

As if summoned by the mere mention of potentially having something approaching good luck, the door bar rattles, accompanied by some creative cursing.

“Who the fuck is leaving this open?” A gruff yet feminine voice demands, as if she might be able to shake down the universe and pick up the answers from what fell out of its pockets if she just rattled it hard enough. “Bill, is it you? God, what did I say about using the roof for your smoke breaks--?”

The door swings all the way open, and there she is, a security guard with shoulders that could have dropped straight from the Lowen family tree. Obi would take a picture if he wasn’t sure that would get him thrown in the campus drunk tank.

She takes one glance at them, then another angrier one. “Who the fuck are you?”

“UM,” Doc shrills informatively.

“No, wait.” One broad hand waves in front of her. “I don’t care. What are you doing up here?”

Doc flounders in the face of authoritarian disappointment-- which is fine by Obi. This is his wheelhouse, after all. It’s nothing to reach out, cinching Doc’s waist against him, grin wide. “Sex, obviously.”

If it were possible for a body to choose the time and place of its expiration from this earthly dairy aisle, Doc’s mortified stare suggests she might curdle on the spot. “Obi.”

The guard’s glare is a study in skepticism, taking in the both of them, and then the concrete wasteland around them. “Here? With your clothes on?”

“It’s our kink.”

“Please,” Doc mutters against his shirt. “Don’t talk.”

The guard spares them one last weary look and sighs. “You know what? I don’t care. Just get out.”

Doc certainly doesn’t need to be told twice. Obi’s got his mouth open, what can’t you let us finish first about to spill right out, but her small hand clamps around his, and she drags him right off the roof.

“SORRY,” she yelps as they pass. “WON’T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN.”

“Yeah,” Obi agrees with a grin. “Next time we’ll fuck on some other roo--”

Doc pauses for one moment, just long enough to raise a finger and inform him “DON’T.”

This time he lets her drag him off, grinning.

They’re halfway down the stairs when Doc finally slows, her cheeks reaching a shade of red that looks more lipstick than lobster dinner. Her hand wraps tight around the rail, and it’s not until he saunters down the last couple steps to stand beside her that he realizes-- her eyes are screw tight, breath coming in ragged bursts.

“Hey,” he murmurs, trying to ignore the spark of alarm zipping under his skin. “Did you just realize we could have used the elevator?”

Her fingers, already wrapped tight around his palm, squeeze. “Obi...”

The muscles in his arm lock, the way he’s sure lizard tails do, right before they drop them off and run. “Doc?”

Her head turns toward him, and when her eyes flutter open, they’re bright, clear. “Thanks. For being there.”

“No. No, no,” he murmurs, his fingers spasming against hers. “You’ve got it all wrong. I should be the one thank you for letting me. No one...”

No one has ever asked me to be there, he doesn’t say. No one but you.

It’s too much when she’s looking at him like this, like he’s not just a stand-in but her first choice. Like there’s more to how he feels than some one-sided over-investment. It brings him so close to feeling like someone, like the kind of guy who might be her person--

And maybe he could have been, if he hadn’t let some asshole rip her right out her arms in the middle of the night. If he had a record of being something other than a professional disappointment.

The grin doesn’t sit right on his face when he says, “No one’s ever asked me to get rid of a dead body before.”

Doc blinks, then rolls her eyes. “Come on,” she sighs, tugging his hand. “Let’s go.”

“Back to the hotel?”

“Well,” she wheedles. “That. And I dropped the tin when the guard surprised us...”

“Ah I see.” He slips his hand from hers, grin finally sitting the way it should. “So we’re adding evidence removal and obstruction of justice to our list of crimes.”

She tips a dubious look back at him. “Are you complaining?”

“Doc,” he breathes, pressing a hand to his chest. “I would never. I’m touched that you would even think that I could--”

“Come on, Obi,” she laughs, hopping down the steps in front of him. “I’d like to do this sometime today.”

His mouth curls as he watches her back. “Your wish is my command.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #The Wide Florida Bay #modern au #ans #this has been a scene I've had on my radar since I started plotting out this fic #i knew that Tanbarun Arc needed to end with a request #but a request to come back to this old college didn't make sense #so i wanted to make it purposeful rather than a promise #an invitation to stay in her life #and I knew she'd cremate her grandparents #but hadn't done anything with the ashes #so i wanted to drop the hints in the sanddollar fic hoping someone would seize on it #but the sand dollar part proved too interesting 😂#though not to worry i'll be coming back to that part too #but when Yixin asked for this Joanna was like ASK HER IF SHE WANTS TO ASHES SCATTERING PART THOUGH #SO HERE WE ARE

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unlocktxt · 5 years ago

Text

more than just a memory | c.s.b

Choi Soobin

❦ genre: angst, fluff, ghost soobin!au, soobin x reader

❦ description: moving into your new house, you expected to be met with peace and quiet, but everything doesn’t seem to go according to plan when your met with a tall lonely ghost named soobin.

