#but I’ve started to block on sight when I see them in the main tag | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mymedicine · 4 years ago

Text

Alocasia

or, 7.5k words of blushy harry and sassy y/n

moodboard/inspo tag + my masterlist

sum - y/n doesn’t like people, but she likes harry—even though he keeps fucking this up

warnings - language, alcohol, mentions of sex (not explicit), lots of banter, excessive use of parentheses, umm... veganism?

notes - hiii! for once i don’t really have anything to say other than welcome, to a very fluffy and kind of chaotic one shot. hope you give her a chance and a reblog if you enjoy! <3

Upon moving into his charming downtown apartment, Harry was feeling a lot of things.

He was excited at the prospect of living there, of waking up in his cozy new bedroom, of flipping pancakes in the kitchen with a stunning view of the city skyline, and of lounging on his soft gray couch while watching reruns of Criminal Minds. He was also anxious, and a little annoyed. There were groceries to be bought, chores to be done, bills to be paid (Fuckin’ landlord was an ass for refusing to include utilities in the rent). The cabinets in the bathroom were a little creaky (Do I need some WD-40? Can I afford WD-40?!) He even had to walk up four flights of stairs to get to his door, a task which Harry was keen to count as his daily exercise.

Above all, Harry was lonely. Living alone was a blessing and a curse, he reckoned. He could lounge about without any clothes, dance in the kitchen to the sounds of Folklore (a guilty pleasure), and watch creepypasta videos on YouTube until three am (and consequently stay up til dawn, for fear of nightmares) without worrying about anyone but himself.

But after just two days in the new place, he was concerned that the cost of privacy may not be worth it. Loneliness and boredom weighed heavily on his conscience as he laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Not only did he live alone, but he also didn’t have any friends in the city yet. No one to see, nothing to do. Lost, he decided. No direction, no purpose…Only four walls and a bunch of empty cabinets.

And yet it wasn’t even social interaction he craved necessarily—it was purpose, company, and…perhaps some cuddles. He briefly considered the idea of a pet. Maybe a friendly little French bulldog to chase around and be responsible for? Or a fluffy Maine Coon kitty to scratch behind the ear and snuggle at night?

But the bills…the responsibility…The prudent adult deep within Harry knew he was hardly ready to support himself, let alone a helpless animal. He’d have to feed it and walk it and make sure it didn’t shit all over the floor—not to mention the landlord would raise hell if he found out.

Meanwhile, the soft, gentle, maybe a little naive man who dominated Harry’s conscience was craving a friend. Pets were a no for now, so what’s the next best thing? He grappled with the question…Surely, a person was the obvious answer. He wouldn’t mind a pretty body to warm his heart—or, at least, his bed.

Harry stretched his legs out over the arm of the couch—the only furniture he had at the moment aside from his mattress on the floor of the bedroom—and snuggled into his cozy corduroy blanket, craving warmth in the cold apartment. A rainbow cardigan adorned his chest today, draped over a plain white turtleneck that warmed his neck. He liked to keep it cold so he could be snuggly wrapped in his sweaters without sweating bullets. He dug around in the pocket of his cardigan for his phone, eager to receive affection from something other than his clothes.

In retrospect, Tinder had given Harry far more unfortunate encounters with other people (lots of younger girls just looking for a plug and toxic guys who left him on read) than pleasurable ones. But hindsight was always 20/20 and isolation had already planted the seed in his head.

He quickly examined his own profile. It consisted of two photos of him smirking softly (not too serious, but not too eager either), one with his sister and his mum (to show he’s a family man), and a group one with his mates (because sure, he was lonely, but he didn’t want people to know that). There were also one or two shirtless photos (thirst traps, according to Niall) that he’d sprinkled in between the tame ones even though it made him feel kind of icky. Weighing the odds, he’d decided that desperation for matches outweighed the cringey-ness of it all.

His very last photo was the only one where he felt like himself. He was smiling wide in it, wearing a baby blue sweater with a little chick popping out of its egg on the front that Mitch had teased him for back home. His bio, too, showcased his wholesome values.

Harry’s eyes widened as he observed on the first person he saw upon opening the home page—Y/N. She only had two photos—a shot of her perched on a car hood and smiling wide and one far away one with her figure drowning in a sea of…plants. Fittingly, her bio read: “I love plants and I hate people.”

She was beautiful and every bit as anti-social as himself. It was perfect.

Harry laughed softly to himself and swiped right immediately. He was giddy when the familiar It’s a match! popped up on the screen immediately. His thumbs hovered over the keypad, brow furrowed as he frowned at the screen. Matching was one thing, but actually starting a conversation was another entirely.

Ultimately, he decided honesty was the best policy:

you had me at ‘i hate people’ :D

Now what? Matching was one thing, starting a conversation was another, but having a whole conversation was another thing entirely. He hated the waiting, especially when he had absolutely nothing to busy himself with in the mean time, aside from fiddling with his fingers and doing laps around his living room.

Seven minutes later (not that he’s counting), a ding came through on his phone.

y/n: you had me at ‘treat people with kindness,’ mon petit :)

Harry smiled wide. He was pleased she’d noticed not only his bio, but also the sweater he was wearing in his favorite photo of himself. It was the perfect response from a perfect girl.

harry: so what do you do?

y/n: i work at a plant shop on Main

Figures, he thought. He imagined her carrying a watering pitcher, tending to a plant with gentle fingers. She’d be surrounded by them like she was in the photo on her profile, green on all sides. God, he thought. What a beautiful scene with a beautiful star.

harry: wanna go for drinks tonight and talk about plants?

y/n: sure ;)

Nightfall brought a chill to the air that made Harry desperately want to curl up into his warm bed and snuggle into his pillow. But here he was, shuffling his feet outside the crowded bar and absently wearing another tiny hole in the sleeve of his striped sweater. It was a decent bar in town. They didn’t water down the drinks and they kept the lights dim so she wouldn’t have to see him flushed beet red after one drink. That is, if she would show up at all.

“Hey, you’re Harry?”

He turned quickly toward the sound of the voice, and there she was. And holy shit, he thought. That is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her two profile photos did not even begin to do her justice. The idea of a mere photo on a screen couldn’t even compare to the real thing. He would never be keen to look at a photo again, he reckoned. It wouldn’t make his heart bloom and flutter like the vision of her in front of him did. Was this love at first sight?

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, and not because the chilly night, “Y/N, right?”

Harry didn’t think he really believed in love—certainly not love at first sight, but this girl was throwing him into another world. Before, he couldn’t seem to stand still, but her presence in front him planted his feet firmly on the ground.

“Yep, that’s me!” She smiled wide, speaking cooly and confidently. It was obvious she knew how beautiful she was and, even more evident, how enamored Harry already was with her.

“I—you’re absolutely beautiful,” The words slipped out of his lips before he could catch them—not that he was really making any effort to hide his attraction for her. Still, he enjoyed the way her eyes brightened and teeth gently nibbled at her bottom lip in response to the compliment

And suddenly, the idea of merely kissing her soft flesh, tickling her sweet bud, and ultimately burying himself inside her tonight didn’t seem like enough. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to smell her hair and hear her laugh. He wanted to make her pancakes in the morning and kiss her lips, sweetened lightly with maple syrup. He wanted to love her.

No, he couldn’t possibly ruin his chance with a girl like this by fucking her on the couch in his cold, lonely apartment, never to see or hear from her again.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Of course.”

One hour and four and a half drinks later, (whiskey cokes for Y/N, vodka crans for Harry) the cramped bar was hot and they were floating on air. He’d learned that she worked at Main Street Nursery, usually by herself, sometimes with her cousin who owned the place. She was an avid vegan, but only because she hated meat and dairy made her sick. She’d learned that Harry was new in town and lived only a block away from Main. Also, Y/N managed to learn that Harry had no friends here and was very lonely in his new apartment, but only after his third vodka cran when the already weak filter in his throat began to crumble and embarrassing things spewed out of his lips like a spout.

“Let’s dance, H.” Y/N requested, gently caressing his bicep from where she sat beside him.

Oh god. No amount of alcohol would let him embarrass himself like that. “I don’t really… uh—“

But Y/N was having none of that. She thrust his half empty glass in his face, eyebrows raised in a pointed look. “Come on, baby!”

He hesitated for only a moment. Her fingers were soft and warm and distracting against his arm and it was very dark in the crowded bar, but he could easily see her bright eyes and the mischief dancing around in them. Somehow, she looked just as beautiful after putting away five whiskey cokes. Ah fuck. How could he possibly say no to her?

Harry tipped the glass against his lips, downed the bitter beverage, and finally let her tug him to the middle of the room.

A few people were dancing raunchily to the loud music, and the combination of the alcohol and the darkness and Y/N’s effortless beauty gave Harry the confidence to join them. He placed his hands gingerly around her waist, nearly flinching at the warm feeling of her skin against his. Y/N flashed him a blissful, slightly drunken grin and squeezed his bicep more firmly, relaxing in his hold.

Y/N led them in a giggly dance, letting her hands wander Harry’s body and ultimately settle around his neck. Brain foggy with an alcohol induced haze, she swayed her hips against his.

Minutes turned into an hour or so and Y/N had grown quite comfortable in the circle of Harry’s arms, fronts flushed together impossibly close.

“Wanna get out of here?” Her whisper in the shell of his ear was alluring, seductive, sweet, and almost irresistible. But Harry was on a mission—one that only included seeing her again after tonight and, ultimately, making her his. Five vodka crans weren’t quite enough to outweigh his desire for something more. No, this plan didn’t include fucking her. (At least, not tonight).

“Um, I think we should…er—slow down…”

“You don’t...you don’t wanna hookup?” She looked up at him with something like disappointment (or maybe anxiety? insecurity? He wasn’t sure) in her eyes.

“No, it’s just… I—I wanted to get to know you?”

Y/N subtly stepped away from him, just an inch or so, but more than enough for him to notice and consequently panic. “Oh um, It’s okay...I just thought—well, I didn’t think we’d really be getting to know each other…”

Ouch. She obviously was not on the same page as he was with the whole I WANT TO LOVE YOU thing he had going on at the moment. The alcohol thickened his skin a little, easing the sting of her words.

“But if I’m like...not pretty enough or nice enough I—uh...” she was rambling a little—and oh god, she must be wasted if she’s questioning her beauty. Harry’s heart hurt. How could she not see that she was perfect inside and out?

“No, Y/N! You’re perfect…it’s just—“

“I get it, um...”

“I’m sorry, you don’t understand!

“I understand, Harry…I guess I’ll just—go home now.”

Well, fuck. In an effort to prolong his time with her, he’d managed to cut it short and blow his shot to see her again at all. He kicked himself for hoping. Hope for the best, expect the worst, he reminded himself. He was just fine at the hoping part, but the disappointment in the aftermath bit even deeper than his desperate loneliness.

Back to square one.

I’m going for a plant…if Y/N happens to be there then…Harry thought as he approached Main Street, then Y/N will be there. His heart skipped a beat at the thought. He tugged nervously at the sleeves of his sweater—this one white with a “my life is crap” graphic that he found quite funny—wearing another tiny hole in the fabric. He absently regretted not taking a shot or two before impulsively jogging across the block to the plant shop, but he pushed the thought out of his mind. I’m just here to get a plant.

Truthfully, he didn’t know shit about plants, but how hard could it be? Surely, all it took was a little water and a sunny spot. Optimistic, he wandered into the cute little shop. Upon entering, he found it wasn’t really indoors at all—just four walls of greenery with only a few wooden beams as a ceiling, allowing rays of mid-morning sunshine to illuminate the space quite beautifully. Harry couldn’t help but notice how one such ray shone directly on the most beautiful creature in the shop.

The scene was even more delightful than he’d imagined. She looked ethereal doing even the most mundane tasks, he thought. The way her skin glowed in the sunlight in front of a backdrop of lush greenery? Heavenly. He took a few more moments to absently admire her as she lifted a watering can above her head with skilled hands, squinting at the sun while reaching up to water a large, leafy looking plant that hung from one of the beams.

The plant was hanging just low enough to block her view of Harry, so when he gently cleared his throat to call her name, she leaped backward. A loud thud rang out and suddenly, the watering can was no longer grasped between her fingers and her pale pink apron was stained crimson—completely drenched.

“Oh my god!” they both screeched at the same time.

Harry felt the weight of the world on his shoulders as he ran over to her. “I’m so sorry angel,” he said, picking up the now leaking can from the floor. “I really didn’t mean to scare you, oh my god, are you okay?!”

She looked a mess, quite honestly. But even covered in water and sprawled out on the concrete floor, she was cute to him, like a little bud sprouting out of the pot. She looked up at him with a contemptuous stare.

“Harry!” She cried from the floor, “What are you doing?”

While he did appreciate how adorable she looked, Harry was horrified. He hadn’t known her long, but he’d never heard her stutter or seen her blush like that. Even in their brief text exchanges and one night together, she’d always seemed so confident, so effortlessly graceful and calm. “I’m so sorry love, I really didn’t mean to—“

“Why are you here?”

“I-I just...I just wanted a plant and—and… I know you love them, and I thought there wouldn’t be anywhere better to go...”

Y/N’s expression softened as he rambled. “Okay, well, feel free to look around,” She stumbled to her feet, murmuring as she went. She wiped her hands on her soaked apron, trying to clean them but actually just spreading the wetness. “And um…Let me know if you need anything.”

She pressed a tight lipped grin on and her voice went a tinge too high pitched. She was clearly putting herself in customer service mode, but Harry caught a playful glint behind her bright eyes.

Harry flushed red and turned away from her, kicking himself for being so clumsy. He craned his head around the shop, feeling hopelessly overwhelmed. He wanted to ask her for help or at least a gentle push in right direction, but he figured he’d already bothered her enough.

Even with his back to her, Y/N’s presence was distracting. He could hear her feet shuffling around softly, the light clang of the metal watering can against the counter, even the pinging sound from her phone as he wandered the store.

Harry made a few aimless circles around before particular plant caught his eye. It was a modest looking plant, no where near as big as some of the hanging vines and rubber trees that littered the store. It had large, dark green leaves with jagged looking edges and sat pretty in a terra cotta pot near the front of the store.

He decided this plant would suit his needs perfectly (what are those needs again? He asked himself, company? responsibility?). He ultimately ignored his thoughts and the fact that he wasn’t even himself clear on what he wanted and picked up the plant in both arms. He shivered upon realizing that Y/N was probably watching him the whole time as he brought the plant to the counter where she was waiting. Watching him struggle and make a fool out of himself, that is.

“Did you find everything okay?” she asked cordially.

Harry nodded stiffly, unsure what to say. “Mmhm.”

“Have you got others?” Y/N continued making conversation while punching some numbers into the cash register, smiling and avoiding his gaze.

Harry looked up at the same time she looked away from the register. He was a little startled by her question, not expecting her to actually speak to him after what he’d done earlier. “Uh, no. I just moved here, remember?”

“Oh, right—well, you know this is an alocasia?” she said it very gently, with a patient smile. He didn’t like that she was avoiding his gaze before, but now that she was staring at him unwaveringly, he felt like he was under a microscope. Heat rose is Harry’s cheeks. Did the name of the plant matter?

“Uh, yeah? I mean, uh—I had a few back in my old place…” Why Harry? Why is your first instinct to lie?

“So you know what to do with this kind of plant?’

“Um…yeah?” He stammered, speech as rushed and clumsy as the beating of his heart. His sweaty palms further confirmed the obvious—Y/N made him nervous. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was perfect. He felt desperately out of place in front of her here. How could he possibly impress her? After he’d already fucked up more than once?

“I, well—nevermind,” Y/N replied finally, shaking her head. She was still smiling, but now he felt like she was giggling to herself because she knew something he didn’t.

“Did you want to add some Miracle Potion to your purchase today?” she asked, back in customer service mode once again.

Harry did not know what the fuck Miracle Potion was, but it sounded like a rehearsed line she was required to say during every transaction. She was looking at him so pointedly though, and the brightness of her eyes was distracting. How could he say no when she was looking at him like that?

“Yeah, why not.”

And seeing her beam at him with that lovely smile was so worth the extra eight dollars.

Harry cradled his new plant—Franklin, he’d decided—in both arms, awkwardly body-slamming his apartment door to get it open without his hands. First order of business after setting Franklin down on the coffee table was to quench his thirst. He still hadn’t gone on a real grocery trip for the new place, so he’s been living off of trail mix and kombucha. Harry craved kombucha like plants craved water.

Which brought him to the second order of business: research. He sat on the couch with his trail mix, kombucha, and laptop, quickly opening up a search for “alocasia plant care”

And suddenly Y/N’s behavior made sense.

Of course, of every plant he could have chosen at random, Harry’d gone for one of the most difficult, demanding, and definitely-not-for-beginners house plants in the shop.

He had a funny feeling it wasn’t the last time his optimism would get him in trouble.

Harry was frustrated.

It’d been less than twenty four hours since he became a father, and his once green-leafed baby was already browning at the edges. He frowned, peering at Franklin’s crisp leaves as he meticulously sprayed the Miracle Potion into the soil. The once dry dirt was starting to look a little better, but—holy shit!

Harry leaped away from the table, dropping the spray and nearly knocking himself onto his ass. His eyes were wide and his heart was pounding. He felt betrayed and horrified. Y/N never mentioned that there’d be bugs crawling in the soil! But Harry could not unsee the tiny worm-ish looking guy slithering up from the depths of the pot and onto the base of Franklin’s stem.

This was a mistake. A huge mistake. Who has he kidding?

He couldn’t help himself. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, dialing the plant shop’s number without a second thought.

“Hello, you’ve reached Main Street Nursery! We’re not available right now, please leave a message and we’ll call back as soon as possible.”

“Y/N! S’Harry and, oh my god there’s a bug in Franklin! I was sprayin’ the potion stuff on the soil like ya said to but then there was a big worm thing and I dunno what to do now? I’m scared Y/N, why didn’t ya tell me there’d be bugs?! Holy shit, Franklin’s gonna die, what the fu—“

A beep interrupted his ramblings, which Harry would later be grateful for. He was always a sort of ramble-y type, but adding a pretty girl and a bug-induced panic was more than enough to make him insufferably talkative.

