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thominho-incorrectquotes · 4 years ago

Text

Pizza boy

Characters: Thomas x Minho

2502 words

Tags: Modern AU, fluff, Pizza AU

Summary: Minho is this beautiful delivery boy. Thomas tries to ask him out. However, he wasn't excepting Minho to flirt with him.

You can also read it on AO3 and ff.net

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Thomas felt lonely. It had been days now. Teresa, his sister, hadn't come to see since a long time and he couldn't even see her at the University. Ever since she started dating Aris, she spent all her time with her lover and didn't have time for her twin brother.

His best friend, Newt, went back to England to see his family and of course Alby - the blonde's boyfriend and also a friend of Thomas - went with him. It would be the first time he would officially introduce his partner to his family. Since there was a week off, they had decided it would be a good time to do it.

So, far from his family and his friends, Thomas felt lonely. And sad.

He hadn't eaten much for the past few days. He had no motivation or strength to prepare something to eat.

But that night, he was hungry. Very hungry. And he craved pizza. Deciding he deserved it - after all, he was doing well in school and he did more sport than necessary - he took his phone and choose the delivery app. He rarely used it, but during some party nights with his friends he had often ordered pizza from it.

He was about to confirm his order when he saw the little text box for special requests. He had never used it before, but he since he was bored and wanted to have fun, at least a little, an idea came to mind.

He wrote: "Send your cutest delivery boy."

After all, what's the worst that could happen?

........

Okay, that was maybe the best idea or the worst idea of the whole century.

When the bell rang, Thomas had almost forgot his little demand. He was playing a game on his phone and just didn't think about it again.

But when he opened the door, he found himself in front of the most beautiful man he ever saw.

He looked a bit older than him and was obviously of Asian origin. He was displaying a smile enhanced by beautiful dimples and his dark eyes were shining. His built was also quite imposing – his uniform seemed a little small on him, his arms and chest were stretching the t-shirt, which allowed anyone to take a look at his impressive muscles. His skin was tan and looked so soft that the temptation to caress it was almost uncontrollable.

Thomas was drooling in front of this Greek god. He was more than just cute – he was gorgeous.

He wanted to keep him to himself.

"Cheese pepperoni pizza's for here?" the delivery boy asked, making the young man snap back to reality. "Oh-h, yeah! Sorry!" he replied, cheeks burning.

He only hoped the man straight out of his dreams wouldn't notice it.

He took few bills from his pocket and without even counting them, gave them all to the Asian man, took the box, and closed the door as fast as possible. The moment the face of the delivery boy was out of sight behind the closed door, Thomas felt completely stupid. He was tempted to open it again to apologize for his rudeness, but the boy must have been gone by now. He had acted out of panic and he regretted not saying at least "Hi!" Yeah, why did he not at least said "Hi?"

He felt so dumb. The man of his life had been right in front of him and he acted like an absolute moron.

He ate his piazza, feeling even lonelier.

........

When Jorge had told him another order asking for the cutest delivery boy had just been sent, Minho had sighed. Probably some girls, again, who were desperately looking for a boyfriend or even just a one night stand. And since he was indeed the cutest boy of the pizzeria, it was always him who had to deliver those orders.

So, he had to continually reject the many advances he received. Let's just say that… girls weren't really what he was interested in.

Zart, another delivery boy and Minho's close friend, could easily do it, but Jorge was strict. They asked for the prettiest one, they'll get the prettiest one. It was a bit mean to his blond friend, but the Asian couldn't deny that he was cuter.

So, he was very surprised when, this time, it was a boy who opened the door. A boy… or rather an angel. With his golden colored eyes, his perfect cheekbones covered in moles, his brown tousled hair, his beautiful lips… The man in front of him could only be an angel. Someone so adorable couldn't exist.

He had been a bit disappointed when said angel had abruptly shut the door close, but given his red cheeks and the huge tips the boy gave him – he had given a lot more money than needed – Minho couldn't complain much. The angel must had fell for him.

He only hoped to see him again.

And his wish was granted faster than expected since, the exact next day, he found himself in front of the same door, with the same order, and the same special request in hand. He couldn't help his habitual smirk from coming up when the young man opened the door. He seemed even more beautiful than yesterday.

"Oh, great!" he said, seeming relived.

"What?"

"I was hoping it would be you" he continued. "I wanted to apologize for yesterday, I was rude."

"You ordered a pizza just to apologize?"

"U-uh… yes."

His cheeks were once again red and Minho knew his heart could not take it much longer. He was so cute. If it was up to him, he would take this angel in his arms and bring him somewhere safe to protect him from anything.

"I-I… Hum… You…" The young man looked uncertain.

"Yes?"

"U-uh, nothing, thanks for the pizza."

He then took some bills and, as a repeat of last time, gave the money to Minho before closing the door, pizza box in hands, leaving the latter surprised, but with a smile on his lips.

It was now certain that the young brown-haired man wasn't indifferent to Minho. He was tempted to knock at the door once again and kiss this irresistible angel silly, but told himself it was probably wiser to take it slow. Even if he didn't really know him, this young man was too precious to risk losing him.

.........

Thomas banged his head once again on his kitchen table. What an idiot. What an idiot!

Not even able to ask the man of his dream for his name. The best thing he had found was to order once again, so the Asian wouldn't think he was an asshole and at least try to start a conversation with him, but he had totally failed.

This perfect man made him so nervous. He was probably not even interested in men, so Thomas was already stressed about that, moreover, he also was losing all his means in front of this living god. He was totally screwed.

But he was determined. And even if it would result in failure, he wanted to try. That's why, the next day, he ordered again from the pizzeria. This time, he chose a salad. Yesterday's pizza was still half eaten in the fridge.

When the bell rang, Thomas ran to the door, hasty to see the beautiful delivery boy. He would at least get a name this time, he swore it.

Like expected, the Asian man was behind the door, a small box in hands.

"So tonight's Cesar salad?" the latter said, smirking. "Pizza was getting old?"

"U-uh, yeah… right."

Klunk, that wasn't a good start.

"Uh… You" he tried again, not with much success. He took a deep breath and said "What's your name?"

Yes! I did it!

The man raised an eyebrow, but his smirk stayed on.

"Why do you wanna know?" he asked in a mocking tone, as if he already knew the effect he had on Thomas.

"Uh… I-I…"

And there it goes again. His cheeks were hotter than ever.

"Name's Minho" the delivery boy answered, taking pity on the young man. "You?"

Minho… Nice name. And if Thomas remembered correctly, that was a Korean name.

"I-it's Thomas."

Bra-vo. Not even capable of answering a simple question without stuttering.

"Thomas" the young man repeated. "I quite like it, but I prefer calling you angel."

His heart skipped a beat. Angel?! It was now official, Thomas was going to die of love for this man. Feeling his knees going soft, he knew he wouldn't be able to stay in front of Minho staring at him much longer.

He couldn't do it. He repeated last night's events. He only let out the breath he was holding once the door was closed behind him, his heart shattered into pieces for another wasted golden chance.

........

Minho was back from a delivery when Jorge called out for him.

"Here, there's a special request for you."

Curious, he took the order and immediately recognized the address. Thomas. This time, in the request box, he had written "Send Minho", which made him smile. He couldn't wait to see his angel.

Now knowing the way perfectly, Minho arrived in front of the now familiar door even faster than in the past days.

Holding the Greek salad, he rang the bell. He showed his best smile when the door opened, making sure his dimples were on full display.

"You know, my beautiful angel" he started when Thomas was in full sight "I'm flattered you want to see me so much, but four nights in a row? I'll start wondering if you haven't started an obsession. Or do you just want to apologize once again for always slamming the door in my face?"

Of course, Minho was being sarcastic and knew very well that Thomas didn't do it out of rudeness. It was pretty clear that he was desperately trying to asking him out. Minho would immediately say yes, he wanted this boy so much.

"Uh-h, no… Yes!" Thomas said, seeming distraught once again.

So the pet name still had its effects.

"Sorry, I'm just…"

"Intimidated?"

"Uh… maybe, I don't know…"

The Asian smiled all the more. "Oh, my angel, don't be" he said while taking the youngest one's chin in his fingers. "Someone like you should be protected at all cost, you don't have to be intimidated."

"I-I uh… I-I don't know what to say…"

"Then don't say anything, angel."

Did Minho make sure to say "angel" as much as possible just to see the young man's reaction? Yes. And he wasn't ashamed of it. He was totally flirting with Thomas all while working, but who was going to stop him? Each day, he felt his heart beating even more for this angel. He was falling in love.

"Here, your salad"

"Thanks" the boy whispered before giving Minho the money, once again leaving a good tip.

But the young man refused the tip this time. He felt bad to receive money from someone he liked. "No, take it back. Just seeing you is enough."

He couldn't hold back the wink that followed. Thomas's reaction was simply delicious. He shivered from head to toes before slamming the door once again, leaving Minho with a tender smile on his visage.

Thomas was too adorable.

........

It was the fifth night in a row. And it was ridiculous. He was probably even more of an idiot in Minho's eyes. Even if the Asian man seemed to be flirting with him, it could also be a way of making fun of him. He hoped it wasn't the case.

But he still wanted to try. He wasn't going to let it go that easily. A deep intuition was telling him that Minho was the man of his life. He couldn't let such an opportunity go to waste.

Still, when he opened to door that night, his knees almost failed him. The young man standing in the doorstep was even more gorgeous than the previous nights. His eyes were sparkling in joy and his hair was styled in a way that showed off ever details of his beautiful face.

"My angel" he started with a honeyed tone. "If you want to see me so badly, you just have to say so."

Thomas loved this pet name. He didn't know why, but every time this perfection of a human being pronounced this word with sweet voice, he melted. But now wasn't the time. He had a goal to accomplish. He took a deep breath and spoke clearly.

"A-actually, yes, I want to see you."

Okay, maybe not so clearly, but he did it! He did it!

By Minho's surprised, but satisfied, look, he knew that his boldness had its effect.

The oldest one, while keeping his eyes locked to Thomas, put the order – a pizza this time – on the small table near the door before coming closer to the young man. Seeing that he wasn't stepping away, he went a little further and gently slithered his arms around the brunet's hips.

Being this close to Minho was such a crazy experience. His heart was beating fast. Too fast. His smell intoxicated him and he was sure he was going to lose his mind.

"Yeah?" the delivery boy said, smirking. "Do you have something to tell me?"

His tone was a flirting one, indicating he was well aware of Thomas's attraction towards him.

But two could play this game.

Thomas put his arms around the Asian man's neck, bringing his face closer to his. He put on his best smile and completely dived into the beautiful dark eyes in front of him.

"Well…" he started with a tone he hoped sounded confident "I was wondering if you were free… someday…"

"Are you asking me out?" Minho replied while raising an eyebrow, grinning.

"Yes."

There wasn't a smile in existence more radiant than the one Thomas was seeing right now. Minho looked like the happiest man alive.

"Finally" he said "I was wondering when you were going to ask me, angel."

"Does that mean yes?" Thomas mocked in return.

The Asian boy got even closer. Their lips were almost touching, intertwining their breaths. It was so tempting to just cut the distance and kiss this man. He was sure the living god could feel his heartbeats resonating against his muscular body.

"I finish my shift in one hour" Minho informed "but once I'm done, I'll come back and I'll be yours, my angel."

Thomas couldn't resist anymore, he had to kiss him. Once his lips were on the attractive man one's, he knew. Minho was the man of his life. There weren't any doubts now.

The kiss was soft and short, lasting only few seconds. But it was the best kiss of his life. He already wanted more.

"Then go" Thomas said, reluctantly pulling away from Minho "and comeback quickly."

"As fast as possible." Before leaving, he added with a wink: "I know the way by heart now."

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I'm pretty proud of my translation this time, I'm getting better!

Anyway, I hoped you liked it and sorry for that bad flirting, I really don't know how flirting works hahaha

Thanks for reading!

#tmr #tmr thomas #tmr minho #minho tmr #thomas #the maze runner #maze runner thomas #thominho #minho #maze runner minho #thomas and minho #thominho fanfiction #thominho fanfic #fanfiction

21 notes · View notes

secret-engima · 4 years ago

Note

NotEveryDayisAGoodDay: maybe a scene where Ita is being Daded into a better mental/emotional health? And what do the rumors have to say about Yoru being the Bijuu's dad? And about Ita, He's obvs an OldSoul, just with no memory of his lives before. My brain suggested that he's Somnus. Ardyn wonders into town and is oh shit baby bro. There's Angst and Feels before he leaves again. And Yoru knows that something about Ita called to him but couldn't put his finger on it before Uncle showed up.

I will never say no to the deserved dadding of Itachi but first let me just say that Itachi as Somnus But No Memories is BRILLIANT and let’s pretend that’s a thing now. Ardyn blows into town ever few years and always dotes on Itachi shamelessly.

-It’s not long after Yoru realized that the Uchiha had forgotten themselves and Sarutobi was being Even More Of An Idiot because really, there are no wars (Yoru makes sure of that) so why send a FOUR YEAR OLD onto a combat mission? Seriously? He put laws in place against those via Hashirama (that Danzo discreetly hid and Sarutobi is turning a blind eye too for the moment).

-Yoru sweeps in and claims Itachi as a Retainer in a heartbeat after hearing about this, just- shows up in the Uchiha compound in his Formal Getup with his Retinue flanking him and is like “I am here for my newest Retainer” and like- what are the Uchiha gonna do? Say NO??? Yoru is still highly esteemed in many circles even if Sarutobi and Danzo are being Idiots about him and on one hand no one in the Uchiha wants to tick off Yoru and on the other PRESTIGE. Yoru has claimed no Retainer since finding his Aburame and that was generations ago. So Fugaku stiffly summons Itachi and Mikoto stoically packs her son’s bags despite her pregnant belly and tries not to show her heartbreak at giving away her eldest to the unpredictable and ancient forest spirit that has long watched over their village. Mikoto pets Itachi’s hair and whispers to him to be good while Fugaku stiffly orders his son to make the Uchiha proud.

-Yoru watches them give up their child without fighting, without crying, without even hugging, and feels rage bubble under his skin that he will not show.

-Itachi is four and small and traumatized when Yoru takes him back to the shrine. Ignis fusses and Gladio moves the boy’s things into the room he’ll be living in now and Prompto entertains Itachi with his butterflies and for a while everything is fine.

-A few days later the shock factor wears off and it is no longer fine.

-Yoru unhesitatingly picks Itachi up during his silent sobbing fit, having woken up after sensing Itachi’s chakra fluctuate with homesickness-nightmares-sadness-loneliness, curling the boy against his shoulder and walking back and forth through the gardens until the stunned Itachi drifts back to sleep.

-Having a child in the shrine is a welcome return in some ways. Yoru’s and Tsuki’s children are all grown and moved out at this point, some to other parts of the village, some to places beyond in the ninja world. They all take turns making Itachi feel at home, comforting his nightmares, and when he confesses what happened on the mission (killing a man and still dreaming of the blood on the kunai), how it made him feel and how he HATES it, Yoru tells Itachi that while he will learn to fight, he will never be forced to fight anyone. He will never have to be a ninja, never have to go to war unless he chooses to. Yoru will make sure of that.

-Itachi clings to Yoru after that, becomes his little shadow even more than Tsuki’s or Ignis’s. Tsuki teaches him healing, Yoru gives him (adopts him with) magic so he can always feel at home with them.

-Six months in and a little boy named Shisui bumbles in, saying he’s here to check on his cousin. Yoru smiles when Itachi shyly emerges from behind Yoru’s yukata to say hi and is bedazzled by Shisui’s smile. The two are attached at the hip after that unless Gladio deigns playfight with Shisui (which he always does) because Shisui LIKES Gladio and thinks he’s cool.

-About a year later Gladio finally gets impatient with the Uchiha, bangs on the door to Fugaku’s house at like- six in the morning and when Mikoto opens it stiffly (what else will Yoru take from them what else can he but her newborn child please nO) and Gladio gruffly says “Just because you don’t have to feed him anymore doesn’t mean you aren’t still his mother. Make time in your day to visit.”

-And for a moment Mikoto is so furious her Uchiha mask slips and she snaps that Yoru was the one who TOOK HER SON AWAY from her, how was she supposed to know they would permit visits? Gladio just flashes a bit of fang and retorts that she didn’t even protest the removal and didn’t even hug her son goodbye, how were they supposed to know she was BOTHERED by it?

-Mikoto is more than a little insulted but also baffled.

-Mikoto and Fugaku visit regularly after that, albeit with supervision after Fugaku forgets himself and goes on a “You Must Live Up To Being An Uchiha” rant that nearly reduces Itachi to tears later.

-Fugaku is sorry about that after Ignis calmly sits the two down and serenely informs them about all the ways that kind of mentality and behavior can Mess Up A Child.

-They are very understanding and don’t interrupt.

-It has nothing to do with the knives Ignis is expertly sharpening despite his blindness he is sure.

-So anyway yes. Much cuddles and positive reinforcement for Itachi since he was 4, plus LC magic and training in being a medic and he absolutely grows up to be the next Tsunade of his generation (despite being a boy). :D

-To answer your other questions!

-The rumors all insist that Yoru is TOTALLY the dad of the biju, it’s just HOW that varies wildly. Some have him as forming them out of the elements in an expression of his power, others have him being wooed by a demon who shapeshifted into a lovely woman and their affair gave birth to them. There’s a particularly wild one that says YORU is the one who shapeshifter into a woman and seduced a demon and they call Yoru father out of respect even though they should technically call him mother (Prompto just about dies from crying laughter when he hears that one, Gladio is on the floor and Ignis is smirking. Yoru is a Die™). There’s a story among the few who remember the Legend of the Sage of Six Paths (albeit in pieces) that makes him out to be a helper of the Sage and that when the Sage battled the TenTails he was unable to defeat the beast until he sought out and earned the favor of Yoru and his trickster Uncle, who gave the Sage gifts of healing and illusion to finally trick the beast into being defeated and split into the biju.

-There is one particularly fae-like and gentle tale that says that when Yoru was but a young, rash, child spirit himself, his only company were nine toys of different creatures. First a little stuffed kitsune who traveled with him everywhere, then a wooden octo-cow that he set as the guard for his bedside, then on down each biju until he made a little tanuki playmate out of sand and glass. The story then goes that as he grew, he kept the toys and loved them, giving them names and speaking with them as real friends and that in time, when he had reached adulthood, his years and years of love made them magic. But he had since forgotten about them once reaching adulthood, and so the toys became bitter and lonely and took on the forms of living chakra beasts to search for their “father” and that their tails are numbered in order of which one Yoru had first (thus the stuffed fox gained nine tails while the little tanuki of sand and glass only gained one).

-Yoru finds this version oddly charming if sad and Shukaku has more than once loudly grumbled at being compared to a TOY.

-Ardyn’s fav is the one where Yoru is the shapeshifter. Because of course it is. XD

#SE asks #spideypoolalways asks #Not Everyday is a Good Day (Live Anyway) verse #Secret Engima Rambles

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bubonickitten · 4 years ago

Link

Summary: Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Previous chapter: tumblr // AO3

Chapter 10 full text & content warnings below the cut.

CWs for Chapter 10: brief panic attack; some vague JonMartin apocalypse angst. SPOILERS through S5.

Chapter 10: Pending Arrival

It’s okay, Jon tells himself, forcing himself to breathe the way Martin taught him: Four seconds in; hold seven seconds; eight seconds out.

Well… okay, it’s not okay. It’s very, very not okay.

…but – four – it – five – will – six – be – seven… okay, exhale.

Some time later – eight minutes, thirty-six-point-eight seconds, he Knows, though he didn’t ask – his breathing evens out and his thoughts clear with it.

That interaction with Martin wasn’t unexpected. There’s little reason to expect things to be different this time around, especially this soon after Jon woke up. He knows this.

There is a wall between him and Martin right now, constructed from a lifetime of rejection and loneliness that Jon himself contributed to for far too long. It’s been recently expanded by a mountain of grief, loss, and mourning – what should have been years’ worth condensed into the last six months – and it’s been further reinforced by Peter Lukas’ manipulations.

It will take some time to coax Martin away from the Lonely. Hopefully it won’t take as long as it did the last time, especially now that Jon knows that the hypothetical threat of the Extinction is not as imminent as Peter claims, but still: Martin needs time and space. Besides, Jon simply can’t force the Lonely out of him with a few words and a prayer. Martin has to choose to reject it of his own volition, or it will always cling to him.

And most importantly: Martin deserves to make his own choice. Jon has no right to take that from him, any more than he did when they passed through the Lonely’s domain.

It would have been nice to be able to physically see Martin, though. Or even just hear his voice outside of his own head. Memories can only provide so much reassurance, and for so long.

Jon had every intention of continuing yesterday’s strategy meeting this afternoon, but already his brief conversation with Georgie and painfully brief interaction with Martin have left him fatigued. The migraine he had expected yesterday failed to reach fruition, but the threat of it still lingers, accompanied by a painless but still unpleasant sensation of pressure in his head, making him feel off-kilter. As of right now, he can still pull on the Archive to speak. Sitting down and strategizing, though, is another matter entirely. Planning ahead has never been part of his skill set. Anxiety, sleep deprivation, and a supernaturally-imparted speech impediment aren’t doing him any favors.