❦ word count: 5.6k

❦ warning‼️: this includes/mentions death, loss, heartbreak, afterlife, and swearing

The burning sun could be felt on your skin, tanning it as you ran down the never ending street. You checked your digital watch to see that you were now five minutes late to your moving in get together. Your absence would be evident to your close family and friends. The thought of your parents nagging about your tardiness only motivated you to move faster. You were running so fast that you just barely managed to dodge an old woman and her barking chihuahua. “Watch where you’re going before you kill someone’s dog!” You didn’t have to look at her to know that she was pointing her angry accusing finger at you. “Sorry miss!” You quickly turned the corner, finally on your street. You were relieved to know that the old woman wasn’t your neighbor. With the house in your sights you ran even faster, those years spent in track finally paying off. Practically feeling like a cheetah, it was hard for you to stop yourself as you approached the house. Trying to slow down was a useless attempt as you tripped. The stupid rock causing you to fly forward, foot hurting like a bitch. Your reflexes didn’t seem to be enough, but they still managed to get you to crash into the parked car, rather than the pavement. As if things couldn’t get any worse, the car alarm started blaring. At that moment, you were willing to dismantle that moving money eater. The car alarm suddenly stopped, causing you to face the small group of people on the porch. Well shit. Waving with a big smile on your face, you fought the urge to laugh at yourself and feigned innocent. This clearly didn’t work because when you made eye contact with your parents, you could practically feel the disappointment. Good thing you have your own house now.

You made your way over to your favorite people, still out of breath from running. “Hi guys! So sorry I’m late. I uh... I had to go help this elderly woman catch her chihuahua that got loose.” You decided against telling them that you managed to get lost walking around the many, many blocks. Nodding your head in satisfaction, you thanked the old woman and her dog for saving you from the wrath of your parents. The only person who didn’t seem to fall for this was your friend, Taehyun, who shook his head in disapproval, although you knew he found it funny. “Let’s get this party started!” You ushered everyone inside as you made your way over to Taehyun and Beomgyu. “Okay so what the hell were you actually doing?” Taehyun raised an eyebrow at you, basically staring you down. You let out a sigh, knowing they would make fun of you. “I went out for a walk because I got spooked... and then I got lost.” Beomgyu immediately started laughing. “You- You got lost in your own neighborhood!” He couldn’t help his laughter, you were just too oblivious of your surroundings. Taehyun, who actually listened carefully, had more questions. “So why did you get scared in the first place?” Taehyun seemed interested in what you had to say, giving you the confidence you needed. “Well... the house is always kind of cold you know... and they say it could be because it’s haunted. I didn’t really mind it, but I swear I saw a reflection in the mirror.” You shivered just thinking about it. This caused Beomgyu to look around with wide eyes. “No way... your house is haunted!” Beomgyu shouted, causing Taehyun to put his hand over the loud man’s mouth. “She probably just isn’t used to being home alone, so she got paranoid.” Taehyun shrugged. To be fair... it does sound more reasonable, however, you could’ve sworn you saw a tall figure staring at you. Then again it only lasted for a split second. “Your parents brought cake, come on.” Taehyun got us back on track, but not before Beomgyu mouthed we should totally go ghost hunting. Ignoring the heavy feeling on your chest, you followed after them. What couldn’t be seen, was how Soobin lit up. So she did see me, he thought. After months of having an empty feeling, he finally felt something. Hope. He now made it his mission to get your oblivious self to notice him.

“I can’t believe our child is all grown up now.” Your mom’s eyes glossed over as she looked at you. “Mom don’t cry,” you chuckled at her pouty face, “you’re acting like I’m never going to visit you.” Shaking your head, you realized that you were going to be all alone in this house. Like a slap to the face, the thought of having to be completely independent hit you. The sudden realization scared you, but you knew it was about time to grow up. “I think that you’re still our little one, after all I’ll just be glad you don’t burn the house down.” Your dad’s joke had everyone laughing, they all knew how much he wanted to see you everyday. The memories of your childhood seemed to flash through your mind - the time your dad would always set you on the tree until you were able to climb up it just like him- or the time your mom chased you around the yard, trying to tickle your small self. These are the memories you would cling onto for the rest of your life. “I’m not that bad of a cook!” Sure you had caught noodles on fire, but that was like three years ago. You’ve improved since then, or so you thought. “There’s a reason no one asks you to cook.” Your mom admitted, to which you puffed your cheeks. You were being called out and your friends just nodded in agreement. The ultimate betrayal. “Then it’s a good thing I had you to take care of me. I probably picked up a few of your tricks.” Key word probably.

Your parents weren’t going to stay long, that way you and your friends could have some fun. Just when you turned to walk your parents to the door, the plastic cup moved an inch. Soobin, who had moved it, quickly turned to look at you with a big, proud smile. “I just did that!” He was excited about his achievement that took ten minutes to pull off, but as he looked at your back facing him, his face fell. “You have got to be kidding me.” The poor invisible Soobin really wanted to take out his frustration, but as his fist went to collide with the wooden table, it went straight through. An exasperating sigh came from Soobin as he moved onto plan b. Having not seen this, you waved your parents goodbye, slowly closing the door before turning to your two friends. “I call the dog!” Beomgyu ran to the monopoly board that Taehyun set up, diving for the little piece. You happily scurried over to your friends as you grabbed the shoe before Taehyun could. ��Oh I’m definitely going to make you go bankrupt for that one.” Taehyun grabbed the car, sending glares. From past experiences, the three of you decided to put away the hammers and any potential weapon. Rolling the dice to see who’s first, you punched the air as you rolled a 6, higher than the two of them combined. As you did so you could’ve sworn your hand brushed against something cold, but maybe it was just the air conditioning. Soobin, sitting directly beside you, jumped as a result of your fist going straight through him. Was monopoly really this exciting, Soobin wondered, now wanting to play along. The three of you, not noticing the ghost boy, started the game with you rolling the dice. Your game face was now on. You decided to buy the first property you landed on. Taehyun went next, landing on the same color, his face told you that he wasn’t planning on letting you go that easily. “Don’t you dare buy that property!” You wanted all of the greens, but Taehyun wasn’t letting you have that chance as he bought the property. “Fine then... I’ll just make you go bankrupt.” You were now going to make them pay.