He begrudgingly opened the Tinder app, his only other means of communicating with her. He typed out a lengthy message with rapid fingers, explaining the bug situation in between a series of colorful emojis.

thought you knew what you were doing? Y/N’s reply came in three and a half minutes later.

harry: I lied :(

(No use in lying now).

y/n: that’s alright bub. just relax, I’ll bring you some bug stickers

Bug stickers? What the fuck? He’d already made a fool of himself, so he might as well ask, he reasoned.

harry: why would I want a bug sticker?!!

y/n: just send me your address

He did as she asked, blushing profusely at the thought of her being in his apartment. Oh shit, he realized. She’s gonna be in my apartment. Realistically, he knew she probably wouldn’t even come past the front door. She’d just give him the damn stickers and then go off to whatever better things she had to do. But if Harry has any dominant personality trait, it’s optimism.

So he quickly started to tidy the living space—careful to avoid the coffee table where Franklin and his new worm-ish adversary sat. The plant aside, it’s a cute little place that screamed an unemployed single man lives here. Once the kombucha bottles and gum wrappers are thrown out, he puts way too much effort into swiping the trail mix crumbs off the couch and carefully arranging a throw blanket across the arm of it—she won’t even be coming near the couch, Harry, chill out.

When would she be coming? She hadn’t given him a time. She’d asked for his address…did that mean she was coming immediately? Maybe she’d asked for it to come by later? Or tomorrow?—

A loud knocking at the door interrupted his thoughts.

He should have expected this. Even after only meeting twice, he should’ve known she’d barge right into his living room, skirting right past him to find Franklin. The first thing he learned about her was that she owed plants and hated people.

“Um, hello love,” he said awkwardly, trailing behind her. “Thanks for coming over.”

Y/N looked up from where she was examining the plant’s leaves as if she’d just noticed him lurking behind her (very on brand for her, Harry noted to himself). He was taken with her sudden eye contact. Her eyes had that same sparkly glow as they did in the shop—they got that way when she talked about her veganism and her cousin and her plants.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, mister Harry Styles. You’re a liar.” she said plainly. She was frowning at him (Is that a playful frown? He hoped so) “You’re a liar and it almost cost Franklin’s life.”

Harry was, once again, horrified. If he hadn’t proper fucked it up the first two times they met, he’d surely done it now. Y/N loved plants more than she loved breathing, and he’d almost killed one. And he lied to her! Fuck you’re such an idiot Harry...get it together.

Y/N must’ve seen his turmoil, (how could she not? He always did wear his heart on his sleeve) for she cracked a happy grin and smacked him playfully on the arm. “I’m just kidding Harry, for gods sake!”

“But...but the plant—“

“—will be fine.”

“And the...the bug?”

Y/N turned back to the plant and squinted into the soil. She put her hands on her hips over the fabric of her wide pants (Palazzo? Harry wondered absently. They were like those gypsy looking pants that looked super comfy—like, one step above pajamas...and damn where could I get some of those?)

“Is the bug on my ass, H?”

“W-what?” He replied, snapping out of his reverie with wide eyes. No! He blubbered, tearing his eyes away from the yellow fabric to her face, where her lips were pursed and her eyebrows were raised accusingly. He didn’t even mean to be staring at her ass (though it did look cute and peachy in the palazzo pants, he couldn’t help but notice now), but, feeling caught, he blushed sheepishly anyway.

She dropped the accusatory glare, replacing it with a wide smile. “Only joking,” she interrupted his ramblings. “Still reckon you were lyin’ about the bug jus’ to get me over here, though.”

Harry sighed exasperatedly, heart racing as he meandered around the couch toward the table where she was leaning. She kept him on his toes and it was as exhausting as it was enticing.

He got right up behind her and peered over her shoulder at the soil. “There!” He cried, almost having another heart attack at the sight of the little black bug. In a rushed attempt to show her the worm so she could get rid of it, he’d probably put himself way closer to her than necessary. He could feel the fabric of her long pants brushing his toes and her sharp breath hitch against his chest.

“Oh Harry,” she laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls of his apartment like beams of light. Looking away from the danger, he focused his attention on her instead. He couldn’t help but notice how her hair smelled like flowers and freshly mowed grass and ...honey? Something sweet and enticing and natural, like the earth. Like a sprawling meadow or rose garden or—

He’d been effectively distracted by her that he’d almost forgot the reason for his fear, the reason she was even here. That is, until the little bugger was out of the soil and crawling on her finger.

Harry screeched and leaped backward, and this time, he did fall on his ass. Right in front of the couch he’d cleaned for her while she giggled profusely. The gentle melody of her laughter and sweet little coos at the bug softened the sting of embarrassment—a little.

“Aw he’s so cute!” She prodded her other finger at the creature, which really was no bigger than her fingernail, but horrified Harry anyways. “Can’t believe Harry wanted me to come and kill you, sweet little thing.”

He was once again struck by how gentle and nurturing and sickened-sweet she got with plants and animals. Meanwhile she laughed at him and teased him ruthlessly for his dramatics.

“Here,” she said “Hold him.”

She thrust her finger into his hands from where she stood above him. Harry flinched away, but couldn’t move far enough from where he sat with his legs folded and feet planted on the ground. The worm fell into his palm. The tiny impact of it on his skin ignited an explosion of fear through him.

A millisecond passed and it crawled through the hole in the wrist of his sweater, causing his panic to quadruple.

He screamed out loud while Y/N continued laughing at him. “AH!” Harry screamed and flapped his wrists violently, throwing himself against the couch with wide eyes as he felt the horrible tickling of the creature crawling on his skin.

“Stop! Stop Harry, let me!” Y/N stepped closer, ducking between his outstretched legs. She shielded her face with one hand and desperately groped around for Harry’s wrist with the other. Finally, he paused to breathe and Y/N caught his arm in both of hers.

She wrestled his arm to still and calmly plucked the creature from his skin. “Thank God,” she sighed dramatically in relief, holding it on her finger between them. “The little fighter survived your temper tantrum!”

“No!” Harry cried, now shielding his own face from the wrath of the worm.

He watched her get up and drop the bug back into Franklin’s soil, all the while laughing at him.

“You’re such a baby, Harry,” she cooed as she turned back to where he was still sat on the floor, “And no wonder you’re so cold in here. You’ve got holes all in your sweater!”

“I’ve got holes in all my sweaters. My mum used to fix them f’me.” He frowned, missing her and his friends suddenly. Living alone was hard.

“You’re hopeless,” Y/N shook her head as she bent down to sit on the coffee table next to Franklin and sent him endeared smile. “I could fix them for you?”

Harry reeled back and blushed, “You—you could do that for me?”

Yes, living alone was hard and lonely and boring. Harry had been shamefully making excuses to see her for several days now, and yet he was completely oblivious to her doing the exact same thing.

“Sure! Come over tomorrow and bring all your sweaters.”

Harry saw absolutely no reason to object. He could never say no to her, anyways. “Okay, then.”

“In the meantime, take these…” She reached into her pocket and fished out four yellow squares of what looked like...tape?

“These are bug stickers,” she explained. “You tape them around Franklin’s stem and it’ll catch the gnats and aphids and stuff. Won’t kill your new little friend though.”

Despite her teasing tone and his lingering fear, Harry couldn’t help but smile at her while she demonstrated how to tape the bug sticker on. He’d deal with all the goddamn bugs in the world if it meant she’d be pleased with him.

She finished taping it on and turned back to him with an adorable little flourish, as if to say ta-da!

“Can I offer you some kombucha for your trouble?” Harry suddenly blurted.

What the fuck Harry? Who the fuck says ‘can I offer you—‘

“Ew, no!” She interrupted his self-loathing, face twisting in disgust, “Kombucha tastes like dish soap.”

Hurt, Harry reeled back again and a shocked expression graced his face, “You don’t like kombucha?! Don’t vegans like, live for that shit?!”

“This vegan has taste,” she replied with a snarky smirk. “And besides, I’ve got to get back to the shop for work like, now.”

“Oh, okay no problem.” Harry stuttered, “Thanks again.”

“Sure thing!”

And as quickly as she’d busted in, she was gone, leaving the apartment as cold and lonely as ever. Harry frowned, feeling as if he’d blown it once again. No ‘see you tomorrow’ or ‘thanks for having me.’ Chance after chance and still he made a fool out of himself. She hadn’t even told him where she lived! Maybe the offer to come over and get his sweaters fixed had been a pity invite and she actually wanted nothing to do with him ever again. The thought made his stomach churn. Where was his customary optimism when he needed it?

Grumbling, he grabbed a fresh kombucha from the fridge, wishing it was something stronger.

Franklin and his little worm friend’s (Harry didn’t think the bugger deserved a sweet name like the alocasia did—it was still a disgusting creature that made his skin crawl) company did little to satiate the aching loneliness he was feeling throughout the following day.

Finally, a message came through his phone from an unknown number.

unknown: hey harry, it’s y/n! did you still want to come over today?

harry: howd you get my number

Even through a screen, Harry managed to blurt out the first thing that popped into his head. Fuck. Shit. She’s gonna think he’s avoiding the question! He rapidly began composing a second message, but the three little dots appeared and interrupted his flying thumbs.

y/n: your message on the answering machine at work.

by the way, that was hilarious

harry: right, well. sorry for that

and yes, id love to come over.

y/n: no worries, i saved it to listen to when i need a laugh.

haha cool here’s my address

harry: should i bring food or wine or something?

A new wave of anxiety washed over him as he looked at the address she’d sent. Now what? What would they do? Would he just drop off his sweaters and leave? Or would she invite him in? What would he say then?

y/n: just bring yourself and your sweaters, mon petit!

Harry was speechless. Much like the shop she worked at, Y/N’s apartment could rival an actual jungle. Greenery of all different shapes and shades and sizes lined the walls, and while they had the exact same floor plan, it was an entirely different world than the one Harry was living in.

Y/N, meanwhile, effortlessly sauntered deeper into her space. She looked like she belonged there, obviously, but Harry felt like a fish out of water.

“They won’t bite, you know,” Y/N giggled, noticing his apprehension. She was watching him patiently with something like fondness in her eyes. Harry felt her careful gaze on him, but the magnificent green scene around him claimed his attention—but not for long.

Gently, Y/N took his fingers between hers and pulled him deeper into her space. Harry stumbled over his feet, craning his head to look at the plants hanging from the ceiling. How the hell did she even water those?

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. He looked adorable, like a child at Disneyland. She swore his eyes were actually twinkling as the greenery in the room made the color pop against his skin even more than usual.

“This is…incredible,” He said, finally turning back to meet her eyes with his own. “You’re incredible.” He set down his bag of sweaters on the floor by his feet. They could certainly wait.

Something about the praise and the way he was looking at her like she hung the moon was making Y/N absolutely swoon for the man. It was impossible not to notice how much he adored her. He looked at her the same way she looked at Delilah, at all the things she loved. Things. She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually loved a person before. But this man with the holes in his sweaters and the permanent flush in his cheeks was planting himself deep in her heart.

But she’d never let him see that.

“…I make lots of my clothes myself…” She was talking about how she learned to sew from where she was sitting on her couch. Harry noticed that she’d arranged her living room differently than he had. While he had a single gray couch in the middle of the room, her sofa was against the window, inviting the evening sunset to gently warm the pale pink cushions.

“Did ya make those pants you were wearing the other day?” He asked with genuine curiosity, continuing to poke around the plants and knitted blankets and woven fruit baskets that littered the entire space.

Harry turned to face her just in time to catch her flashing a knowing smile. “Yes. Should I make a pair for you as well?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’m sure your ass will look great in them, too.”

“Ah—shut up!” Harry laughed, fiddling with the leaves of one of her hanging plants. He recognized this one.

An easy smile still graced his lips as he murmured “It’s a philodendron,” half to her and half to himself. Now that some of the extensive plant research he’d been doing over the past few days had indeed stuck, it was easy for him to identify by its telltale heart shaped leaves.

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up, “That’s right,” she said, sounding impressed. “She’s called Delilah.”

Harry hummed, unable to focus on words when she was giving him her full attention like that.

“She’d be cute next to Franklin, don’t ya think?” She continued, tiptoeing closer to him. She stood behind him, peering over his shoulder at the plant much like she’d done to Franklin a few days earlier. The fabric of his brown sweater was soft against her fingers as she wrapped her arms around him. Harry tensed. He had longed to do the same thing to her when their positions had been reversed a few days ago, but chickened out. But as always, Y/N’s actions were confident and smooth. The thought of her face against his knit-clad back and the feeling of her soft hands around his middle made his head spin.

Yes, he thought, she’s cute next to everything. She’s fucking adorable…

And again, Harry was struck with the thought that he should have seen this coming. It was such a Y/N move—the way she confidently pressed on his shoulders to sit him on the couch and proceeded to smoothly kneel over his thighs. His heart raced as she sank to his eye level, straddling his lap.

“You’ve got pretty eyes,” Harry said almost absently, as if lost in them. Y/N looked kind of surprised that the words came out of his mouth. She’s sort of confused by him, by the way he makes her feel. He had this nervous, chaotic energy surrounding him, as if his mind was going a mile a minute at all times. It didn’t make any difference to him though—a racing heart didn’t stop him from enjoying the feeling of the insides of her thighs against his.

Y/N suddenly grabbed one of his flushed cheeks in her palm and turned his face to hers, letting him get a good look at her eyes. “Think so?” She grinned with a hint of her customary cockiness.

Harry nodded in response to the playful question, caught up in her smirk. He reckoned it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Once again, she proved him wrong when she licked her lip. She studied him seductively while his own eyes, of course, flicked down to where her tongue was swiping over her lips. Her tongue was pillowy, gentle, and…distracting…In the next instant, she’d pulled his face to hers and met his lips with her own.

Despite having been mentally begging for her to kiss him since the moment they’d met, he was still a little caught off guard. Quickly, he began to relish in the feeling of her warm hand holding his cheek and soft lips pressing tenderly on his. He kissed her back gently, but with urgency—as if he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He let his hands wander slowly from her knees up her thighs, her hips, settling comfortably on her waist. His heart skipped a beat when she pulled back a millimeter.

“Is this okay?” Harry let out a concerned whisper.

Y/N smiled effortlessly and nodded. Of course it was okay, it was better than okay.

“Thought I’d proper fucked up my chance with you ages ago,” he murmured against her lips. Now that he’d gotten a taste of her sweet lips, he was truly a fucking goner.

“I thought so too, frankly,” she laughed fondly at him, “But you reeled me in with your charm and wit...” She shook her head and furrowed her brows sarcastically, “...Your true gift for horticulture, your brilliant sewing skills, your excellent taste in beverages...” she continued lecturing him in between sweet pecks on the lips.

Harry giggled at her mock-compliments, tugging her impossibly closer by the waist. She relaxed her chest into his and easily wrapped her own arms around his neck.

“You’re an absolute pest you know?” Harry teased her, confidence growing as she caressed his skin, “I oughta get a buncha those damn bug stickers to catch you!”

“You sure about that?” She smiled bigger, eyes wide and innocent as sat back on his legs. She continued to feed him sweet words as she trailed her fingers down his sweater, the mock compliments melting into sincere ones. Harry’s own smile grew as she mumbled how she adored his soft hands and blushy cheeks and gentle disposition…

Her words were innocent, but her fingers began tracking a sinful course downward, and he twitched in his sweatpants as she cheekily palmed him through the fabric. He was putty in her hands, reduced to a pile of mush by her eyes that twinkled with playful innocence and mischief and unmistakeable lust. The soft hands and gentle, innocent praises falling from her lips were making his cock bloat and head spin. Just as he was getting into it—moaning and whimpering for her to please don’t stop…she shoved her arms between his body and the couch cushion and delivered a firm squeeze to his ass.

“That’s for calling me a pest, you pest!”

She roared with laughter and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight to her chest.

Harry’s desperate, high pitched whine quickly melted into joyous laughter. He couldn’t help it—she was so lovely and beautiful and playful and cheeky and of course, he should’ve seen a stunt like this coming. She was a pest indeed, but Harry had already decided to love her. Perhaps decided wasn’t the word—no, his love for her sprouted and grew like a strong and beautiful vine holding them together.

“Now how about I make you come for real and then fix the holes in those sweaters like you fixed the holes in my heart?”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

thank you for reading <3

talk to me about harry and y/n and franklin and delilah!

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #my writing #alo

503 notes · View notes

autumnslance · 3 years ago

Note

Being in fandoms for so long yourself, do you have any tips on how to approach fandom in general? It can be so overwhelming sometimes!

Honestly avoid fandom as much as possible. 'Tis a silly place.

On a more serious note, I DO have a draft on staying sane on social media I’ve been slowly making. The main points are about knowing how your social media sites work in regards to tags, searches, cuts, filters, blocks, and mutes, and being liberal with using them for whatever reason you need. In general for this post: limit following counts and be picky about who you follow and why--don't just “follow back” because. Don’t sit in Discords that make you uncomfortable and keep utility servers to those channels needed and mute/hide the rest. I should get around to the rest eventually.

I maintain that sticking to what you love and with friends is better than trying to interact with “the fandom” at large. Especially as a property gets well known and a larger following, the vocal negative 1% seems to get louder and tiresome quickly. Protect yourself and your pals and enjoy what you wish, minimizing stress and drama and hurting real people over what’s supposed to be a shared interest of pretend characters and stories. More specifics of that below.

Limiting myself to some friends and branching off their recommendations, getting to know folks before hopping into servers or groups, helps a lot. I don’t have to engage with the entire fandom. I tend to hear about random dramas in passing, like a shadow underwater, because I interact with chill folks more interested in simply enjoying an interest, not in making it their entire life and identity and so having to be right or chase clout or whatever over a pretend world and make-believe characters, even if resonates with us.

Don't give too much of yourself away. Don't tell people all the ways to trigger you, or your vulnerabilities. Don't give away locations. Use basic internet safety and anonymity to keep folks at arms’ length as much as needed. You're not obligated to answer every DM, right away or ever. You can make some dear friends through fandom, but a single shared interest is not a guaranteed safe and healthy basis of relationships.