“Let me guess: you’re out of commission.”

Basira looks him up and down, taking in his hunched gargoyle posture in his desk chair, his half-lidded eyes, his restless hands: one resting uneasily on top of his desk, fingers twitching and tapping with no discernible rhythm; the other wound up in the scarf Georgie gave him, still draped over his shoulders.

Jon can’t tell what characterizes her more in this moment: frustration with him, or simple exhaustion. Despite his own hypersensitivity to how others perceive him, he has a feeling that in this moment, it’s the latter.

“I think it can wait until tomorrow,” says Georgie, perched on the edge of Jon’s desk.

“Fine,” Basira concedes. “Tomorrow, then.” She knocks twice on the doorframe. When Jon looks up on reflex, she catches his eye. “Get some actual sleep tonight, Jon. It’s not just your personal mental health on the line here.”

“She is right about you needing to sleep,” Georgie says as Basira leaves. He avoids eye contact. “I’m serious. You look exhausted. I can get you a sleep aid –” Jon shakes his head slowly. “Why?”

With a sudden burst of energy, Jon stands, grabs her hand, and leads her to the entrance to the tunnels. He waits until they’ve both descended the ladder and the trapdoor is closed behind them before he turns to her and blurts out:

“…too afraid to go to sleep.”

“I can sit next to you while you fall asleep if you –”

“…would serve no purpose except to start me having the nightmares again,” he mumbles, sinking into the nearest chair.

“You’ve been having those for a long time now,” Georgie says, following his lead and sitting across from him. “And you’ve figured out how to cope with them. What’s actually scaring you?”

Jon bites his lower lip and bows his head.

“Then I would watch – once again –”

“– paralyzed with fear –”

“– tried to scream but I couldn’t find my breath, I couldn’t move –”

“– I couldn’t talk to anyone –”

“– unable to move its body, though – its eyes darting around wildly –”

“– unable to move – to cry for help –”

“– unable to look away –”

“– could only stare at him as he slowly, achingly crawled towards his doom –”

“– being unable to reach him –”

“– stare at it, knowing how your – friend suffers, knowing how powerless you are to help –”

“Slow down. You’re worried you’ll go back to how you were before?”

“…could only watch from the sidelines, getting a… a –”

He stops, leaning forward with his head in his hands.

“What is it, Jon?”

“And the worst part was that, somewhere in me, I – I liked it –”

“– it drew me in almost as much as it disgusted me –”

“– getting a… a sad vicarious thrill from –”

“– when people look at me… that fear“ – Jon’s breath hitches – “it feels amazing.”

He looks up at Georgie.

“Underneath all that awful fear, it felt like… home,” he whispers in a haunted tone. The shame crashes over him and he breaks eye contact, ducking his head again.

Georgie is quiet for a long moment. Then, she leans forward, reaches out, and takes his hand. He flinches and freezes.

“It sounds to me like you don’t want to like it,” she says. “People sometimes have feelings and urges that they aren’t proud of. Things that would hurt other people, if acted on.” She takes a breath. “But… I think it says more about a person’s character when they fight back against it.”

“…a presence within myself, inside my being –”

“– will strip us of what it means to be human, and leave us something alien and cold.”

“I know your circumstances are… different –”

“…it was the product of an otherworldly evil and called to me,” he says miserably.

“I know,” she says again. “There’s something in you, something that came from outside of yourself, and it’s trying to change you. Consume you.”

“…should have fought harder against the temptation –”

“But you’re fighting it now, aren’t you? You want things to be different.”

“I suppose I had to believe that the darkened natures of our terror could be kept in check – a rather feeble hope, for my own salvation –”

“– as if it might ward whatever awful thing waited inside that door.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s a feeble hope. This is the most sure I’ve ever seen you be about anything.” She jostles his hand until he looks up at her. “You’re not a bad person, Jon. You’re taking extreme steps to make sure you don’t hurt anyone. It might not change the things you’ve done in the past, but neither will beating yourself up over it.”

Jon laughs, wincing when it comes out sounding a bit tear-choked.

“I try to think that I’ve left my past behind, but that sort of denial doesn’t help me sleep.”

“Maybe not. But you don’t have to deny the past in order to move beyond it. You can remember your mistakes and learn from them without letting them define you. And I think… I think you’re going to have to do that, if you want to move forward.” After a moment, Jon nods. Apparently unconvinced, Georgie adds: “Also, I don’t know if you need to be told this, but getting better means actually taking care of yourself.”

Jon chuckles at that, some of his tension bleeding away. “Thank you for indulging me, you’ve been very patient.”

“Stop that. You’d do the same for me. You have done the same for me.” He opens his mouth to argue. “Yeah, you’re not great at comforting people, I know. But I’ve seen you try.”

He must still look dubious, because Georgie sighs heavily.

“Do you remember when I was going through that medication change in uni?”

Jon nods warily.

It had been before they started dating. Jon has never made friends easily, but somehow Georgie had managed to tolerate his company long enough for him to start letting his guard down. At that point in his life, she really was the only one who he could confidently call a friend.

So when the antidepressant she had been on for over a year lost effectiveness and she had to start the arduous process of finding a new one, Jon had a front row seat to a depressive episode – and he felt irretrievably lost. He had no script to follow; he worried incessantly that he was making things worse, that he wasn’t making himself useful enough, that he was intruding on her personal space and she just didn’t have the energy to tell him the truth. He would pace restlessly and trip over his words and lapse into uncomfortable silences, wringing his hands and brooding – being more of a nuisance than a help, he was certain.

“You didn’t know how to help,” Georgie says, as if reading his mind. “You couldn’t make me better. I could tell it was driving you mad, not having an answer, because there was no simple answer. It was just… something that had to be lived through, coped with – and you’ve never been able to tolerate that concept, I know. You’re not good at waiting.” Jon huffs – only because she’s right. “But,” Georgie says emphatically, “you spent time with me, even though I was no fun. Brought me takeaway, set alarms to remind yourself to ask me if I’d taken my meds, did all this – this reading and research on how to support a loved one in crisis, which was” – she chuckles – “very you.”

Jon focuses intently on the weave of his scarf, petting it absently with his free hand, tracing the knit with his fingertips.

“You stayed anyway, even though you were uncomfortable. You didn’t say as much, but you’re fairly obvious when you’re anxious. At one point I told you I didn’t want you to fix it, I just didn’t want to be alone, and… you respected that. Which surprised me, to be honest. I was certain you’d be stubborn about it, act like you knew better than me.” Jon smiles at that. It was a fair assumption for her to make, especially back then. “Probably never would’ve considered dating you if you hadn’t proven me wrong then.”

“Until he became me –“

“– moody, short-tempered, constantly on edge.”

He gives Georgie a wry look as he says it, though, and she laughs.

“You’ve always been moody and on edge, including then. That wasn’t a new development that grew up overnight. What I’m saying is you’ve never been just that – which is why I have expectations of you, because I know what you’re capable of.” She gives him a serious look. “Like I told you years ago, you need to stop seeing things in black-and-white – including when it’s about you. Not everything has a clear-cut answer. You’d be happier if you could make peace with that.”

“And he was aware of it always – could not disagree,” Jon says with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Of course I’m right,” she quips back. “But you’re trying, and that’s all I ask.”

The ensuing silence is a comfortable one. Jon uses the lapse as an opportunity to search for a way to ask after Melanie.

“Statement of Georgina Barker regarding –”

Jon pauses. There’s really no way of saying the next part without accidentally drawing on more than one statement, but… Georgie is safe, and the phrase only appears a couple of times in the Archive, so it shouldn’t be too powerful.

“Statement of Melanie King.”

There is a reverb to the words, but the lightheadedness that comes with it is mild and passes quickly. Georgie appears to notice the odd tenor of his voice, tilting her head slightly to track the sound, but she doesn’t pursue it.

“You’re asking how Melanie is?”

“I wanted to check in with them, find out what happened.”

“She’s… having a rough day. I don’t think it’s my place to say more than that.”

Jon nods again: I understand. Then, he repeats again: “Statement of Georgina Barker.”

Georgie leans forward, elbow on knee, chin propped up by her fist. Her other hand continues to hold Jon’s, but she loosens her grip somewhat. The crease between her eyebrows is familiar to him – Georgie is taking her time to inventory her thoughts before speaking. He waits.

“I’m… hm. It’s been a lot to process,” she says carefully. “I think I’m doing okay for the moment? I’m mostly worried about Melanie. I’ve been worried about Melanie, but… after what you said about quitting – it’s complicated things a bit. It’s – it’s something we needed to know,” she adds, seeing Jon’s guilty expression. “I’m glad you were honest with us. Actually, I think Melanie was surprised that you told us about the, ah, second way to quit. It… hmm. It doesn't fit with the image she has of you.” Jon snorts at the delicate phrasing, and Georgie gives him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, but she still thinks you’re a self-serving prick.”

Jon shrugs, unperturbed. He already knew that, and it’s not like he’s done much to dissuade Melanie of that assessment. Not yet, anyway.

“Oh, but she told me to reassure you that she isn’t going to kill you in your sleep, so that’s something? I told her that’s not why you pulled an all-nighter, but she said to let you know anyway.”

Jon laughs, and Georgie’s eyes crinkle when she returns a smile. After a moment, though, it fades.

“I did want to ask, though… did Melanie find out how to quit in your future as well?” Jon nods. “In that case – I’m not sure if you were planning on it, but in case you were… don’t tell me just yet what her decision was where you came from. I’ve been tempted to ask, but I haven’t talked it over with Melanie yet, and I think that’s her call to make. Okay?” Jon nods again. “And… she’s still angry with you – with a lot of things, really, but especially this place, and she sees you as inseparable from it.”

“They’re not entirely wrong,” Jon accedes.

“I did talk to her about it. She asked me to let you know that she does want to talk to you – I know she has some questions to ask – but that she doesn’t want you near her right now. She’s trying to sort through her feelings towards you – figure out how much of it is a you problem versus a her problem versus a both-of-you problem. She needs some space to do that. And it’s not the only thing she’s working through right now.”

Jon can appreciate that. Honestly, it’s better than he could have hoped for. Last time around, Melanie had eventually softened on him, had even tentatively called him a friend – but at that point, everything in his life felt like too little too late, and she deserved better than to have him poison her life again. He really had only been looking for someone to help him parse Martin’s intentions – Jon has always struggled with anything less than direct, explicit communication – but Georgie was right to be angry with him. Regardless of his intentions, he was inseparable from the Institute; there was no way for him to ask for advice that didn’t involve dragging Melanie back into exactly the kind of toxicity she was trying to escape.

When he left that day, it was with the intention of staying out of both of their lives from then on. They both set a firm boundary, and they deserved to have it respected. But he had plenty of time to brood during the apocalypse, and there were so many things left unsaid between him and Melanie and Georgie. Even if the world hadn’t ended, he probably wouldn’t have approached them again – they seemed happy, and showing up on their doorstep to talk, even if it was just to apologize, would have only been for his own benefit. It wouldn’t have felt right to intrude on them again and open up old wounds just for the sake of securing closure for himself.

Now, though? Truth be told, he could use some space, himself. He’s rehearsed it many times before – all the things he might say to the people in his life, both living and dead, if he had a chance to see them again – but now that he actually has that chance, everything he’s drafted in his head feels inadequate. It may take some time to get his thoughts in order before sitting down and openly discussing his and Melanie’s fraught relationship.

“So… Martin?” Georgie says, snapping Jon out of his thoughts. “Have you seen him yet?”

Jon makes an uncertain tilting motion with his hand, finding no succinct way to explain that yes, he did have a brief encounter with Martin, but it was a one-sided conversation, and Jon expected as much, but it still hurt; and moreover, Martin was invisible when he visited, no doubt intending to just see for himself that Jon was awake, check in on how he was doing without being noticed; and Jon wishes he had been able to do the same, to have some irrefutable physical reassurance that Martin is alive and real and here and now, because it’s been so long, and…

“…he seemed determined to avoid – me,” Jon settles on instead.

“You care about him a lot, don’t you?”

“I need him to be okay –”

“– the easy, charming man I’d fall in love with.”

“Oh,” Georgie says, sounding stunned. Jon meets her eyes and gives her a quizzical look. “I just – knowing you, I figured you’d still be in denial about how infatuated you are? Or, at best, you’d grudgingly admit you maybe, possibly had a little crush? I was not expecting a declaration of love.”

“Everything about being with him felt so natural that when he told me he loved me, it only came as a surprise to realize that we hadn’t said it already –”

“– and together it seemed like we would get past our pain.”

“Holy shit,” Georgie murmurs. “You’re absolutely besotted. I mean, I knew you were, you talked about him all the time and you’re not as subtle as you think you are – but actually acknowledging it?”

“…honestly it’s one of the few decisions I’ve ever made that I completely understand,” Jon replies, not bothering to hide his small smile.

“Wow. You’ve… changed more than I thought.” Georgie mirrors his expression, but then she falters, chewing the inside of her cheek for a moment. “Can I ask how it – if it…” Jon’s smile fades too, but he makes a beckoning gesture: It’s okay; go on. “Regardless of whether things worked out between you, I… well, I have a hard time thinking you’d come back to this time if it meant leaving him behind in your future?”

Jon looks down at their linked hands, expressionless as he begins to construct a response.

“I’ll skip over the bit where –”

“– taking me in his arms and giving me the last and longest hug I would ever get from him –”

“– he was gone. Just gone. And I was alone again. There was no one I could talk to about it –”

“– I had plenty of time to mourn him –”

“– it took all my self-control to keep a grip on that anchor, as I slowly dragged myself away from the edge of my lonely grave.”

Georgie gives his hand a reassuring squeeze, which he returns gratefully.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “For what it’s worth, I… I��m glad you have this second chance. You… are going to tell him how you feel this time as well, right?”

Obviously, he wants to say, but it’s not as simple as he wishes it was. He frowns thoughtfully as he searches for a way to explain the situation.

“…he’s been so lonely –”

“– embraced the loneliness like an old friend –”

“– for a creature of the Lonely, the urge is to isolate, never to communicate or connect –”

“– I wanted to say something reassuring, to reach out and let him know I was still there –”

“But it was like this last time you woke up, too.” She waits for his affirmative before continuing: “So you can do it again.”

“…I managed it eventually, but my inability to speak –”

“– I found him difficult to talk to at length.”

“But,” she persists, “you aren’t going to give up, right?”

“…I knew he would return eventually,” Jon says.

“Good,” Georgie says with a relieved, somewhat exasperated sigh. “I swear to god, if you’d gotten fatalistic right there, I’d have had some words for you.” Jon chuckles. “Seriously, though – you’ll figure this out. You’ve always been stubborn. Every now and then, it’s even an asset.”

“I’m grateful to her, of course.”

“Again, don’t mention it. As long as you keep trying, I’ll support you. I might set limits on how much I’m willing to get involved with the actual supernatural bits – I haven’t decided just yet – but when I need to step back, I’ll tell you. I’m not going to ghost you just because you don’t grovel.”

Jon groans at the pun, which gets a self-satisfied grin out of Georgie.

“Oh, shut up. It was a good one.”

Right, I forgot: comatose people don’t need pens, Jon thinks irritably to himself the next day, turning his office upside down looking for a writing utensil.

He’s so thoroughly preoccupied with rummaging through his desk that he doesn’t notice Basira standing in the doorway until she clears her throat, startling him so badly that he jumps and slams one of his fingers in the drawer. He yelps in pain and pulls his hand back, shaking it out to distract from the throbbing. A moment later, the realization crosses his mind that it’s the same finger he’d tried to cut off the last time he was here.

It’s a coincidence, he tells himself before his mind can wander too far down the rabbit hole. He has enough to worry about without getting caught up in the hypotheticals of time travel and sci-fi tropes about the changeability of the past. Besides, the Coffin hasn't even arrived yet; there are still a few weeks before the original date of his failed self-amputation attempts.

“Sorry,” Basira says, eyebrows raised. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Honestly, I figured you’d just know I was here.” Jon has nothing to say to that. Trying to explain the fine details of Knowing has never been a pleasant experience, and he couldn’t tackle that subject now even if he’d wanted to. “What are you looking for, anyway?”

“…think of me as an idiot who turned up to give a statement without a pen,” Jon says distractedly, opening another drawer and sifting through it. “I can’t find it anywhere.”

“Pens?” Jon nods without looking up. “Yeah, I threw them all out – don’t give me that look, Jon. Half of them didn’t even work, and the others looked like a puppy’s chew toy. Anyway, most of what I threw out in here got touched by the Flesh. You didn’t want any of it back, trust me.” Jon grimaces. “Yeah. Anyway, there are boxes in the supply closet – but I think I can do you one better.”

She tosses something at him. He notices the movement belatedly and just barely manages to catch the thing, nearly dropping it.

“Guess knowing things also doesn’t extend to being able to catch without fumbling,” Basira deadpans.

Jon looks down at the phone in his hands, then back up at Basira.

“Got the Institute to cover it as a work expense. I have no idea where the one you had before the Unknowing ended up; I’m assuming it blew up along with everything else.” Basira leans back against the doorframe. “I’m sure texting will go about as well for you as typing has, but Georgie downloaded a few AAC apps for you to try.”

He gives Basira a tentative smile.

“You’re welcome,” she says with a curt nod. The look she gives him then is curious – almost like she’s still trying to get a read on him, debating how much closeness she can risk. Then her guard goes back up and her tone turns authoritative again. “You can practice with them later. Meeting’s in a half-hour.”

Before Jon can respond, Basira turns and leaves.

It’s uncertain how the Archive will take to this newest workaround, but there’s only one way to find out.

“Here, let me take –”

Jon unceremoniously drops the box of statements down through the trapdoor, where it hits the ground below with a dull thud and a puff of dust.

“…or not,” Georgie finishes.

“Was that really necessary?” Basira calls from the bottom of the ladder.

Completely pointless, Jon thinks to himself a bit giddily, ignoring the stabbing pain in his temples with relish. The Beholding can complain all it wants about him mishandling statements; right now, he’s too tired and too delirious to care.

He’d had plenty of time during the apocalypse to develop methods of coping with the Eye’s intrusiveness. The most emotionally satisfying one he’d happened upon basically amounted to random acts of spite. It had no material effect on anything – aside from triggering varying degrees of headaches, but he already got those anyway. It was no different than a petulant child slamming a bedroom door, but it gave him that fleeting feeling of being in control of something, and it felt good.

“Let me go first,” Georgie says. He gives her a questioning look. “You’re using a cane, Jon. There’s a fifty percent chance you’re going to fall on your ass going down that ladder, and I’d rather keep you out of the hospital for the rest of the year.” Jon averts his eyes and frowns. She must interpret it as reluctance, because she clarifies: “You need a spotter.”

Jon signals agreement and she starts down the ladder ahead of him.

The thing is, he wasn’t trying to contradict her. It’s just… well, he’s still getting used to the idea of being cared for again, especially when it comes to insignificant things. Yes, his leg is acting up today, but it’s not that bad – the cane is just to keep it from getting any worse. And if he did fall, it’s not like it would kill him. It would be inconvenient, unpleasant, and probably embarrassing, but too temporary to really register on his distress scale.

Anyway, he’s grown desensitized to physical pain. Or… no, that’s not quite right. What he’s desensitized to isn’t the pain itself, but the experience of being harmed. He’s come to expect it, and these days only the only permanent injuries he receives are those inflicted by one of the Powers. Everything else heals too quickly and completely to feel consequential. Most things don’t even scar anymore, and those that do – well, what’s one more scar?

He knows it’s not a healthy mindset. Even before the world ended, he’d come to regard his body with a sense of detachment. In retrospect, he should’ve known that his rib wouldn’t work as an anchor. Most days, his body didn’t even feel like it belonged to him. Then, as if to confirm that inkling, Jonah possessed him; the Watcher’s eyes started manifesting on and around him; his presence became synonymous with the Eye to anyone who beheld him. He confirmed on several occasions that he wasn’t able to die. Even the Hunt couldn’t kill him. Jon would end one day, like everything else, but a mundane physical death was beyond him.

He doesn’t Know if that’s still the case now, and he’s too afraid to ask.

So, yes: he’s developed a cavalier attitude towards personal safety. Avoiding minor injuries feels almost on the same level as what temperature the water is before he steps into the shower: relevant in terms of his own comfort, but otherwise unimportant. He’s always spared little thought as to his own comfort, and it’s only gotten worse since becoming the Archivist. And the apocalypse didn’t exactly have much to offer in the way of comfort anyway, especially after…

Jon cringes as he stops to reflect on that train of thought. It took him fewer than thirty seconds to rationalize… well, Martin would have called it self-harm. Or self-sabotage, at the least. Georgie probably would, too, if she could see inside his mind right now. His judgment of what counts as worthy of concern is decidedly skewed, especially to an outside observer. It was easy to justify it to himself when it was just him alone at the end of the world, but employing a mindset forged in hopelessness and tailored to a doomed future is only going to be maladaptive here and now.

He should probably take some time later to unpack all of that. It would be easier if he could write it all out; it’s always difficult to keep track of his own thoughts without a visual aid, but –

“Jon?” Georgie calls up to him. “You can come down now.”