When the game ended you felt defeated. The look on Taehyuns face scared you. He truly was the monopoly master. “I can’t believe you took all of my money.” Beomgyu whined. It was now eleven at night, the game had lasted a while. “We should probably get going.” Taehyun said as he grabbed his stuff, taking a slice of cake with him. “Okay be safe on the way home.” You walked them to the door, waving their car goodbye.

Sighing, you couldn’t help but notice how chilly it was in the house. “Does the thermostat even work?” After messing with it a bit, you decided to just get a blanket, however, as you leaned over to grab one you met eyes with a man who looked similar to a bunny. “Get out before I call the cops!” You turned around quickly as you ran to the kitchen, grabbing a knife. You could tell he was caught off guard as his eyes seemed to enlarge. He definitely wasn’t very good at whatever he’s doing. As you turned on your phone, he seemed to get the gist. He came running at you, panicking. You were terrified and did the first thing you could think of- stab him. Your hands shook as your eyes trembled, you didn’t know what to do, but you did know you were terrified. Your hand and knife just went straight through him. Now that Soobin knew you could see him, he put all his energy into taking your phone. You were stuck in shock at what was happening. When you finally gained enough sense to move, you backed up. “P-please don’t kill me!” You were helpless against an invincible man.

Soobin knew he shouldn’t scare you, but he wanted to have some fun before reassuring you, after all... he used to joke about haunting people. He slowly approached your cowering figure, trapping you against the wall with his body. His arms were placed beside your head and he stared, you didn’t have anywhere to go. This is when you got this brilliant idea, if the knife could go straight through him maybe you could too! His face was a little too close for comfort, so you quickly tried to catch him off guard and lean forward, however, when you expected your face to fall right through him, you ended up meeting with something hard. Not only did this shock you, but also Soobin. He did not expect you to lean in and kiss him... the warmth of your lips sparking a fire within him. You were now highly embarrassed on top of fearing for your life. “I... I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! You know I just thought that I would go right through you... but that didn’t work. Please don’t kill me... just tell me what you want!” You rambled trying to get him to spare your life. Soobin had just gotten over the shock, now enjoying your flustered state. He smirked as he leaned closer, “Maybe another kiss.” That surely was not what you expected. Is that really what he wanted... or was it a trick? The tall black haired boy started laughing as he backed away from you. You were confused, but relieved as you finally let out the breath you were holding.

“I actually want you to help me see my friends and family. You see... you’ve probably already guessed, but I’m a ghost and I’d like to say goodbye to them one last time.” His whole demeanor had changed and you were now looking at a very cute guy. You opened your mouth to speak, but he continued. “My names Soobin. I actually used to live here or well... still kind of do. Surprise you have a dead roommate because I can’t seem to leave the house.” This was not normal... at all. When you decided to live here, you didn’t think it was haunted. “May I ask when you died?” You couldn’t help yourself, you were curious. Besides if you were going to help him then you’d need to know if these people were still alive. The humor he had before seemed to be a mask because once you asked this he had a distant look on his face. “If I remember correctly it was three months ago.” Something seemed to hit you, now looking at him you felt pity towards the ghost. You don’t know if you would’ve had a different reaction had he said something else, but you were now fighting the urge to cry due to his tragic situation. He was alone for three months, knowing that his loved ones were in pain missing him. The lump in your throat formed, “why don’t we sit down?” You grabbed his hand, almost retracting yours from the ice cold feeling. When you looked up at him, your eyes seemed like a mirror, reflecting the light as a burning feeling reached your nose. Don’t cry, you reminded yourself. Soobin, who had longed for the warm feeling, unconsciously tightened his grip on your hand as he moved closer. Noticing this warmed your heart, it relieved you that he seemed to enjoy your contrasting temperature. You wanted to give him the warmth he needed, so you placed another hand on his. The two of you smiled at each other before heading to the living room. His smile contained so much kindness, you wish you knew him before he had passed away.

Soobin had talked on and on about his plan to get his friends and parents here. You could tell he was excited and thought a lot about how to this this, however, it didn’t seem that he thought of the consequences. It was a wholesome plan, but you just didn’t think it would work out. Although his plan wasn’t all that great, you knew that the reason he couldn’t find peace was because he didn’t get to say goodbye. You had to compromise. “Soobin,” you took a deep breath before looking him in the eyes, “I don’t think telling your loved ones that you’re a ghost is a good idea.” You were met with Soobin’s confusion. “Well they obviously won’t believe you at first, but that’s where I come-”

“No Soobin... I don’t think they should know that you’re still somewhat on this earth.” The hurt on his face tore you to shreds, he felt betrayed. “And why not? I thought you were going to help me.” Soobin released his grip on your hands, confusion turning into anger. His narrowed eyes were locked on you. “I still want to help you Soobin... it’s just... they have been adjusting to your death for three months. In other words, they are three months into grieving.” You hoped he would understand as you reached for his hand. Soobin’s pale face tensed up as he pulled his hand further away. “As if you would know. My parents need to know that I’m okay! You don’t know what it’s like, so keep your shitty opinion to yourself. If you won’t help me then I’ll figure out another way.” Venom was laced in his voice and you noticed he seemed to be going in and out of transparency. You stayed calm, “I could never know what you’re going through, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help. We can think of another way. By telling them you’re a ghost, you’d be giving them hope to be with you again. They’d have to lose you all over again, who knows what could happen to you as a ghost. I’m sure it would hurt them to know that this whole time you were alone and not in a better place.” You hadn’t looked away from Soobin, so you were able to see his expression change. His furrowed brows seemed to drop as he looked at the ground, clearly upset. He looked lost, his hope of saying goodbye being stripped from him. You felt guilty that you were the one to make him like this, but it was the right thing to do. Or were you just telling yourself that?