Focus on what you love, ignore what you don't. Yes, you want a healthy level of objectivity and criticism and sometimes you need to vent but overall, fandom experience is much better if you're actually enjoying the things you engage with. Don't force yourself to put up with things you don’t have fun with, but also let others have their fun (even if you don’t think that it is fun, if it isn’t harming other real people and dragging them down it’s fine even if you don’t get it). This can include leaving that fandom when the base material is no longer fun for you, leading to...

Remember that you don't own the characters and story; it's someone else's world, we just play in it. The creators are going to make choices and changes, some good and some bad; learn to accept that and keep fanon separate from canon. Interactions with creators via social media are also usually very surface level and parasocial; just because they make part of themselves visible and accessible, doesn't mean you know them, are friends, or are owed anything by their social presence.

Other fans have other takes; you may not like them, but they're valid. Sometimes those other ideas too can make you rethink or add to your own, make you realize some things you hadn’t considered due to a blindspot in your own experiences, and add to your understanding of characters and story arcs. So be open to others’ ideas. Find those of a like mind more or less and stick with ‘em.

Don’t let fandom ruin a thing for you. If you find yourself surrounded by a lot of negative opinions, especially about something you enjoy, you can speak up if comfortable, but if not, simply stop following/interacting. I cull my following lists regularly, and a lot of times remove people who tend to be negative about things too often for my taste. Their blog/timeline/whatever but I don’t have to interact with it. If I find my enjoyment of a thing souring, I ask myself if it’s due to the actual story/characters/how the creators act, or if it’s due to the corner of fandom I’m in and if I have to clean up and then see how I feel about the thing.

Don't assume the worst of people. I often make myself stop and reread what someone said, slowly and even out loud if I must, to make sure I understood. Go back some posts/threads/pages for context if needed. Some people are just bad at communicating. They may be ignorant of even the most basic of modern social manners, internet etiquette, and so on. English may not be their first language. I tend to assume unintentional oopses until someone makes it crystal clear they mean harm--it's generally easy to tell. Let things roll off your back; they don't know you, really, just the persona you present online. You don't know them and their issues, either, just what little you see. It's usually not worth the hassle and heartache to do more than eye-roll and move on with life.

Others won’t censor/remove everything you personally find a squick or trigger, but do advocate for proper tags, warnings, and hiding the content. Learn to skip past the crap you dislike to find the things you do; you do not have to read or view or comment or like everything. There's only so many hours in a day, and not everything is your taste.

My personal annoyance usually come from how people who engage with questionable content react to other fans being upset, especially when they didn’t take the proper precautions to warn/hide their content based on the site. Anyone who then revels in their “problematic” status and starts making their dark content “to spite antis” has lost sight of why they wanted to make that content to begin with and are acting like brats, IMO. Especially a waste when it can be well written/drawn, even if out of my own comfort area. Don’t do things for spite if you can help it; sometimes it leads to interesting things, but a lot of times, it ends up hollow and a regret down the road.

There’s likely more to this, but these are some general rules I’ve been trying to follow as I get older and realize a lot of time and emotional labor over fiction isn’t worth stress and negativity, but should be relaxing and fun, as the real world is difficult enough. Have fun and make things fun and positive for others when possible, don’t tear others down for the sake of it. Fandom is meant to be a shared interest and love of a thing, after all.

#Fandom #Blogging #About Me #Advice

59 notes · View notes

kaylaxwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Into You

Pairing: Jessica Jones x Reader Words: 2.5k Summary: After the police practically dismiss your concerns of stalker, you turn to Alias Investigations for help. Request: Jessica Jones x f reader where reader hires her as a pi (for whatever reason) and the case takes awhile so reader develops feelings but doesn't want to act on them because it's in appropriate since Jessica is working for her. Then as soon as the case is over Jessica pulls out two glasses and some whisky and is like "I'm a pi obviously I noticed you're into me now let's drink together and see where this goes cuz I like you too" (anon) A/N: Sorry this took so long! It might not follow the request exactly (I forgot to make the case like take a while) but I hope you like it!

Warnings: reader has a stalker, gets cornered by stalker and is also punched

Tears stung your eyes as you stepped out of the police station. You were convinced, you knew, you had a stalker. Someone had been following you for several weeks now, left crude “love letters” taped to your apartment door, and generally left you with an unsafe and uncomfortable feeling. You went to the police today for help—any help—and left feeling crushed and defeated. The officers inside didn’t take you seriously, brushed you off, dismissed your concerns and you were angry.

Afraid.

You started walking down the street back towards your apartment, brushing away stray tears. Being in the open—even in front of a police station—made you feel uneasy. You didn’t know what to do next and you were about to spiral into a panic attack. One step at a time, you tried to tell yourself, taking deep breaths as you walked. You would go home, and figure out what to do there. Right now you just needed to get home and calm down.

You looked to the sky as a means to keep your tears at bay when a sign in a fifth-floor window caught your eye and slowed you to a halt.

Alias Investigations.

A private investigator? Could they help you with your problem? Maybe they could help you get the evidence you needed for the police to take you seriously. Did you have the money for it, though? Fuck it, you thought. It would be cheaper than moving across town and changing your name. With a steading breath, you opened the door to the building and made your way inside.

You soon arrived at the fifth floor and anxiety knotted your stomach. This building looked sketchy—the suspiciously blood-like stains in the elevator was more than enough to give you that uneasy feeling—but you were already here. So might as well. Right?

You knocked hesitantly on the door, surprised when you heard what sounded like muttered curses from the other side. Did you come at a bad time? You almost left but then the door creaked open and you were met with the annoyed face of a pale, black-haired woman.

“Can I help you?” she asked curtly, opening the door only enough to show her shoulders and face, trying to appear as unwelcoming as possible.

“Uh…” The woman and her weird greeting left you somewhat speechless so you weakly pointed at the window where Alias Investigations was printed in bold letters. “Alias Investigations?” you said as if she wouldn’t know the name of her own business. You could kick yourself for your awkward stuttering.

“Shit. Hold on.” She closed the door in your face and you took a step back, startled. Through the opaque glass on the door, you could see the silhouette of the private eye quickly picking up the main room of her apartment, throwing trash and other stray items out of sight. You stopped yourself from smiling when the door was thrown back open and she welcomed you inside.

You sat tentatively in one of the chairs across from her desk as she sat heavily in the opposite seat, folding her arms on the top of her desk. She gestured for you to start talking and you did. “I think I have a stalker,�� you started. But then you shook your head, restarting. “I know I have a stalker. I don’t know who he is, but I’ve caught glimpses of him a couple of times and he keeps leaving me these…letters on my door about once a week.” You dug into your bag and pulled out several of the letters you tried to bring as evidence, laying them on the table.

Jessica, you realized from her name tag on the desk, picked them up and scanned through them. “Have you been to the police?” she asked.

“I went there this morning. They practically dismissed me outright. I was walking home when I saw your sign.” You nodded towards the window behind her that advertised to the street.

She shuffled through the letters some more. “And do all of these…?”

Talk graphically about what your stalker would do once you were “together”?

“Yeah. The officer…” You cleared your throat, feeling tears stinging your eyes once again. “The officer said that I-I had probably led some guy on and that’s why he was leaving me love letters. He hasn’t threatened to kill me, so they aren’t—they aren’t going to help me.” Your voice was strained by the end of your sentence and you knew Jessica picked up on it.

“And you don’t know who it is?”

You shook your head. “Like I said, I’ve caught glimpses of him, but…”

“What does he look like?”

“Tall. Six foot, maybe? White. Not skinny, but not like super muscular either. He always has a hood or sunglasses on, so I’ve never really gotten a good look at his face. He hasn’t talked to me in person, either. Just leaves the letters.”

Jessica thought for a moment, looking over the letters once more. “I’ll help you,” she said eventually.

You nearly shot out of your seat. “Really? Oh my god, thank you. I don’t know what else I’d do.” You reached into your bag for your wallet. “How much will I owe you? I only have two hundred to give now, but I can find more to pay you later.”

“I’ll take a hundred for now. I’ll figure out the rest later.”

You pulled five twenties out of your wallet, half of your paycheck you cashed out earlier that day. You also gave her your phone number, address, and your schedule for the week. Jessica said she’d be in touch with you and you soon left afterwards, feeling lighter than you had in weeks now that the weight was beginning to lift off your shoulders.

You didn’t hear much from Jessica the next few days. She said she was going to watch you in your daily routine for a little while to see who she could find that was suspicious or she saw a lot in your vicinity. You never once saw her watching you, so you had to take her for her word—that either meant she was really good or you just gave a hundred bucks to someone who was going to ghost you. Thankfully, by the end of the week, you didn’t have to worry about being ghosted by a P.I.

Jessica found your stalker.

James Williams, she said his name was, but it didn’t ring a bell. You didn’t know him and you weren’t sure how he knew you. “You could’ve helped him at work or smiled at him on the street,” Jessica assured you. “These assholes will take any random act of kindness as a love declaration.”

“You could say that again,” you muttered. But you thanked her for her help and ended the phone call, agreeing to meet in about two hours after you got home from work. You pulled yourself from your hiding spot in the stock room of your workplace and finished up your shift.

By the end of the hour, you were starting your walk to Jessica’s office. You were less than two blocks down the road when an arm wrapped around your shoulders and backed you against the wall of an alleyway. Your head smarted against the brick and you blinked rapidly as you took in the face in front of yours.

You didn’t recognize it, but it must be…

James.

“What—what do you want?” you stuttered, your brain suddenly short-circuiting.

“You called…you called a P.I.?” he asked. He almost sounded…heartbroken. “I—I had a plan. I had a plan for us and you ruined it!”

“I don’t want to be a part of your plan. I don’t even know you!”

“I had everything figured out. We were gonna—”

“Get off of me, fucking creep!”

You instantly regretted your words as a look of anger flashed through his eyes. Maybe calling the psychopath a creep wasn’t the best way to go. Before you could brace yourself, he swung his fist and you were met with a flash of pain in your nose, a trail of blood following not long after. The force of the blow had you spiraling towards the ground and your felt your ankle twist as you fought to remain upright. Gravity won in the end and your palms scraped across concrete as you fell. Before your thoughts could even register, James’ hands were at your shoulders, lifting you upright, and pressing you against brick once more.

“Do not…call me that,” he said between heavy breaths. You flinched when he reached a hand up to cup the side of your face, brushing away blood with his thumb. Your mind flashed through every self-defense post on social media, but you couldn’t think clearly to remember specific moves. You were halfway to hyperventilating when James was suddenly yanked aside and thrown down the alleyway.

“You okay?” a voice asked. You looked to your left. Jessica.

“I’ll be fine,” you managed.

Blood was pouring from your nose still and you tried to stem the flow with the sleeve of your shirt. Movement down the alley caught your eye and you glanced over. James was staggering to his feet and started towards you. Jessica huffed and rolled her eyes, meeting the man halfway. In the blink of an eye, she lifted him and threw him into a nearby dumpster, latching the lid closed so he couldn’t escape.

“That’ll hold him until the police get here,” she said, brushing her hands off.

“Police?” you asked.

“Yeah, that little stunt will get him time for assault. And you won’t have to worry about him anymore.” She took a few steps towards you. “Let me see,” she said, gesturing towards your face. As the bleeding was now mostly stopped, you lifted your head so she could see the damage. “It’s not broken,” she said after a moment, “but you’re gonna have one hell of a shiner in the morning.”

Great, you thought. But if it was the price to pay for getting rid of your stalker…

At that moment, a police cruiser pulled into the mouth of the alley.

You don’t remember much of the statement you gave to the police. The throbbing in your skull pretty much override it all. But thankfully, before long, the officers were taking James away in handcuffs and you were allowed to leave, the card of one of the officers pressed against your hand. Jessica stayed by your side through it all and you were thankful for her presence.

When you were allowed to leave and the officers had left, you tried to stand on your sprained ankle, but could barely make it a single step. The walk back to Jessica’s office was going to be one hell of a trip. Jessica took one pitying look at your pained step and bent as if she was going to pick you up. You quickly shuffled out of her reach. “What are you doing?” you asked.

“You can’t walk,” she answered simply.

“So what? You’re just going to try and carry me? Halfway across Hell’s Kitchen?”

“You got a better plan?”

You looked down at yourself. Your shirt was splattered with blood from your nose. Couldn’t exactly take an Uber looking like you did. “I guess not,” you sighed in defeat.

“So?”

“But you can’t carry me!” Jessica was tiny and you… “I’m too…”

“Heavy?” You gasped as your eyes widened in shock. Jessica was blunt, sure, but… “Shit, not like that. I didn’t—” She sighed. “Just… Look.” She knelt down in between two parked cars, placing a hand under each of the bumpers. With barely a grunt, she stood, lifting the ends of the cars on either side of her until the wheels were nearly waist high.

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

“Yeah.” She dropped the cars and they bounced to the ground. You were surprised the alarms didn’t go off or the wheels didn’t bust. “So are we good here?” You stuttered to find words. You wanted to just let her pick you up—she did just lift two cars, after all—but you were still worried. “So can we go or what?”

“I-I guess.” You moved awkwardly as Jessica lifted you into her arms. Your ankle throbbed as your weight was lifted off of it. You tried to situate yourself comfortably as Jessica carried you, but you didn’t know what to do with your arms. You settled on one across the back of her shoulders and the other curled into your chest, trying to minimize the points of contact with Jessica’s body.

But then you realized just how close Jessica’s face was to yours.

You took in her profile, watching how her hair bounced as she walked, how her pale skin practically changed colors under different streetlights. You realized then just how beautiful she was and maybe you were starting to have a thing for her. Great.

You blushed and turned away as her eyes turned to you. She huffed out a chuckle before returning her attention to the sidewalk.

Eventually, Jessica set you down on the couch in the living room of her office. She stepped over to the bookshelf in the corner of the room, a bookshelf that held more liquor than books, and poured two large drinks. She crossed back to you, offering you one of the glasses. You took it gratefully as Jessica fell on the couch next to you. You sipped your drink slowly, carefully—but by the time you were only a quarter done with yours, Jessica had already refilled her own, having brought the half-full bottle across the room with her.

The two of you sat there quietly, drinking, unwinding, for several minutes until you felt the need to break the silence. “Jessica, I—,” you began, but she cut in, finishing your sentence for you.

“You’re into me.”

Your face flushed and you turned your gaze quickly to the dark amber liquid in your glass. You weren’t even really sure what it was—whiskey? Bourbon? Was there a difference?—but you were tempted to reach over and chug the whole bottle if this was the conversation Jessica wanted to have. “I-I was just going to say thank you,” you stammered, “for everything.”

“You sure that’s all you wanted to say?” She turned her whole body to face you, tucking one of her legs underneath her. You refused to meet her gaze. “I’m a PI. A good one. And you’re an open book. You didn’t think I noticed?”

Your face burned hotter than ever and you wished the couch would swallow you whole—were you really that obvious about your feelings? Jessica reached behind her for the liquor bottle and refilled her drink once more as well as topped yours off. You took several burning gulps to try and distract yourself from the situation. You would give anything to be anywhere but here. You were into Jessica, but she wasn’t into you—the following conversation would be the most embarrassing of your life.

“I’m—I’m sorry. I should go.” You stood to try to gather your coat and your bag, wanting nothing more than to leave.

Jessica’s iron grip on your arm stopped you dead in your tracks. “For what it’s worth,” she said, almost scoffing, as if what she was about to say wasn’t worth anything at all, “I’m into you, too.”

divider by writeyourmindaway

#jessica jones x reader #jessica jones imagine #jessica jones x you #jessica jones x Y/N #jessica jones/reader #jessica jones/you #jessica jones fic #reader insert #mine

168 notes · View notes

glamjrwi · 2 years ago

Text

Okay I’m making this while tired but I figure I can at least get it started and smart people can add on. if you’re here from jrwitwt first off HELLO!!! Welcome. I know there have been several posts going around saying watch your step, we do things differently here, and to get with it, that might seem a bit intimidating. So I wanted to make this non-exhaustive list of how tumblr works and HOW we do things different so you can get settled in :)

also these are just to the best of my ability and based off my time here i am by no means a standard, just a starting point

-You might’ve heard this one already but there isn’t much of an algorithm here. You can follow certain tags and blogs. The best way to find people is to just scroll through tags and check out blogs whose posts you enjoyed

-reblogging is standard. Likes are typically for letting a mutual(or anyone rlly) know you saw their post or during liveblog sessions(at least that’s how I use them) while we have replies on posts that might look like a comment section. It really isn’t most of the time. Comments are normally put in the tags of reblogs. It’s completely okay if your blog is just reblogs that’s super normal here. you don’t have to have an original thought if you don’t want to

-If you really don’t want to post/lurk and only follow ppl, change your pfp so we know you aren’t a bot. Blank blogs have a history of being bots and if we can’t tell you’re a person a lot of people will block on sight. Just fair warning

-We do a lot of blocking here. If you don’t like someone’s posts, block em and keep going. The filter tags system on tumblr really works(I’ve heard twt is fussy and not great) and most people tag things appropriately here so you Will Not see the shit you don’t want to

-TAG THINGS APPROPRIATELY PLEASE it’s a give and take. When it comes to spoilers, as long as the original poster tagged it you normally don’t have to tag it again in a reblog but you can out of courtesy

-Bonus point a lot of us use “jrwilb” as a tag when everyone is on the dash liveblogging a stream ep or just when they get around to watching it. Some people have personalized ones, and some ppl also main tag their liveblogs so it’s just a good one to know ahead of time

-People chit chat through asks frequently. You don’t have to feel shy abt it, esp if you are being friendly. But if you’re anxious a lot of people leave on anon asks so you don’t have to have your name attached

-We don’t really do callouts/negativity posts. If you see a take or headcanon you aren’t fond of going around. You can block/filter, or you can make a positivity post or post abt your own interpretation!!! A lot of people here love different takes and headcanons and try to value all of them. Again, if one squicks you really bad, filter/block it. If you really wanna complain, be sure to do it in dms or a private discord server

-our concept of what jokes are okay to post are very lax. there really isnt an official thing but i’ve tended to notice we dont really tend to do anything the council havent done. we joke abt gillion tits and eggs here because the council have done it. we have made very lewd jokes because . . . mcs and everything else grizzly does when he’s not playing dakota. so be prepared to be jarred by how . . . interesting it gets here

Okay that’s all I can think of for now. Members of councilblr feel free to add anything smile

#also if you are adding pls keep the tone friendly smile #i wanted to make a greetings post #for the twt refugees fleeing the discourse site #jrwi #just roll with it #what tags would twt ppl search hmmm #jrwi show #jrwishow #councilblr

288 notes · View notes

marvelsdc22 · 4 years ago

Text

Experiment - Chapter 2 - Biters and Bite Wounds

Intro: Hello, lovelies!! I hope you guys are having a good day/night!! Sorry for the delay on this, I’ve had major writers block, but it seems to be passing, I hope you guys enjoy!! :)

Note: You and the twins start heading South in hopes to find more people or at least some safety, a roadblock stops you in your tracks and one thing leads to another, will you make it through the night?