Deal with it later, he tells himself, tossing his cane down for Georgie to catch. As he makes his way down the ladder, his leg does twinge a bit, but it holds his weight well enough, and he reaches the bottom without incident.

“Where’s Melanie?” Basira asks.

“Resting,” Georgie says, handing Jon his cane. “She had a bad morning. I’ll fill her in on everything later.”

“Fine.” Basira nudges the box with her foot. “What’s this then?”

“Statements,” Georgie says. She’d watched Jon throw them haphazardly into the box before coming down here. “Not sure why, though.”

Jon moves the box to one of the chairs that they left in the tunnel last night. It isn’t too heavy – just some pertinent statements and tapes that he thought might make this discussion flow more smoothly. Taking a seat in the next chair over, he removes the lid from the box and begins rummaging.

“Statement of Joshua Gillespie, regarding his time in possession of an apparently empty wooden casket,” Jon says after a moment, holding up a folder labeled CASE #9982211 and containing the respective written statement. One page sticks out crookedly, and Jon’s heart skips a beat when he recognizes Tim’s handwriting. This had been one of his cases to follow up on.

He shakes his head and sets the folder aside, reaching into the box for the corresponding tape. Instead, his fingertips brush against a different loose cassette, and his breath catches in his throat.

“Statement of Detective Alice ‘Daisy’ Tonner,” he says quietly, removing the cassette. “Traffic stop of a delivery van.”

“This is the statement Daisy gave you?” Basira says. “She said you compelled her.”

“I didn’t realize that was what had happened until afterwards,” Jon says softly. He pulls a tape recorder from his pocket and gives Basira a questioning look.

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Jon inserts the cassette and fast-forwards, stopping when he Knows he’s reached the right timestamp. His own recorded voice begins to play.

“If you don’t mind me asking, h-h-how long have you been sectioned now –”

“I do mind,” comes Daisy’s clipped voice. Then, immediately: “Fourteen years.”

“I don’t suppose you’d like to make a statement?”

“About what?”

“Whatever you like. Fourteen years – you must have seen a number of paranormal things.”

“And you want me to tell you about them.”

“Uh – I-I-I-I-I –”

“Okay,” says Daisy.

“What?”

“Okay. I’ll give you a statement about – how I got my first Section 31.” A beat. “You look surprised.”

“I mean, I was largely asking as a formality. Basira didn’t give me the impression you were the sharing sort.”

“Maybe you caught me in a good mood.”

“Right, well… good. Do you need me to go over our non-disclosure policy –”

“Not as long as you understand my policy: if it gets out, I’ll break every bone in your body.”

“There are worse things that could happen to them,” the Jon on the tape mutters.

Jon hits stop and looks up at Basira. There’s a sheen to her eyes; he does her the courtesy of looking away and not drawing attention to it. After a long few seconds, she clears her throat. When she speaks, her voice is even and impassive.

“So you really didn’t know you were compelling people back then.”

“…he had no idea what was about to happen to him.”

He probably should have noticed sooner, but he was always so fixated on listening to the answer to a question that he paid comparatively little attention to the asking of it. Insensitive of him, really – far too like the detached fascination of the Ceaseless Watcher, in retrospect. The reality that he had the power to compel others didn’t really sink in until after his conversation with Jude.

Jon notices belatedly that the other two are watching him expectantly. He hadn’t planned on playing Daisy’s tape first, but since he already has it prepared to go, he fast-forwards to the beginning of her statement and lets it play through to the end. No one makes any comment in the few seconds it takes for him to swap the cassette out for Joshua Gillespie’s statement.

“So the Coffin makes people want to enter it,” Basira says as the second statement ends. “Is that why you went in, the first time? You were compelled?”

Jon shakes his head no. Daisy had asked him the same question last time. It’s true that the Coffin called to him, but its compulsion never got beneath his skin – not like that of the Beholding or the Web. In the end, going into the Buried was his decision.

“Why, then?”

“…survivor’s guilt,” Jon says. “I should be dead, really – it’s hard to reconcile yourself with avoiding a death that you feel should have been yours.”

There was more to it, though. He takes a minute to rifle through statements, to piece together his state of mind the first time he entered the Buried.

“I felt a great deal of guilt over my involvement with –”

“– the path of the Eye –”

“– when they looked at me, their eyes were full of – anger – blame –”

“– looked at me with a mixture of hate and helpless terror, as though I could do something to fix it –”

“– cut off effectively all human contact –”

“– I decided I had to do something – anything to get out of the fog –”

“– to lose myself in something that is not the absence of humanity –”

“– desperate to remind myself that I could still feel something –”

“– desperate for any human connection.”

He pauses for a breath. Looking back, if Jon hadn’t been so thoroughly claimed by the Beholding already, he may have been a candidate for the Lonely himself back then. Peter Lukas didn’t have to lift a finger.

“I was starting to fear that if I didn’t manage to do something –”

“– I would lose myself – forever –”

“– I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try –”

“– it was – the most human part of it remaining –”

“– to act, to help, to do something –”

“– I need to not lose any more bits of me –”

“– and worst comes to worst –”

“– at least I felt useful.”

Georgie’s eyes are on him now, reading between the lines.

“Did you even have a plan? Or did you just… rush in by yourself, not even tell anyone?” He nods. “Which?” He gives Georgie a pointed look, nodding a second time. “Both? Figures. Don’t know why I bothered asking, really.”

“…but this time was different,” he assures her.

“How did you get out?” Basira asks.

“It took all my self-control to keep a grip on that anchor.”

“Meaning?”

“…her anchor. The thing weighing her down, tying her to this world,” he tries again.

“Something to ground you,” Georgie says questioningly.

“…to make finding my way back – that much easier.”

“And you can do the same thing this time?” Basira waits for his confirmation before moving on. “What about the delivery itself?”

Jon pulls out another folder and cassette, both labeled CASE #9961505.

“Statement of Alfred Breekon, regarding a new pair of workers at his delivery company.”

“Breekon and Hope?” Basira asks.

Jon nods, inserts the tape, and depresses the play button.

“They’ve been in a few statements, haven’t they?” Basira says afterwards, forehead creased in thought.

As an answer, Jon removes one last cassette from the box before tilting it forward to reveal a handful of case files sliding around at the bottom. All of them contain minor references either to Breekon and Hope or the Coffin, but none of them struck him as significant enough to bother bringing the accompanying tapes.

The remaining cassette in his hand, label reading CASE #0020406, is only relevant for the last minute or so of the recording: Martin’s encounter with Breekon and Hope on the day they delivered the NotThem’s table and the Web’s lighter. Jon pops it into the recorder, fast-forwards to the relevant timestamp, and hits play. Breekon and Hope’s voices echo in the tunnel, finishing each other’s sentences in an uncanny back-and-forth volley.

“Hm.” Basira frowns. “And they just… got into the Archives without anyone seeing them?” Jon nods. “I’m assuming we can expect the same this time?" Another nod, but Jon holds up two fingers, gives Basira a meaningful look, and then puts one down. “Only one of them.”

“Statement of the surviving half of the being calling itself ‘Breekon and Hope,’” Jon says. Then: “When that Hunter killed him – took him from me, made us a me – the casket – was waiting – I fed her to it.”

“Do we have to worry about a fight?”

Jon shakes his head no. “We did not kill them, did not lift a finger. We were bringers of their awful fate, not its executors – and we both tasted it together.” He fast-forwards the statement in his head. “I am without him now – can feel myself fading, weak, no reason to move, nothing to deliver. But I am no longer tied to the casket, so you can have it – climb in, and join her.”

“So we just, what, let it deliver the thing and leave?”

“I told her that any real danger had passed –”

“– fading, weak, no reason to move, nothing to deliver.”

“And then you go in.”

Jon nods. There are more details, of course, but the basics of his plan are the same as they were last time: equip himself with Daisy’s tape, follow the pull of her voice, rely on his anchor to find the way back – albeit hopefully with fewer hiccups this time.

Or fewer lost ribs, at least, now that he has a better grasp on anchors.

Several days later, a visitor arrives in the Archives, albeit not the one they’ve been expecting.

Head pillowed in his arms on his desk, dozing and half-conscious, Jon is roused from a shallow sleep by voices in the hallway, filtering through the open crack in the door.

“This area is off-limits,” Basira is saying.

“I’m just looking for the Head Archivist. Jonathan Sims? He still works here, doesn’t he?”

Is that…

“What do you want with Jon?” Georgie’s voice, sounding genuinely curious, but anyone familiar with her would recognize the protective edge to it.

“Look, is he here or isn’t he?”

It is.

Rubbing bleary eyes and shaking off the remaining wisps of brain fog, Jon stands, his joints cracking in protest. He grabs his cane, heads for the door, and peeks out into the hallway.

Naomi Herne is here, standing in the doorway at the bottom of the stairs between the Archives and the rest of the Institute. She looked his way when she heard the creak of the door opening, and their eyes meet for a brief moment before he reflexively averts his gaze.

“Jon?” She sidesteps Basira and Georgie and starts walking towards him.

He digs in his pockets and brings out his phone. So far, the AAC app has turned out to be a decent workaround. Prolonged use will still give him a headache in much the same way that communicating through illustration does, but it’s helpful for making specific requests, asking direct questions, and conveying simple or general concepts. He’ll accept a headache if it means not being forced to use some convoluted metaphor just to say I don’t know or I’m short-circuiting, please give me some space or I’m going to make tea; would you like some?

“YOU ARE – HERE,” comes the computerized voice as he prods at the screen. “WHY.”

For a long moment, Naomi says nothing, staring at the phone in his hand.

“It’s been over a week since I last saw you,” she says slowly. “At first I thought it must be because you woke up – which was a good guess, it seems – but then days went by and no dreams, and… I was worried.” Jon tilts his head, confused. “What’s with that look?”

Jon opens and closes his mouth a few times, debating on whether to reach for a statement. It feels wrong to be dishonest with her, and a hopeful part of him suggests that Naomi wouldn’t react too badly. She’s seen worse from him, and none of that seems to have scared her away, so…

“…I wasn’t worth worrying about.”

Naomi rolls her eyes. “Why are you so stubborn?”

Georgie laughs at that. When Naomi glances in her direction, she starts approaching the two of them, apparently satisfied that Naomi isn’t a threat. Likewise, Basira drifts off down the hall and into the break room. She leaves the door open, though – Jon Knows she still wants to listen in, just in case.

“He’s always been like this,” Georgie says.

“Figures,” Naomi says, then looks back at Jon. “So, why haven’t you been around? Did you find a way to sever the dreams, or…?” Jon shakes his head no. “Then what?”

“It’s not like I sleep enough to worry about dreams,” he says evasively.

Naomi opens her mouth to reply and at that moment Jon’s phone goes off. He nearly drops the thing as he fumbles to dismiss the alarm. Once the noise is silenced, Jon sighs and looks at Georgie.

“You want me to…?” Jon nods, giving her permission to speak on his behalf. “Okay then.”

Georgie looks at Naomi.

“Jonathan” – Jon huffs at the use of his full name – “has been depriving himself of sleep. But no matter how stubborn he is, he’s still human.” Georgie gives him a stern look, daring him to contradict her. He doesn’t; it isn’t worth getting into this discussion, especially in front of Naomi. “Now he’s started nodding off in spite of himself, he’s been forced to admit that he can’t go without sleep forever – but instead of actually sleeping, he’s decided that the best course of action is to just set alarms at forty-five minute intervals, to wake him up before he enters REM sleep. Which means he’s not getting any restful sleep.” She looks at Jon and smiles disarmingly. “Does that about cover it?”

Jon rolls his eyes – she really didn’t need to offer the detail about his new alarm routine – but he nods all the same.

“And why don’t you want to sleep?” Naomi asks.

“The only thing that worried me was sleeping. I think it gave me bad dreams,” he says.

“Not to be rude, but…” Naomi hesitates before blurting out: “Why are you talking like that?”

“He’s been having… some speech difficulties,” Georgie says, glancing at Jon. He makes a circular motion with one hand: It’s fine; go ahead. “Ever since he woke up, he’s only able to speak in quotes from the statements? It’s… challenging, to say the least.”

“Ah,” Naomi says, chipper, “just some new spooky developments, then.”

Out of habit, Jon glares at her for her word choice, but there’s no real ire in it. If anything, it’s a relief to find that Naomi’s attitude toward him seems unchanged despite said new spooky developments.

“But…” Naomi frowns. “You’ve been having these dreams for two years now, and you said you’ve mostly gotten them sorted. So how is sleeping now any different from the last few months?”

“He’s afraid that things will go back to the way they were before.”

“O…kay,” Naomi says slowly, “but you told me that most of the others have already learned to stop the nightmare sequence without you. And everyone knows now that you aren’t as scary as you look – which, by the way, is it weird that by now it's almost more unsettling to see you with only two eyes? Sorry, not the point. The point is, it won’t be the same as it was before.”

Jon stares fixedly at a scratch on the floor. Left over from the Flesh attack, maybe? He could Know, but –

Focus, he tells himself before his thoughts can wander too far afield.

He isn’t sure how to explain that the other dreamers may not be as forgiving or fearless as Naomi is. Even if they were to find it in themselves to overlook a relapse, even if they don’t start viewing him the way they did before… the prospect of having his bodily autonomy stripped from him again is more than enough to fill him with dread.

It feels too much like the way the hunger pulls him inexorably toward a victim. It will probably feel like how it does when the Archive takes control. And it will definitely feel like it did when he was made a conduit for the Watcher’s Crown. Jonah wearing him like a glove. Locking him in place, forcing his eyes open, hijacking his voice. Making him into a possession, only to cast him aside like a broken toy once he had served his purpose.

“– Jon?”

With some effort, he drags himself back to the present.

“Something not moving but that wants to move. Wants to be free –”

“– stopped being able to move under his own power – walk him like a puppet – directed and controlled –”

“– unable to move – to cry for help.”

Hands shaking, he inputs a response on his phone.

“I AM – SCARED.”

“That’s… okay, that sounds properly horrifying,” Naomi admits. “But you don’t know for sure that’s what’ll happen, right?” Grudgingly, Jon shakes his head no. “So you could be fretting over nothing.”

“So far, so normal, right?”

“Smartass,” Naomi says, but with good humor. “Still, you can’t go without sleep forever – you’re going to have to face it eventually. You may as well get it over with sooner rather than later, and then you’ll know for sure. If nothing else, you’ll get some sleep out of it. But,” she says with a longsuffering sigh, “I have a feeling you’re going to keep pushing it, so…” She holds out her hand and crooks her fingers. “Phone. I’m adding my number to your contacts.”

It isn’t until Jon hands it over that he even consciously processes her words.

“Just so you know,” Georgie says, “he can’t really text, either. Unless it’s in statements.”

“That’s fine,” Naomi says, typing rapidly with her thumbs. “You can just reply with emojis or whatever, Jon. Just something to let me know you’re still alive.” She hands the phone back to him. “And this way I can send you pictures of the Duchess.”

Jon perks up at that.

“The Duchess?” Georgie asks.

“Yep. Adopted a cat last week.” Naomi’s smile is wider than Jon has ever seen it. “She’s settling in nicely,” she says to him before looking back to Georgie. “I almost changed her name, but Jon insisted I leave it as is. Said I shouldn’t deprive her of a title she’d rightfully earned.”

Georgie snorts. “He said the same about the Admiral.”

“Oh, you must be Georgie, then? I’ve heard a lot about… uh –”

“Don’t worry; I’m well aware you’ve heard more about the Admiral than me. Pretty sure Jon prefers his company to mine half the time.” She ignores the indignant look Jon shoots her and holds out her phone to Naomi. “Jon was notoriously terrible at answering texts even before all of… this. Feel free to direct any, ‘Is Jonathan Sims still alive?’ queries to me.”

Jon watches in bewilderment as the two of them exchange numbers. Not for the first time, he wonders how this kind of socializing seems to come so naturally to other people.

“I also wouldn’t mind seeing a photo of the Duchess.”

“What about a group text?” Naomi says. “Spooky-free zone, cat-related updates only. Everyone gets their daily dose of cat antics, I get to honestly tell my therapist that I’m not self-isolating, and Jon can just like things to let me know he’s still breathing. Three birds, one stone.”

“Good idea.” Georgie gives Jon an exacting look. “It’ll give you something nice to obsess over. I’ll have to ask Melanie if she wants to be added, too. She could use the distraction.”

Jon can feel a smile tug at his lips as he hurriedly taps out a response.

“YES – PLEASE – THANK YOU.”

Jon and the others try to retreat to the tunnels as often as possible – every other day, if they can manage it – even if there isn’t a pressing matter to discuss. More than anything, it’s a ploy to throw off Jonah. There’s every possibility that he would grow suspicious if the group only held their secretive meetings just prior to major events. Meeting frequently likely won’t alarm him too much, though. Jonah is likely to write off Jon’s furtiveness as paranoia, or simply his near-compulsive tendency to retread the same ground in aimless circles, obsessing over a single question ad infinitum.

Jon isn’t sure whether he Knows this, or if he’s just become uncomfortably familiar with Jonah’s thought processes. Either way, Jon is well aware of what Jonah thinks of him, of how the man can effortlessly dissect and predict Jon’s every outward action and inner experience. If he's honest with himself, Jonah’s scrutiny may terrify him even more than the Ceaseless Watcher’s.

At least the Eye is alien, operating entirely outside the bounds of human morality and emotion. It and all of the other Fears just… are what they are. Predictable, instinctual, amoral – or operating on a sort of blue and orange morality, at least. It brings to mind something Michael said to him, all those years ago: “Am I evil, Archivist? Is a thing evil when it simply obeys its own nature? When it embodies its nature? When that nature is created by those which revile it?”

Someone like Jonah Magnus, though – born human, raised human, spending several lifetimes embedded in human society – can understand his fellow humans much more intimately than any nonhuman Entity ever could, and he uses that understanding to torture his victims, knowing full well how it feels. On the one hand, Jon and all his other pawns throughout the centuries are nothing but means to an end; he cares little for them outside of their usefulness to him. On the other hand, he isn’t fully detached: there’s no denying the sadistic glee he took in gloating as he forced Jon to open the door.

Even in a world devoid of the Dread Powers, monsters would still exist, and a mundane human monstrosity is almost as dreadful as a supernatural one. Daisy derived joy from the Hunt with more complexity than a wolf would. Jon’s own hunts may have felt instinctual, but they also felt morally wrong in a way that tearing the legs off a spider would never feel to a cat – and he did it anyway. Even Gertrude embodied a certain flavor of monstrosity, despite never fully giving in to the temptation of the Beholding. She did not need to embrace any supernatural power; her ruthlessness damned innocent people all the same, as thoroughly as the Desolation and with as much precision as the Web.

Georgie and Martin – and Helen, even – may have a point about humanity and monstrosity not following a strict either/or dichotomy. Whether the Fears were birthed by humanity or preceded it, in the world as-is they would be toothless without human imagination to fuel and interpret and inspire them. The apocalypse demonstrated that fact rather starkly the more and more the human population dwindled.

Jon shakes his head, interrupting that line of thought. There are more important things to worry about right now. Namely: it’s the third of March, and the Institute is expecting a visitor.

Basira is with him in his office; Georgie is off keeping Melanie company, away from Breekon and any possibility of a confrontation. They’d all agreed to this arrangement last night in the tunnels, and since they’ve been having those clandestine meetings so regularly, it should look like a coincidence to Jonah, rather than a prearranged setup.

And Breekon arrives right on schedule, though this time he cannot catch Basira alone. He comes directly to Jon’s office, dragging the Coffin behind him.

“Jon,” Basira says urgently, not taking her eyes off the hulking figure darkening the doorway.

They must tread carefully – not seeming so unconcerned as to let on that they were expecting the delivery, but not overselling the act so much that Jonah would sense something was amiss.

“I wish I could say that was the last I saw of them – but they did return – started to make deliveries – Breekon and Hope.”

“Where’s the other one?” Basira asks.

“That copper took him from me,” Breekon says balefully. He drags the Coffin over the threshold, lets it fall to the ground with a thump, and jerks his head at it. “So I fed her to the pit.”

“Daisy’s in there,” Basira says, bristling.

“That’s its name? Then sure, ‘t’s in there, whatever’s left. Find out if you like.”

“…get out of my office –”

Jon’s voice crackles with static, and Breekon takes one step backward.

“What are you doing? Stop that.”

“Jon,” Basira says warningly.

“– as soon as they’d placed the box on the floor, they turned around and walked out –”

The static continues to rise in volume.

“I said stop it!” Breekon grunts through gritted teeth, even as he turns and steps back over the threshold.

“– the door slammed behind them” – Breekon does indeed reach for the handle and pulls the door shut after him – “and I was left – with this package.”

The static cuts out abruptly, and Jon exhales heavily, winded.

“What the hell was that?” Basira demands, rounding on Jon. “Did you just – compel him to leave?”

“…apparently this was how it was done now,” Jon says quietly. That at least answers the question of whether he can still effectively use that power. He isn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Knew you could compel people to answer questions. Didn’t know you could compel actions, too.”

Jon shuts his eyes, still catching his breath. There were limits on his compulsion abilities even during the apocalypse; there are bound to be just as many now, if not more. He doesn’t have the mindset for muddling through a complicated explanation right now, though, so he opts for the AAC app instead.