“What am I supposed to do now?” Soobin felt defeated, he was stuck in a place he didn’t belong. You slowly leaned into Soobin, looking for any sign of disapproval, and hugged him. The warmth that enveloped Soobin like a blanket was still able to give him comfort. “You could always write a letter and pretend you wrote it before you died.” You talked softly, scared that any harsher of a tone would break him even more. Soobin escaped from your hug with newly found hope, his red puffy eyes looking at your pity filled ones. “That’s a brilliant idea!” Soobin was sad that he wouldn’t get to have a conversation, but at least this would cause less pain. Looking at his excited self made you wish you thought of this plan sooner. You had just met this man, but you were completely willing to make him happy. You assumed it was just the fact that you’d want the same done for you. “Well let’s get some rest and then we can start on that tomorrow.” Soobin nodded, he didn’t need any sleep, but knew that it was important for you. You still managed to get the couch comfortable for him, even putting a heavy blanket over him just in case it would work. Although Soobin knew blankets would do nothing to ease the cold feeling, he felt warm on the inside as you tried to take care of him.

When you fell asleep Soobin hesistantly walked through the wall and into your room. His eyes softened as he looked at your relaxed form. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was scared. Scared that if he didn’t stay beside you, he would be forgotten. Which led him to sitting beside your bed, holding your hand for the warmth.

You could smell something delicious, making your mouth water as you woke up. With eyes halfway open, you made your way to the smell that was coming from the kitchen. “Oh you’re awake!” Soobin turned towards you, hearing your dragging steps. Seeing him like this made you feel like you lived with him for a while. You’re once tired eyes opened wide as you realized he was cooking. “You cook?” You asked as you walked over to him. “I cooked here and there when I was alive. I heard that you’re not a really good cook and thought that I could pay you back for your help.” Soobin’s small smile and words left your cheeks tinted red. “You didn’t have to do this.” You couldn’t help your watery mouth when you looked at the fresh pancakes. When Soobin looked at you he was overjoyed seeing your shining eyes looking at the pancakes. “Yeah I know, but I wanted to. Besides I thought you’d be hungry.” He slid the last pancake onto the plate as he brought it to the table. “I’m not that hungry...” You tried to play it off, but the rumble coming from your stomach betrayed you. Soobin chuckeled, “eat up. I can’t really eat.” You we’re stuck looking at Soobin. You didn’t even think about it... he couldn’t really enjoy pancakes anymore. Shaking away this thought, you spread the syrup and grabbed the fork in excitement. As you went to dig in, you saw Soobin staring at you with a smile on his face, causing you to slow down.

“So when do you want to start writing?” You swallowed a big piece of the pancake as you waiting for an answer. “I’ve actually started already. The problem is that I keep throwing them away because I don’t know what to say.” Soobin sighed, resting his chin on his palm. “Why don’t you try writing from the heart?” The words flowed out of your mouth, too busy focusing on your almost finished pancakes. Soobin looked at you, clearly unimpressed. “Why didn’t I think of that? Oh wait... I did.” You laughed a bit at his sarcastic tone, now putting up the dirty plate. Soobin came up behind you, grabbing your arm and swinging it. “I need help.” He pouted. “Well... have you tried starting with the memories you’ve shared? That way you can work your way up and really know what it is you want to say.” You used to write a lot of letters for your friends and this had always helped you.

Soobin nodded, heading over to the small table where tons of paper were sprawled about. By the time you got over there Soobin had already picked up the pen and started writing. Being the nosy person you are, you read over his shoulder, giggling at the cute memories he wrote down.

“No way... did you really set your couch on fire and try to hide it?” You were hunched over trying to catch your breath as you visualized a tiny Soobin sitting on the burnt fabric, never getting up in attempt to hide it. Soobin, watching your fit of laughter, smiles fondly. Your laughter was beautiful and he never wanted to let it go. “Says the one who nearly burnt her house down trying to cook.” Soobin added in, causing your laughter to come to a halt. “You weren’t supposed to know about that.” You cursed your dad in your head.

You started to learn a lot about Soobin from reading about his life, to talking with each other. The longer Soobin was around, the more your head was filled with thoughts of him, but you blamed it on the fact that he was in the same room as you. “Ugh... I finally finished and need a break.” Without thinking about it, Soobin grabbed your hands and placed them on his chest. He couldn’t help but long for your warm touch. you were now pressed up against the chair and his back, leaving your face awfully close to his. The close proximity made your face heat up and when Soobin turned to look at you, you panicked. Coughing you withdrew your hands and backed up a bit. “Then let’s talk.” You pulled a chair next to Soobin and sat down. Soobin knew that he flustered you and he couldn’t help but enjoy it. He knew he was being selfish, but the feeling of his fake heart beating told him that he was starting to see you as more than the living girl willing to help him. You on the other hand, wouldn’t allow yourself to admit the reason behind your not so subtle glances at him that made your heart flutter. When you looked at him now he seemed different. He seemed... happy. Looking at him like this, you could easily mistake him for an everyday attractive boy. Couldn’t the two of you just stick together? The selfish thought of yours shocked you. If you did that then you’d be forcing him to live without his friends and family. Couldn’t you be enough? You quickly disregarded these thoughts, Soobin needed to find peace and you were not going to be the one to stop him.