Word Count: 1494

Masterlist

Looking over Wanda’s shoulder, you listened as the twins discussed your guys next move, Wanda argued that you guys should head back North to New York while Pietro argued you headed south, you watched as they argued for a few minutes before you sighed and placed your hands on their shoulders “We need to head South, if we go North, we have a higher risk of getting caught up in the hoard, you know this” you said, looking at Wanda who opened her mouth to argue before thinking better of it “You’re right” she said, the words tasting sour on her tongue since it was very rare that she uttered those words to either of you.

After the shock wore off, you gave her a smirk “Course I am” you said cheekily, earning you a smack on the arm “Don’t let it get to your head” she said, sounding serious although her small smile gave it away that she was quite the opposite “Alright, I say we settle in for the night then head out early morning” Pietro said, it already being pitch black outside and you sighed and nodded, pushing yourself up off the floor “I’ll take first watch” you said, grabbing your bat that was resting against the wall “Y/N-” Wanda tried to argue, you having been first watch every night since the last attack “Just sleep” you said, giving her a small smile “Wake me in three hours and I’ll take over” she said, looking at you and you nodded, watching as she headed over to her sleeping bag and got comfortable before you headed over to the window.

Staring out the window for a moment, you watched as the occasional biter came into view and glancing back at the twins when Pietro blew out the candles before he settled in for the night, you taking your lighter and lighting the candle not far from you, making sure to keep it out of view of the window to not attract the attention of the biters, sitting down on the little nook attached to the window and pulling one of your legs up to your chest, resting your chin on your knee, wondering if there would ever be a time where the undead ruled the world.

The next morning, you were still staring out the window, having not moved from your spot until you felt someone touch your shoulder, causing you to jump and grip your bat “Easy, it’s me” Wanda murmured, watching as you relaxed before looking at her “You never woke me” she said, looking at you with concern with the bags under your eyes “You needed your sleep” you said, pushing yourself up and wincing as your back popped several times, rolling your shoulders before focusing on her once more “Sleeping beauty still not up?” You asked, looking over at Pietro who was sleeping on his face, spread eagle “Of course not” she chuckled, smiling at her brother before looking at you “We should get ready to go” she said, giving your arm a squeeze before she headed over to your guys stuff and you following after her.

Once you two had loaded up the car and put what you could on the back of your bike, you went back inside and grabbed the sleeping bag that Pietro was sleeping on before you pulled it out from under him, sending him sprawling “Wake up sleeping beauty, it’s time to go!” You said, laughing some as he glared at you before he rubbed his face “Whos idea was it to get up so early?” He grumbled, standing up from the ground while you rolled your eyes and lightly shoved his arm “Yours, now lets go, we’re burning daylight!” You said, knowing you guys had a long way to go if you wanted to hit North Carolina before it got too late since from where you guys were in Pennsylvania, it would take most of the day if the roads were decent to drive through.

Setting out was easy, you guys had filled up on gas before taking off, you giving them a smile as you passed them on your motorcycle, you baseball bat settled on your back while your backpack rested over the top of it, the ride being quite peaceful until you guys hit Virginia, where there was a mass pile up in the middle of the road, forcing you guys to stop so you could look at the map, the sun beating down on you guys as you spread it out over the hood of the car “We can backtrack a bit and take this road, it looked clear when we passed it” you said, your hair a mess from the wind blowing through it “Yeah, but lets see what we can get from this wreck first, if nothing else there could be gas in the tanks” Pietro said, folding up the map and handing it back to you “I’ll check the store over there” you said, gesturing to the small store over by the road “I’ll go with you” Wanda said, knowing Pietro could handle syphoning the gas.

“This place looks ransacked” you said as you guys stepped in, seeing nothing but broken bottles and dirt and some blood, a lot had went down there “Maybe they missed something” Wanda said, shrugging as she went and looked around “I’ll check the back” you said, hopping over the counter before heading into the back room, the room being in the same state as the main room, but you looked anyway, managing to find a bottle of pain pills, chocolate bars, and a box of 10mm rounds, them not being useful to you guys yet, but you never know, right as you zipped your backpack up, you heard Wanda scream and a loud crash “Wanda!” You shouted, throwing your bag quickly over your shoulder as you pulled your bat off your back.

Launching yourself over the counter, you saw Wanda being cornered by two biters “Hey uglies! Over here!” You shouted without thinking, managing to swing your bat at ones head before you shoved the other one back, throwing it back in Wanda’s direction, who stabbed it in the head with her dagger, killing it instantly while you focused on the other one, not realizing the third behind you until it grabbed you an latched onto your shoulder, causing you to cry out before Wanda stabbed it as well, causing it to release its bite and dropping to the ground “Y/N, look at me” Wanda said, panicking slightly as she kneeled down in front of you and Pietro ran inside, taking down the other biter that was slowly crawling its way toward you guys.

Pietro looked around, making sure there were no others before he looked at you two, the sight making his heart sink, Wanda was trying to calm you while you held your bleeding shoulder “Pietro, help!” Wanda cried, looking at him and watching as he hesitated for a moment before he rushed over to you two and kneeled down by your side “We have to clean this” he said, digging in his bag after he set it down beside him and grabbing a cloth and the peroxide out “This is going to hurt” he said, looking at Wanda who offered you something to bite down on as Pietro first wet the cloth with some water before he cleaned your wound.

After about ten minutes, you guys managed to stop the bleeding and Pietro wrapped your shoulder with some gauze “We need to find help” Wanda said, knowing that the wrap would only hold you for so long “I know… Lets get them in the car, we’ll find a place to stay for the night” he said, lifting you up and causing you to whimper “I’m sorry” he said repeatedly as he carried you out to the car and setting you in the passengers seat “You drive, I’ll take their bike, just follow me” he said, handing Wanda the keys to the car before he hopped onto your bike, Wanda glancing over at you worriedly as she started the car before she focused on the road and followed Pietro.

Once you guys found a decent place, Pietro carried you into the house and waited for Wanda to set up your sleeping bag before setting you down, the two of them bundling you up with whatever they could find, Pietro managing to find a trunk full of blankets and covering you with them since you were starting to shiver “I’m going to go see if I can find help, stay here with them, okay?” Pietro said, looking at Wanda who nodded before pulling him into a hug “Please stay safe” she said, giving him a squeeze before she released him, watching as he gathered some things before he headed out then she looked over at you, what was she going to do if she lost you?

Permanent Taglist: @rianncreates / @natasha-danvers / @hopingforbarnes / @xxxtwilightaxelxxx / @venablemayfairgoode

Marvel Taglist: @thanossexual

Marvel Ladies Taglist: @imnotasuperhero / @procrastinatingsapphictrash

Experiment Taglist: @dreamywlws / @madamevirgo / @marrymemcgrath

End Note: I hope you guys enjoyed!! If you’d like to be added to a Taglist, shoot me a DM or Ask!! Also, if you guys change your handles and still want to be tagged in lists, please notify me!! Have a good day/night!!

Requests Open

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x gn!reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #marvel x reader #marvel #Experiment

65 notes · View notes

moonbeamsung · 4 years ago

Text

I Fell for You Like the Autumn Leaves

In which your neighbor, who might as well be a complete stranger to you, convinces you to revisit an old childhood tradition of yours. Oh, and you end up falling in love with him.

member: chenle (featuring the dreamies and taeyong)

au: pumpkin patch volunteer!chenle x gn!reader

word count: 11.3k

genre: fluff, angst, humor

warnings: mutual pining, very mild profanity, kissing, teasing

author’s note: I know, I know, the au is oddly specific but just trust me! :) And I’m crossing my fingers that the tags work this time. I have nothing else to say except that I’m very proud of this fic and it was very fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it. Hope everyone who celebrates had a nice Halloween!

The tall, slender lamp post on the sidewalk outside of your house glows a pale amber color under the gray evening sky, illuminating the leaf-littered ground beneath it. You’ve walked past it hundreds, maybe even thousands of times, on a day just like this one. But this time, something’s different.

There’s a small flyer taped somewhat haphazardly to the side of the post, the dark lavender paper catching your eye. It’s positioned perfectly at eye-level, and you begin to read.

Fall is finally here, and you know what that means: The town’s annual pumpkin patch and festival is now open! Pick out your perfect pumpkin, find your way through a corn maze, take a peaceful hayride, and more! Come visit us all throughout the autumn season, 7 days a week from 10am to 8pm, at the corner of Chestnut Way and Fairview Boulevard. There’s fun for the whole family!

Small illustrations of pumpkins and colorful leaves fill the margins of the flyer, and the festive palette seems to brighten up the gloominess of the October day surrounding you.

“Hey!”

Whirling around, you’re met with the sight of your neighbor, Chenle. He’s holding more of the flyers in one hand, a small roll of tape in the other.

Despite him living only a few houses down from you for a number of years, you hardly know anything about him. You suppose he’s always seemed sort of mysterious. Sometimes you would catch glimpses of him outside from your window, and no matter if you saw him snapping photos of the blossoming flower bushes in his yard, riding his bike down the street with some friends, or just sitting on his upstairs balcony with a book in his hand, none of these things gave you any clues as to what he’s really like.

You two have exchanged brief hellos whenever you’ve passed each other on the sidewalk, him on his way somewhere and you heading home, but aside from those fleeting encounters, he’s a puzzle for you to figure out. You can’t help but wonder about him. Is he a quiet or a loud person? Is he on the serious side, or does he laugh at almost anything? What’s his personality like in general? Long story short, Chenle intrigues you, and maybe after today you’ll know at least a little bit more about him.

“Hi,” you return his greeting with a small smile, the kind of smile you give when you’re not exactly sure what else to say.

“Those flyers look pretty good, huh? I helped design them this year!” He explains with a proud grin, placing a hand on his hip as he studies your response. To be fair, he hardly knows anything about you either, and upon seeing you inspecting the flyer, he had decided to approach you and hopefully take a small step towards becoming your friend.

“Really? That’s cool.” The awkwardness in the air between you is far too tangible for your liking, and you silently hope he’ll take the responsibility of carrying on the conversation you’re currently sharing. Luckily, this wish of yours is granted moments later.

“You’ve been to the pumpkin festival before, right?”

You nod. It’s true, the annual tradition is one that everyone in town can enjoy, but in recent years you’ve started to lose interest in the festivities. You’re growing up, and it’s like you’re at this weird in-between stage. Mostly, those that attend are either large families complete with young children eager to explore every corner of the patch, or couples hoping to enjoy the ambience created by the cute decorations and cozy autumn atmosphere. You belong to neither of these groups, and so you’ve felt more than a little out of place the last few times you’ve gone.

You’re not sure if this is something you should share with Chenle, but without waiting for any kind of approval from your brain, the words leave your mouth anyway.

“Yeah, but I don’t really have anyone to go with and I don’t know anyone working there, so I’m not sure if I’ll make it this year.”

He frowns sympathetically for a split second before his face lights up again. “Aw, but I was just about to tell you that I’m volunteering there this year! So... if you’re worried about not having someone to hang out with, you’ll have me.”

“Only if you want!” He quickly adds, and that’s the first time he’s seemed nervous, or at least anything less than completely confident during your conversation. The cutest shade of red appears on his cheeks, and you don’t know how you could possibly refuse his offer now.

“Hmm... I guess I can reconsider, then.” You smile wider, more genuinely this time, after faking your contemplation by tapping your toe and tilting your head, a finger stroking your chin as if in deep thought.

“Really?” He replies happily with a small gasp, and his foot starts to lift off of the pavement to take an excited step towards you before he stops himself. If you notice, you don’t say anything.

You nod once again, and he notes how enthusiastic you seem now. Cute.

“Great! My shifts are on weekdays, from 2 to 7. I’ll see you there?”

“Definitely.”

The next week, you bundle up in your warmest jacket before making your way down the sidewalk, turning when necessary as you navigate the winding streets of your neighborhood. About half a dozen blocks later, you’re out on the main road, and you can just barely spot the entrance to the festival in the distance, orange lights strung along an archway that marks the small trail leading to it.

When you finally reach the inside of the pumpkin patch, the first thing you do is look for Chenle. You regret not asking him exactly where he would be working, but it can’t be that hard to find him, right?

He’s been on edge all afternoon, wondering if you would actually show up. It’s not that he didn’t believe you when you told him you would be there, he most certainly did, but there’s an oddly anxious feeling in his stomach that’s been affecting his behavior and he’s not sure he wants you to see him like this.

Chenle, just like everyone else, can be clumsy sometimes. But today? Today was a whole different story. He nearly dropped one of the biggest pumpkins in the patch while he was trying to lift it from the tall haystack it had been sitting on. His shoelace had somehow become untied while he was walking through the corn maze to check for any candy-apple wrappers or cider cups on the ground. Fortunately enough for him, no one had been around to see him trip over it, saving him at least a little bit of embarrassment. He even accidentally left the door to one of the animal stalls open, earning him a light scolding from his supervisor, Taeyong, and an entire hour on feeding duty for the horse it belonged to, between its scheduled hayride shifts.

It wouldn’t be a good second impression, he decides, if you were here to spend time with him only to see him completely failing at doing his job instead.

So when he spots you not too far away, craning your neck as you search for him among the large crowd, he’s conflicted. Does he face his fear of messing up in front of you and possibly risk your only recently-formed opinion of him, or does he avoid you the whole night? His heart clenches at that last option, and in a spur-of-the-moment decision his legs begin to carry him over to you. Catching your eye, he smiles despite the uncharacteristic lack of confidence in himself that he’s currently feeling.

You’re hurriedly cutting across the sea of people that fills the walkways to meet him, and when you’re within an arm’s reach you start to lift your hand in a small wave. Before you can stop walking completely, however, he takes your raised hand in his own, briskly guiding you off to the side to stand out of the way of the massive group of festival-goers. Just as quickly as he took your hand he releases it again, gently letting it drop to hang by your side.

You only just had your first proper conversation with him a matter of days ago, and he’s your neighbor for goodness’ sake. So why in the world did your heart rate seem to speed up just then?

There’s a small bench nearby, and he motions to it with a nudge of his shoulder. Sitting down next to him, you try your best to ignore the confusing signals that your body’s sending you right now.

“You came!”

“Of course I did,” you reply with a laugh. “It’s nice to have someone to enjoy the festival with for a change. I’ve really missed that.”

“What do you mean?”

You explain to him how it had grown out of being a family tradition, and that your friends always seemed to be busy, leaving you on your own year after year.

“Well... you have me now!” His voice is cheerful, reassuring, and despite all the noise and activity surrounding you at the current moment, it makes you feel at peace.

“Wait.” You glance around, then look back to Chenle. “Shouldn’t you be working, though?”

“...Shoot!” He knew he was forgetting something.

Standing up from the bench you share, he continues. “You can come with me if you want, but I can’t promise that any part of my job will be interesting.”

“It’s okay,” you giggle, standing up as well and following him over to a small covered tent. The inside is packed with people, weaving in and out of aisles created by several wooden tables full of small, colorful gourds. The boy behind the cash register shouts his name, beckoning him over with his hand.

“Hey Chenle, can you come help me weigh these pumpkins? Donghyuck had to go help some kids at the crafts area and business isn’t slowing down anytime soon.” He’s too busy typing numbers into a small computer system to notice that he’s speaking to more than one person. When his eyes finally lift up from the keys, he asks, “Who’s this?”

Chenle introduces you to each other, and you learn that his name is Mark. The gray beanie he’s wearing is somewhat lopsided on his head, dark hair sticking out from beneath it after all the times he’s cutely scratched the back of his neck.

While Mark and Chenle ring up dozens of customers, you entertain yourself by browsing through the wide variety of miniature pumpkins and squashes, some green, some white, some yellow. You occasionally pick up an oddly shaped one, running a finger over the small bumps or darkened bruises on the surface of the fruit.

When you look over at the register again, the line has died down, and after a moment of consideration your eyes land on a vibrant orange pumpkin that looks like it would fit perfectly in the palm of your hand. Picking it up, you smile a little to yourself as you turn, pulling your wallet out from your pocket and patiently waiting behind the 4 groups in line ahead of you.

By the time you finally step up to the checkout counter, Chenle’s been wondering where you went. He hadn’t seen you when he was gifted with the rare chance to look up from the metal scale he’s been constantly working at for almost an hour now. Maybe you got bored, he thinks, and left to go do something else or to just go home altogether. So when he sees the familiar sleeve of your jacket enter his peripheral vision as you place your tiny pumpkin down in front of him, he looks up faster than he thought humanly possible, in both surprise and relief. “You know you don’t have to buy anything,” he attempts to whisper in the hopes of hiding his words from Mark.

“But I want to. This pumpkin’s really cute,” you insist with a pleading look in your eyes.

Like you, he nearly mutters. That would have been a disaster.

“Do you want me to pay for it?” He offers, almost pouting at this point.

“Such a gentleman,” you tease, “But no. I promise, I’ve got it.”

“If you insist,” he responds, matching the sarcastic tone of your words and hoping to distract from his reddening ears. Chenle weighs the pumpkin and then places it into a small bag that you sling over your shoulder, where it will stay for the remainder of the day.

Unbeknownst to both of you, Mark’s eyebrow raises at the playfulness of your conversation. Maybe you don’t notice the furious blush on Chenle’s face, but he certainly does. And he won’t forget it.

“Hey, uh, guys? Donghyuck just texted me that he needs a hand. Do you think you could go meet up with him and help out a little?”