“LITTLE,” he selects from the screen. It should be enough to get the general point across, at least for now.

“Great. I’ll just put that in the ominous column, shall I?” Basira sighs. “Is it really okay to just… let him leave?”

“I told her that any real danger had passed,” he says simply.

“If you say so.” She stares intently at the Coffin, arms crossed. “So, what now?”

Without another word, Jon stands and beckons for Basira to follow. As he locks the office door behind them, Basira tells him to go wait for her at the tunnel entrance while she fetches Melanie and Georgie. He nods absentmindedly, but she’s already left without waiting for a response.

The last time, two weeks spanned between the delivery of the Coffin and the day Jon actually opened it. This time, there’s no need to wait. He still has some preparations to make – there’s no need to visit the Boneturner, but Jon does still want to leave some tapes running to serve as physical anchors. He also has to plan for the possibility of something going wrong, even if he is fairly confident in his ability to find his way back again. Mainly, he’d like to leave a letter behind for Martin, though the Archive might make that difficult.

Other than that, it’s just a matter of mentally preparing himself for another trip into the Buried.

Knowing what to expect doesn’t make it any less terrifying, though. If anything, it might make it worse.

End Notes:

Soooo I thought I'd be able to cover more plot in this chapter, but I was too attached to the scene with Naomi to scrap it, and I wanted that conversation between Jon and Georgie to happen pre-Buried. The result is that this chapter feels a bit scattershot. But that means next chapter I can just focus on the Coffin. Thanks for bearing with me! (Hoping to have next chapter ready by this weekend or early next week. Depends on how busy work is.)

For anyone unfamiliar with AAC (augmentative and alternative communication) devices/apps and wondering why it's different from typing/texting for Jon - the app he's using has preloaded phrases and images he can select from, so he doesn't have to type/text character-by-character. It still has drawbacks for him - difficult to use for long periods of time, less likely to work the more specific he tries to be, like with drawing - but at least there's another communication option for him to reach for now.

Citations for Jon's verbal dialogue are as follows, broken down by section. Section 1: None. Section 2: 009; 036; 050/027/008/153/010/015/009/124/056/128; 112; 045/005/112/131; 045; 020/134; 157; 017; 138/130; 059; 029; 101/024; 135; 094; both 028 & 076; 148; 094; 042; 054; 117/013; 013/009; 150; 013/009/013/007/013; 146/092/151/063; 002/050; 009; 062. Section 3: 038. Section 4: 002; 061; 050; 056; 051; 019/138/013/105/113/013/092/122/102; 019/048/011/123/124/014/145/139; 051; 013, 145; 023; 096; 128; 128 (again); 008/128. Section 5: 014; 113; 002; 032/136/015; 025. Section 6: 096; 006; 002; 002 (again); 005; 008.

The taped banter between Daisy and Jon is from MAG 061. The Michael quote is from MAG 101. A few bits of Breekon's dialogue were borrowed from MAG 128.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #tma spoilers #long post

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staytheb · 4 years ago

Text

My Last

Pairing: GOT7′s Mark x OC [Melanie] Genre:slice of life, slight fluff, slight angst Word Count: 3,945 Summary: Melanie’s beginning to think if the heartaches are worth it over the thought of being alone in the end as Mark isn’t as attentive or much a boyfriend lately.

Warning: not proofread. lol

hi again. this is another re-work, Endure, fitted for this kpop related blog. ofc it’s GOT7′s Mark, lol, but oh well it is what it is also i don’t know much about other people’s views on relationships or other females view about it either, but this is just based on my own along with the song and mv from PREEN called Don’t Like Being Alone. other than that i’m slowly getting back into writing, but it’s not where i would like it to be and so why a lot of re-writing is happening. although it’s not a bad thing or so i think. but yeah, happy reading and kthxbai, Admin Lia~

It was late and Melanie couldn't sleep. So she spent most of her time scrolling through her phone when she stumbled upon an old music video. She hadn't heard the song in a long while and casually clicked on it. Upon hearing the familiar beat and the singer's vocals, Melanie realized that the lyrics hit close to her current situation. She could've clicked out of it, but something within her allowed the song to continued on.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Hello?"

"Mark, hi!"

Melanie greeted her boyfriend over the phone before asking him where he was.

"You didn't respond back, but I'm outside your apartment complex. Where are you?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm not home. I'm out with the boys right now."

Mark answered before getting distracted on his end by one of his friends.

"I'll call you back, later, okay?"

Mark abruptly hung up on her as Melanie stared blankly at her mobile device with a sad sigh. She placed her phone onto the already occupied passenger seat of a gift bag and large Pikachu plush doll.

"I guess you did forget about it in the end, huh, Mark?"

Melanie muttered to herself while petting the yellow stuffed toy before starting the car.

"I guess playing with your friends is more important than celebrating our anniversary."

~~~~~~~~~~

Quietly listening to the song of the past that fitted with her present, Melanie realized that it was true. Girls didn't like being alone. They didn't like being neglected or being left alone to think of unhappy thoughts. Girls didn't like the thought of being forgotten or to suffer. They didn't like it when their partners didn't give them that sense of safety, security, and protection. That they don't like it when you don't give them a call or a message just to let them know that you're simply thinking about or missing them. Melanie's heart grew heavy with her last thought. The thought that she really didn't like it when her boyfriend didn't care or know a thing about her either

~~~~~~~~~~

"Guess who?"

Melanie playfully whispered into Mark's ear while covering his eyes with her hands upon coming up from behind him at the cafe where they were having a date today in a long while.

"Um, Fei?"

Mark guessed with a nervous laugh as Melanie chuckled quietly while brushing it off.

"Nope. Guess again."

"Oh, Min?"

"No."

"Jia?"

"Not even close. C'mon, it's easy. You should really know, Mark."

"Hmm?"

Mark pondered as Melanie rolled her eyes playfully before frowning when he couldn't guess that it was her a fourth time.

"Oh, I know. Suzy!"

There was a long pause. Melanie was really hoping that her boyfriend was just messing with her.

"We were just talking earlier before meeting up right now."

She tried giving him a hint, but wasn't sure if that was even gonna be enough with how he's been answering earlier.

"Oh, did we? Who could you be then?"

Mark hummed as he pondered on the answer. Melanie quietly sighed as she was about to end the game when she heard Mark speak.

"Oh! I know for sure. It's, Ayeon, right?"

Mark exclaimed happily as he grabbed onto Melanie's hands to remove them and looked over his shoulder at the person.

"Oh, Melanie. It's just you."

Melanie's frown deepened upon his reaction and the words that left his mouth. Mark didn't notice as he turned his attention away and motioned for his girlfriend to take a seat. Melanie reluctantly took a seat while giving Mark a look.

"We really spoke not that long ago, Mark. Also we've known one another for a long while before we even dated."

Mark casually shrugged with a lopsided grin.

"I guess I'm not good at recognizing voices then."

Before Melanie could counter the waiter appeared with their drinks as Mark had ordered ahead of time.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, Melanie, I already ordered you your favorite drink."

Mark placed Melanie's favorite drink in front of her while taking his own.

"Anyways, I've already paid so don't worry about it, but I gotta get going though." Mark suddenly announced while standing up.

"Brian and I have this project due soon and our boss just moved our deadline forward than it was before."

"But what about our date?" Melanie asked him a bit confused and a slightly annoyed.

"We'll, have another one later this week. I promise. Seeya."

Mark gave Melanie a quick kiss to the cheek before leaving the cafe as Melanie's eyebrows furrowed and her expression soured more.

"You were the one that planned this date and even have postponed it twice already within the past three weeks." Melanie muttered to herself annoyed. "So when are we going to have a proper date, Mark?"

She sighed as she glared at her so-called favorite drink that her boyfriend had ordered for her.

"It would be my favorite drink, Mark, if you had ordered the right one."

She sighed again as she reached out to twirl the straw.

"I like guava. Not honeydew."

She took a sip of the milk tea drink. Even if she didn't like the whole flavor a lot, she disliked wasting things the most. The other thing she disliked a lot was people making promises that they couldn’t keep.

~~~~~~~~~~

So when the song came to an end, Melanie wasn't sure how or what to feel now. There was such a mixture of things to feel and it left her mind to do what it wanted to do on its own. Due to the lyrics of the songs it didn't stop the thoughts from floating about in her head. Girls really just didn't like being lonely, ever. If a girl really had to choose to be heartbroken or being alone, then in the end she would rather choose to be heartbroken. Because it's easier to deal with a broken heart than facing the loneliness of being alone. Eventually though over time it wears the person down. Melanie sighed as the realization of those thoughts hit her again and she wondered out loud with a far off gaze.

"So how much longer could I endure the heartaches before turning to loneliness in the end?"

~~~~~~~~~~

"Melanie, hey! This is Sunmi. She's a colleague. Sunmi this is my..."

Mark introduced his co-worker to his girlfriend yet he seemed like he blanked out on when to introduce Sunmi to Melanie.

"Hi, Sunmi. I'm Mark's girlfriend, Melanie. It's nice to meet you."

Melanie introduced herself instead while shaking hands with Sunmi. Melanie had showed up to Mark's work to give him a surprise lunch since it's been a while since she's been there.

"Wow, you're so pretty. Mark didn't mention that he had a girlfriend though."

Sunmi complimented Melanie, but also didn't mean anything by her next set of words that stung Melanie a bit although she didn't show it.

"I see. Well, we've been dating for more than a year, but have known another one like five."

"Wow, that's pretty cool. I'm totally surprised I haven't met you since I've been working here longer than Mark."

"Well, the opportunity never showed up until now." Mark responded while rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Right, I see."

Melanie shot Mark a small smile while holding up a homemade lunch towards him.

"Well, I just came to give you lunch since I made a little too much earlier."

"Oh, I already ate."

Mark casually said as he didn't take the offer meal.

"I see. Sunmi?"

Melanie turned her attention to Sunmi with a small smile.

"She already ate, too." Mark answered for his colleague.

Melanie nodded in understanding and was about to take back the meal when Sunmi reached out and took it from her hands.

"But I don't mind. I had a light lunch and I haven't had a home-cooked meal in a long while. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I hope you enjoy it."

Melanie shot her a kind smile before casting her eyes onto her boyfriend.

"Anyways, I'll get going. See you later."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye, Melanie. It was nice to meet you."

"Yeah, me too."

Melanie shot them a smile before turning around to leave while mumbling for only herself to hear.

"How long can I keep this up until I can't anymore?"

~~~~~~~~~~

Several days later the couple attended their friend, Jackson's, birthday dinner at a restaurant that Melanie has been wanting to go to. There were some people that Melanie knew and others she didn't. Everyone was enjoying themselves with eating, laughing, and telling jokes and stories throughout the night. Some time later the conversation shifted and the atmosphere between them all suddenly grew awkward due to an innocent question by one of Mark and Jackson's friend.

"Hey, Mark. Where's your girlfriend?"

Melanie stared at the male, Chris, who had asked the question although she's been sitting beside Mark all night.

"Did Sunmi have something else to do tonight?"

Although she hadn't known Chris for that long, but she was sure that Mark had introduced the two of them before. Right? All of a sudden Melanie wasn't able to recall if Mark had introduced her as his girlfriend to his friends, but she herself did state that phrase all the time.

"Chris, Sunmi's not Mark's girlfriend. It's Melanie." Another friend, BamBam, corrected while pointing at Melanie.

Melanie actually knew BamBam longer than she did Mark. That was how she and Mark met in the first place through BamBam.

"You remember her, right? You met Melanie at my Christmas party a few months ago. Besides, Sunmi's only Mark's co-worker."

"Oh, wow. Now, that's embarrassing. I'm so sorry about the confusion." Chris apologized while looking between Melanie and the person, sitting next to her on the other side of her.

"I thought you were Jinyoung's girlfriend because the two of you have been talking a lot to one another throughout dinner."

Melanie cast Chris a polite smile while excusing herself as she grab her things stating that she just needed to use the restroom. Somehow that question had turned her off from enjoying the rest of Jackson's birthday dinner and didn't want to spoil the rest of it with her sour mood because of Chris' question. Melanie instead took a breather once she exited the restaurant and tried to gather herself while debating if she wanted to go back inside. She didn't want the others to think it had affected her too much causing them all to become awkward in the end.

She inhale and exhale a few times while looking towards the night sky with a heavy heart. If she actually left now, then it would be awkward since she had come with Mark. Also she knew that Jackson would get upset and blow up her phone if she didn't properly bid him a good night. The last thought caused a slight chuckle to escape as she let out another calm breath already deciding to head on back inside. Just as she had turned around Melanie saw that Mark was making his way towards her.

"Hey, Melanie, are you okay?"

He held her shoulders while looking at his girlfriend with a worried look.

"Yeah, Mark, I'm fine."

She mustered up a small smile upon answering her boyfriend.

"I hope you're not that upset with Chris about what he had said earlier. It's not really that big of a deal to be worked up about."

Melanie's small smile instantly disappeared. She cast her boyfriend a tired and annoyed look.

"Not a big deal, Mark? Really? Are you being for real right now?"

Melanie meant it as a rhetorical question, but she saw that Mark was about to respond to her and didn't allow him to.

"Chris assumed that you and I aren't together. That you were dating your co-worker, Sunmi, and I was dating Jinyoung."

Her tone suddenly became firmer and she felt heated.

"Honestly, Mark, a majority of them seem to forget that you and I are actually a couple. Do we not interact like one or something for them to think otherwise?"

"Of course we do, Melanie." Mark answered immediately as if trying to reassure her of their relationship. "We go on plenty of dates. We hang out as much as we can. We hold hands, we kiss, we cuddle, and we do all that other lovey-doevy stuff that other couples do, too."

Still to Melanie it didn't sound all that convincing.

"Are you sure, Mark?"

Mark opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He looked like a fish with its mouth opening and closing while thinking of what kind of answer to give his girlfriend. Melanie sighed tiredly and decided whether she should or shouldn't continue her relationship with Mark.

"Do you even know what I like or dislike, Mark?"

Melanie asked him.

"Like my favorite flower? Favorite color? Favorite food? Or even what movies or dramas I like to watch? Or the hobbies I enjoy?"

Mark continued to look like a fish staring right back at his girlfriend.

"Do you even know the date of my birthday or of our anniversary?"

Still no response. Melanie sighed softly before asking two more questions in hopes that her boyfriend could maybe salvage what little they had to continue on with their relationship.

"Do you even know anything about me since we've known each other for five years or about us since we officially got together, Mark?"

Mark slowly removed his hands from her shoulders and let them fall by his sides. He also avoided all eye-contact with Melanie and chose to instead look at the ground that seemed to be way more interesting than his girlfriend. Because of his actions, to Melanie, this indicated that he didn't know or was unable to give her any sort of response she would be satisfied with.

"I can't do this anymore, Mark. I really can't." Melanie admitted with a sad tone.

"I love you and only you, but I just can't endure any more heartaches because of you, Mark. I can't endure an us when there's really just a you and just a me in this kind of relationship of ours."

She cast him a teary gaze.

"I really thought that I'll be your last without worrying about the loneliness."

Melanie took a few steps back from Mark which caught his attention more after hearing what she had just said. He looked up at her alarmed.

"What are you trying to say, Melanie?"

She cast him a sad smile.

"Let's break up."

There was a paused before Mark stared at her.

"Like taking a breather sort of break?"

Melanie shook her head.

"Or did you actually meant...?"

He trailed off with widened eyes although he knew exactly what Melanie meant, but couldn't let it sink in to process fully. The sad smile only grew on Melanie's face as she took a few more steps back from Mark.

"Goodbye, Mark, and take real care."

~~~~~~~~~~

It was four in the morning and Mark was outside of Melanie's apartment after their break-up from a few months ago. He knocked door every so often in hopes of Melanie answering so he could actually speak to her. They haven't contacted one another since the break-up and so Melanie wondered what her ex-boyfriend wanted as she peeked through the peephole. She was going to ignore him, but he was persistent. She sighed and opened the door with Mark in mid-knock so that her neighbors wouldn't become annoyed and check the situation.

The pair stared at one another as Melanie awaited what Mark wanted to explain himself. As for Mark he stood there as to collect his thoughts as his mind totally blanked once his ex-girlfriend opened the door. Still, even after like three minutes had passed, the silence continued without either of them speaking. Melanie sighed knowing that she shouldn't have expected Mark to change and was about to close the door when Mark held a hand against the door to prevent Melanie from closing it.

Just as Melanie glared at Mark and was about to say something, but she quickly noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes. Melanie also noticed that his faced seemed haggard than before. She wondered how she could have missed that and only noticed them now. She assumed her mind was hoping for something else and missed them. Melanie face soften as she came to the thought that it might've been due to their break-up that caused Mark to look so pale and tired, too. Well, she hoped that was the case.

"Forget-Me-Nots."

Mark suddenly blurted out as Melanie's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What?"

"Your favorite flower, forget-me-not. Because of the color and how it got it's name."

"BamBam probably told you that, Mark."

Melanie tried to reason, but Mark shook his head with a small smile.

"There's a horror movie with the same name and the flower ended up becoming your favorite after you watched it."

"BamBam probably told you that, too, since my sister and him are the only one that knows that."

"Blue is your favorite color although you don't wear it often."

Melanie was going to counter, but Mark continued to talk.

"But you do wear your most disliked color which is red a lot though."

"Look, M-"

Mark interrupted her and pushed the door a little wider when he felt that Melanie was trying to close it on him again.

"You don't have a favorite food in particular as you like eating everything, but you do have a stash of snacks and candies that you even carry a few in your bag. It's the same with movies and shows as you don't have a favorite and you like watching them although you're not into animated films like your sister."

Melanie tried to wrap this whole thing around her head, but it just left her more confused on why he was answering the questions months later.

"Why?"

Melanie asked causing Mark to stop to stare at her.

"Why, what?"

"Why, now, Mark? What does it matter to you in finally being able to answer the questions months I asked after we broke up? So why? Why now? What does this benefit you in the end?"

"Because I can't continue to convince myself that I don't miss you, Melanie."

Mark confessed.

"I try so hard to not think of you, Melanie, I do. I always see your face every time I close my eyes. I just can't escape. I don't wanna fall asleep knowing that you'll end up appearing in my dreams all night long every time."

Melanie was left speechless by his confession. As for Mark he felt relieved admitting what's been burdening him these past few months.

"I never realized how much of a difference your presence impacted my life when I came to terms with the truth that you were no longer mine or a part of my life anymore."

Mark wanted to reach out and take Melanie into his arms, but he restrained himself knowing that he didn't have that privileged and right to do that anymore.

"I neglected your importance and your feelings, but most of all out of everything in the end I failed to see that I neglected you, Melanie, and the love you gave." Mark admitted.

"You're the one who was supposed to be my last that I would love and only love, but I treated you like you meant nothing to me."

Melanie regarded Mark throughout his confession and admittance while feeling his words and emotions tug at her heartstrings. Could she really forgive him so easily? Could she even think about being in a relationship with him again? Could she even see a future for them if she gave him another chance, but if he asks for another chance though? Melanie honestly didn't know for sure, but she did know for sure was that she wanted to do one thing right then and there.

"Can I hug you?"

Instead of receiving a response Melanie felt herself being pulled towards Mark's chest without any sort of hesitation. Mark enveloped Melanie into his arms having missed the way she felt within his embrace after realizing how much those intimate moments meant. Although initially shocked by the sudden skinship as she thought that Mark may not have wanted to hug, but she relaxed and hugged him back. Melanie relished in the familiar scent and feel of Mark that she got lost in the mood and missed what Mark had just said.

"Hmm?"

She hummed while pulling back far enough to look at him.

"What did you say?"

Mark smiled as he repeated what he had just said a moment ago.

"November sixteen. January sixteen."

Melanie gave him a funny look before realization hit her that Mark answered the last two questions before they broke up.

"The day of my birthday and our anniversary."

Mark nodded as his smiled widened before speaking.

"You had a major and long crush on me and liked me ever since moving here."

"I did not."

Mark ignored Melanie's comment.

"You think you suck at cooking which is partially true, but it's passable when you put in actual effort."

Melanie slightly smacked his forearm, but Mark continued with a lighter tone to his voice.

"And you've been wanting for us to officially move in together some time late next year and maybe once we're settled to adopt a pet dog since you're slightly allergic to cats."

"Wow, BamBam really has a big mouth and can't keep secrets."

Melanie pouted now knowing that Mark new that she wanted to live together with him.

"Big mouth or not, Melanie, but I'm so sorry for causing you so much heartache while we were together. I'm willing to spend the rest of my life to never make you feel alone or lonely ever again."

"That's a really big responsibility to take, Mark. How do you even know I wanna get back together with you?"

"Because you asked me for a hug."

Melanie was confused by his words at first, but then remember telling him back when they had first met that for her a hug always meant reconciliation. It was because she was never one for initiating skinship unless she felt like it or when the time called for it. Also if Melanie ever fought with her significant other and she wanted to be the one to make up first, then she would initiate the hug to settle the score.

"You remembered?" She asked in disbelief.

"Eventually I did after thinking and reminiscing over the past few months and the time we spent with one another over the years for it to register in my memory."