You didn’t notice your eyes getting watery until a single tear streamed down your cheek. Soobin managed to see this. “Maybe we should talk about this whole thing.” He suggested, leading you to the couch as you quickly wiped the tear away. He ended up laying his head on his thighs as you ran your fingers through his hair. “Okay... what about it?” You asked with a heavy heart. “I know you’ve been wondering what I think about this whole situation.” You nodded your head, admitting to your prying mind. “I’m a little scared.” You could see where this was going, the look on his face showing concern as his eyes darted around. “I can’t help but wonder what comes next.” He took a deep breath in. “What if I get stuck here or if wherever I’m going isn’t as nice as it seems?” After telling this to you, Soobin felt the weight lift off of his shoulders, but you were stuck thinking about how he was going to go into the unknown. “Well... I don’t know. It depends what you believe, but what I do know is that you won’t have to feel out of place anymore. You’ll probably be comforted by the big bright light.” You yourself didn’t know what you believed, but Soobin’s glow was enough to reassure you he’d be alright.

There was a soothing silence before Soobin spoke up once more. “I don’t want to be just another memory that gets forgotten.” Soobin was now looking at your eyes that were focusing on his hair.��“You would never be just a memory, nor would you be forgotten. You lived Soobin and in everyone’s hearts you will stay alive.” His hands grabbed yours, placing them where his heart should be. This caused you to look into his ocean blue eyes. The eyes that once lacked life were filled with emotions, causing a fire to ignite within you. You couldn’t lie to yourself anymore, you were falling for him. A forbidden relationship that should never exist. Maybe you didn’t want to admit this to yourself because you knew it would end in heartbreak, but you couldn’t seem to lie to yourself anymore. “Thank you.” Soobin wanted so badly to confess to you, but he was dead. He wanted to stay for you, but he knew it would only hold you back, so he kept his feelings to himself. He could tell you were being distant, so he made sure to continue. “You know... when I first saw you I knew there was something different about you, so I kept trying to get your attention.” Soobin wore a smile now, and you noticed that he was slightly glowing. He was ready to accept death completely and you had to live with that. “Well I’m glad I was finally able to meet you.” You successfully hid your sadness behind a smile. In order to stop himself from saying something he shouldn’t, he decided to get the show on the road. “I guess you should head to Yeonjun’s house now.” Soobin hesitantly mentioned. The two of you looked at eachother in silence, both having so much to say, but keeping it all in. “Yeah... I guess so. Bye Soobin... I’m glad I could help you.” You quickly grabbed the envelopes as you left in a heartbeat.

When you arrived at Yeonjun’s house, you didn’t think you would be this nervous. Hesistantly knocking on the door, you were trying to shake your nerves away. Maybe you should’ve mailed them. Your breath hitched while watching the wooden door open. The man who had opened it was young, blonde, and very handsome. “Hi, I’m looking for someone named Yeonjun. I found this letter left behind from the house I just moved into. Your address was on it.” The exact words that you rehearsed on your way here were hard to get out. “Okay well... I’m Yeonjun.” He looked at you weirdly, probably ready to call the cops if anything went south. “It says it’s from Soobin.” With that one name Yeonjun’s happy exterior seemed to deflate. “Oh... thank you.” His shaky voice broke your heart, you knew they’ve been best friends for the longest. “I hate to ask this... but there’s also one for someone named Hueningkai.” The boy infront of you clearly was having a hard time dealing with Soobin’s death. “He’s actually here right now. I’ll take it to him.” You handed him the other letter, reluctant to leave. “You know, you look like his type.” You looked up at the blond best friend with a raised eyebrow. “Who?”

“Soobin.” His answer left a bitter sweet feeling in you as you just smiled and nodded before walking away. You were close to tears, but wanted to be strong for Soobin. Seeing his parents could potentially break your heart even more, but you knew it was for the best. You used everything you could to distract yourself from the sad thought, now choosing to look at the different colors of the pavement. You must’ve been so distracted that you managed to forget about the world around you, that was until the unfamiliar door opened. You were now looking at a man that resembled Soobin in many ways, just older. It was obvious this was his dad. His sunken eyes were a little too noticeable and you were correct, your heart was breaking piece by piece. It was almost like you were reliving the life that was lost. Just seeing the people he wrote about left images of what the memories looked like to you. Why did the world have to take away this young twenty-two year old? Holding back the tears, you once again said what was rehearsed, like a broken record. “Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, but these two notes were left behind from where I just moved. They had your address on them and it’s from someone named Soobin.” His already sad eyes seemed to fall deeper in the darkness as he shakily took the letters, with a faint thank you. Before he could close the door you couldn’t help yourself and went off script. “Your son must really love you. I bet he’d want you to live a nice, long, and happy life.” You could tell he considered your words, finally walking into the house with his shoulders raised. The moment the door shut was when you realized that Soobin should’ve found peace by now. Instead of crying, you decided to hold it all in.