“Are you sure you can handle things here, Mark?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. But Donghyuck won’t be if those kids are deprived of craft supplies for much longer.” He reaches underneath the counter and pulls out a huge stack of plastic sticker sheets, with small images of bats, candy, and everything in between. “Take these.”

“Thanks, Mark! See you later!”

“It was nice to meet you!” You call out over your shoulder, and as you momentarily focus your attention on the boy behind you that’s getting farther away by the second, you’re too caught up in saying your goodbyes to notice that the one beside you grabs your hand again. Chenle gently pulls you away from the counter and out from under the tent, steadily making your way towards the other side of the large pumpkin patch.

You were lucky that Mark had the decency to at least pretend there was nothing going on between you and Chenle. He had refrained from commenting on it in front of you, and simply chuckled to himself when he saw both of you walk off together, hand-in-hand. He finds it amusing that neither one of you seems to notice the mutual fondness the other so obviously has for you. Mark doesn’t know a lot about you, but he knows you must be pretty special to be able to fluster Chenle like that.

Donghyuck, on the other hand, does not possess the same decency.

When you reach the crafts area, which is a small, designated space with several picnic tables and bins full of art supplies like glitter, paint sets, and markers, he gratefully approaches Chenle and accepts the large bundle of stickers from him. Like he’s feeding a hungry mob of seagulls with just a few breadcrumbs, Donghyuck essentially tosses them to the large group of children eagerly jumping at his feet. Scurrying away as they snatch the plastic sheets out of the air and get back to decorating their pumpkins, his eyes land on you for the first time.

With a smug, knowing smirk and an exaggerated nod of his head towards your tightly intertwined fingers, he asks, “Who’s this, Chenle?”

You know those movie scenes where two characters look at each other, at something else, then back at each other again? That’s exactly what happens. Chenle’s and your eyes meet, surprise evident on every feature of your faces, before you both realize the exact same thing at the same time. With shaky pupils, your gazes drift down to each other’s arm, then to your hands, laced together and acting as a source of warmth on this chilly autumn day. Much faster this time, you make eye contact again before rapidly but unwillingly pulling your hands away. The guilty smiles you send Donghyuck’s way say it all.

Chenle introduces you for the second time today as his neighbor, but deep down you both wish it was as something else, something more.

“I see,” Donghyuck says under his breath, in a huff of poorly concealed laughter.

Only Chenle hears him, though, and Donghyuck earns himself a rough shove to the shoulder with the snarky comment. You’re looking in a different direction, vision focused on a small child with a frown on her face as she struggles to embellish the small orange gourd on the table in front of her.

“Chenle?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna go see if I can help that little girl with her pumpkin.” You point a finger in the general direction of the picnic table she’s sitting at, glancing back at him for a second as you make your way over to her.

She’s close to tears now, and crouching down beside her small form, you ask, “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

The girl looks down at you, rushing to wipe her eyes before explaining in a quiet, shaky voice, “None of these stickers are the shape I want for my pumpkin...”

Oh, you realize, she’s trying to make a jack-o-lantern face.

“Um...” Upon looking around, you spot a piece of paper nearby on the table and hand her a purple marker from one of the art supply containers. “Well, can you draw what you want the face to look like and maybe I can help?”

With a small “Mhm,” she takes the marker from you and begins to sketch four odd-looking but not totally unfeasible shapes for the pumpkin’s eyes, nose, and mouth.

A good distance away, Chenle is growing tired of Donghyuck’s endless interrogations about you and if he’s absolutely positively sure that you’re not something more than just neighbors. He wordlessly excuses himself from Donghyuck’s side to join you by the picnic table.

The drawings that the little girl comes up with look like a deformed mix of squares, circles, and triangles. Thankfully, you have access to stickers shaped like all three, and you get an idea.

“What are we working on over here?”

Looking up to see Chenle kneeling down opposite you, resting an arm on the wooden surface of the bench, you notice that his voice is different. Not in terms of its pitch or volume, but just in the way that he’s speaking. It’s even more gentle than usual, filled with concern and care, all because he’s talking to a child. How endearing, you think to yourself, smiling down at the ground for a moment or two before you remember the task at hand.

“They’re helping me with my jack-o-lantern!” The little girl exclaims excitedly, causing Chenle to grin wider than you’d ever seen so far and allowing you to get a glimpse of his adorable eye smile for the very first and certainly not the last time.

Nope. Your heart did not just flutter. At least, that’s what you’ll keep telling yourself.

With a wave of your hand you motion for him to stand up, you doing the same before whispering your plan into his ear. Exchanging nods, you both crouch back down again and set to work, guiding the little girl as she overlaps the stickers on the pumpkin to match the picture she drew.

When you’re finished, she claps her hands together and thanks you multiple times, her genuine gratitude warming both of your hearts more than a blanket or a heater ever could.

“Wait,” you turn back around just as you’re about to walk over to Donghyuck once again. Flipping through the sticker sheets scattered across the table, you find exactly the one you’re looking for and peel it from the plastic.

“Wha—”

Before Chenle can even begin his sentence, you’re already pressing the small acorn sticker onto his cheek, giggling softly at how a blush seems to blossom from underneath it, the adorable pink hue spreading all the way to the tip of his nose. Your thumb applies the slightest amount of pressure to his skin while the remaining fingers hold the side of his face, and your other hand clutches his shoulder over the burgundy sweater he’s wearing. It’s at this moment that it dawns on you: This is definitely not a “neighborly” exchange.

You jump back in shock at your own actions. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, I really don’t know why I did that.” Inwardly releasing a string of profuse curses, you awkwardly step closer a second time, lifting your hand again to try to peel it from his face and just wishing this mortifying moment would be over already.

“It’s okay, you can leave it,” he stutters a little, taking a tiny step backwards. “I don’t mind.”

Not really knowing how else to bring the uncomfortable (well, that’s an understatement) conversation to a close, you let his last words hang in the air, casting daunting shadows over your heads as you both repeat the same thought over and over again in your minds like a mantra.

I shouldn’t like them...

Trying and failing to sneak a slight glance at the other, your gazes meet at the same time, both of you looking away just as quickly once you realize you’ve been caught red-handed. Or in this case, red-faced.

...But I do.

A few minutes prior, another festival volunteer had taken over Mark’s job at the cash register, leaving him free to roam around for at least a little while. Not knowing where else to go, he had come to see Donghyuck, and by default, you and Chenle.

As they watch your rather amusing response to the realization of and sudden embarrassment at such a shameless display of your crush on Chenle that you can’t quite bring yourself to accept just yet, Mark and Donghyuck talk lowly amongst themselves.

“He should just ask them out already. I haven’t even known that they exist for 15 minutes and I’m already sick of seeing them both deny their feelings for each other. It’s so painfully obvious!” Donghyuck makes a gagging noise, earning a glare from Mark.

“It’s kind of cute, though. Like puppy love.”

“Whatever you say, Romeo,” he snickers.

“Hey!” Mark shoves his shoulder, annoyed. Donghyuck just laughs.

Pulling out his phone, the younger boy types up a quick text message before hitting the small arrow to send it. Out of the corner of his eye, Mark sees the delivered blue speech bubble appear on the screen and asks him, “Who’s that to?”

“Jeno. He and Jaemin have got to see this.”

Not even a minute later, Chenle’s own phone dings with a message from the former of the aforementioned boys, providing a distraction from and successfully dispelling some of the tension that continues to weigh down on you both.

Once he finishes reading the text, Chenle looks up at you and explains, “Two of my friends are working concessions and they’re almost out of a few things, so I need to go pick up what they need and bring it to them.”

You frown a little and furrow your eyebrows. “Isn’t it weird that everyone’s been asking you to go from place to place bringing them stuff all day?”

Now that he thinks about it, you’re right. But there’s no time to stand around and wonder why there seems to be a pattern with his tasks today.

“Bye Donghyuck! We’re gonna go help Jaemin and Jeno at the concessions stand!”

Was it too much to ask for Chenle to absentmindedly grab your hand again? Apparently yes, because much to your disappointment he refrains from doing so this time.

“Did you seriously ask Jeno to make up a fake excuse for help just so you could get them to leave?” Mark questions him, a clearly unamused expression on his face.

“First of all, no. He actually told me that they’re running low on candy apples. And second, not only that, but also so they can see just how hopelessly they’re crushing on each other.”

“Meaning that they can tease them about it, too, right?”

“Exactly!”

Mark rolls his eyes. He supposes he shouldn’t even be surprised at this point. Donghyuck is always full of mischief.

You remain by Chenle’s side as he leads you towards a storage area for the festival and over to the kitchen section, where he grabs a medium-sized cooler packed with freshly candied apples. The walk is filled with casual conversation, any awkward encounters earlier in the day becoming long forgotten, or at least temporarily put out of your minds.

Not having any of his friends around to tease you helps, too.

The few minutes you have to yourselves come to an end all too soon, and as you approach a large booth that appears to be full of just about every autumn snack imaginable, you catch the eye of one of the two boys standing behind it. Whether it’s Jeno or Jaemin, you’re not sure. But sure enough, like everyone else you’ve met so far today, his gaze becomes one of surprise and interest upon seeing the way you’re walking so close to the tall boy at your side.

You decide to take the liberty of introducing yourself this time instead of leaving Chenle to do it for you. Reaching an arm out in front of you, you shyly step up to the conveniently empty counter of the stand. The first boy shakes your hand while the other turns around, eyes darting from you to Chenle multiple times.

“I’m Jaemin,” he lets go of your hand, but not before shooting you a wink and a ridiculously charming grin. Chenle’s stomach churns with jealousy. The boy is always like this, Chenle knows, but with you it’s different. Normally it’s just the regular flirtatious remark directed at a passing customer, making them nearly spill their popcorn or choke on their cotton candy. Despite his awareness of the fact that he means no harm, Chenle still has to fight the urge to pull you into him protectively. Jaemin picks up on his sudden envy but chooses not to mess with him further.

The second one speaks up, doing the same as Jaemin without the wink, instead displaying an endearing eye-smile of his own. “I’m Jeno.” His eyes light up when they land on the freezing container Chenle’s carrying. “Are those the candy apples?” He exclaims. “Thank you so much!”

“No problem,” Chenle grunts in response as he hands it to Jeno over the counter, still bitter about Jaemin’s coquettish introduction of himself. Picking up on his annoyed tone, you send a confused glance and then a sympathetic smile the boy’s way as you try to subtly calm whatever frustration that remains within him.

He softens immediately, regretting any worry he may have just caused you with his uncharacteristically cold demeanor. It’s immediately forgotten when Jaemin motions for the both of you to round the corner of the booth. Stepping inside from the back, you instantly realize it’s much too cramped to fit four people.

You’re about to excuse yourselves to go stand outside again when Jeno strides past, just a little too close for comfort. Taking a step back to move completely out of his way, you make a fatal miscalculation: Chenle’s right behind you. With a thud your back crashes into his stomach, and the awkwardness is more than just palpable.

Throughout the next few minutes you look for every opportunity to step away from him and escape the mutual discomfort of your current position, but business at the concessions stand picks up and both of the boys are constantly rushing back and forth, leaving you no room to do so. It’s not a physical discomfort, not in the slightest, but more so one where your self-consciousness is heightened, and you’re aware that it looks like something a couple would do, the way a couple would stand. In any other moment, perhaps a more private one, you might not have minded the proximity so much, but the public setting you’re in creates the need that you feel to visibly reject the non-existent distance between you and him.

Chenle could get used to how perfectly you two seem to fit together in what’s almost a back hug, with the way he could oh so easily wrap his arms around you from behind. Just not here, not now. Would it be too much, he thinks, for him to place a gentle hand on your shoulder as you both wait for the chance to separate from each other? He decides the answer is no, and as you both endure constant gusts of air each time Jaemin and Jeno pass you, Chenle holds you, grip light on the space between your arm and neck that’s covered in the cotton material of your jacket. His touch eases your nerves about the situation, for which you’re beyond thankful.

While you wait, your eyes find themselves lingering on the customers that shuffle through the line, some young, some old, tall or short. The scrumptious scents wafting within the booth begin to overwhelm your noses after some time, the pungent aroma of apples and spiced cinnamon becoming almost too much to bear for your sense of smell.

As expected, by the time you actually notice there’s finally enough space for you to step away from each other, you’ve already gotten comfortable where you are. The delayed response to this makes Jeno chuckle under his breath, handing a final box of pumpkin pie to an older couple over the counter of the concessions stand.

Glancing down at his watch, Chenle notes how much time has flown by since you arrived at the festival. He also realizes it’s nearly time for his shift at the horse stables, uttering a quick explanation to you and then the other two boys in the booth.

Exchanging brief farewells, you follow Chenle outside and down a thin path to a more secluded area of the festival grounds, out by the field where hayrides are given. On the way, you pass by the corn maze and the games area. The boys manning the attractions both look as if they’re part of the same group of volunteers that Chenle has introduced you to so far, if you had to guess.

Your assumption is confirmed when he waves at the first one, who’s standing beside a small group of children playing bean bag toss. Scanning the area for any supervisors that could scold him for running off for a minute, he darts over to the two of you.

It’s refreshing that he doesn’t inspect you from head to toe with his gaze, something that had happened to you far too much today. “I’m Chenle’s neighbor,” you start before telling him your name, feeling optimistic that he won’t bug you about your connection to each other very much.

“I’m Jisung,” he responds. Then, “Chenle never brings people to the festival like this. Are you dating or something?”

Never mind.

You inwardly facepalm at his blunt statement. Chenle actually does, the smack against his forehead sounding almost painful.

“We have to get going now, Jisung. I just wanted to introduce you to each other.” Despite being frustrated with the younger’s directness, Chenle still gives him a quick side hug and a “Bye” as you walk away, presumably to stop by the corn maze briefly as you had just done with the games area.

“They never answered my question,” Jisung mumbles to himself.

“Renjun!” Chenle calls, hoping this encounter will go more smoothly than the last. Surprisingly enough, it does. The boy extends a hand out for you to shake with a kind smile, not asking any questions about your relationship with Chenle. You’re extremely grateful that he accepts your status as his neighbor and nothing more.

Only when you’re turned away, gazing into the distance at the hustle and bustle of the event does he pat Chenle firmly on the back, exaggerating a wink and whispering a “Go get ‘em, tiger” into his ear. Chenle scowls at Renjun, groaning about being teased the entire day just for bringing someone to the festival with him.

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave you alone.” Renjun starts to back off, but he simply can’t help himself. The next words that spill from his lips will be the last, he vows in his mind. At least, for now.

“...You like them, though, don’t you?”

“Mmph,” Chenle reluctantly replies after a moment, offering a noncommittal answer.

“Don’t overlook it, okay? You never know. They might feel the same way,” he gives Chenle’s arm a quick squeeze before sending him over to you. The light tap he plants on your shoulder makes you turn around with a smile, expectantly gazing up at him. “Ready to go?”

“Yep,” he nods towards the stables, and you both wave back at Renjun as you make your way over to the large structure.

An unfamiliar man leans against one of the walls once you get there. When he sees Chenle, he straightens up and runs a hand through his brown hair, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

The man steps aside from his spot on the wall to reveal a shelf full of animal care items, from cleaning supplies to heavy bags of feed and dry bundles of straw for the ground inside the stalls. “You know what to do,” he nods at the boy while eyeing you carefully at the same time.

Chenle manages to read his mind surprisingly fast, and he jumps to defend your presence. “They’re with me,” he clarifies.

“But you know the rules, Chenle.”

“Just this once, Taeyong! Pleeease?”

Unable to resist the puppy-like expression on his face, Chenle’s supervisor finally caves. That, combined with the way your face fell when he threatened to send you away in a nonverbal manner is enough to make Taeyong change his mind. A minuscule inkling inside of his brain tells him that you’re okay to be by Chenle’s side as he does his job, even if it might mean that he’ll get distracted at times.

“I suppose they can stay.”

“Yes! Thanks, Taeyong!”

“Wait a minute, what’s that on your face?”

Chenle brings a hand up because he’s genuinely forgotten, but when his fingertips brush the cheap plastic sticker on his cheek he remembers how it got there. “Oh, it’s... uh.” He looks to you for help.

“I did that,” you explain with an embarrassed laugh. “We were joking around and I stuck it on his face.”

“Oh, okay, just making sure you know it’s there.”

Some friends he has, Chenle gripes internally. They didn’t even bother to point it out. What if it had been something else?

Luckily, he doesn’t mind the cute sticker, even if it does make him blush like a fool when he thinks about your cute hands pressing it onto his skin.

As Taeyong passes him on his way out of the stable doors, he pinches one of his rounded cheeks, leaving the younger boy cringing in the process.

Time passes somewhat slowly as you watch Chenle go about doing his tasks, first taking one small handful of the horse’s food at a time and feeding it to her, steadily depleting her evening meal little by little. Then he grabs a broom and steps into the stall to sweep some of her bedding.

“What’s her name?” You ask him after a while, the simplicity of his actions creating a calming effect on you as you observe them. You only know it’s a female because you had heard him mutter “Good girl” to the horse rather affectionately a few minutes earlier.

“Nutmeg.”

“That’s cute,” you reply.

The silence feels heavy, begging you to face what you’ve both left unsaid throughout the day. It’s the first time you’ve really been alone together since you got here. But you’re both too scared to bring up the countless assumptions made by his friends over and over again during the time you’ve spent together that you’re dating, fearing that the conversation, supposed to be a joking one, would inevitably progress into something much deeper.

“I’ve had fun today.”

He says it out of nowhere, making both your body and your heart jump a little.

“Me too.” He peeks his head out from the stall to smile at you, your response tinging the tips of his ears red.

A few minutes go by as you fall into a light dialogue, talking about anything and everything you can think of, getting to know each other more. As he’s finishing up, you finally stand from where you’ve been seated for the past 45 minutes, walking leisurely over to the shelf of supplies, which just so happens to be next to the stall door.

All of a sudden Nutmeg hears something that spooks her, and you don’t realize that she starts to charge towards the closed pair of wooden panels you’re currently right beside.