Mark admitted with a sheepish chuckle.

"It just took me a lot longer to realize a lot of things, Melanie, but I really hope you'll continued to lead me well and be patient because I don't wanna lose you ever again."

He gently cupped her face while rubbing circles over her cheekbones with his thumbs.

"I don't know what I'll do if I can't see your face ever again, Melanie."

"Then don't, Mark."

Mark was confused before Melanie hugged him again, but tighter as she spoke into his chest.

"Because I've loved and missed you too much to not have endured all of it for this long to not give another chance at us again."

Mark hugged Melanie just as tight while nuzzling his face against her head.

"This time and until the end of time, my love for you will make up for all the heartaches I caused. Because you are my last and I'm yours."

#staytheb #got7 scenarios #mark tuan #duan yien

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donnerpartyofone · 4 years ago

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what makes people who crave social activity say that they are introverts? as far as i can tell, from personal experience, there are three main types of self-declared introverts:

1. people who genuinely prefer solitude on its own virtues (peace, quiet, time to think, freedom to choose one’s activities); or lacking that, very limited, curated, intimate types of socializing. even pleasant social experiences are tiring and have to be dosed out. public recognition can nice (though not always), but it is not a priority. feelings of “loneliness” are rarer than they are for most, and tend to be limited to wanting certain types of company, and/or only with select individuals. (e.g. ME)

2. people who are shy and anxious about the approval of others. socializing is not undesirable in and of itself, but appears challenging due to a sense of competition. when they say they prefer to be alone, they really mean that isolation is less unpleasantly pressurized than a social situation in which one has to compete for attention, and worry about whether they are “winning” or “losing” with/compared to others. while they prefer solitude to a social situation that they find challenging or even insulting on some level, they would almost always prefer to be at the center of a gathering in which they are the belle of the ball, if such were possible. feelings of loneliness are oppressive, and often attributed to others’ failure to respect or recognize their positive qualities. (e.g. my ex, who would fume for hours if even a small child or pet didn’t greet him at the door of a party with an approving look or gesture. i think there’s also a lot of these on tumblr; see below)

3. extreme extraverts for whom all realities will always fall short of their vision of social perfection. they may experience social anxiety, but it has more to do with being unable to see everyone they want and do everything they want, and to have all their friends be friends with each other, at the greatest party in the world; their anxiety is not related to any kind of real aversion. however, they sometimes misidentify their anxious, naggingly dissatisfied feelings as introversion. for a useful comparison, i often think of the most belligerent person ever to grace my extended social sphere, a person who made herself into a living caricature by being so consistently and explosively combative. one night i was talking to her about my being non-confrontational--a quality that i consider a fault of mine--and she replied, “dude, I KNOW, i am like THE MOST NON-CONFRONTATIONAL PERSON EVER, i am SUCH A PUSSY, i’m just SO SCARED OF FIGHTS.” it became obvious to me that for this individual, who instinctively seeks and finds a fight in every room, her scale of what constitutes a confrontation is way off the charts for any normal person; for her, anything short of nuclear holocaust is the same as passivity, so therefore, she considers herself a relatively conflict-avoidant person. (i have somehow met scores of these abrasively extraverted people who swear up and down that they’re introverts, and my only explanation is that socializing whips them into such a frenzy that they sometimes experience it as painful, even though they are incapable of being alone)

i know i’m acting competitive by even breaking this down, which is one of my less-good qualities. there’s something about mental illness (no, introversion is not a mental illness, but it is treated like an aberration in casual life, so i’m going from there) that can make people very competitive. i know a comics artist who does great autobio work, but who refuses to include her experiences with eating disorders; she says it’s because hearing the details of someone else’s ED often triggers other sufferers to either launch into competition--quantifying how much more profoundly they have suffered--or lapse into the despair of feeling like they “don’t have a real problem” if they haven’t suffered as much as someone else. in my experience, this is true of many psychological and emotional ailments, including depression and anxiety, and on a similar level i sometimes find myself guilty of judging people who make claims of introversion, while simultaneously making it obvious that they’re just anxious about their ability to get the kind of attention they think they need. i’ll have to figure out what my problem is, that i react this way, that i apparently think it’s so important to be a pure introvert who genuinely takes more pleasure in solitude than in anything else. i guess that will be a topic for my next shrink.

but there’s one more thing i need to add to this: that in certain environments--like tumblr, for instance--there is a tacit belief that being introverted is equivalent to being really deep and intelligent. a lot of people who consider themselves bright and thoughtful might feel pressure to also affect an introverted disposition, or to just claim that they have one, if no one else observes it about them. (see also: the pseudo-humble declaration of “i am such a NERD lol” from people who are absolutely not nerds, but who have detected the paradigm shift by which nerdiness is seen as special and unique) the delusional but popular sense that you can’t be extraverted, and have a rich inner life at the same time, is probably pretty oppressive for many people. sometimes i think about filmmakers i love, whose work i relate to intensely in my introspective and self-isolating way, but who i know must have great social facility in order to make something as complicated as a movie. i’m aware that my lack of desire to connect with people really limits what i can do in the world, or even what i can make. i expect i’ll keep trying to expand my horizons as i get older, especially if i want to really “do something with my life,” which is not at all mandatory but still an option. maybe some day i will find out what life really has in store for me, when i reach enlightenment by getting over my pressing need to declare 90% of the lonely desperate jealous attention-seeking “introverts” of tumblr to be just a bunch of fake-ass bitches.

#fake-ass bitches

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jokertrap-ran · 4 years ago

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(未定事件簿) 莫弈 [剧情: 第1章] [Tears of Themis] Mo Yi Private Story Translations (Chapter 1-5)

*Tears of Themis Masterlist / Mo Yi’s Masterlist is under construction. *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *In which, Ran attempts Chinese… *(y/n) is your name when in direct referral; otherwise referred to as MC.

Location: Mall

Mo Yi: (Y/n). You're here.

I had just walked into the entrance of the mall when I caught sight of Mo Yi, standing on the stairs.

The sunlight refracted strangely on his silvery hair and his golden eyes were full of happy mirth, as intoxicating as champagne itself.

MC: Sorry to keep you waiting, Doctor Mo.

I had actively pursued the term PUA yesterday but came up pretty short, with a bucket full of questions. I had originally planned to give him a call, in a bid to have him explain the foreign term to me. However, I didn't expect him to be one step ahead of me, calling first.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

MC: Doctor Mo? Did something happen for you to be calling me this early?

Mo Yi: I apologise for having disturbed you during your rest.

Mo Yi: I've subjected Lin Yunyun to Sand-play Therapy, proceeding your findings. There's been results.

Mo Yi: She has unconsciously selected a couple of tools which has a strong aggressive image whilst laying them out.

Mo Yi: However, her aggression is a form of self-protection. Her heart is one that's extremely fragile. Hence, she is doubting the value of her existence.

MC: ...She doubts her own existence? Is this why she turned to self-harming?

Mo Yi: That's right. Based on the results of this, we can say that Lin Yunyun has suffered mental abuse from that boyfriend of hers. And that she has lost the ability to save herself from her own person.

Mo Yi: She is like that of typical PUA victims. Most of their Sandboxes tend to turn out the same way.

MC: PUA stands for Pick-up Artists, right? I've researched about it, but I'm not entirely clear about what it entails...

Mo Yi: Some things are hard to explain in just a mere line or two. How about we meet up if you've got the time to spare?

MC: Sure. How does the mall sound? It's along the way for both of us.

Mo Yi: Alright. I'll get ready to leave immediately.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

I thought that I'd be the one to arrive first since I lived closer to the place, but Mo Yi was already there before me.

Mo Yi: I've only just reached as well. I apologize; I couldn't really explain everything to you over the phone call this morning.

Perhaps the topic he was about to approach next was a grave one, for the gentle expression on his face darkened.

Mo Yi: Lin Yunyun's boyfriend utilized the typical techniques of PUAs. I thought they had already broken off with each other.

MC: I looked it up yesterday, but isn't PUA just a way for introverted boys to improve their emotional intelligence?

Mo Yi: At first, yes. Back when it was first founded.

Mo Yi: However, PUA started diverging from its original intention along the way as it developed; from a method of actively changing oneself to a means of satisfying one's selfish desires.

Mo Yi: Men who find themselves unpopular in real life use PUA to create different personalities for themselves. Emperors, Prodigal Sons, Poets...

Mo Yi: Equipped with a complete set of varying personalities, it is easy for one to build up a facade in the virtual world.

MC: Prodigal Sons and Poets are easy enough to understand on their own, but what exactly is an Emperor?

Mo Yi and I were walking alongside each other and I could occasionally feel the eyes of the passerbys on us.

He only smiled at my question.

Mo Yi: The Emperor persona in the harmful version of PUA is something that's different from the well-known concept that the public attributes it to.

Mo Yi: They look as if they're doing well for themselves on the outside. But after successfully netting a girl, they'll reveal that they didn't come from a good family background, and that they've always been looked down by others.

Mo Yi: A hardworking, motivated man who has suffered but yet succeeded in life. This image is one that simple girls will fall for with no problem at all.

MC: But it's not like girls are stupid either. Why would they fall for something so obviously fishy and flimsy?

Mo Yi: This might come as something rather sudden, but I wish to hear your thoughts on me, (y/n).

MC: Huh? My thoughts...? Someone with a successful career...a very good and talented Psychiatrist? I don't think any ordinary person can live up to what you have.

Mo Yi: I see...so that's what you think of me.

A lonely look suddenly appeared on his face.

Mo Yi: I'm not as great as you think I am. I am but a stupid bird that had flown the nest too early.

Mo Yi: No one really appreciated me in the past, but their attitudes all changed once I worked hard and got some achievements under my name.

Mo Yi: The title of being a genius has never belonged to one like me. I can only hope that there'll be someone who doesn't care about titles by my side. Someone who appreciates me from the bottom of their heart, supports me and sees me for who I am.

MC: ...Doctor Mo...I...I didn't know that you came from such a situation.

I didn't know how to react to his unexpected revelation.

MC: I cannot become the person by your side...but you'll always have my support; so you're definitely not alone.

After hearing my answer, Mo Yi's saddened expression of loneliness faded and morphed into that of a quiet smile.

Mo Yi: And you've just fallen for the trap of immoral PUA schematics.

MC: Huh!? Wait, you...you were just acting???

Mo Yi: That's right. People tend to feel a kind of compassion, wanting to help those in a disadvantaged position. This is especially so when a mature person shows their fragility in front of them.

Mo Yi: This immoral version of PUA takes advantage of this kind of mentality, using it as a way to score.

MC: ...And here I thought I definitely wouldn't fall for something like that.

Mo Yi: Now, if I were to carry on with this method that the immoral PUAs use, I'll continuously try to demean your self-confidence. And eventually, deny you of your own value and self-worth.

Mo Yi: And when you feel worthless before me, working so very hard to gain recognition...

Mo Yi: You'll become a complete puppet in the palm of my hand.

MC: A puppet in the palm of your hand...You mean, Lin Yunyun also fell for something like that; that's why she's slowly edging towards suicide?

Mo Yi: Yes.

MC: ......

The "Person" will lose their sense of self and forgo their own opinions; entrusting themselves to a fake person and would choose to sacrifice themselves on a single command. This wasn't love; this was voluntarily lowering oneself to a slave towards the other party.

Mo Yi: This twisted form of PUA causes devastation. It turns a girl, brimming full of life, into that of a puppet, or even a pet. One that satisfies their own selfish desires.

Mo Yi: It leaves them begging the other party for mercy under the facade of this so-called love.

He suddenly lowered his voice and bent down slightly. The couple of silvery, moonlight-like strands fell out of place as he bent down. Seeing them dangling before my eyes made me tempted to reach out and grab onto those scattered strands of moonlight.

Mo Yi: True love will bring hope and light into a person's life. It'll turn them into a much, much better person than before.

The distance between us was so close that I could catch a whiff of the scent that lingered on his clothes without even trying.

Mo Yi: You might meet the one that'll turn you into a better person at any point in your life, but you might not realize it at the time.

Raising my head, I could clearly see the looks of warmth and gentleness that resided within his eyes. And reflected in those depths, was me.

MC: ......

I patted myself on the cheek, trying to snap my slightly confused brain that had found itself momentarily attracted to Mo Yi out of it.

MC: What if the girl manages to see the man's true colours? We might be able to put a stop to it before it goes too far.

MC: Is there a way to deal with men who are PUA? I want to help Lin Yunyun get rid of him.

Mo Yi: Men who utilize the methods of immoral PUA are normally not satisfied with having just fulfilled a single goal.

Mo Yi: They're well-versed in hunting for targets. Especially young girls who've never fallen in love or those who've been emotionally hurt before.

MC: That's to say that I can chat him up and pretend to be interested in him?

Mo Yi: I am still unable to ascertain just how far Lin Yunyun's boyfriend has taken the PUA methods to. Thus, it'll be dangerous if you choose to take action now.

I couldn't help but to feel a little embarrassed at my insistence of wanting to take the initiative when I had just fallen for Mo Yi's invitation of immoral PUA not too long ago.

MC: ......

Just as I was thinking how to approach this mysterious boyfriend of Lin Yunyun's, Mo Yi suddenly spoke up.

Mo Yi: How about we act as a couple, (y/n)? That way, it'll be easier to lead the snake out of the hole.

Mo Yi: And I'll have a reason to stay by your side and watch the other party's every move, effectively preventing you from facing any danger whatsoever.

MC: P-Pretending to be a fake couple!?

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Previous Part: (Chapter 1-3) | Next Part: (Chapter 1-6)

#Tears of Themis #Mo Yi #Translations #Otome #未定事件簿 #莫弈 #Mo Yi Private Story #Tears of a Personal Psychiatrist

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sweethazzababy · 5 years ago

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Not So Professional- Chapter 2

Plot: Y/N gets the job as Harry Styles’s personal assistant. Working for him, she deals with the ups and downs of his career ranging from difficult breakups to music celebrations and everything in between. How will her and Harry’s relationship develop?

CHAPTER 1

A/N: YOU. GUYS. It has been very long since I’ve posted, and I feel so bad for leaving everyone with just one chapter up. Life got in the way lol and I honestly lost inspiration to write. Recently, I’ve been wanting to and I had some of this written already. I can’t promise you I’ll update every week or something, but I want to develop this story. Thanks guys :)

P.S. I apologize for any typos...it’s 1 am as I’m finalizing and posting lmao

Chapter 2

Nervously typing each digit one by one, I anticipate the dreaded phone call with my mother. Her and I never really saw eye for an eye. We have completely different ways of viewing life, which always results in many arguments and pointless bickering. At the youthful age of 18, I had decided to move out after graduation and figure out life for myself. She of course, was absolutely livid. Ever since then, there’s been a lot of unspoken tension and distance. However, I miss her sometimes. She’s my mom, and although we have many differences I constantly wish we didn’t end things the way they ended those years ago. The only times I see her is for holidays, and every blue moon she’ll come to the city for lunch. Other than that, we don’t speak much at all.

But this news is something I have to tell her, especially since I’m going to be traveling the world assisting the world’s biggest heartthrob. Reluctantly, I take a breath and hold the phone up to my ear. Out of an anxious habit I tap my nails against the counter while rolling my ankle as my elbows rest on the granite. It rings a few times, and I start to pray she doesn’t answer. Until the ringing cuts and I hear a sigh.

“Y/N?” She sounds surprised. Shocked that I’m calling her at such a random time. My heart sinks at her tone and I realize how long it’s been. My mouth is dry and my mind is reeling, words jumbling in my head not knowing what to say back.

“Hi Mom. I-uh..I am calling um..because tomorrow there will be a uh, a big change.” I stumble, taking big gulps as I speak. My voice is trembling just a tad, and I know she can feel how nervous I am through the phone.

“What do you mean?” Her volume lowers, her voice timid. My fingers grasping my phone start to ache and I realize how tightly I’m holding it, knuckles turning white.

“I got offered um, a very, very large promotion… One I never expected and uh I was told today, but I’m leaving tomorrow… to London.” My rambling picks up as I speak, just wanting this conversation to be over. My eyes wander the room as I start biting my lip gently waiting for her response. I can tell she’s speechless, not knowing what to say.

“Oh wow…Y/N that’s, that’s amazing.” She breathlessly responds, a hint of pride in her tone. A small smile creeps onto my face, not believing this. She’s happy for me. Never in a million years did I think she would be proud of something I’ve done. She’s been holding a grudge ever since I left, ignoring every accomplishment I’ve had. But this time, she cares. And she’s proud. A few lone tears prick the corners of my eyes. Rolling my eyes at the ridiculousness of my emotions, I wipe them away quickly.

“Thank you Mom…I’ll be assisting Harry Styles. I’ll be…traveling the world. This is something I have dreamed about.” I start getting more comfortable, telling her how excited I am.

The conversation continues on for only a few minutes, but my heart warms at the way it turned out. We said our goodbyes, she wished me luck and to send her pictures of the places I see. She finally sees that I’m successful and doing just fine on my own, even though I left her at such a young age. And that’s all I could have wanted from her.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It’s about 6:00 now. I’m sitting on my bedroom floor with clothes and other miscellaneous objects scattered all around. Having to leave so last minute is incredibly stressful and I find myself not knowing whether to pack one item over another. Groaning in frustration I decide to get my Bluetooth speaker. Maybe playing some music will make this a little bit more enjoyable. As I’m scrolling through my lists of playlists on Spotify, a thought popped into my head. Rather than choosing one of my playlists I go to the search bar and type in “Harry Styles”.

Curiously scrolling through his 10 songs, I click on the song Only Angel. Immediately a choir blasts through my speaker and it’s almost like a sense of euphoria is washing over me. A little bit of piano comes into play making the beginning even more dreamy. As I’m getting used to the angelic sounds, all of the sudden a shriek of some sort interrupts. My heart feels like it’s about to break from my chest, and I jump from the unanticipated change of sound. What I thought would be a relaxing tune, turns into a rock song. When he starts singing my breath start to hitch in my throat. I’m quick to notice the rasp in his voice, like I’m wanting more and more as he sings so passionately within the first verse.

Open up your eyes, shut your mouth and see That I'm still the only one who's been in love with me I'll guess I'll be getting you stuck in between my teeth And there's nothing I can do about it

The attitude radiating from his lyrics is oddly attractive. I’ll have to admit that this is a lot different than his One Direction stuff, and like it even more. It’s refreshing to see a former boyband member go in a different direction other than pop. It tells me he appreciates really good music that actually uses instruments. I continue to listen to the album as I pack and can’t help but fall in love with his music. Sign Of The Times is a tear jerker. Once the chorus hit me, I felt like I was frozen in time. The production, the raw emotion in his voice, his gorgeous vocals. It all hit me like a bus and the next thing you know, I have tears running down my cheeks.

But then I listened to From the Dining Table. Acoustics so soft and melancholy, his voice so low and quiet. The vulnerability and loneliness I felt from his lyrics took my heart and dropped it to the pit of my stomach. The hopefulness from the bridge as the melody and harmonies pick up that soon turned back into sadness as if all that hope vanished, left me absolutely breathless. The kind of pain he experienced, I hope he never has to go through again, oddly enough. His music makes me feel instantly connected to him, a power not many artists have. He’s an incredible musician, and I’m disappointed in myself for never realizing it earlier. I think back to the picture I was shown and my heart flutters again. With a voice and looks like that, let’s hope his personality is decent too.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Beep…beep…beep. My blaring iPhone alarm disrupts my sleep and my first instinct is to grab it and chuck it across the room so I can fall back into a slumber. I groggily turn over on my stomach shoving the pillow over my head, groaning hoping it would stop on its own as if it’s alive. Having enough of the disrupting noise making my ears bleed, I bring myself to roll on my side and grab my phone from my bedside table. While pressing the stop button I glance at the time. 7:00 AM. I know that it’s not super early, but on days I normally have off I developed a habit of sleeping in till 12. It’s like my body knows what day it is. My plane leaves at 1. I should leave my apartment by 11:45 to get to JFK and give myself some time before my plane boards. These thoughts are running through my head, as I’m trying to have some sort of plan for myself.

Mapping out my day in my head, I reluctantly get up and walk straight to the kitchen starting up my Keurig. Coffee is an absolute essential in the morning, or at any time for that matter. You don’t want to talk to me when I don’t have caffeine in my system. Luna comes trotting into the kitchen, her little legs moving at a fast pace giving me a bark good morning. Smiling, I pick her up in my arms and gently pet the top of her head as she licks my hand. My mom reluctantly agreed to take Luna while I’m away… to my surprise. It’s going to be hard not having her by my side like always.

After eating some breakfast and giving Luna her breakfast as well, I finish up the last of my packing. I throw on an oversized white sweater after my quick shower, feeling comfy for the long plane ride. I pair it with black leggings and throw on my black slip on Vans. Pulling my damp hair back into a French braid and putting on a little bit of makeup, I sigh realizing how soon I’ll be in a whole other country. At this point, it’s already 11:30. Before grabbing all of my bags, I give pick Luna up and cradle her into my arms. Holding her against me, I give a kiss to her head and I hug her a little too tight. My heart sinks at the fact that she has no clue what’s going on and she probably thinks I’ll be coming back after work like I usually do. I left a spare key for my mother so she’ll becoming by in an hour or so to pick her up. Opening my door, I give a last and longing look at my apartment and take a deep breath. Onto a new chapter in my life.