You didn’t realize how lonely you could feel until you opened the door. You kept reminding yourself that he had found peace, but you just felt numb. that was until you saw the tall black haired ghost looking at you with a frown. You wish your heart didn’t flip when you saw him. You wish that you didn’t hope to see him one last time. Although you wanted to be happy for this moment with him, you panicked. “What are you doing here? You should’ve found peace!” Did something go wrong? “Y/N... the reason I can’t move on yet is... is because of you.” You didn’t know how to react. His words sent a surge of emotions through you, causing you to lash out. “Soobin you can’t stay here! There’s nothing keeping you here! I’m okay with you leaving!” The lies left your mouth, anything to have him move on. Soobin didn’t say anything as he walked over to you, strongly pulling you against him. His hand pushed your head against his chest as he rubbed your back. “Please...” the anger left your body as you struggled to keep your tears back. “I couldn’t leave yet because it didn’t feel right. I never gave you a proper goodbye. Now... it’s okay to cry, I’ll miss you too.” He seemed to hug you tighter, his words relieving you. “Why did you have to die?” Tears ran down your cheeks as you started to shake from your choked sobs. “I don’t want to lose you, but I can’t keep you here.” Soobin’s shirt was getting drenched as you continued to cry into it.

He pushed you back a little so he could look into your eyes. “I like you Y/N and I’m sorry that we had to meet like this.” His eyes were red and puffy, but you didn’t have time to say anything before he leaned in, placing his cold, soft lips against yours. The kiss was passionate, the two of you never wanting to let go of this moment. You grew to enjoy his cold comforting touch, but it was slowly disappearing. When your lips left eachother Soobin made sure to put his hand over your eyes. “Please... just keep your eyes closed.” You listened to his last wish, shaking as you choked out a goodbye. The little trace of cold was replaced by warmth, causing you to fall to your knees as your eyes opened. You were met with an empty living room. For once, the house felt warm, but this could never make up for the internal warmth that had been stripped from you.

The next day was hard. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion and you seemed to zone out the whole day. People continued on with their lives as if nothing happened, but you knew and that was enough. You were able to say goodbye and you were grateful for that. When you got home and tossed your keys on the dresser, you became aware of the white envelope with Soobin’s handwriting. You were delicate with the envelope, not wanting to rip it. This letter was to you, the last thing you had of Soobin.

Dear Y/N,

You told me to write about my memories and work my way up. Sadly, we didn’t have much time together, however, every moment spent with you meant a lot to me. The days can get hard, but life is worth living. Even when everything seems to be going wrong, there is always something good right around the corner. Anyways, I’m sorry for scaring you that night, although I wish I could’ve messed with you some more before I leave...or left. I’ve never met someone who has made me feel the way you do. If you’re willing, I’d like to meet you in another life. Our time together was too short. I want to thank you as well. Thank you for helping me move on and for finally being able to save me from the cold. Please don’t cling onto me, I’d like you to move on as well. Let’s both be happy. Thank you for keeping me alive in your heart.

Love, your ghost boy Soobinie

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nblesbianbenhanscom · 4 years ago

Note

43+45 for kaspbroughzier or streddie

anon! hello! a million years later, and your fic is ready! are you even still here? i hope so ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

i had to go with the kasproughzier cause i love those goofs and also sonia is the perfect no, really you don’t want to meet my family.

the prompts were ‘trust me, you don’t want to meet my family’ + ‘you may technically be an adult, but you are still my child.’

***

read it on ao3

Little Dashes of Doom

“Eh-Eddie, your phone is r-ringing,” Bill says. It’s the tenth time in the last half hour.

“Just turn it off, Bill. I’m not going to answer it.” Eddie doesn’t look up from his computer.

“Buh-But it’s your ma.”

“I know, Bill. I already told her when I was coming home. She can chill.” He sounds tired, and Bill just wants to wrap him up in a blanket and make him relax between him and Richie. This semester had really kicked all of their asses.

Bill watches the phone as it stops ringing. It dings a moment later with a voicemail. Bill picks it up and turns it off. He kisses Eddie’s hair as he sits it on the table next to him.

“H-How’s the puh-aper coming?” Bill asks as he opens up the fridge. Bill himself had just finished his own last final just a few hours before.

“I hate fucking Shakespeare,” Eddie growls.

“Th-That good, eh?”

Eddie doesn't respond while Bill looks through the fridge. He finds a beer and heads to the couch where Richie is playing on their shared Switch. His legs are spread awkwardly, one up and over the back of the couch, the other hanging down by the floor. Bill sits in between his legs, pulling Richie’s leg into his lap.

“Hey, babycakes, you ok?” Richie asks without looking up.

“I’m ok.” Bill takes a sip of his beer. “You ok?”

“Yeah, fine. Why wouldn’t I be? Shit! I just fucking died!” He sighs and lets the Switch fall to his chest. “What are we doing for food?”

“We have l-leftover p-pizza,” Bill says.

Groaning, Richie sits up and tugs himself closer to Bill with his legs. He leans close and kisses Bill’s neck.

“I am so tired of pizza.” Richie scrapes his teeth against Bill’s chin. “Maybe I’ll just have you for dinner. How does that sound?” They giggle and Eddie huffs from the kitchen.

“Ugh, rude of you to start without me,” Eddie grouses, but there’s no real heat to his words.

Bill and Richie giggle again.

“S-Sorry, E-Eddie!”

“We were just discussing dinner.” Richie kisses Bill’s neck again.

Giggling, Bill pushes him away. “Shhh… St-Stop.”

Richie just pulls him closer and they giggle again.

“If I fail my final, it will be all your faults!” Eddie yells.

“Wh-What d-do you want for d-dinner?” Bill asks.

Eddie is silent for a minute. “Surprise me.”

Bill turns and kisses Richie. “We’re guh–nna go p-pick up dinner.”