It’s an instant in which Chenle’s clumsiness from earlier in the day threatens to come back in a much more severe form if he doesn’t do something. Senses more alert than yours for whatever reason, he takes action without hesitation, and time seems to slow before his eyes as he does so.

Swiftly moving you out of the way of the split stall door less than a second before it swings open from the force of the horse’s strong neck, Chenle pulls you to him. His arms dart out to catch you tightly by the waist while he turns both of your bodies around, ensuring that he’s the one closest to the enclosure. His reasoning? If he doesn’t take you out of harm’s way fast enough, at least he’ll be the one that feels the impact, not you.

As you’re being held flush against his chest, your mind races to process just how you got into this position. But your heart presses pause on the gears of your brain, and allows you to just enjoy the close intimacy of the moment.

Chenle knows he should do something, say something, but all he can think of is to stay just like this. Your head is turned to the side, an ear pressed to his sternum and in the perfect spot to hear his heartbeat. Its not-so-steady thump matches your own, sounding much like the uneven rhythm that a young child might play on a drum set, striking the instrument with force and conviction and unwavering confidence.

If only you could confront your feelings for him in the same way.

Both thanking him and apologizing profusely for your lack of awareness, you move to take a tiny step back and away from the snug hold of his arms. Only, you find that you can’t. Chenle’s still holding your waist, oblivious to the fact that he’s been clutching you closely for the past thirty seconds in preparation for a moment that lasted less than one.

“You... you can let go of me now, Chenle,” you say apprehensively, a half smile on your lips as you attempt to look him in the eye without being overwhelmed by the urge to kiss him right then and there.

“Ah, right. My bad.”

Chenle’s not usually this bold when it comes to the physicality of a relationship, romantic or not. But he can’t help it that there seems to be an invisible gravitational force surrounding you, just begging for him to reach out and lay a tender hand on the small of your back. Compelling him to tangle your fingers together like a mess of yarn, with the ends fraying and coming undone but at the same time holding each other up, keeping each other from falling apart. Giving one another something to hold on to in the most unlikely of situations.

With only a few minutes left to spare in his shift, he tells you to wait outside while he packs all of the supplies up for the night. Once everything is back in its proper place, Chenle is just about to step outside through the swinging wooden doors of the stables when a small noise from the caramel-colored horse stops him in his tracks. Turning around, he carefully approaches the animal with an outstretched arm, stroking her shiny mane once he’s close enough.

“What am I going to do, Nutmeg?” The conversation is a futile one, he knows, but it proves to be therapeutic for his conscience. She nuzzles his hand with her snout as he leans onto the wall, lost in thought.

“Should I tell them how I feel?” Her large dark eyes peer back at him, and as silly as it sounds, Chenle gets the sense that she actually understands, despite her inability to respond with comprehensible words.

“I’ll do it, then. Not tonight, but soon. Before autumn ends,” he vows, making a promise to himself and his heart all at once.

Nutmeg lets out a small whinny as if to express her approval. Smiling at the animal’s nonverbal reassurance, he opens the door to step out into the chilly fall night, strides a little lighter and head held higher than usual.

As the small clock tower set up in the middle of the festival grounds tolls seven times, loud clangs disrupting the low and indistinct chatter of the evening, you and Chenle return to the same bench you sat on that afternoon, eyes heavy and feet tired by now.

“Your shift is over now, right?”

“Yeah,” he affirms. “Ready to go home?”

“Definitely.”

The festival has mostly cleared out, which is surprising for the time of night that it currently is. The lack of all the hustle and bustle around you makes it significantly easier to navigate the paths extending in nearly every direction across the grounds.

On your way to the exit of the festival, the same autumn-themed archway you ducked under several hours ago, you pass a few of the boys you met during the day, offering a small wave goodbye to them.

The roads are quiet as you and Chenle walk next to each other on the paved sidewalk, the streetlights placed at every small intersection between the tightly-knit suburban roads providing the only source of illumination. With no one around to hear his shaky voice, he turns to you and stutters out, “I know I didn’t ask for your permission to do this earlier, but may I hold your hand?”

You let him, but not without a bashful scratch to the back of your neck and a mumbled answer of “Sure” directed his way.

Like two schoolchildren with the biggest and most obvious crushes on each other, there’s a skip in both of your steps as you walk the rest of the way home. Insisting on staying outside of your house until he sees the light in your bedroom window turn on, Chenle bids you a sweet goodnight with a lingering hug and a small kiss to the top of your head that he mistakenly thinks you don’t notice.

That night you fall asleep with a smile on your face, visions of pumpkins dancing through your mind and the small one that you bought resting on your nightstand beside you.

It’s the first thing you see when you wake up the next morning, and you reach out to take the small item in your palm. You’re convinced that you can still feel the warmth of Chenle’s hands cradling it as he placed it on the scale, recording the measurement before he gave the miniature pumpkin to Mark, who told you how much it cost. You were so eager to accept the small tote bag Chenle was extending out to you that you didn’t even bother asking for your change back, shoving the money into Mark’s hand and insisting that he keep it.

Your eyes land on the same bag, sitting in the corner of your room, and it makes your face break out into a bright grin. Not even bothered by how early you’ve woken up, you bound down the stairs for breakfast, the most excited for the day ahead you can ever remember being.

You spend the next couple of weeks visiting Chenle during his shifts at the festival, sometimes staying late enough for him to walk you home like he did that first day. With each time he sees you, he warms up to your presence, becoming more like his usual witty and hardly-ever-flustered self. Oddly enough you start to act less and less like a couple, which doesn’t go unnoticed by his friends. The incessant blushing is gradually replaced by sarcastic banter with one another. You don’t know anyone who makes you laugh like Chenle does.

“Hey,” he pipes up one afternoon as you’re watching him organize some pumpkins. “What if I dyed my hair this color?” Chenle points to one that’s a particularly vivid shade of orange, raising his eyebrows as you think of a reply.

“Then you’d look like a pumpkin,” you hum in response.

He chuckles. “Is that supposed to be a bad thing?“

You shake your head. “Not necessarily. Are you really going to dye it, though?”

“Probably not.”

“As you wish, pumpkin.”

He whirls around, nearly dropping the stack of gourds in his hands. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me... pumpkin,” you smirk after repeating the new nickname, and it puts an impossibly cute pout on his face.

“Don’t call me that!”

You jokingly ruffle his hair, and Chenle’s small smile betrays his annoyed facade as he realizes he could get used to hearing the word roll off your tongue, not to mention you addressing him with it.

It’s the week of Halloween when the six boys that volunteer with Chenle at the festival meet up to create a plan that will, ideally, end with both of you confessing your feelings. All but one of them, which happens to be Mark, excitedly discuss possible ways to set you two up. Should they send you on a private hayride somehow? Or maybe they could get you to try out the corn maze together, and hopefully you would struggle with finding your way out long enough to express your mutual crushes on each other.

“I don’t know about this, guys. I still think we should just let them figure it out on their own.”

“You’re no fun, Mark,” Donghyuck chastises. The eldest shrugs, an expression of resignation on his face. At least he tried.

Finally, they decide on having both of you move between each of their respective areas or booths around the festival, dropping as many hints to you about the other’s infatuation as possible. First you’ll start the evening off by navigating through the corn maze, which they realize is impossible for you to get lost in since Chenle had to memorize the map of it. So much for their earlier plan.

After that, Renjun will usher you off towards Jisung’s station, the game area. Conveniently, he’ll suggest you play the balloon dart toss together, but there’s going to be a catch: one of you has to carry the other in their arms while they throw them. They laugh a little at how flustered they imagine you’ll get.

Next, Mark and Donghyuck will help you pick out the best pumpkin to carve for the upcoming holiday. You’ll start to pick it up, but Chenle will insist on holding it instead. If you had heard this, you would be fuming. Who says you’re not strong enough to carry a pumpkin on your own? You’ll show them.

To end the night, Jaemin and Jeno will “accidentally” only give you one stick of cotton candy, forcing you to share. By that time, they hope you’ll be perceptive enough to finally see that the attraction is mutual, diminishing the fear of rejection in both of your minds.

Not so surprisingly, nothing would go as planned.

The boys put their little scheme into action on the night of October 30th. Chenle is actually finished with his days of volunteering at this point, and even though he could stay home after working many long hours over the past few weeks, he opts to visit the festival as a guest this evening, with you by his side.

He picks you up outside of your house, waiting on the sidewalk right next to the same lamp post that the flyer for the festival was taped to, also known as the entire reason why you’re in this situation in the first place. If you hadn’t taken the time to read those words on the purple-colored page, you honestly don’t know where you’d be right now.

Dressed in your favorite and coziest autumn outfit, you practically fly down the stairs of your front porch to greet him. Like you’ve gotten used to doing by now, he holds your hand in his as you walk, taking the same route you always do.

Chenle’s heart beats a little faster when he sees your eyes light up at the sight of the festival in the distance. For the first time, you’ll both be able to enjoy the event together without being bombarded by constant requests to help with various tasks throughout the night. Or so you thought.

From the moment you step foot inside the grounds, Jisung is already standing at the entrance and hurriedly directing you to the corn maze. Confused but obedient nonetheless, you both head towards where his finger is pointing.

Chenle knows something is up as soon as he sees a familiar mischievous twinkle in Renjun’s dark eyes. “You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” he tells you.

“Chenle, it’s a maze. I don’t think they work like that.” He ignores your playful sarcasm.

Speaking in the quietest voice he can muster, which is quite a feat for him, Chenle leans in close to whisper harshly in the older boy’s ear. “What are you trying to pull?”

At a volume level that’s loud enough for you to hear, Renjun replies, “The others and I thought it would be fun to plan out your evening a little! So first we want you to start here, at the corn maze.”

“Aw, really? That sounds like fun!” Oblivious to the group’s true motives, you endorse their plan with your words. “Better get started,” Renjun winks. As you turn to make your way in between the tall rows of vegetables, he roughly yanks Chenle backward to quietly say, “There isn’t a more perfect time to confess to them, I mean, a romantic autumn night at the festival? Make a move already,” he encourages.

Glowering back at him, Chenle reluctantly follows you into the maze.

Only 15 minutes later you emerge from the corn stalks, the boys’ scheme momentarily forgotten. It quickly comes to mind again when you find Jisung waiting outside for you for the second time that night. One time too many, in Chenle’s opinion.

Not missing a beat, the younger of the two boys leads you both over to the area he’s assigned to. The wall of colorful balloons catches your attention immediately. “Let’s play this one!” You exclaim as you tug on his sleeve like a little kid. Delighted with your choice, Jisung quickly explains the rules, but the twist he adds to them goes right over your head. In fact, you’re the one that offers to carry Chenle first. Neither of your faces turn pink with embarrassed blushes.

You don’t even bat an eyelash as you carry the pumpkin that you picked out together in your arms, much to Donghyuck’s dismay. Mark just stands to the side, amused at their attempts to artificially force confessions out of you. The singular stick of cotton candy that Jaemin hands to you over the counter of the concessions stand fails to phase either of you whatsoever, and you end up just pinching off small pieces from the sticky sweet dessert with your hands. Jeno points out your simple solution to the boy standing next to him, observing their failure. “Why didn’t we think of that?” He mumbles.

The six boys finally gather together when they collectively realize they didn’t succeed, but actually did just the opposite. Making a small circle, they start to argue and pointlessly blame one another for causing everything to go wrong. You only manage to catch a few words of their heated conversation, but something in your gut tells you that they were up to more than just creating a schedule of activities for you to follow.

Exchanging glances, you and Chenle nod at each other, about to try and quietly slip away from them. Hand in hand, you take careful steps backwards, but before you can dash away Mark catches sight of you. Thankfully, he smiles a little and puts a finger to his lips, making a “shh” sign as he waves his hand in a signal for you to hurry up.

Abandoning all of your cares, you give up on going unnoticed by the group and shamelessly scamper off in the opposite direction.

“Wait, I know that place!” You shout excitedly as you pass a small playground meant for the younger visitors to the festival. “Can we go over there?” You plead with him, but you suppose you shouldn’t call it that since he gives in to your request so easily.

The child-sized vehicle standing in the center of the play area is a familiar sight to you, and Chenle knows what you’re about to ask him before you even open your mouth. “Go ahead,” he says with a loving smile on his face as he motions to the carriage, designed to look like the very object that the entire festival itself centers around. Catching up to you, Chenle steps forward a little so that he reaches the small stairs leading up to it first.

“Your highness,” Chenle bows, crossing one foot behind the other and bending a knee. Opening the creaky door to the pumpkin carriage for you, he gestures to the inside of the oversized fruit, the graceful movement ushering you to climb inside. You bashfully tug on your striped scarf, holding the woolen material up against your cheeks as you laugh at his chivalrous display. It tickles a little, and he thinks you look even more adorable bundled up like that.

The interior is much smaller than you remember. But then again, you had been much smaller the last time you sat in this very seat.

Calling the inside of the carriage cramped is an understatement. There are two narrow benches on either side of it, the space on the floor between them barely enough to fit the legs of one occupant, much less two. Chenle struggles but eventually sits down across from you, unintentionally forcing your knees to rest in between his. The small windows on the squeaky, rusty doors do little to let in any light whatsoever. In the darkness, you can’t see the boy’s face flush at your closeness.

‘What now?’ You think to yourself, wondering if you’re brave enough in this moment to finally tell him how you feel, how much you enjoy his company, how special he’s become to you. And though you don’t know it, across from you Chenle is contemplating doing the same. He beats you to it with his next actions.

Your racing train of thought skids to an abrupt halt when you feel his hand on the lower part of your thigh, touch innocent and timid as it lingers on the soft fabric of your corduroy pants.

Eyes hurriedly adjusting to the dim space surrounding you, you feel his fingers grasp your own before you see them. At last you make eye contact with each other, gazes boring into one another and recognizing the same things, the same feelings in them. Chenle’s clutching your hand in his now, the first still resting comfortably on your thigh, and you feel the dull sensation of his legs bending inward, squeezing your knees together. His mouth opens, rounded lips parting as though to ask the question that you both already know the answer to. You bring an arm up to hold him by the shoulder, the movement in itself confirming that this is what you want as well. That he’s what you want.

Careful not to bump your heads against the low ceiling of the carriage, he leans towards you, closing the already minimal distance between your faces as he meets your lips in a kiss.

Heads tilting and eyelashes fluttering shut at the same instant, you both pour every unspoken thought, every secret glance, every loving word that never made it past your lips into the contact they currently share. The moment itself feels long overdue, like something you could have done on that first day you spent at the festival together.

It means more this way, though. The amount of time it took for this to happen gave you more time to discover and get comfortable with the way you feel about Chenle. To get comfortable with him. His presence, his humor, his personality, his touch, everything about him is something you’ve grown to depend on over these past few weeks.

Even your lips begin to depend on Chenle as they fall into place against his own, moving with a fervor you weren’t even aware you possessed.

There’s a quiet rhythm to the osculation of your lips, an airy sigh or breath from one of you breaking the silence every few seconds. In the midst of the indescribably wonderful sensation that is the kiss you’re sharing, you faintly feel his hand start to move up and down your leg, not in a provocative way but a reassuring one. His loving caresses have you leaning further into him even though there’s barely enough room to do so, making you wish for one reason and one reason alone that you were having this kiss somewhere else. Otherwise, the location is perfect.

More than a decade has passed since you were just a young child, begrudgingly posing for a photo for your parents by poking your head out through the same small window of the carriage. Since then, the orange of the paint has dulled, the once-soft carpet on the floor has become coarse from the countless shoes that have trodden over it. The wooden doors are splintered and, though never functional, the carriage’s large wheels have undoubtedly begun to show their age with the amount of dirt and dust caught in the grooves.

You’ve made many memories in this place, but the one you’re making today is sure to be unforgettable.

Chenle would give anything to be able to hold you right now, to maybe bring you onto his lap in a tender embrace as he shows you just how fast and how hard he’s fallen for you. Not that volunteering at the festival was a bad thing at all, but you made it so much more bearable, so much more fun. The thought of spending another perfect day with you was more than enough to get him out of bed every morning.

He compromises for the restrictions that the enclosed space places on your movements by untangling his fingers from yours, choosing to cup your cheek with them instead. You’re a little disappointed when his hand lifts from its place on your thigh, anxiousness bubbling up in your gut as you anticipate where he’s going to place it next.

It’s safe to say you just about melt when you feel his palm come up to delicately cradle one side of your chin, thumb darting out to glide along the skin that’s just below your bottom lip. Arching into him, you make the most of the little room you have left to pull him closer.

It’s then that your lungs finally catch up to both of you, sending simultaneous signals telling you to breathe. Granted, Chenle’s kisses feel like all the oxygen you’ll ever need anyway.

Reluctantly leaning away, your chests heave with muted but sharp gasps. A pang of worry hits you when he doesn’t smile, doesn’t laugh, doesn’t say anything. His mouth has fallen open, eyes wide with just as much anticipation as you feel. Taking what feels like the biggest breath in your life, you pray your voice doesn’t tremble as you speak for the first time since you clambered into the dark, cozy carriage.

“I really like you, Chenle.”

The relief that washes over you when he responds is unlike any you’ve ever felt before.

“I like you, too.”

But he’s not done.

“...A lot, in case you hadn’t noticed.” The extra detail makes you giggle, smiling shyly at anything that isn’t him.

He goes to lean in again when you stop him. “Wait, wait, can we at least get out of here first? I want to do this properly.”

You scoot sideways after he nods in agreement, far enough for him to open the door and step down from the elevated imitation of a pumpkin. He extends a hand up to you once he’s on solid ground again, and you take it. His face breaks into that signature bubbly grin of his that’s more contagious than you’d like to admit.

Joining him on the grassy surface, you dramatically stretch your arms out in front of you, waiting for him to reciprocate the hug you’re implicitly requesting.

The impish twinkle in his eye you know so well appears with his next words. “Can I pick you up?”

“You’ll drop me!” You retort, scoffing.

“Aw, c’mon! No I won’t,” he pouts. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Do I?”

“Yes, you do.”

Strong arms envelop your form as he lifts you into the air, only to pull you tightly against his torso. Not even the world’s fluffiest blanket can compare to the fleecy warm softness of the plaid shirt and sweater vest he’s wearing.