The airport is complete madness. I’ve always hated airports. The smells, the loud noises, people running to make it to their terminal while alsorunning into other people. Many times, I had to dodge myself from another person coming at me full force with a panic-stricken face. It’s about 12:45 so my plane could be boarding any minute. To occupy myself in the time I’ve been here I got myself another cup of coffee and read some magazines. There was an article about Harry Styles actually. Intrigued, I read it wanting to know more about the person I’m going to spend all of my time with. Something about a new fling. This boy is in the tabloids so much I wonder what’s true and what isn’t. No doubt, he’s a lady’s man.

Love on the Weekend, a song by John Mayer is playing through my headphones. The soothing tone of his voice and the calming melody helps keep me sane in the midst of such a fast-pace and crazy environment. Everyone else’s stress, stresses me out. As I’m reading through the magazine I hear the intercom notify us that my plane is now boarding. Grabbing all of my bags in my hands, I make my way onto the plane. London here I come.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The sudden bump of the airplane wakes me, along with some woman shaking my shoulder to tell me we’ve landed. Squinting my eyes because of the brightness I take a look out my window and see it’s pitch black. Oh. Right. It’s about 1:30 in the morning now.

I make my way off the plane into the UK airport. Jeff mentioned something about a car service coming to pick me up to take me to a hotel. Standing in front of the terminal my eyes are in a frenzy as I frantically look for a sign, anything, to let me know who is here for me. After about a minute of searching, I see a sign that reads “Y/N, Y/L/N”. Letting out a sigh of relief I walk over and shake the man’s hand. I have never had my own personal car service before so I’m pretty star-struck by all of this.

“Good morning Ms. Y/L/N.” The kind man greets me with a pleasant and cheeky grin. I chuckle to myself realizing he said good morning. After all, it is 1am.

“Good morning to you do!” I laugh, feeling a sense of comfort which is good since I’m in a huge country by myself

After exchanging some small talk with my chauffer, we get into the vehicle. Completely forgetting how I’m in Europe, he opens the driver side door which happens to be on the right side rather than the left. Glancing out the window I try and see what’s outside, what London looks like. The blackness of the early morning is preventing me to see nearly anything though.

We finally pull up to the hotel, and I thank the driver while giving him a generous tip. This hotel is absolutely gorgeous. My eyes wander the room in awe. I walk inside with my bags and right away, a bell hop helps me out and gives me a cart to push everything. I walk up to the front desk and give them my name. Jeff also said he already booked about two weeks for me. I can’t be anymore grateful for everything he and his team have provided to make sure I’m comfortable. Eventually I’m going to use my savings and the money I make to pay for it myself and hopefully rent a small apartment here in London. I retrieve my room key and make my way up the elevator towards my room. After getting settled in, I lie in bed on my laptop. I received a few emails from Jeff informing me of the address and time I need to be at the office by. Seeing the time, I decide it’s probably a smart idea to get some sleep and turn off the light, close my eyes, and nervously await the next day.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Stepping foot out of the car, I take a look at the building in front me. It’s quite small, definitely not as big SONY back in the States. I was told this was a casual meeting, so I wore a pair of dark skinny jeans, a nice blouse that shows off a tiny bit of cleavage, and black heels. I tried my best to look good since I am meeting Harry today. I just can’t get his face out of my mind. The way he smirks, his dimples peeking through completely erasing the intimidating look only to make him seem absolutely adorable. Shaking the thoughts from my head, I tell myself that this is a job. Professional.

I walk into the building and meet up with Jeff. Finally meeting him in person, he has dark hair and dark eyes. Scruff on his chin and around his face forming a little bit of a beard. He has a youthful and relaxing glow to him, calming my nerves. There’s no need to feel so uptight

“Ahh finally I meet the famous Y/N!” he gives me a big cheery smile and pulls me into a hug. I let out a giggle and return his hug.

“I can’t believe I’m finally here…it’s so surreal.” I say breathlessly. He smirks, looking down at his feet and clasping his hands together.

“I know but trust me it’s an opportunity you wouldn’t want to miss.” He leads me down the hall and into a room with a few couches and a table. “I figured it would be a little bit more comfortable and casual to meet Harry in a place that isn’t a business room.” He explains to me, shrugging his shoulder.

I feel the sweat on my palms start to kick in and rub them along my jeans. The nerves start to settle in at the thought of meeting Harry. Jeff and I talk a little bit before all of the sudden there is a quick knock on the door. My heart feels like it’s beating outside of my chest, assuming Harry Styles is standing on the other side of that door.

“Yeah!” Jeff yells casually as he scrolls through his phone.

My eyes are peeled on the door when it opens, my teeth gently biting into my bottom lip. Harry walks in with that damn smirk on his face. He’s wearing a plain white t shirt, his tattoos running all along his left arm. My eyes try and keep up with all of them, trying to decipher each one. The swallows on his chest near his collarbones are peeking through the top. His pants are not what I expected from him. They’re black, high-waisted, and are extremely flowy and loose around his legs. I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t want a pair, noticing how comfortable they look. He has a pair of black sunglasses on the top of his head, pushing back his locks in the front. Curls are peaking through near his neck, behind his ears. So endearing.

He’s even more lovely in person.

Then finally, he sets eyes on me. His blue-green irises meet with mine and I feel my breath leave my body for a split second. As he’s staring at me, I notice his eyes glance down at my top, setting on the cleavage I’ve shown. He bites his bottom lip as he looks at me, and I can’t help but blush and look down at my feet. This interaction only lasted about 2 seconds, but it felt like it was moving in slow motion. He strides over to me and puts his hand out for me to shake

“Hello. My name is Harry.” The deep and husky tone rumbles through his throat. He speaks at a slower pace and his eyes are even more mesmerizing close up. He gives me a little smile, dimples on full display, crinkles by the corners of his eyes. I grab his hand and return the shake, his palm engulfing my small one. The warmth radiating from his hand is a comfortable one, and it sends shivers down my spine. He has multiple rings on his fingers, something I find very attractive. After shaking hands, I immediately wipe my clammy hands against my legs once more.

“Hi. Y/N Y/L/N, your new personal assistant.” I say with a friendly tone, giving him a smile back. I tuck a loose strand behind my ear shyly. He takes note of it and gives me another smirk, chuckling to himself at my awkwardness.

“Here, have a seat while we chat a bit.” His British accent is a little more obvious this time around. Jeff tells us he has to take a few phone calls and leaves the room. Harry sits opposite of me, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. The metal of the rings are glistening in the light, catching my eye. He has a ring shaped as an H and one as an S right next to it. Peering my eyes away, I try not to make my curiosity too obvious. The fact that he has personalized rings like that, makes me wonder how much money he actually has. I can tell he noticed my gaze, a small smirk forming on his face. But he doesn’t acknowledge it and continues with the conversation. We already have a nonverbal understanding of each other and I just met him.

“So, tell me a bit about yourself Y/N. Obviously, we’re going to be workin’ with each other every day, so I figured I could get to know yeh now.” Harry rambles on, clearly unsure of what to say.

“Well, I-uh, I’m from New York City. I originally worked at the SONY headquarters, but obviously I’m not anymore.” Harry jokingly rolls his eyes and laughs at my comment. “Um, I have a dog named Luna, but my mother is taking care of her while I’m gone, and uh yeah.” I finish not really sure what else to say. I’m sure he can feel my awkwardness from here and my cheeks heat up at the thought. Why am I so embarrassing?

“As entertaining as that was, that’s not what I meant.” Harry replies cheekily, a small chuckle leaving his lips. Blushing, I glance down at my shoes wanting to avoid his gaze because of my embarrassment.

“What are some favorite things of yours? Maybe we’ll find common ground or somethin’. I don’t know…like, your favorite ice cream flavor, or favorite movie. Both very important questions f’me if I’m honest.” Harry explains with a playful tone and I struggle to find the answers before I respond. I just feel so overwhelmed at this entire situation, and I think he can feel it too. “I want to get to know Y/N. Not Y/N Y/L/N from SONY.”

Harry looks into my eyes and gives me a comforting smile. He gives off such a calm and collective vibe that suddenly makes me feel a little less overwhelmed. I appreciate that. He makes it easy to talk to him. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for my answer. I giggle at the unprofessional and light-hearted reality of the situation.

“My favorite ice cream would have to be either cookie dough or mint chocolate chip…” Before continuing on I observe his facial expressions. At the mention of cookie dough his eyes light up but right when I mention mint chocolate chip, he scrunches his nose in disgust which makes me giggle. “What, you don’t like mint chocolate chip?”

“Toothpaste doesn’t belong in ice cream.” He quickly insisted.

“I don’t think so either.”

“Then why do yeh like mint chip?” His confusion is so adorable, but I try and keep a straight face.

“Because… it doesn’t taste like toothpaste. Mint and chocolate is such a good combination, you’re really missing out.” The fact that we’re having a serious debate over ice cream is so funny to me, but it makes me excited to work with him.

“Nope, not at all.” He scrunches his nose once more, and my heart flutters at the cuteness. “Okay enough about ice cream, favorite movie?”

“My favorite movie? That’s such a hard one, I mean I love so many movies I can’t pick just one.”

“Sorry love, yeh gotta choose. For my sake.” He light-heartedly says,,

“If I had to choose, oh God this is so embarrassing…the Little Mermaid. It’s been my favorite since I was little and I idolized Ariel” I giggle at my ridiculous answer. I’ve always found it childish and a little bit embarrassing to say that my favorite movie is some animated Disney movie, but it was a huge part of my childhood and I still love it.

“That’s actually quite cute that’s your favorite movie. But idolizing a mermaid? How’d you react when yeh found out they aren’t real?” Harry amusingly banters back. He runs his hand through his hair, lifting his sunglasses as he does so only to put them back on his head. Such a simple gesture, but it has me staring at the way his fingers glide through his locks.

Easing back into a more comfortable position, he rests his arm stretching it along the top of the couch and lifting his leg to rest it across his thigh. His casual form makes me self-conscious about my professional appearance. Harry also seems to be enjoying our conversation, and that eases my subtle nerves. Butterflies form in the pit of my stomach at the sight of him.

“Really? Everyone always makes fun of me for it since I’m 24 and admitting my favorite movie of all time is a fucking princess movie.” Harry chuckles, crinkles by his eyes forming. “I also was devastated when my mom broke the news. 10 year old me was mourning over the fact that mermaids don’t exist. I felt like my whole world was crashing down.” I reply with a grin, a more playful tone in my voice. He lets out a burst of laughter, his smile so wide and contagious it makes me break into a bigger smile.

“I’m curious, what’s your favorite movie?” I switch the roles, asking him. Giving a deep sigh Harry answers.

“The Notebook or Love Actually.” He says hesitantly. My jaw drops a little bit, surprised. His cheeks start to turn a shade of dark pink, expecting my surprised reaction. He lifts his hand and runs his fingers through his hair again, I’m assuming it’s a nervous habit.

“That makes me feel a lot better about my answer.” I joke with a laugh. “I can’t believe the famous Harry Styles’ favorite movie is a rom-com.”

“What can I say, Ryan Gosling is just too irresistible.” He jokes back, his eyes sparkling as we speak. I roll my eyes at the comment, shaking my head at the silliness of the conversation. The ease of our banter doesn’t go unnoticed and I can tell he’s thinking the same thing. It’s like we’ve known each other for years.

“He is, isn’t he?” I sigh, the image of Ryan Gosling in my head. I never expected Harry to be as playful and amusing as he is. The tabloids make him out to be this intimidating popstar, but all I see is a normal guy with a witty attitude.

“Okay so as much as I love this conversation, I have to lay down the procedures and rules of the job.” Harry states, rolling his eyes. Already, I know he’s going to be pretty laid back about it. “I’m not gonna be one of those guys that order you around asking you to fetch me a coffee, or a muffin, or anything ridiculous like that. You’re a friend not an assistant. Just helping me along the way”

His sincerity is something I’m already admiring. Not to mention his complete and utter kindness. For someone so famous, I’m surprised at how humble he appears to be. Jeff walks in as we speak some more, shoving his phone in his pocket.

“How’s it going?” He asks, plopping down next to me. A small smirk is on his face, eyes wandering from me to Harry.

“Great! Should be fun.” Harry replies, but he keeps his eyes on me with a devilish smile, dimples appearing at each corner. Blushing I tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

This is gonna be a ride.

A/N: Again, thank you for your patience! Let me know what you wanna see as I develop this story, I’m open to plot suggestions :) Also, let me know what you think in general, my DMs and requests are always open. Love you guys!!

If you haven’t yet, read Chapter 1 here

#Harry Styles #harry styles stories #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles story #harry styles book #harry styles tour #harry styles live on tour #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluffy #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fan #harry styles 2019 #harry styles chapter #harry styles lights up

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destiel-love-forever · 6 years ago

Photo

tiny!octo!Cas is very flustered when it comes to the freckled man buying him.

Read Below or on AO3

No Longer Lonely

Dean scrunches his nose as he watches the bunny poop. Then he looks over at his brother in disgust. “I’m tellin’ ya, Sammy. I am not lonely.”

“You work eighty hour weeks and haven’t dated anyone in three years.” His little brother shoots him a dirty look himself. “So, you must be lonely.”

Dean stops by a crate of birds and tilts his head to the side. They’re all pretty colors and they seem pretty chill and low maintenance, which is what he wants. The chirping is kind of annoying though. He moves on. “Sam, I’m not even home enough to have a damn pet.”

“Maybe a pet will make you want to be home more.”

“Oh, yes. Because what I want to do with my time is sit on the couch and have one sided conversations with an animal.”

A slow smile begins to form on Sam’s face. “I have an idea for that. In fact, I had Charlie keep something for you.”

That makes Dean nervous. Charlie is the owner of the shop, but she’s also in their friend group. In fact, she’s constantly working with Sam to better Dean’s life. Whatever she has planned isn’t going to be fun for Dean. It’s probably some exotic cat that can sense emotion and do a dance or some shit like that.

Charlie cheers from across the shop when she comes from the back and sees them. She waves her arm for them to follow and heads toward the fish. A fish, Dean can handle. Those are extremely low maintenance. In fact, he can practically forget about it. He’ll feed it in the morning as he makes his coffee and then the whole damn obligation will be over for the day. Everyone can be happy.

“Dean! I’m so excited! Just wait until you see him!” Dean laughs as Charlie squeezes him into a hug. For the life of him, he can’t stay crabby when she’s around. It’s impossible. She’s just too happy and energetic.

“Hey, Charlie.” Dean pulls away from the hug and winks at her. “Any chance you’re gonna give me some cute little fish I can stick in a bowl in my kitchen and call things good?”

She lifts an eyebrow, offended. “Absolutely not. That won’t help with the loneliness at all.”

Swallowing a groan, Dean follows her for the last few steps until they stop at a large tank. She starts speaking but Dean is only half listening. There’s a tiny creature inside the thing. It’s doing flips and swirls, stopping every few seconds to look at the people coming to visit him, before returning to his gymnastics. He has a human head and upper body that’s completely normal except some purple and blue freckles. From his waist down, he has blue tentacles that remind Dean of the ocean . Dean leans closer, reading the info card taped to the tank.

RARE

Enochian: Male

-High Maintenance

-Intelligent

-Friendly

Dean realizes he’s in deep shit when he reads high maintenance and doesn’t even flinch. He just goes back to watching the little guy. The news had these creatures on a while back. Divers had discovered them in the Bermuda Triangle. Other things were discovered as well, but it was just the Enochians that were brought back to America. They’re going extinct and the scientists wanted to save the species.

The little guy notices that Dean has gotten closer to the tank. He presses his hands against the inside of his tank, peering up at the man. Four of his tentacles suction to the glass while the other four start dancing wildly. He looks excited but also terrified. Like the unknown scares him.

“I want him,” Dean whispers.

The Enochian perks up at his words and Dean stands in surprise. “He can understand me?”

“He may have. He’s extremely smart and I know of many around the country that have become fluent in our language, but he’s not very social here. I haven’t had much of a chance to interact.” She shrugs. “He doesn’t speak.”

“I want him,” Dean repeats.

Charlie nods but she looks concerned. “You can try to pick him up. They’re too smart to go with an owner they don’t want. He’ll escape your place and then he’ll be in danger. I have to make sure he’s okay with leaving with you.”

“So, if he doesn’t want to come with me, he’ll stay here?”

“Yes.” She tilts her head, looking at the little guy. “They have heightened senses. Especially smell. Scientists have realized that they use smell for a lot of things. They use it when choosing interactions with humans. They can actually smell if they can trust someone. If they feel connected to someone. It’s fascinating.”

“So, he’ll decide all that when he smells me? When I pick him up?”

“Yes.” Charlie giggles. “Before I kept him for you, a few others came to buy him. He did not like them. Don’t be offended if he doesn’t want you either. He’s extremely picky. Pickier than any other I’ve heard of.”

Dean sucks in a breath. If this little guy decides he doesn’t want to go with Dean, that might break his heart. It’s crazy to believe that just a few minutes ago Dean wanted some fish he could forget about. Now? He’s already planning activities and conversations and ways to teach him to talk or function or play or anything else. He’s attached.

“Go ahead. Reach in there.”

“Do I grab him, or have him come to me?”

“Just slowly move toward him. He usually comes no matter what so he can smell you up close. Just go very slow, especially when you pull him out of the tank. If he gets scared or anything like that, he’ll try jumping back in. He almost hurt himself last time.”

“Okay.” Dean approaches the tank again and peers down. The little guy is in the center of it, his chin lifted up like he’s waiting patiently. He knows exactly what’s happening.

He reaches into the water carefully and opens his palm. The Enochian’s tentacles all bunch up, like he’s unsure and defensive. Then they slowly relax and he makes his way to Dean’s hand. He sniffs at his finger tip and looks up at Dean in pure confusion. Dean glances at Charlie with an eyebrow raised. “Is this going well,” he whispers, embarrassed at how nervous he is.

She’s staring at his hand in wonder. “Very.”

When he feels a weight settle in the palm of his hand, he looks back down. The little guy is settled in his palm and looking at him expectantly. Everything seems to be going well until he’s taken out of the water. Then he’s squeaking and looking terrified again. His eyes dart between Dean and the other two, his tentacles bunching again.

Dean keeps his hands above the tank in case he wants to jump out of his hands.

“Hey, Buddy. Don’t be afraid.” He pauses, unsure of what to do or say. When he glances at Charlie she makes a shooing motion with her hands, as if to tell him to go on with it. Dean takes a breath and looks back at the Enochian. He’s relaxed a little, and he’s got his chin tucked down as he carefully sniffs his hand. “I’m Dean.”

The tiny creature tilts his head and scrunches his nose. Then, carefully, he forms his mouth to whisper, “Dee.” Immediately after making the noise, the Enochian grabs one of his tentacles and squeezes it, cheeks flushing red as he carefully peeks up at Dean for approval.

Dean’s obsessed. He’s a fucking gonner.

“Yeah, buddy. Dee. Good job.” Dean flashes his best smile, and the Enochian mimics it, forming one on his own face. “I really want to take you home with me. Would that be okay?”

He holds his breath and waits. The little guy thinks for just a second before he squeaks and wraps himself completely around Dean’s thumb with a smile. “K! K!” He giggles a little and squeaks again. Dean’s heart nearly explodes.

Charlie claps and Sam gives Dean a huge smile. “So, you’re really doing this? You’re getting him?”

“Yeah.” Dean smiles back down at the little guy. “What do I do next?”

“Oooo, the fun part. You spoil him.”

#tiny #tiny!octo #tiny!octo!cas #octo!cas #octopus #tiny!Cas #tiny!castiel #art #digital art #mermay #series #more to come #cute and fluffy #just what I needed #destiel #fluff #cute #pet

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fictionobsession · 6 years ago

Text

Alone in a Crowded Room

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Genre: All Fluff!

Words: 2086

Summary: Being alone isn’t lonely, but sometimes it’s better together.

A/N: This is my first time writing a fic, so it may be horrible and I’m definitely open to constructive criticisms and suggestions. It hasn’t really been edited oops sorry

“Have you ever felt alone in a room full of people?”

The question seemed to come from far away. You barely registered it at all. What a clichéd saying. Do people actually still ask that?

“Y/N? Hello? Are you in there?” Your friend’s hand waved in front of your face, bringing you out of your thoughts. You hummed in acknowledgment halfheartedly, though your friend is much too invested in her story to notice your indifference. She had been rambling on about her newest boy toy for the last hour and a half, but apparently the subject had required your input for something and you had to stop pretending to pay attention to actually answer. “I said, have you ever felt alone in a room full of people?”

You laughed a real genuine laugh, the sound of which was swallowed up by the live music playing in the other room. “Yeah, haven’t we all?” Your answer was vague, which was pretty typical, but apparently it satisfied her desire for your input for the moment. You fell easily back into your thoughts, only this time further answering her question to yourself. Alone in a crowd? I think it may be easier to ask how often I don’t feel alone in a crowd, really. You couldn’t remember a time in the past months, maybe years, when you hadn’t felt more comfortable in your apartment alone than in the presence of another human being. You had no idea what the relevance of the question was to the rest of your friend’s story, but you loathed that she had asked it. Any little thing could set your brain into motion, and that isn’t really where you liked your brain to be.