“We are?” Richie asks. Bill nods. He holds his hand out and Richie takes it. They go to the door, tug on their coats and boots. It’s cold outside, but Bill just holds tightly to Richie’s hand.

“Where to, Big B?” Richie asks after they’ve climbed in the car.

Bill shrugs. “I don’t care.” He thinks for a minute. “Wh-Where do you—”

“I already told you what I wanted.” Richie winks.

Leaning back against the passenger seat headrest, Bill smiles at him. “Ok, b-but like a-actual food, Richie.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Richie says. They talk for a few more minutes and end up going to the local diner. They get pancakes, fries, salad, and pie. Sometimes Eddie has trouble eating when he’s stressed, and they want to make sure to get him something he’ll eat.

When they get back, Eddie’s computer and his books are in a neat stack. The bathroom door is closed and they can hear him screaming at someone.

“I am working on my finals, mommy!” Eddie screams. Richie and Bill hesitate in the doorway. They look at each other but creep in. It’s been a while since Eddie had gone off like this. When they’d first met him a few years back, he’d yelled a lot more. Richie liked to tease that he was a feral chihuahua until Eddie’d absolutely lost it and tried to beat Richie up. It hadn’t gone well; Richie was so much taller than him and he had just pulled him into a hug, apologies sliding off his tongue. He promised to never do it again. After that, there were less and less explosions until there were none.

“No! No! You listen! I’m doing my work. I’ll be home in three days. Three! You have my–” Eddie pauses. “Please, would you just–”

Richie puts the food on the table and Bill clears away Eddie’s school work.

“God damnit, mom! They are not my roommates, they are my boyfriends. We have been over and over–” Another pause. “Well maybe I won’t come home then!” There’s another pause followed by a loud banging sound and then Eddie begins to sob.

Bill and Richie look at each other as they sit there listening to Eddie cry and yell at himself. Bill can’t quite make out everything he’s saying, but he knows it’s not good. He hears things like pussy, and coward, and little bitch. Things that he’d been told his whole life. Things Bill had thought he’d worked through.

Bill had apparently been wrong.

“I’m gonna go get him,” Richie says, and gets up. Bill catches his hand, and shakes his head. They sigh.

“Wuh–ne m-more m-minute.” He swallows hard. Richie sits back down slowly. Bill hates this just as much as Richie, but he doesn’t want to push Eddie too hard.

Slowly, Eddie’s sobs lessen. Bill wants to get up and go to him, but still he hesitates. Richie leans into his space and rests his head on Bill’s shoulder.

“Can we go get him now?” Richie asks.

Bill licks his lips. He’s about to say yes when they hear the bathroom door open, and Eddie sees them as soon as he looks up.

“Oh,” he says softly. His eyes are red and puffy. He swallows hard several times. “I-I–” And then tears fill his eyes, and his face crumbles, and Richie and Bill go to him, pull him close and let him cling to them as he cries.

“It’s ok, Eddie, we’ve got you,” Richie murmurs into his hair. “We’ve got you.”

“L-Let it out, b-baby,” Bill whispers.

Eddie’s fingers dig into Bill’s shirt as he sobs. His whole body is shaking and Bill wishes he could find Sonia Kaspbrak and give her a piece of his mind, but he tries to push these thoughts away as he kisses Eddie’s hair.

They sit on the couch, and it takes a long time for Eddie to calm down. Even after he’s stopped crying, he still clings to them. He whines when Richie pulls away.

“I’ll be back, my love, just going to get you some water,” Richie says as Eddie grips his shirt hem.

“But I–” Eddie’s hoarse, and Bill can’t help but feel sorry for him.

“I-It w-will help,” Bill says. He reaches out and pulls Eddie’s hand free. “It will help.” Slowly, Eddie lets go and lets Bill lace their fingers together. He leans back into Bill and closes his eyes.

After Eddie drinks his water, he looks around at them with heavy sad eyes. He’s cradled between them, both of them pushing into his space.

“I’m–I’m sorry,” Eddie says.

“What for, love?” Richie asks. He strokes Eddie’s hair, kisses his temple.

“Because I–Because I’m such a freaking mess,” Eddie whispers.

“Yo-You’re n-not a m-mess.” Bill kisses Eddie behind his ear and Eddie’s eyelashes flutter a little.

“Your mom is a fucking cunt,” Richie says.

Bill frowns at him. Eddie usually freaks whenever someone says something bad about his mom.

“Yeah, she is,” Eddie says.

Bill and Richie make shocked noises. Bill squeezes him.

“I’m just so tired of her. She’s...” His voice waivers and takes a deep breath. “I have to use the bathroom.” Eddie gives them each a kiss before he gets up.

Once the door is closed, Richie looks at Bill, scowling.

“What the fuck is that bitch’s problem?” Richie growls.

“I d-don’t kn-know.” Bill sighs. He scoots closer to Richie. “I h-hate her so much. It’s been s-such a l-long t-time si-since–”

“Yeah, he’s been doing so good.” Richie huffs. “I just wish I could meet that bitch just one time so I could–”

“Trust me, you don’t want to meet my mom,” Eddie says. Richie and Bill jump, neither of them had heard the toilet flush. “C’mon. I’m hungry.”

Sharing glances, Richie and Bill get up and follow Eddie into the kitchen. He’s sitting at the table, pulling the food out of the bag and frowns at the fries.

“Aww, fuck, they’re cold.” Eddie’s lip trembles a little. “I’m sorry. I should have waited to call. I just finished my final and I–”

“N-No, b-baby. It’s ok. Th-The fries w–ill heat up,” Bill says.