The enamored smile on Chenle’s face is the kind that would have made you weak in the knees if you were standing. Forgetting that you’re no longer shielded from the world by the carriage’s privacy, he presses your foreheads together and cutely nuzzles your nose with his own.

Framing his sharp jawline with both of your hands, you lean in to share a second kiss with the boy you wish you had gotten to know sooner. It’s no use wondering about what could have been, however, so for now you decide to focus on only this moment, only these lips, only Chenle. The way he smiles into the kiss has you reeling with affection.

Not even the distant cheers that just barely reach your eardrums can tear you away from each other.

When you feel as though the kiss has conveyed all you want and need to say to one another, Chenle begins to mumble against your lips. In a voice low enough for only you to hear, he says, “We’re going to have to face them sooner or later, you know.”

“How about never?” You reply, grumbling.

“Just follow my lead, okay? I’m used to their teasing,” he comforts.

“If you say so...”

Breaking out of the kiss-induced daze, you both look over to where the six boys stand, clapping and pumping their fists in the air in celebration with one another.

One of them, probably Renjun, you can’t quite tell, cups his hands around his mouth in preparation for the shout that leaves it not even a second later.

“It’s about damn time!”

“I told you guys if we just left them alone they’d figure it out themselves!” Mark adds triumphantly.

Apparently more than one kiss is one too many for his friends to see, and enough to make the small group turn away, yelling for you to “get a room” at the top of their lungs. You feel Chenle smirk against your lips at their repulsed reactions.

“Serves them right.”

You agree.

You’ve never had someone to spend Halloween night with before, and boy does this stress Chenle out to no end. He wants everything to be perfect, wants to do everything that a couple should do on such a holiday. “It’s really not a big deal, Chenle,” you insist sympathetically as he paces your living room floor, currently obsessing over what costumes you should wear.

“But... it’s you, and you’re a big deal. A big deal to me. I just want to make you happy.”

“Nothing could make me happier than being able to call you mine,” you proclaim proudly, enjoying the way his face practically turns into a tomato when what you’ve just said registers in his brain. “Stop it,” he stutters, lowering his head to stare at the carpet under his feet. You just giggle.

The excitement of the night is unlike any other. Your neighborhood’s streets are full of mostly children, but some adults and grandparents too, all taking part in the festivities. Going from doorstep to doorstep, you chant the famous three-word phrase at each house, assuring anyone who answers the door that you’re never too old to trick or treat if they ask. You get lots of compliments on your matching costumes: Chenle’s dressed as Sully and you’re Mike Wazowski from Monsters Inc. The soft fur on his outfit makes it extremely difficult for you to hold yourself back from hugging him any chance you get.

With your bags full of enough candy to last you two months at least, you return home for the night, this time crashing at his place. Despite the fact that it’s already getting late, both of you quickly change into some more comfortable clothes before settling in on his couch for a Halloween movie marathon.

“How about...” Chenle scrolls through the large selection of films on the screen. “The Nightmare Before Christmas?”

“No!” You cry out abruptly, lightly pounding against his chest with one of your fists before returning it to its original position around his waist.

Looking down at you, currently curled up in his lap with your other arm thrown rather lazily over his sturdy shoulders and your side pressing into his torso, he asks, “Why not?”

In a small voice, you respond. “It... gave me nightmares when I was little.”

“Really? A Disney movie?”

“Yes, now can we please stop talking about it and pick something else?”

“Aw, are you scared?”

“Shut up!” You whine shyly, burying your face as far as it would go into the thin fabric of his loose white t-shirt.

“Hey,” he hushes you, “I’m not making fun of you, baby. It’s okay... I’ve got you.”

Chenle swears he feels the warmth of your blush against his shoulder, generated by his unusual use of that particular term of endearment.

He runs a reassuring palm along one of your arms down to your hand. Effortlessly he winds each of his fingers around yours, like piecing together the most delicate of puzzles, and you remember how this action would have flustered both of you beyond belief mere weeks before. It’s become so simple, so instinctive a movement, saying everything you need to know without even the slightest whisper of a word in the air.

Rubbing small circles into the skin on the back of your neck with his other hand, he holds you close, the harsh light from the television illuminating your form as it clings to his.

You eventually decide on an actual horror movie that leaves you muffling your shrieks with a pillow, but Chenle just laughs with a pitch so high that it reminds you of a certain marine mammal. You scold him by giving his shoulder a whack. “Shh, Chenle! You’re going to wake the whole neighborhood up!”

“Hey, you were screaming too!”

“That’s not screaming, that’s called laughing, you dummy.”

Hours later, Chenle’s arm hangs limply down into the large bowl of treats you’ve been sharing. The soft snores next to your ear tell you that he’s fallen asleep. His family finds you two knocked out cold the next morning, covered in fuzzy blankets and colorful candy wrappers strewn about the sofa.

Indeed, this would be a Halloween to remember, and you hope to spend many more together in the future. With Chenle in your arms right now, there’s no place in this world that you would rather be. And it’s all thanks to a flimsy piece of paper on a lamp post.

284 notes · View notes

elsewhereuniversity · 4 years ago

Text

About Face

“Do you have any questions about your prescriptions today, uh…m-miss?” The pharmacist’s question is laced with assumptions about who you are. It’s not great, of course, but it’s also not worth your time to fight about today.

“No, I’m good,” your smile and voice are sugary-sweet, but your eyes are daggers as you take the bag and turn back towards the door. The heat and humidity are already staggering at 8 am and you are immediately made sticky by the brief walk to your car. As you start it up, there’s a brief chime of email-receiving from your phone, but you ignore it. Then there’s another ding, this time your lab-mate, Valerie, texting you.

Hey, u almost in? In like 30min. had to stop by pharmacy

K. Jill was looking for u. Also ugh that paper for tomorrow, I’m not even a birdsong person lol

Lol get over it, I had to read one of your fancy neuro papers last time. Did jill say what she needed me for?

Whatever lol. She didn’t say.

Ughhhhhhh

Jill, Dr. Dominguez, is your advisor, and you know you need to get her some figures and sections of your thesis soon, but these damn stats…well. There’s a reason you prefer spending your time traipsing off-trail through the wilderness over sitting in front of a computer all day. Not that this part isn’t interesting and important too, but come on.

Traffic is moving at a sluggish pace, of course, so you’re lost in contemplation and dread of the analyses you need to attempt running today, and the inevitable conversation with Dr. Dominguez that will have to happen at some point. As the traffic finally begins to move, you grit your teeth. Maybe it’s time to consider actually asking for help. I have no fucking clue how to do multivariate shit…You stare ahead as you inch forward, before a frustrating, jolting stop at a red light. Your eye is drawn to a kid crossing the road, wearing a grey hoodie. They look forlorn, for some reason you can’t entirely enumerate, and you glance back at them as the light finally turns.

The sun isn’t very high yet, so there are still some odd shadows stretching across the sidewalk, but you could’ve sworn that the kid had no face.

****

You manage to put the pharmacist and your grandma and the obviously-just-a-trick-of-the-light-I-mean-how-else-could-that-be faceless kid out of your mind for the rest of the morning and actually get some results you can work with from the analyses you’d been worried about. And when Dr. Dominguez pops into lab to talk to you, she is actually impressed at both the pace and quality of work you’ve delivered thus far. In fact, you’re feeling pretty damn good about everything, despite the earlier unpleasantness, so you decide to grab some lunch and hang out with some of the other grad students and lab techs.

Lunch-special sushi in hand, you plop yourself down at one of the rundown old tables in the work room. Valerie is there, along with Raul, one of the grad students from a micro lab down the hall, and Jackson, one of the general lab techs. Everyone says hi, but you’re only vaguely following the conversation as you dig into your spicy tuna roll. Something something TA stipends being cut. Which is such bullshit, of course, but nothing new. You’re just about to jump into the discussion when you get a Facebook notification. It’s your cousin, who tagged you in a post. You stare for a good five seconds at your phone.

Just remembering the good times with my cousin before he decided to be a transsexual.

And then a picture from when you were 14, a picture you’d thought you’d deleted from every conceivable online location. A picture that highlights pretty much every single aspect of your body that made staying in the closet completely untenable. Everything just always happens at once, huh.

“Fucking asshole,” you mutter, and are surprised to feel the hot prick of tears in your eyes.

“Becca, you alright?” Valerie asks, and you belatedly realize that everyone at the table heard you and is now staring. They think you were talking about one of them, or responding to something they said.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. Just something my cousin posted. She’s—she can be such a jerk. Don’t worry about it,” you say as you hastily wipe away the tears.

“What’d she do?” Jackson asks. Valerie glares at him so fiercely that he rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, “Just, like, if you wanna talk about it.”

You sigh. You’re not precisely going stealth, but you also don’t just talk to everyone about being trans. Have you actually come out to Jackson? Valerie knows, and Raul, but you don’t think you’ve ever directly talked to Jackson about it.

“It’s—it’s fine. Just, she posted a picture of me from before I came out, and I really hate thinking about any of it.” You speak with a bit more force than you intend.

“Why is that a big deal?” Jackson asks, taking a bite of his pasta. Valerie glares at him again and Raul just shakes his head.

“It’s just…it took me a long time to figure it out, and I don’t particularly like being reminded of that. And it’s not great for dysphoria, either.” You say this distractedly as you go to the post and untag yourself.

“That’s really rough,” Raul says, frowning.

“Sorry, what’s that word?” Jackson asks with a raised eyebrow, “I guess I just don’t get it? It’s just a kid picture of you, what’s it matter?”

And that does it. You stand abruptly, “I need to get back to the lab.” You hear Valerie and Raul berating Jackson as you walk away, but you’re just so very done. You toss the empty sushi container in the trash at the corner of the hallway, near one of the windows overlooking the main walkway through campus. And you nearly trip over your own feet as you swivel to double check something down below. A gray hoodie. A child with no face looking over their shoulder as they turn a corner.

****

You don’t mean to take the wrong street. It’s already been far too long a day between all of the inanity with your extended family and Jackson. And everything you tried to run after lunch was a bust, making you feel like Dr. Dominguez’s praise earlier was completely undeserved. Given all of that, you decided to get takeout again, even though you really should be cooking, so you’re walking to pick up your order. It is early evening, the shadows having elongated to embrace nearly everything, and while debating whether it’s even worth confronting your cousin about the jab, your feet simply take you the wrong way. You don’t even notice, until you’re standing in front of an empty park that’s three blocks over from where you should be. Or, wait.

Not empty. One lone figure, sitting quietly on one of the swings, wreathed in shadow.

You’ve been walking quite quickly, but over the course of a few steps have come almost to a stop. With a shiver, you glance around the area, but no parents or adults are in sight, and the figure looks young, even from a distance. 12, maybe? Maybe the kid lives in one of the nearby houses? Probably. Should you call someone? Who? Not the cops. They’d just as soon arrest or hurt the kid as help them. It isn’t that late, leaving the kid be is probably the most prudent course of action.

But. The kid feels…familiar. Even from a hundred meters, you can see that their shoulders are hunched, their hands are tight on the chains of the swing. The gentle creaking as those chains move with the slight shifts of the kid’s body is despondent in a way that is known to you, somehow. So, against your better judgement, you leave the sidewalk and walk across the damp grass to the edge of the playground. When you step onto the sand, the kid’s head jerks up and their shoulders tense further, raising almost to their ears. You stop walking and from the new angle a streetlight throws the kid’s grey hoodie into stark relief.

“Are-are you okay?” you have to clear your throat to get the words out and your voice sounds weak and tinny in the still, silent park.

The shoulders shrug. The kid is also wearing jean cutoffs, their scuffed sneakers unlaced.

“Do you need me to call someone?”

A sharp shake of the head, and then their hands release the chains and fall into their lap.

“Don’t need anything,” the kid’s voice is low, you can barely hear what they’re saying. Gingerly, you take the last few steps to the swing set and awkwardly settle into one of the worn rubber seats. Only after you have already done this do you think to question why you are so compelled to talk to this child who—maybe? how?—has been dogging you all day.

“I said I don’t need anything,” the kid says in an emotionless voice. Their face is still completely shadowed by their hood and shaggy hair.

“I just—look, kid, I think I’ve been where you are, and—”

The kid cuts across you, “I tried to tell them today. But I…couldn’t, I didn’t know how to, so I just ended up saying I like girly shoes and wanted some or whatever.”

Oh. So you were right. You know exactly what’s going on. In fact, you’re pretty sure you had that precise conversation, once.

“That’s tough,” you acknowledge, slowly pushing back in the swing, which creaks beneath you, “It took me a long time too.”

There’s silence. Then:

“That’s what I was worried about.”

You start and quickly glance over at the kid, who has finally turned to face you.

She doesn’t have a face, which, you suppose, really shouldn’t be a surprise. You weren’t seeing things, earlier. There’s just a smooth expanse of dark olive skin. The featureless head tilts to one side and she speaks again.

“I thought you might recognize me.” The voice is plaintive. With every word, you feel a sense of vertigo, like there is a mouth, somewhere, that is making those sounds, that it’s right in front of you, but you cannot perceive it.

You are breathing very rapidly, “I thought—how do you know me? What’s, I mean—”

“This?” the kid gestures at her face, “I don’t know, I can see but I can’t see myself, I dunno what’s going on. All I know is I was walking to the park and then I was here, or I mean, on the road this morning and saw you and I followed you and I just want to go home or just sleep or just melt away but I can’t, okay? There’s just nothing.”

Without noticing, you have sprung to your feet and are backing away from the faceless girl, the faceless girl who can’t tell her parents who she is. Who you are.

“I didn’t want to think about it,” you whisper. Why are you even responding to this? This is a hallucination, or a dream. You’re just reacting to the whole bullshit situation with your cousin and Jackson and that fucking pharmacy tech. Did you fall asleep back in the lab, is that it? You pinch yourself, but no luck, “I came out and that was what I needed. Okay? Why dwell on, on, on all of that shi—stuff that happened before?”

The girl is still sitting placidly in the swing, though her hands are once again clenched around the chains.

“I knew you were me, I guess. So I followed. I don’t think anyone else notices me either, not that that’s anything new,” The note of bitterness in her voice cuts you to the bone, “I thought maybe you—me, future me, whatever—would be able to…fix me? But nothing’s changed, has it?”

You’re backed up to the slide now, “Why are you doing this? What even are you?”

You slump against the side of slide, your knees suddenly weak, “This cannot—this is bullshit, I don’t know how you’re doing this, but—”

The faceless girl is in front of you now, hands jammed into the front pocket of her hoodie. She stands there, contemplating her future self, “I just want to understand,”

The kid, proto-Becca, or whatever or whoever she is, sure sounds like a kid desperately trying to make sense of something, and not some ghoulish nightmare creature.

“Just stop,” you say in a hoarse voice, “I just don’t want to think about it, I shouldn’t have to think about it, I just want to move forward.”

“Yeah,” proto-Becca abruptly falls to her knees, and draws them up to her chest. It takes a few seconds for you to understand the sounds that the kid is making are sobs.

You hug your own knees and contemplate getting up and running away and just forgetting about all of it: this faceless phantom of your childhood self, your relatives’ inability to accept your reality, the absurd, useless, pointless stats and analyses. You’re crying too, desperately trying to refocus on the here and now, instead of being drawn down into the rabbit hole of loneliness and regret and fear that always consumes you when you think too hard about those years in which it felt like your whole body was turning against you and you couldn’t find any satisfactory explanations for what you were feeling.

But the sounds of proto-Becca, of proto-you, sobbing into her knobbly knees bring you back to the present. Ironic, that. No matter what else, however she got here, whatever happened to her face, she’s a kid. She’s a kid. She’s. A. Kid. You were a kid.

You furiously wipe your eyes and nose and sit up, scooting a bit closer to proto-Becca.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” you say in as steady a voice as you can manage, “I was scared, and, and, and I lashed out. It’s not your fault, kid.”

She doesn’t lift her head, but the sobs are quieter.

“I mean, kid, no offense, but you don’t have a face. And somehow you’re me, right?” Okay, that came out meaner than you meant it to, “The truth is that I’ve done my best to forget pretty much everything that happened back when I was…you, I guess. But I can’t.”

She sniffles, “I’m trying to tell them, I am. But the boys at school, every time I try to talk to Mom or Dad I see those boys laughing and yelling and coming at me and I can’t, I don’t—know how I ended up here, or what to do about this or anything. I just want things to be normal.”

And, finally, you get it. Not why she’s here, or how, or what any of this means, but, at least, what to do. You’ve tried to help kids who were like you before. You’d never have told them that they needed to keep their feelings concealed, that they needed to not do anything so as to avoid reminding you of your own past. So why, then, are you doing it to yourself?

“Is it okay if I come sit next to you, maybe give you a hug?” you ask, as gently as you can.

You get a glimpse of the faceless face from behind the curtain of hair, “I—I think so?”

You get to your feet, a task far more laborious than you feel it should be, and cross to her. When you plop down by her side, she twitches, but it’s toward you. Slowly and carefully, you wrap an arm around her narrow shoulders, and hold her close. She’s still crying, and the hood has slipped from her dark curls.

“It’s okay that it’s taking time,” you say, “It’s really, really hard. I meant that. There’s…nothing out there. No one to explain to you, to, uh, us, what these feelings mean, really. I remember. I remember how much it feels like you’re just stuck in the same looped computer program. Endlessly completing the same actions with no idea why, only feeling like something isn’t right. And so scared of what happens if you do anything that breaks that loop.”

“That’s pretty much it,” she says with a note of wait, that wasn’t completely in my head???, “I don’t see how I can explain to anyone, especially Mom and Dad.”

“I think all you can do is be honest. There are some resources out there, although maybe they aren’t published yet,” you glance sideways at her, “But if you just…elucidate those feelings you’ve been sitting on, it at least opens the door to them comprehending.”

“I guess so,” she sighs, and then giggles, “But also, like, no offense, that was, like, a really freakin’ pretentious way to say that.”

You snort and ruffle her hair, “Whatever. Something for you to look forward to, then.”

She’s quiet for a bit and then, quick like a bird, she wraps her arms around you too, “So I’m gonna tell them, then?”

You shrug, “When you’re ready. Whenever that is. And I promise, you are no lesser if it takes a while. Okay?”