You had tried to deal with your loneliness in any way suggested to you by someone else, although more often than not it was to appease your friends’ need to see you no longer be the only single when everyone paired off at parties and other such gatherings. You’d tried everything from halfhearted relationships with boys whose names you’d later not even remember to long drunken nights on the town with your closest girls to studies overseas with complete strangers, just trying to find some connection with anyone that didn’t make you exhausted after an hour. All that had failed thus far, and you were losing the motivation to try. Your friends seemed convinced that you should continue to try, but you were happiest on your own, so that became the status quo.

Your friend seemed to be coming to the end of your discussion (albeit one-sided, as it were), so you started gathering your things and wiggling in the uncomfortable wing-backed chair as your signal you were ready to leave.

“I’m so glad you’re having a good time with this one, babe,” you say to her, remembering the last time she got sucked into a whirlwind romance that ended in her being ghosted after a week. You were expecting a similar outcome in this situation as well, despite listening to practically none of her description of the guy, and you found yourself thinking how nice it was to not have to worry about getting your heart broken. You would much rather deal with the fallout for her than have to handle your own.

“Anyway…” she started, “enough about mine, how’s your love life going, girlie?”

The question caught you off guard, and you groaned internally. You wished you could have been more discreet about your discomfort, but in your signature tactless way, you managed to squeak out “I have a lot of homework to do tonight really no time to discuss it sorry” as you moved yourself toward the door, feeling your cheeks redden.

“Alright, but don’t think you’re getting out of this conversation that easily!” she shouts as you make your way out of the overpriced coffee shop. Once in the open air away from the excessive number of other people and your friend’s unnecessary interrogation, you felt invigorated, and since you really did have work to do, you found yourself driving to your favorite bookstore where you knew it would be quiet. The drive was exactly what you needed, with all of your favorite feel-good songs coming on the radio, leading you to getting out of your car still smiling and humming your favorite Disney tunes.

As you entered the bookstore, the first thing you noticed was the smell of your favorite tea wafting through the store from the little café in the back, which lifted your spirits even more. The second thing you noticed was that you had been correct in assuming it would be quiet, as the only other people you could see in the store were employees, most of whom you knew, milling about changing displays and straightening shelves.

“Y/N!” The owner called out, coming toward you with a huge smile plastered on his weathered face. “Great to see you! Just thought you’d want to know there’s a whole bunch of new books back next to the café. I’m a busy bee, but come find me if you need anything!” And with that, he had disappeared back into the stockroom to sort through the books.

You thanked him as he disappeared and wandered to the section you knew he was talking about. You had been looking for the newest installment of the Harley Quinn comics, and with the knowing look on his face, you assumed the owner had gotten it in. You found the shelf of new releases and set to searching. You became so caught up in your hunt that you didn’t notice the soft sound of someone approaching.

“Excuse me?”

The voice startled you, and you spun to see who it belonged to. A guy about your age was standing there with his hands in his pockets looking rather lost, and in your flustered state you found yourself at a loss for words.

“Excuse me, love,” he repeated, the pet name making your cheeks flush, “I was trying to find a comic to get into. My friend suggested I’d like them, but I really haven’t a clue what I’m looking for. Do you have any suggestions?”

“I don’t know what kinds of things you like, and your friend would probably make better suggestions, but my favorite is Spider-Man. Sorry I’ve got to…” but before you’d even finished your statement you were around the corner, rushing to hide from the encounter. You’d spoken so fast you weren’t even sure he’d understood you, but you also weren’t sure that was a bad thing.

After a sufficient amount of time for your anxiety to pass somewhat, you noticed you were standing in the high school test-prep book aisle. You immediately regretted not at least bothering to choose a hiding spot with books you’d not read a million times, or at the very least something a little closer to your interests. You’d spent too much time on these boring tomes when you needed them, and now they were as irrelevant as a paperclip. You sighed to yourself, again back to remembering how quickly the years go by, and how you still hadn’t had anyone that made you feel less alone through any of it. And just like that, your day went from boring to uncomfortable to wonderful and finally to just another day in the life of your anxieties.

When you felt like enough time had passed for the boy who ruined your day to have made his purchase and left, you exited the most boring aisle in the store and went to the café to study. You ordered your tea, no sugar no cream, and found the table in the corner you always claimed as your own. You pulled your ancient laptop from its pocket and began waiting the seemingly six hundred years it took to start up. In the meantime, you retrieved your tea from the barista, pulled your textbook and highlighters out of your bag, and began to read through the material.

As your laptop finally lived and you found your assignment, you sensed someone coming up to your table and heard a voice say,

“Thanks for the recommendation; the books I was looking at before were too Boron for me to make it through.”

You looked up from your homework to see the same guy from before looking down at you, his face graced with a lopsided smile. “Huh?” You say, in your typical eloquent fashion.

“You know, Boron, like, the chemical… you were just… doing chemistry so I thought…” he trailed off as he started to walk away, the smile falling from his face.

The attempted pun finally clicked for you, and you felt embarrassed not getting it the first time around. You noticed him turning to walk off, and for some reason that made you feel guilty. “Hey wait!” you called, “ No wait! It was funny! I just didn’t get it! I mean, in my defense, it was a terrible, awful pun. But it was funny!”

He turned back around, and his face lit up. “Oh? You think I’m funny, do you?” He waggled his eyebrows at you, eliciting a giggle.

“Yeah, maybe funny looking,” you scoff. “You’re welcome for the recommendation though, I hope you like it.”

“Well,” he started, “to be completely honest, I’ve already read them all so far. I just really wanted to see what you’d recommend. I’m Tom. Do you mind if I sit here?” He motioned to the chair opposite you, the one usually left unoccupied or stolen by another table.

You managed to stutter out an affirmative answer, being once again taken aback by this person’s willingness to talk to you. He sat and made himself comfortable with a cup of tea and his stack of new comics. He started asking you about your theories regarding the current storyline and how the comics relate to the movies, and you became fully invested in the conversation. Eventually, after much discussion, you both came to the same conclusion regarding the direction the story should take and settled into a silence.

While silence was usually comfortable for you, it was only such when you were by yourself. You quickly started to feel anxious about the way you were sitting and were even acutely aware of how you were breathing. You were surprised you had managed to make it that long without having some sort of anxiety, but the clammy hands and red cheeks threatened a need to make a quick exit. You looked at the man across from you and noticed that he had picked up one of his new books and was quietly reading and sipping his tea. He looked completely unphased by the silence, and that was calming to you.

For the first time, you noticed how kind his eyes looked, and the way his curly brown hair laid haphazardly on his head. The slight curve of his lips showed his enjoyment of the novel, and you smiled before you caught yourself. You realized you were staring and quickly opened up your laptop and… it was dead. Completely dead. And you’d left your charger at home. You thanked whatever deity was in charge of such things for allowing you such a convenient escape.

“I’m sorry, uh, what did you say your name was?” You stuttered.

“Tom, my name’s Tom Holland, love,” he answered, barely taking his eyes from his reading.

“Right, uh, well, I’m Y/N, and I’m very sorry but I’ve got to go home and finish this work.” You had already shoved your things into your bag and were getting up to leave.

“Oh! Oh, right, of course,” he suddenly was no longer smiling, but looked rather dismayed. He pulled a piece of paper from his bag, scribbled something on it, and handed it to you before you could walk away. “Give me a call when you’ve read the next installment, yeah, love?”

You blushed redder than you were sure you had ever been before, and without saying anything back to the cute boy handing you his number, left. Practically running to your car, you couldn’t help but think to lament that you could never go back to the bookstore after that horribly embarrassing event. Or maybe you were lamenting the fact that you knew you’d never use the number burning a hole in your pocket. You got in your car and had another lucky run on the radio, once again feeling high as ever and smiling the rest of the day.

#fluff #tom holland #college!Tom #Tom #Holland fics #Tom Holland fluff #anxiety tw #Delaney's Work

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loading99percent · 6 years ago

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Endure

Pairing: ZZTx OC [Ruohua] Genre: slice of life, slight angst, slight fluff Word Count: 3,148 Summary: Zhengting isn’t a very attentive boyfriend, or well much a boyfriend to Ruohua as of late and she’s beginning to think if the heartaches are worth it over loneliness. soft angsts starters

Warning: although more angst it still has a good ending. lol i think that’s about it. i don’t know much about others’ perspective of relationship and of other females’ view on it as well except my own. the beginning bit is just based on the music video and song that i get from it.

My eighth request! I’m surprise at myself for getting these requests out tbh with you. Hopefully I can get to the others and finished them all as to not make you lovely anons wait too long. Anyways, this story was actually not going to be with this request prompt, but I don’t like unhappy endings and so wrote more to give me that good ending. So this was inspired by the song ไม่ชอบอยู่คนเดียว by PREEN and Stevie Hoang’s Don’t Wanna Fall Asleep. The first song translates to Don’t Like Being Alone. Happy reading and kthxbai, Admin Lia~

Girls don't like being alone. They don't like being neglected or left alone to think unhappy thoughts. Girls don't like to suffer and dislike being forgotten. They don't like it when you don't care about them or don't know anything about them. Girls don't like it when you're not around to give them that sense of safety, security, and protection. They don't like it when you don't give them a call or a message just to let them know that you're thinking about them or even missing them. Girls just don't like being lonely, ever. If a girl had to choose to be heartbroken or being alone, then she would rather choose to be heartbroken. Because it's easier to deal with a broken heart than facing loneliness alone since it's solitary as it is. Eventually though over time it wears them down. So how much longer can they endure heartaches before turning to loneliness in the end?

"Hello?"

"Hey, Ting! Where are you?" Ruohua asked her boyfriend, Zhengting. "I'm standing outside your apartment right now."

"Oh, hey, Ruohua. I'm not home right now. I'm out with the guys." Zhengting answered before getting distracted on his end. "Hey, I'll call you back, alright, after I finish the game with the boys. Bye!"

Zhengting hung up on her as Ruohua stared at the blank mobile device with a sad sigh before slipping the cell into her back pocket. She hung the gift bag she had prepared earlier that week on his apartment door while stuffing the pig plush doll against it.

"I guess you did forget about it in the end, huh?" Ruohua muttered to herself while petting the stuffed toy. "I guess playing with your friends is more important than celebrating our anniversary."

"Guess who?" Ruohua playfully whispered into Zhengting's ears while covering his eyes with her hands in the process upon coming up from behind him at the cafe they were meeting at for their day date.

"Um, Cheng Xiao?" Zhengting guessed with a nervous laugh as Ruohua chuckled quietly. "Nope. Guess again."

"Well, there's Jinger, no?"

"Not even close. C'mon, it's easy. You should know."

"Hmm, Zhang Xi? Oh, maybe Meiqi? Oh, wait, no. Xuanyi?" Zhengting guessed while throwing out possible names of who it could be. "I think it's Junya or Ruihan?"

"Wrong again like five times, Zhengting." Ruohua smiled with a shake of her head while still covering his eyes. "One more chance and it's not that hard. C'mon now."

There was a long pause as Zhengting really pondered on who the mystery woman could be and Ruohua frown hoping her boyfriend was just teasing her.

"We were just talking earlier just now."

"Oh, did we?" Zhengting let out in confusion. "Who could you be then?"

Ruohua was about to end the game when she heard Zhengting speaking again.

"Oh! I know who you are!" Zhengting smiled as Ruohua waited.

"Mena, right!

Zhengting exclaimed happily as he grabbed onto Ruohua's hands and removed them from his eyes to turn his head to look at her. "Oh, Ruohua, it's just you."

Ruohua frowned, but Zhengting didn't notice as he turned his attention away from her while motioning for his girlfriend to take a seat.

"Ain't gonna lie, that was pretty hard, Ruohua."

Ruohua reluctantly took a seat across from Zhengting and gave him a look.

"We just spoke like five minutes ago, Ting. Also we've known one another for at least like five years now and dated for more than a year."

Zhengting shrugged while casting her a sheepish look. "I guess I'm not good at recogizing voices."

Before Ruohua could counter the waiter appeared and had brought them drinks that Zhengting had ordered ahead of time.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, Ruohua, I ordered your favorite drink!" He said while handing Ruohua her favorite drink and taking his own in his hand. "I've already paid so don't worry about it, but I gotta get going though." He suddenly announced while standing up. "Wenjun and I have this project due tomorrow and we're behind."

"But what about our date?"

"We'll have another one later this week. I promise."

Zhengting gave Ruohua a quick kiss to the cheek before leaving the cafe as Ruohua's eyebrows furrowed and her expression sour.

"You were the one that planned this and have postponed it twice already within the month. When are we going to have a proper date?"

She let out another sigh as she gazed at here 'favorite' drink that Zhengting had just bought her.

"It would be my favorite drink if you had ordered the right one, Ting." Ruohua mumbled. "I like winter-melon and almond milk tea. Not the matcha green milk tea."

Ruohua let out a sigh as she took the drink while shaking it before drinking it. Even if she didn't like the flavor, she didn't like wasting food the most.

"Ruohua, hey! This is Jieqiong. She's my partner for dance class. And Jieqiong this is my..." Zhengting introduced the younger female to his girlfriend yet he seemed like he blanked out on that information of Ruohua while introducing her to Jieqiong.

"Hey, Jieqiong. I'm Zhengting's girlfriend, Ruohua. Nice to meet you." Ruohua introduced herself instead while shaking hands with Jieqiong.

"Wow, you're so pretty. Zhengting didn't mention he had a girlfriend." Jieqiong commented innocently, but for some reason this stung Ruohua a bit.

"Yeah, we've been dating for more than a year now, but have known one another for like five."

"Aww, that's lovely and super cool. I'm totally surprised I didn't meet you first compare to his friends though, Ruohua." Jieqiong stated as Zhengting rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Well, the opportunity never showed up until now."

"Right, I see." Ruohua said as she looked from Zhengting to Jieqiong. "I guess I'll get going and leave you two to finish your routine. I still have to visit the library to finish my paper. It was nice meeting you, Jieqiong. See you later, Ting."

Ruohua waved them goodbyes while giving them smiles before leaving the dance room with a tired look.

"How long can I keep this up until I can't anymore?"

The couple attended their friend, Kaihao's, birthday dinner at a HaiDiLao. Sitting around the large circular table of twenty and plus others, everyone was enjoying themselves. Eating, laughing, and telling jokes and stories. Some time later the conversation shifted and the atmosphere between them all grew awkward due to an innocent question by one of their friends.

"Hey, Zhengting, Where's your girlfriend?" Linong asked although Ruohua was sitting right next to Zhengting. "Did Jieqiong have something else to do?"

Ruohua was taken aback by the thought that Linong assumed she wasn't Zhengting's girlfriend and that Jieqiong was. They've been somewhat friends or something like that for two years now.

"NongNong, she's his girlfriend." Linkai pointed at Ruohua. "That's Ruohua. Remember? Jieqiong was only his dance partner for class."

"Oh, my. That's embarrassing. I'm so sorry about that." Linong apologized while looking at Ruohua and then at Jeffrey sitting on her other side. "I thought you were Jeffrey's girlfriend because you two were talking a lot with one another throughout dinner."

Ruohua just cast Linong a polite smile while excusing herself as she took her things and didn't bother to look at the rest of them. Somehow that question turned her off from enjoying the rest of the night and didn't want to spoil it with her sour mood because of it. Ruohua took a breather out front and tried to gather herself before going back inside. She didn't want them to think it affected her too much causing them all to become awkward with it. Looking towards the night sky with a heavy heart, Ruohua let out another breath before turning around to walk back inside the restaurant, but Zhengting was already making his way towards her.

"Hey, Ruohua, are you okay?"

He held her shoulders while looking at he with a worried look.

"Yeah, Zhengting, just peachy."

She mustered up a small smile.

"I hope you're not upset with NongNong about what had just happened. It's not really that big of a deal to be worked up about."

Ruohua's small smile disappeared and she looked at her boyfriend tiredly and annoyed.

"Not a big deal, Ting. Really? Are you being for real right now? He assumed you and I weren't together and that you were dating Jieqiong and me, Jeffrey." She let out a bit heated. "Honestly, a majority of them some times forget that we're actually a couple, Zhengting. Do we not interact like one or something?"

"Of course we do, Ruohua. We go on plenty of dates. We hang out as much as we can. We hold hands, kiss, and cuddle and do all of that other lovey-dovey stuff that couples do, too." Zhengting assured her although it didn't sound all that convincing.

"Are you sure?"

Zhengting opened his mouth to answer Ruohua, but no words came out. He looked like a fish with his mouth opening and closing while thinking of what kind of answer to give to his girlfriend. Ruohua let out a sigh and decided whether she should or shouldn't continue her relationship with Zhengting.

"Do you even know what I like or dislike, Zhengting? Like my favorite flowers? Colors? Food? Or even movies or dramas?"

Zhengting continued to look like a fish staring right back at her.

"Do you even know the date of my birthday or our anniversary?"

Still no response. Ruohua asked him another question hoping that he could maybe salvage what little they had to continue their relationship.

"Do you even know anything about me since we've known each other for five years or about us since we officially got together?"

Zhengting slowly removed his hands from her shoulders and put them at his side. He also avoided all eye-contact with Ruohoa and chose to instead look at the floor that was way more interesting. To Ruohua, this indicated to her that he didn't know or was unable to give her any sort of answer she would be satisfied with.

"I can't do this anymore, Zhengting." Ruohua admitted. "I love you and only you, but I can't endure any more heartaches because of you, Zhengting. I can't endure an us when there's just a you or me in this relationship." She told him. "I really thought that I'll be your last."

Ruohua started taking a few steps back from him which caught Zhengting's attention more after hearing what she had just said. He looked at her with alertness.

"What are you saying, Ruohua?"

"Zhengting, let's break up."

"Like taking a breather sort of break or actually...?"

He trailed off with widened eyes although he knew exactly what Ruohua meant, but couldn't let it sink in to process fully.

"Goodbye, Zhengting, and take real care."

It was four in the morning and Zhengting was outside of Ruohua's apartment after their break-up from a few months ago while knocking on the door every so often. They haven't contacted one another since and so Ruohua wondered what he wanted as she looked through the peephole. Ruohua was going to ignore Zhengting and go back to bed, but he continued to bang on her door insistently. Ruohua let out a sigh not wanting to annoy the neighbors if Zhengting didn't cease his knocking. She opened the door just as Zhengting was in mid-knock. The pair stared at one another with Ruohua waiting for what her ex-boyfriend had to say while Zhengting tried to gather his thoughts of what he wanted to say to his ex-girlfriend.

Ruohua waited for him to explain why he was here, but Zhengting remained quiet. Even after what felt like forever, but was only three to five minutes tops the silence between the pair continued on and no one wanted to speak. Ruohua knew that she shouldn't have expected a change from him and was about to close the door on Zhengting without saying anything, but Zhengting held out a hand against the door to prevent her from doing so. She glared at him and was about to say something, but quickly noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes and the way his face seemed so haggard. Her face soften as she wondered if their break-up had caused him to look so pale and tired.

"Begonias." Zhengting blurted out as Ruohua's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"Your favorite flowers are begonias because despite their simplicity they have a deeper meaning to them if you pay close enough attention to their symbolism."

"You're just memorizing facts you found online, Zhengting."

Ruohua tried to reason, but Zhengting shook his head with a small smile.

"You like eating the petals because it's the only way you'll eat anything really healthy and calling it a salad. Also it has its own medicinal uses like healing small cuts and scrapes, treating a sore throat, or relieving the symptoms of a cold."

"Again, Zhengting, stuff you can read online and tweak it to fit me."

"Well, you don't have a favorite color as long as they're the colors of begonias which has like seven of them."

Ruohua was going to counter, but Zhengting continued to speak.

"You also don't have a favorite food because you like anything and everything, but they're all usually carbs and why you eat begonias to slightly balanced it out." He pushed the door wider so that he can fully see Ruohua while still talking as he was answering her questions from the day they had broken up. "You prefer movies over shows because they're shorter in length and don't have too much fillers and drama-esque plots within them. Plus, you don't have favorites movies just favorite genres related to animation."

Ruohua tried to wrap this whole thing around her head, but it just left her confused on why he was answering her questions months later.

"Why?" She asked causing Zhengting to stop talking and to stare at her. "Why, what?"

"Why now, Zhengting? What does it matter to you in finally answering some of my questions months after we broke up? Why? What does this benefit for you?"

"Because I can't continue to convince myself that I don't miss you, Ruohua." Zhengting confessed. "I try so hard not to think of you, but I always see your face every time I close my eyes. I don't wanna fall asleep knowing that you'll appear in my dreams all night long."

Ruohua's was left speechless by his confession as Zhengting felt relieved admitting what's been burdening him these past few months.

"I never realized how much of a difference your presence impacted my life when I faced the truth that you were no longer mine or a part of my life, Ruohua."

Zhengting wanted to reach out and take Ruohua into his arms, but he restrained himself because he didn't have that privileged and right to do that anymore.