“Yeah,” Richie agrees. “That’s why God invented microwaves, right?” He picks up the container and throws it in, pushing buttons quickly. “See? It’s fine.”

Sniffling, Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Nuked fries taste so gross.”

“I think we got some cheese and Ranch. That will help.” Richie goes to the fridge as Eddie looks at the rest of the food and looks up at Bill.

“You two are the best, do you know that?” Eddie asks. Richie kisses his hair as he wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders.

“N-No you,” Bill says.

Wrapping his fingers around Richie’s forearms, Eddie kisses his inner arm. “I love you both so much.”

“We love you, too.” Richie pulls away as the microwave beeps.

After they eat, they curl up on the couch to watch TV. They’re all crossed limbs and elbows in stomachs and pulled hair, but they don’t really care. Eddie just lets the others hold him close, pet his hair, kiss him.

“Are you doing better?” Richie asks after a bit. Eddie shrugs.

“Wh-What happened?” Bill asks.

Eddie shrugs again. “Just the usual. I finished my paper like right after you left, so I decided to call her before she called the police like she did that one time, and she said since I was done with my finals that I needed to come home right away. When I said I want to stay with you two, that my ticket is nonrefundable or exchangeable, she said she didn’t care about the cost, that she’d pay and…” He sighs. “She just wouldn’t listen. She kept saying, ‘You may be an adult, but you’re still my child.’” He huffs. “I’ve been financially independent from that old bag for over a year. She has no right to say shit like that to me any more.”

“N-No, she doesn’t,” Bill agrees.

“Honestly, she never should have talked to you that way, ever,” Richie says. Eddie leans a little closer to him. He plays with the strings on Bill’s hoodie.

“I know,” Eddie whispers.

Bill can hardly believe what he’s hearing. His heart fills with pride and he pulls Eddie’s legs into his lap and cups Eddie’s face in his hands before kissing him so, so gently. When they pull apart, Bill pushes his forehead into Eddie’s forehead.

“L-Love you,” Bill whispers. When he pulls back, Richie presses his own kiss into Eddie’s temple.

“You know, you don’t have to go,” Richie says. “You can come home with us.”

“O-Or we c-could go wi-with you,” Bill says.

Eddie shakes his head. “It will be ok.”

Sighing, Richie shakes his head, no. “You shouldn’t have to deal with her alone. Let us come with you.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Eddie murmurs.

“Y-You d–idn’t. We’re t-telling you. We’re coming wi–th you,” Bill says. Richie smiles at Bill.

“You really don’t–”

“Eds, you may as well give it up. We’re coming with you, and if your mom can’t deal, well, fuck her, and we’ll leave early.” Richie pauses. “In fact, plan on it. We’ll all have to change our tickets, call our families, but we’ll split up the break evenly. It will be fun.”

“We can’t afford that!” Eddie protests.

“Y-Yes we c-can! I just got p-paid for th–at piece I wrote a why-while back,” Bill says.

“No, Bill, you were going to use that for a new computer!” Eddie says.

“I’ll j-just st-steal yours.” Bill strokes his arm.

“You’re ridiculous,” Eddie murmurs, but there’s a small smile on my face. He sighs and leans into Richie. “You guys are the best, do you know that?”

“N-No, you.” Bill laces their fingers together.

“Yeah, spaghetti, you’re the best.” Richie kisses his hair.

Eddie closes his eyes, and settles back.

“We d-don’t have to m-make any d-decisions tonight,” Bill says. “W-We can t-talk t-tomorrow.”

“Ok,” Eddie says. He sighs again and sits up. “You guys wanna do something?”

“Like what?” Richie asks.

“Play Mario Kart?”

“Only if you don't cry when I kick your butt!" Richie says as he pulls himself free and gets up to set up the Switch. Eddie scoots around and leans into Bill's side.

"Yeah, we'll see who cries, Tozier!" Eddie teases.

Bill knows it is a toss-up between the two; they are both really good. It's Bill that's going to be the loser, but he doesn't really care. He's terrible at video games, but he loves being with his boyfriends.

He sits there listening to them argue about who is the worst player and waits to be handed a controller. He loves listening to them bicker like this, and he knows Eddie bickering is a good sign. Licking his lips, Bill leans into Eddie, eyes closed for a moment.

"You ok, Bill?" Eddie asks as Richie's attention falters. He's fighting with the cords and cursing under his breath.

"Yeah, I'm good." Bill takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Love you so much."

Eddie squeezes his hand. "Love you."

"Got it!" Richie says triumphantly. He tosses a couple of controllers at them and sits near the TV. "You two losers ready?"

"Shut up, buttmunch," Eddie says. "Get ready to eat my dust!"

"Bring it!" Richie says.

Bill struggles with his controller and gets settled. He knows the next couple of weeks are going to be hard. Eddie had agreed tonight that they would change their winter break plans, but that doesn't mean that it isn't going to be a struggle. He knows Eddie wants to break free, but Bill knows it isn’t easy; Sonia has a firm grip on her son.

Bill is not looking forward to the back and forth that is inevitably coming, but he decides there is no point in worrying about that now. Right now, Eddie is happy, Eddie is safe, and the three of them are going to have a good night. Tomorrow is future Bill’s problem, and tonight all he has to worry about is not driving the wrong way on the track. He knows everything will be ok.

#kaspbroughzier #bill denbrough #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #it #it chapter 2 #i love these losers so much #i'm sorry it took so long #life got hectic #then i took a writing break #i hope you like it.#Anonymous

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