“But you’re still going to hate thinking about me, right? I mean, about how long it took me, you, to finally do it?” her head tilts.

You sigh, “I don’t know. It’s hard, I won’t pretend it isn’t. But I think I can at least say that it’s okay. That it’s not my, or your, fault.”

When you look up, her face appears. Smile first. Broad and full of braces, her quick and nervous brown eyes darting to your face and then back to her knees.

“You’ll be fine,” you say, giving her one last squeeze, “I’m the living proof, right?”

Her laugh lingers in the air as she fades away.

#transroadwarrior #stories #long post #about face #body horror #of the faceless variety #trans #transphobia #briefly #becca #proto becca #submission

128 notes · View notes

joshuas · 4 years ago

Text

that’s not even ramen

♫ pairing: yang jeongin x gender neutral reader

♫ genre: college/university student!au, slice-of-life, crack, fluff

♫ word count: 3.5k

♫ warnings: nil of note!

♫ summary: a bunch of chaotic misunderstandings, trot singing new years concerts that lead to lots of fluff at the end ^^

♫ tagging: @fluffyskzclub

♫ a/n: happy april fools! my joke is... that i can’t do anything on time and post things that were supposed to be posted in january in april, so without further ado, i present the eighth addition to my seasonal drabbles!

♫ skz seasonal drabbles: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

“I swear, this is the tenth time I’ve heard him sing tonight! If he’s going to continue to do this, he should at least sing a different song.” You sighed, exasperated as you tried to put your three-year-old sister to sleep. Her sleep, of course, being interrupted by your new next-door neighbour, Yang Jeongin. He had taken up trot singing over the last couple of weeks and decided only to practice his singing at 11 pm at night. Which, coincidentally, woke your baby sister up every time. And as if it wasn’t hard enough having sole custody over a sibling let alone having a teaching degree to attend to during the day. Your professors had been understanding of your... predicament after your parents moved out of the picture, but there was only so much patience they could hold. Of course, you couldn’t confront Jeongin about it — you were only acquaintances... barely even friends as you had only known each other through university... and now the thin wall that separated your living quarters. Well, it’d also be too awkward if you did (ugh, social confrontation), which is why you put up with it... Relief flooded through you when you heard the singing cease, sighing as your sister stopped fussing and fell back asleep. It’s not as though Jeongin was a bad singer. In fact, he was quite brilliant. But his singing was not appreciated at ungodly hours. The walls started to pulse as folk music blasted at a deafening volume, snapping you out of your reverie and forcing you to focus back on your crying sibling. You held back a scream, mentally cursing at Jeongin, I swear to God, the next time I see this boy—

“Mina put on your coat, it’s ridiculously cold out! It’s January, remember? And what season is it in Jan—“ You paused, observing the idiot that exited his apartment alongside you, “Oh! Hello, Jeongin—“ He walked away without a word, rushing down the stairs. Rude! First the singing and now he’s ignoring me? Does he have any human decency?

“Hello! Welcome — make sure you sign in your children before you leave!” Your eyes settled on Jeongin, who was beaming at the little kids that entered the daycare, holding out the sign-in sheet, Great and now he works at the only affordable day care. How... pleasant. Wiggling her hand out of your grasp, your sister waddle-ran over to Jeongin, giving him the biggest hug, for him to pick her up and spin her around. Ignoring the skip of your heart, you cooly approached the two of them, silently taking the sign in sheet and signing your name. “You must be Mina’s parent— I’m Jeongin, one of the part-timers here.” He held out his hand, Mina, still in his arms, blocking his view. You shook it, “Not her—“ You broke off as another kid ran to Jeongin, crying as he dragged him inside the daycare. Without turning around, Jeongin waved at you in dismissal. You scoffed, He won’t even acknowledge me at home but now that we’re in public and he’s literally being paid to be a decent human being, he’ll put on a face and pretend to be friendly? No thank you.

You rubbed at your temples, mentally snapping at yourself to focus. Tutorial time was probably the only time you had to yourself to study and get things done. But you know what? That wasn’t happening today. Why? Because of Yang Jeongin infiltrating your thoughts every five seconds. You grumbled to yourself, almost ready to pack up and leave, He should pay rent for how long he’s been living in my head. “Oh wait! Y/N, you’re leaving already?” A voice called out from behind a tower of books in their hands, not long before plonking them down on the table in front of you. You looked up, your gaze meeting Jeongin’s hopeful one. Why is he being so friendly? Especially since he flat out ignored me this morning... “Um... I was planning to. Not that it’s any of your business.” You said coldly, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion at his sudden friendliness. Really, Y/N? You’re being like this just because he snubbed you this morning? Okay, wait that’s pretty valid. Ignoring the little “no it’s not” in your head, you maintained your cold demeanour. “Oh. Um. Sorry. I was just asking because I was hoping to study with you.” Jeongin rubbed his neck awkwardly. You looked at him doubtfully, ignoring the hopeful fluttering in your stomach, “Why would you want to hang out with me of all people?” “Well, you’re the top of the class—“ You scoffed disdainfully and he broke off, looking at you wide-eyed. Of course he only wanted to use me for personal gain. Whatever, Y/N. Just avoid him. Do not interact! “I’m definitely heading off now. Bye.” You grabbed your books, leaving the library and a slightly confused and shocked Jeongin behind. He’s not worth it, Y/N.

You buckled Mina in her little seat in the trolley, lightly humming as you pushed her along. After realising that you were out of ramen (a staple study food, fight me if you disagree), you had scrambled to pick up Mina from daycare before rushing over to the local grocery store, keen to get at least some ramen to fuel your study session after putting Mina to bed. That is if she’s able to sleep. Hopefully Jeongin won’t— You reached for the last pack of your favourite ramen, a hand brushing over yours to grab it with you. You whipped your head around, gaze meeting— yet again— Mr Yang Jeongin. How many times do I have to see him today??? This feels like a cruel joke. It’s not funny! You coughed, pointedly looking between Jeongin and his grip on the ramen you had so obviously grabbed before him. He sighed, pushing his specs up the bridge of his nose, pushing his hair back with the other hand, hand still fixated on the ramen packet, “Please, Y/N. I need this to study.” You inhaled sharply, trying not to be bothered by the impeccable College Boyfriend vibe he was exhibiting, dressed simply in a sweatshirt and track pants, “So. Do. I. In fact, I need it a lot more than you since your singing keeps up the whole neighbourhood. And no! I’m not calling you a bad singer, because on the contrary, you’re quite brilliant and I honestly don’t know why you didn’t decide to become a singer instead of a teacher. I mean, do you really want to waste your life away working at a daycare?” You rambled. Jeongin looked at you, stunned, loosening his grip on the ramen, and handing it to you, his cheeks lightly dusted with pink, “...You know what? You can have it. I’ll just buy... this one! Yep. This one.” He scurried away, leaving you stunned, “But that’s not even ramen!”You called out after him. “Doesn’t matter!”

“Mina, please. Isn’t your crying at least making you tired?” You rocked your sister, exhausted as you looked at the clock— thirty minutes she’s been crying. Jeongin had decided not to sing tonight for some reason. But your sister still had difficulty sleeping. Perhaps he is actually a decent human being... although, I can’t say that I don’t miss his singing... what? Yes, you can, Y/N. The guy literally kept you up til three because of his singing. Mina just felt so inspired by his vocals that she had to try herself... by crying. Ugh. The walls started to vibrate as you sighed, Complimented him too soon. His melodic tone carrying through to the nursery, your sister’s not so melodic cries mixing in even louder than his singing. You steeled yourself, done with this nonsense. Putting on a coat, you stomped out of your apartment, knocking insistently on Jeongin’s door. The door opened to reveal a bewildered Jeongin as you thrusted your screaming sister into his arms, “You started this. You fix it.”

Jeongin held the door to his apartment with one hand, the other arm supporting your screaming sister. Allowing you into the apartment, you observed how spotless it was, giving it an appraising look. “Seungmin’s my roommate. Hence, why it’s so clean. It’s all he does when he gets home from the hospital.” Jeongin explained whilst trying to rock Mina to sleep. “I’m surprised he puts up with your singing.” You noted. “He works nights.” Jeongin deadpanned. You opened your mouth, closing it when you saw his attention turn towards Mina. Cooing at her, he slowly sunk himself into the cushions of the couch, lowly humming a melody familiar to the ones you had heard through the wall. However, it was more of a ballad version. A soft smile crept onto your face as you observed the two, your heart aching at the adorable sight. Mina slowly fluttered her eyes, slowly closing them as Jeongin hummed further, his chest vibrating comfortingly from his singing, the movement lulling her... to sleep! You looked amazingly at Jeongin, his triumphant gaze finding yours. You tried to take Mina off him as she fussed in her sleep, cuddling further into his chest, you sighed, putting your hands up in defeat — afraid to wake her. “So... care to explain why I had to do this?” Jeongin whispered, looking pointedly at you. “Well...you’ve been keeping her up with your trot singing that she’s been eventually falling asleep at almost 11 pm. The thing that I’m weirded out the most by is that she cried at the lack of your singing and when you sang a softer version of that folk song, she fell asleep straight away.” You explained. “Babies are weird like that. But why did you have to give her to me to calm down?” Jeongin asked, confused. “Well one, you’re studying teaching and working at a daycare. And two, you started this!” You numbered. “We’re in the same class and she’s your sister!” Jeongin pointed out, eyes wide. “Look. The main reason really is your singing. Why do you have to sing so late, anyways? It’s not like you’re preparing for any assignment... we don’t have to create a song for our assignment... right?” You asked, tone slightly laced with concern. “No, no.” He dismissed your concerns, sighing, “The real reason why I’m singing so late at night is actually because I’m preparing for something. I don’t really have time otherwise to prepare for it since I have uni and work.” “What are you preparing for?” You scrunched your eyebrows quizzically. “You have to promise not to laugh.” He looked at you pointedly. “I can’t promise that.” You scoffed. “Well then I can’t tell you.” He lifted his head, looking elsewhere. “Fine. Fine!” You whispered harshly. “Okay, well I’m doing this competition that’s basically a talent show for unusual talents. And mine is... trot singing. The whole point of this talent show, though, is to actually achieve your New Year goals and resolutions.” “And yours is... to win with your trot singing?” You looked at him bewilderingly. “No.” He lightly slapped his forehead, disappointed at your lack of piecing together what little information he provided you with. “My resolution is to perform on stage. However, my only formal singing training is in trot singing.” “Ah, I see.” “Yeah... you should come! Only if you can. Obviously. No pressure.” He asked quickly. “Oh! I’m surprised you want me there after everything that happened.” You said sheepishly. “What happened?” He widened his eyes in confusion. “Well— you were kind of a jerk to me all of today.” You noted. “I was? Oh—“ “You ignored me this morning, put on a face when I dropped Mina off at daycare, purely because you were at work and tried to talk to me in tutorial after that. Then you nearly stole my ramen!” You interrupted. “Oh wow, I really did all of that today? Anyway, let me explain. In the morning, yes I saw you and I could’ve yelled a hello, I admit it. But I was very stressed since Seungmin is normally the one to wake me up when he comes back from the hospital but I think he must’ve gone home with his partner or something because he didn’t come home last night, and I had no way to contact him because Jisung threw his phone in the bin.” He explained. “He what?” You recoiled in bewilderment at the last part. “Long story. Anyway, I actually just go straight to autopilot whenever I have to converse with the parents. And since it’s my first week, I wasn’t expecting to see someone I know, let alone you, so I just went straight to my Customer Service Polite Conversation Autopilot Mode... customer service is so hard. As for the tutorial thing, I wanted to study with you! Believe it or not, I actually do appreciate your company.” He said pointedly. You blushed, clearing your throat, “That doesn’t explain the ramen thing, though.” He sighed, “Ramen is my study food too, you know. But I figured you needed it a lot more than me... also your compliment caught me off guard.” He muttered the last part, you smirked slightly as you heard it. “Anyway, I would really appreciate it if you could come because... well, you- you’re one of my good friends.” He rubbed his neck tentatively. Your chest ached slightly, feelings of disappointment infiltrating your head, only to be met with confusion... and sudden realisation. Oh. No.

[00:37] (Jeongin) hey! you left all of a sudden, but I’ve emailed you the details to the comp. hope you can come :) [10:55] (Jeongin)...Y/N? Are you still alive? Actually, I know you are. But why are you avoiding me? It had been a couple of days since you realised your feelings for Jeongin. Trying to avoid him at any costs, you changed up your schedule — only taking morning tutorials, making sure you didn’t run into him wherever you went. It didn’t help that your lives were so intertwined. Mina had gotten particularly attached to him — you watched her from outside the daycare, her little legs wrapped around his, clinging onto him like a koala and reluctant to let him go when she saw you at the gate. That certainly did not help. But what could you do? In order to avoid hardship, you have to cut the relationship in the bud. Especially since he only sees you as a friend. You snapped your attention to the door, as a knock resounded through your apartment, redirecting your attention from your phone to... a very unkempt Seungmin, waiting behind the door. “Hey, Y/N! I was wondering if you could do me a favour?” He asked, words rushed. “That depends on what it is.” You crossed your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow expectantly. “I need you to go to Jeongin’s talent show for me.” He said. You shut the door immediately on him, “Y/N’s not here.” “I— what? Y/N, please. I need to go to the hospital today and he really wants you to go!” Seungmin pleaded from behind the door. “Why can’t you get any of his hyungs to attend? He has like six other ones.” You proposed. “He really wants you to come. He really likes you, Y/N.” Seungmin sighed. You opened the door slightly, peaking out from around the door, “Yeah. As a friend.” “What gave you that impression?” Seungmin looked at you confusedly. “He said it to my face?” You said, equally as confused. “Oh my god. He like likes you, okay? He didn’t tell anyone except us two about the contest. He told me because we live together but he told you because he has feelings for you!” Seungmin inhaled sharply, trying ridiculously hard not to roll his eyes in annoyance. “You’re not just telling me this so I would go?” You raised an eyebrow sceptically. “No. I have nothing to gain out of that because if you found out I was lying, I know you’ll hold a grudge against me forever, and as neighbours that really would not work out.” He said a matter of factly. “...alright. Fine. I’ll go. And you do realise we’re also friends? Friends generally shouldn’t lie to each other.” You looked at him pointedly. “Right. That.” He said shortly. “Anyway, you should hurry since you only have... twenty minutes til it starts.” He checked his watch. You gasped, “And you only thought to tell me now?” “Some of us have more important things to do than helping your love story progress. For example, saving lives. So, goodbye!” He waved, ushering you to close the door before sprinting down the hall. Time to sort this out... I guess.

You rushed to the venue after purchasing flowers and chocolate and organising for Jisung and his partner to come babysit... although you weren’t exactly trusting of them after hearing of their lawsuit rendezvous at the shopping centre. That was irrelevant right now, though. After sitting through more than fifteen of the most unusual acts at the talent show, you questioned how Jeongin even found out about it. It wasn’t until he entered on stage, lights dimming around him as he sang a slow, but emotive trot song— eyes searching over the crowd, only to lock onto yours as he belted his last note, the audience standing in applause as he stood back, catching his breath, eyes never leaving yours. “And there you have it folks! First of all, a big congratulations to all of you— you’ve successfully achieved at least one of your New Years resolutions!” The MC walked on stage, passing Jeongin on his way out, “But now, it’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for— the winner of this new year’s resolution talent contest is... Yang Jeongin!” A hearty applause echoed throughout the room, loud cheers erupting as Jeongin entered the stage again, you stood up, giving him an encouraging smile whilst cheering, “Okay, well first of all, thank you for the opportunity to do this. I don’t think I would’ve ever performed if it weren’t for making it a New Years resolution.” Low laughter hummed from the audience, “I guess— another person to thank is... well... someone that I really like and have for a while- Y/N. Even though our whole relationship basically consisted of a bunch of misunderstandings, you still came to this competition for me. At least, I hope it was for me. It’d be awkward if it wasn’t, since this is a sort of confession thing. Actually— do you think you could join me on stage?” The audience turned to you as you stared at him in shock. Shaking out of your reverie, you slowly stood up, making your way to the stage as he held out a hand, helping you up the stairs. You gave him a nervous but small smile, “Congratulations on your win!” You handed him the flowers, as he pulled you in for a quick hug. “Y/N, you’re probably the coolest person I’ve ever befriended. You’re incredibly driven, caring, and probably the person I respect most in my life. The way you’re achieving all your goals whilst managing the stress and struggles of raising your younger sibling astounds me, and honestly, that’s probably the feature that I find most admirable about you.” Jeongin spoke into his mic, gaze deepening into yours, the audience “aww”ing in response to him. “So, I guess where I’m trying to get at is— will you go out with me?” He asked as the audience cheered you on. You took the mic off him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “I’d love to.” He pulled you into a tight embrace as the audience cheered loudly, whistling as well. As you exited the auditorium, entering the foyer, you intertwined your hands with Jeongin’s, “Where should we go for our first date?” You asked, quickly putting on your coat and a beanie, wearily eying the snowfall outside, “I don’t know, I was thinking karaoke?” Jeongin suggested. You scoffed, “No.” “Why not?” He asked, genuinely confused. “Because you’d absolutely crush me. That’s why. Also, I know you’re only saying that because they gave you yearly access to the karaoke club as your prize.” You rolled your eyes. “You wound me with your words, Y/N. Do you think I’d cheapskate on our date?” He placed his hand to his chest, faking a gasp. “Never.” You mimicked his gesture as you exited the foyer. “Yah! Y/N!” “I’m joking, I’m joking! Ahh— don’t tickle me-“ You gasped as his fingers found your sides, giggles unwillingly being emitted. “Only if you give me another kiss.” He tapped his lips, you sighed, leaning over to give him another kiss, as he lightly drew your neck closer to him, deepening the kiss. You pulled back, eyes sparkling with joy, “Well...Even though I know you’ll trash me at it...Race you to the karaoke club?” You proposed, stretching your muscles. “Really? We just had the most epic kiss and now all you’re concerned about is karaoke?!” He raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Last one to the karaoke place gets no kisses for the rest of the day!” “Oh, you’re on.”

Thank you for reading! Would you like to read more?

51 notes · View notes