"I neglected your importance and feelings, but most of all out of everything I failed to see that I had neglected you, Ruohua." Zhengting admitted. "You're the one who was supposed to be my last that I love and only love, but I treated you like you meant nothing to me."

Ruohua regarded Zhengting throughout his confession while feeling his words and emotions tug at her heart. Could she really forgive him so easily? Could she even think about being in a relationship with him again? Could she even see a future for them if she gave him another chance, but if he asks for another chance? Ruohua honestly didn't know, but she did know that she wanted to do one thing right then and there.

"Can I hug you?"

She asked him and instead of receiving a response, Ruohua felt herself being pulled towards Zhengting's chest a second later. He enveloped her into his arms having missed the way she felt within his embrace. Although initially shocked by the sudden skinship as she thought Zhengting may not have wanted to hug or whatever, but Ruohua soon relaxed and hugged Zhengting back. Too lost in the mood, Ruohua missed what Zhengting had said.

"Hmm?" She hummed while pulling back far enough to look at him. "What did you say?"

Zhengting smiled as he repeated what he had just said.

"June twenty-first. January sixteen."

Ruohua gave him a funny look before realizing he was again answering her questions before they broke up.

"The day of my birthday and our anniversary."

Zhengting nodded as his smile widened before speaking again.

"You had a major and long crush on me and liked me ever since transferring to Langfang High."

"I did not."

Zhengting ignored Ruohua's comment.

"You think you suck at cooking which is true, but it's passable despite being a bit bland in flavor."

Ruohua slightly smacked him on the forearm, but Zhengting continued talking with a lighter tone to his voice. "And you've been wanting for us to move officially in together some time next year and adopt two French bulldogs once we're settled."

"Wow. Ziyang really has a big mouth and can't keep secrets." Ruohua pouted upon Zhengting learning of her wanting to live together with him.

"Big mouth or not, Ruohua, I'm terribly sorry for causing you so much heartache while we were together and I'm willing to spend the rest of my life to never make you feel alone or lonely ever again."

"That's a really big responsibility to take, Zhengting. How do you even know I wanna get back together with you?"

"Because you asked me for a hug."

Ruohua was confused by his words, but remember telling him back when they were teenagers that for her a hug always meant reconciliation. It was because she was never one for initiating skinship unless she felt like it or when the time called for it. Also if Ruohua ever fought with her significant other and she wanted to be the one to make up first, then she would initiate the hug to settle the score.

"You remembered?" She asked in disbelief.

"Eventually I did after thinking and reminiscing over the past few months and the time we spent with one another over the years for it to registered in my memory." Zhengting admitted with a chuckle. "It just took me a lot longer to realized a lot of things, Ruohua, but I hope you'll continue to lead me well and be patient because I don't wanna lose you ever again." He gently cupped her face while rubbing circles with his thumbs over her cheekbones. "I don't know what I'll do if I can't see your face ever again, Ruohua."

"Then don't, Zhengting. Because I've loved you and missed you too much to not have endured it for this long for another chance at us."

Ruohua pulled him in for a kiss.

#loading99percent #idol producer scenarios #nine percent scenarios #nex7 scenarios #zhu zhengting #idol producer #nine percent #nex7

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endgameexecutor · 6 years ago

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So my wife, @crazygingerlady, wanted to see how much I’ve changed over the years. So here’s an ask meme I answered ages ago with updated answers. The old answers can be found here.

What was your:

Last drink: Cranberry lemonade, babey!

Last phone call: My wife. OvO

Last text message: (From my sister about a crab she caught): Could be a girl.

Last song you listened to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UJAvPsSeXvg

Last time you cried: Bitch I wish I could cry. It would prolly help me get out all these bad emotions squatting in my body, not paying their dopamine rent.

EDIT: My wife informs me I was crying over how cute baby snakes were last night.

Have you ever:

Dated someone twice: Does dating my wife constantly count?

Been cheated on:

Kissed someone and regretted it: Only once, when I poked Jayde’s eye with my nose.

Lost someone special: I lost my grandmother when I was a child. I couldn’t even comprehend what was going on back then. It hit me like a truck a phew years later and I felt like shit when it did.

Been depressed: Been?

Been drunk and thrown up: Still don’t drink. Maybe if I had something blue and fruity...

In the past year have you:

Made a new friend: Lot’s of them in my college classes. Right now they’re on Discord shitposting about Seto Kaiba.

Fallen out of love: That’s an emotional roller coaster I plan to never ride again.

Laughed until you cried: Every time my wife says something funny. Unless it’s terrible terrible terrible.

Met someone who changed you: See: “My wife.”

Found out who your real friends are: I can trust no one in this filthy world but my cat, Arby.

Found out someone was talking about you: Are they? ...Are they saying nice things?

Kissed anyone on your Facebook list: Jayde were we Facebook friends before or after we kissed?

EDIT: She informs me it was before.

General:

How many people on your FB friends do you know irl?: I’m in a long distance relationship with my wife so that one’s a technicality. All my other IRL friends use Discord.

Do you have any pets?: Four cats. One with anxiety, one doesn’t like me, one’s a sweet angel, and one’s Arby.

Do you want to change your name?: Can I add titles like “Duke”?

What did you do for your last birthday?: Get a surprise visit from my wife who I proceeded to hug for a solid three minutes.

What time did you wake up today?: Nine-thirty. Or at least I’m hoping I woke up. I’ve got errands to run.

What were you doing at midnight last night?: Binging Criminal Minds way past bedtime.

Name something you CANNOT wait for: The fall of capitalism.

Last time you saw your mother: About a week ago. I’m the man of the house for now. Those plants you see outside? I watered them. Yeah, I’m a big deal.

What is one thing you wish you could change about yourself: Hi I’d like to return this depression with the executive dysfunction that came with it.

What are you listening to rn?: The dulcet tones of Jayde’s AC because I’m Skyping her while I write this.

Have you ever talked to a person named Tom?: I was on the highschool math team with one but let me ask this; why Tom? Why is that such and important name to you? Are you looking for a Tom? Did he break your heart?

What’s getting on your nerves rn?: The loneliness that comes with being the only person in this house.

Nickname: My wife calls me Bingus.

Relationship status: In a long-distance relationship, with my wife, @crazygingerlady.

Zodiac sign: ♉

Pronouns: He/him

Favourite tv show: I am fickle man, but right now the first two to come to mind are Criminal Minds and Star Vs.

High school: No thank you I ain’t reliving that. I think I was even more depressed and self-destructive back then.

College: Actually really enjoying my current degree in graphic design!

Hair colour: Still brown. Also why the “u”? Is this questionnaire some sort of data collection means for British spies? Or did I change it back then because I thought it made me look “cultured”?

It really just made me look like a twat.

Long or short: It was long and curly but then Jayde gave it a trim when I last saw her.

Height: Taller than you’ll ever be and that’s all that I need to say.

Do you have a crush on someone?: Golly gee whoever could it be?

What do you like about yourself?: Apparently I look real good in button-up flannel.

Tattoos: I have a plan to get “ARE YA NASTY” penned right on my cheeks before the year is out.

Righty or lefty: Righty.

First surgery: After a cursory check I have confirmed all my organs are in their proper places.

First piercing: One time I had this really bad splinter does that count?

First best friend: I think it was actually this kid who hit me in the face with a shovel. I don’t think we were friend for too long after that.

First sport you joined: Soccer when I was a kid. Went through a child league or something of the sort and stopped. I was not very good at it and am no better as an adult!

First vacation: Seattle as a kid, pity I can’t remember a lick of it on account of being baby.

First pair of trainers: I still have no idea what the fuck this means. Maybe the OP really was from the UK.

Rn:

Eating: Currently digesting a Taco Bell quesadilla.

Drinking: And a Strawberry Icee from the same place.

I’m about to: I’m not sure, I might go to France’s many vineyards and sample their finest wines. Or I might just finish up this questionnaire. I dunno.

Listening to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iAbNynH35pw

Waiting for: My family to get home and also dreading it a little as well. Sure it was lonely, but it was also quiet.

Want kids: I already have baby names lined up.

Get married: Jayde’s grandparent’s have been looking at rings for us already.

Career: Remember when it seemed like I was going to be an accountant? Me either. Let’s keep going with graphic design like my wife was right about.

Which is better:

Lips or eyes?: If you’re asking what I like in a partner then I’ve gotta ask why exactly you’re making me choose!

Hugs or kisses?: Excuse me while I fucking embrace my wife.

Shorter or taller? I love my short, fat wife.

Older or younger? Older. My wife has a whole year on me! Grandma.

Romantic or spontaneous? I feel like there’s an overlap but I definitely need to plan more dates to surprise Jayde with...

Nose, stomach or nice arms? This still sounds serial-killer-ish but if I’m to set that aside, stomach.

Sensitive or loud? Bitch Jayde’s both. And I love it.

Hook up or relationship? I’m so happy with the one I’m in now. I ain’t ever gonna stop loving her. Bitch.

Troublemaker or hesitant? I dunno, I guess that would depend on trouble for who? Though given the bad ideas I suggest I’m really glad Jayde doesn’t do any of them.

Have you ever:

Kissed a stranger? Only when I pretend not to know who Jayde is.

Drank hard liquor? I’m not sure how to put a funny spin this. Next!

Lost glasses or contacts? I can’t wear them lest they reduce the beauty of my stunning hazel eye-things.

Sex on first date? That one is gonna be a nada for good.

Broke someone’s heart? I have, I still feel fucking terrible about it.

Been arrested? Nope, my record is clean aside from those traffic tickets.

Turned someone down? Yup, I had to tell Arby he wouldn’t get more food because he’d already been fed.

Cried when someone died? Not immediately. I think the “losing a loved one” covers that pretty well.

Fallen for a friend? Story of Jayde and I’s relationship.

Do you believe:

In yourself? On good days, yeah I do. I also might be too confident in my graphic design skills though.

Miracles? Yes, his name is Sirius and he’s Jayde’s baby boy.

Love at first sight? With my wife, but at the time my dumb-ass didn’t realize it. I’m as dense as lead.

Heaven? I’m not sure how to answer that. I mean I won’t fight against it’s existence but I ain’t but all my chips on it either.

Santa Claus? That was explained to me years ago but like hell I’ll ruin it for my kids. How much do red suits cost?

Kiss at first date? I’m not sure so I just kiss Jayde a lot to cover my bases.

EDIT: Jayde says our first “real” date was at the aquarium, and we kissed a lot.

Angels?: Have you seen my wife?

Speaking of I hope this gives a better idea of how I’ve changed over the years. I love you sweetie<3

#My stuff.

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bangtan-spells · 7 years ago

Text

Seokjin Scenario: Black Beauty.

Request: a scenario with Jin and he is a hybrid (cat hybrid or anything, you choose) and he was abandoned by his owner and he had to live and survive in the streets all by himself, then the reader sees him and decides to take him in. The reader heals his wounds and lets him stay at her home and as the weeks progress, they become closer like best friends, and then Jin tells her that he is grateful that she helped him and tells her his story and cries and the reader comforts him and tells him that he can stay with her forever and then basically all fluff and stuff

Genre: Fluff - Cat Hybrid AU

First thing you saw was the blood, bright red dripping down his arm, staining the tore shirt and the water down the sidewalk. Everything was gray, dull and cold and you were drenched from head to toe, just as him. The sight made you stop in the middle of your run, you were just a couple blocks away from your apartment building and you thought the only thing you wanted to do was to get there, but now you couldn’t really move, your eyes were glued to the spot in which he was curled, clearly in pain by the wound on his arm.

You shouldn’t be approaching a bleeding stranger in the middle of the street because you knew you didn’t live in the best part of the city, but apparently your common sense was drowned by the downpour because you kept moving towards him, trembling as you were.

- Are you alright? - you asked in a whisper, and then shook your head because that was the worst possible question, he clearly wasn’t. -I mean…-

What you thought was just hair perked up, a pair of fluffy cat ears responding to the sound of your voice. They were as dark as his hair so you couldn’t notice the difference from afar. Then you saw the tail just as drenched as the rest of him curled behind and around his body in a protective sort of way, he had deep black eyes that fixed on yours cautiously. It didn’t matter the rain, the fear, the unexpected of this, you were captivated beyond words. He was a hybrid and he wasn’t supposed to be there.

He backed off a little, you could see he was also scared, you didn’t know what he’d gone through but you couldn’t find it in yourself to leave him there bleeding or walk away so you crouched in front of him.

-I won’t hurt you- he nodded but still kept his distance. -Do you have anywhere to go?- he denied with his head and you were not surprised. - Can you walk?- he nodded again, you knew he was inspecting you somehow maybe wondering if you weren’t really going to hurt him, you could see he was being cautious but alert.

-You can come with me, you don’t have to but like… you can come with me, you need to take care of that and it’s not good for you to be outside around here, my place is not super fancy or anything, but at least is dry- you ended with a little smile and he mirrored you, which made you feel good somehow because his face totally changed with the smile.

It was more like a silent agreement, he only stood up with a little difficulty, you wondered what left him wounded like that but you also marveled at how tall he was, this was the closest you’d ever seen a hybrid in your lifetime.

-Just follow me, we got to be quick- he didn’t say anything and just tagged along with you, you supposed he was either the quiet type or wasn’t in the mood to say much.

When you reached your place he stood the whole time standing next to the door until you noticed.

-It’s alright, you can come in- you said, draping a big towel around him.

Now that you thought, you didn’t know if you had any clothes that could fit him, but that was the least you cared for at the moment. You led him to the bathroom where the first aid kit was and started to clean his wounds. He winced a little when you tended the biggest one that was on his left arm, you wanted to ask what happened to him, why was he wounded in the middle of the street. Hybrids had a place in society, there were a little more common now, but it hadn’t always been like that, it took a lot of time for people to actually get accustomed to their presence and to not treat them as mere monsters.

Most hybrids were owned by richer people and taken care of, treated like part of the family but you knew there were still people out there who liked to mistreat and abuse them, you just hoped he didn’t encounter with one of those.

-Do you have a name perhaps, maybe a voice? - you joked softly, not wanting to be referring to him as the hybrid in your head, his black eyes fixed on you for a moment until he finally spoke.

-Seokjin - he whispered. -but I like Jin more-

That made you smile. -Then can I call you Jin?- he nodded and you couldn’t help anymore to ask a bit more about him. -Do you have an owner Jin? -

This time he averted his eyes from yours and you noticed that this was a thorny topic.

-Not anymore-

He retreated his arm so you felt bad for asking, but you didn’t want to get in trouble for keeping somebody else’s hybrid at your house.

-And what were you doing in the middle of the streets alone? it’s not safe for you-

-I didn’t have anywhere to go-

It would be a lie to say that your heart didn’t tighten with his words. You were more the lonely type of girl by choice, but at least you had a place to return to each day and there wasn’t only loneliness on his voice, but also longing. You pulled yourself together and told him to wait for you there while you went for a clean towel and whatever clothes could fit him.

You returned with an oversized tee that you were now proud of having, socks and the biggest sweat pants you owned.

-Clean yourself, I won’t want you getting sick alright? you can wear this and when you finish, meet me outside- you smiled kindly at him, maybe that was just what he needed. a little company and comprehension.

You waited for him at the little space that combined your kitchen and living room. Maybe his owner was looking for him? Most likely not for the response he gave you. Maybe you just shouldn’t press the issue too much.

Jin came your way wearing what you’d given him and you ended patching up his arm and the rest of his wounds, when you asked if he wanted something to eat he just asked for a glass of warm milk. You kept your little smile to yourself and observed him drink the milk contented. He was cute, definitely.

-You can stay here, sorry I have nothing better to offer, you must be accustomed to nicer things- you stared mindfully to the mat you arranged for him with two spare pillows and fluffy duvets.

-This is great- he said getting in, you laughed softly and left a lamp at the kitchen on, he was just outside your room and he seemed pretty happy about it.

-Sure you’ll be alright?- he had been focused on arranging the duvets around him to comfort when his eyes fixed on yours again and he nodded, his ears perked up and you had to fight the urge of staring too much.

- You’re too kind Y/N, I’ll be fine-

-Alright then- you turned around suddenly flustered out of nothing and went to your room. -call me if anything- you didn’t really close the door, just in case he needed something.

Black eyes fixed on you was the first thing you saw in the mornings. Since the first morning Jin would stand at the entrance of your bedroom observing, waiting for you to wake up and it would be a little creepy if you didn’t find him so utterly cute. His tail was always swaying side to side softly when he wished you good morning. He was, as you found out later, quite the chatty type.

-You’ll freak me out you know?- you said softly and he laughed, stretching a little.

-I’m sorry- he said but with such mischief in his eyes that he would most probably keep doing the same every morning. -But you do the same with me-

-I… what?- you nearly choked and faked indifference, so Jin laughed again, crossing his arms while you made your way to brush your teeth. -Staring, you do it when you think I’m not aware-

-That’s because one doesn’t always have someone like you so close hanging around their place-

It was a little routine you had by now, you worked in the afternoons so you would usually have breakfast with him and run some errands while he waited at home, you suspected maybe he was afraid of going out but you had decided to not say anything about it yet. You would make silly little picnics at the rooftop when the day was sunny, play fight about most things and even if it had been only almost three weeks you were so accustomed to having Jin around now, his company was nice, you felt comfortable with him and noticed he felt the same now that he was a little more carefree with you.

Not in your wildest dream would imagine yourself having a hybrid with you, more than just that because you didn’t see him as a mere acquaintance or pet of sorts. You turned around in your bed, you couldn’t sleep and Seokjin was the reason of that.

Tiptoeing out your bed you made your way to where he was sleeping, you got used to leave the kitchen light on so you observed him in silence, kneeling by his side. His hair was so black and shiny, his skin a perfect ivory.

His tail was resting over his arm, as if protecting him and you started to recognize that pose of his. It made you smile softly and reach out but your hand stopped halfway. You had not touched him besides the times you tended his wounds.

-You can do it- he whispered softly, you flinched in your spot and then Jin’s eyes were fixed on yours.

He’d been awake the whole time, just wondering what were you up to. He sat mirroring your pose.

-I’m sorry for waking you up- you said ashamed, he knew you didn’t mean to but he had sensitive ears.

-It’s alright Y/N, don’t feel bad- he saw your eyes following the soft swaying of his tail and he moved it a little closer to you. -You can touch it-

-Sure?- you asked softly, he’d noticed your eyes lingering one too many times on any trait of him with innocent curiosity and he didn’t mind it, so he closed the remaining space between your hand and his tail until he could feel your fingers caressing through his fur. -It’s so soft-

-Well what were you expecting?- he laughed making you do so as well.

-I don’t know Jin, but this is cool- you laughed while moving your fingers softly along his tail and blushed, he could see it perfectly in the dim lights. Then you moved your hands towards his ears and caressed them with the same feathery touch, marveled by them.

A soft purr escaped his lips and both of you laughed again. It wouldn’t have happened if he wasn’t do at ease with you. He liked you, he appreciated the time you had taken to help him out, how you’d taken him in and how careful you were with him. So he leaned to your touch a little longer and decided to say what he’d been meaning to.

-Thank you Y/N- he said softly, too soft perhaps since it was new for him.

-For the little caress? - you voice was playful and you tried to fix your eyes on his.

-For everything, for helping me, for letting me stay with you- you let go of his ears and he took the chance to hold your hands, they were as soft af the first day you took care of his bleeding wounds. -You’re such a great person, so kind, I’m grateful it was you the one finding me that day-

-You have nothing to thank me for -

-I do, I have everything to thank you for- you squeezed his hands and he went on. -I had a good life and another good person by my side that I took for granted, and I never thanked her, she had me since I was little and then she passed away, just like that, and I was kept by her son, that man treated me the worst, he had no respect for me like his mother did and I was mostly locked in a dark room for so long, he only remembered about me when he wanted an entertainment freak-

Jin heard you gasp and then you were pulling him to you for a hug, he let you do so because for the first time in his life, he cried. He told you how he escaped, how he got used to live in the streets, how the day you found him he was running away from a mean crowd of people that attacked him and how he’d thought it was going to be his end, but you changed that offering him a dry place to stay with your smile and positivity and now he was there, better than he thought he could be with someone who cared for him for real.

-I’m sorry you had to go through all that Jin- you were still hugging him. -It’s so unfair… but listen to me, you’re not a freak ok? Never believe otherwise, you’re special and some people just can’t appreciate it- you caressed his back softly and he nodded against your neck, then straightened to look at you.

His eyes were impossibly black right then and you were glad he trusted you enough now to tell you how he ended the way he was before without you even having to ask. Now you just wished to never hear him so heartbroken again.

-You don’t have to live like that anymore, you don’t have to go back to wandering in the streets because you have a place here now, you have a place here if you want to stay with me- you wouldn’t imagine kicking him out now, and you had been thinking about this already. You wanted him to stay with you. - That would make me very happy you know -

You caressed softly one of his ears and then he hugged you again, and just like the day you took him in, it was a silent agreement, this time made in the dim lights of your tiny apartment. You wanted to keep him right there, to keep waking up to his beautiful black eyes and to make him feel as especial as he was, because at the end of the day he’d been making you feel especial and lucky too and you just wanted to give it all back to him.

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