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coulson-is-an-avenger · 3 years

Note

kisses 21 jm!

For the prompt “we’ll face this together” kiss. TY SAHAR!!! OKAY I accidentally had one (1) jonbinary idea and then it ended up being SO FUCKING LONG (like 2.5k long) so uh. yeah. Warnings for descriptions of dysphoria, mentions of kidnapping and self loathing, and Jon getting pretty close to a panic attack. Also disclaimer, although I am nonbinary, I’m not transfem, so if there’s any critiques surrounding that, don’t hesitate to let me know. Stay safe y’all!

Jon’s face itches as he faces the mirror like an old foe. It’s long held an image that hurts him to see; aged by unfathomable horrors and dotted with marks like a canvas before a child’s paint tipped fingers, and these days he can’t even be sure that his reflection looks away from him when he turns his head. But, the devil it holds at the moment is the simple reflection of his short beard, and his face itches at the reminder of it.

It isn’t a physical itch. It lurks under the skin, poking and prodding at his senses, rubbing him the wrong way as he lays his cheek on his pillow, leaving a distracting echo when his chin brushes against Martin’s during a kiss, scraping at the inside of his skin as he stares at himself and takes in the sight of it covering his chin.

He scrubs his fingers over his eyelids. He isn’t ignorant, he realizes the discomfort he feels is most likely somewhat gender-related, but it’s… his relationship with his gender is complicated. In a lot of ways, it’s been such a mundane concern recently that he’s somewhat lost track of where he stands with it, but he remembers how it felt to first wear a skirt into the archives, all those long years ago. How gentle Sasha had been with him back then, even if the memory pinches the back of his head and grins with too many teeth and a short haircut that he knows now was wrong. But the Stranger cannot take that act of kindness away from her, even if it took away the face he remembers sharing it with.

He had felt like he was becoming something new, then, staring at a new path, freshly paved in his life, open to the possibilities of self discovery and certainty. Then his life had been riddled with worms and his friends had been carved out, one by screaming one, and he was on the run and set alight and kidnapped and disabled and nearly killed and kidnapped again and nearly killed and—

Jon remembers, vaguely, a flash of what had happened in the month he was… gone. He doesn’t remember most of what happened in that place. Probably for the better, he tells himself, but he does recall one thing. One very simple thing, really; that he hadn’t been able to shave, and he remembers the itch being all he could focus on for days at a time.

One of the first things he had done after stumbling through Michael-now-Helen’s door-not-deathtrap was drag himself to a sink and shave his face raw, burned hand be damned. His skin had suffered afterwards, nicked and irritated beneath its smoothness, and he had taken some strange, morbid comfort in the blemish he was able to inflict, after so many days of hearing hollow voices sing of its beauty.

This is a dangerous line of thought, he realizes, hands pressed against the bathroom sink, his heartbeat starting to pound in his ears. He desperately does not want to think about that, not here, and preferably not ever again, if he can help it.

He tries to bring himself back to the here and now, grounding himself in the feeling of porcelain under his palms, but the victory over his mind is a hollow one, unfortunately, as it brings him right back to the itching under his skin.

He’s not sure if this itch is exasperated by his own self consciousness, or by the lingering sting of the Lonely that threatened to separate him from himself, but it builds until its all he can feel in his skin, on his face, and he finds himself lunging across the counter, knocking things over in an attempt to hunt down Martin’s razor.

Jon had lost his own somewhere in the chaos of living in the archives, but he’s sure he saw Martin trim his own short beard when they first arrived at the safehouse, so it must be here, he thinks, ripping open drawers, it must— aha!

His fist closes around the razor, hidden under the sink next to a small bottle of shaving cream and Martin’s testosterone shots, and he barely gives a thought to what he’s doing before raising it to his dry cheek, just needing this thing off, and—

“Jon? You know that’s not how to do that, right?”

Jon whips around like lightning, his back to the sink and the razor clenched in his fist against his chest like a talisman, breathing heavily.

Martin had been smiling slightly as he entered the bathroom, but the expression quickly falls from his face as he takes in the panicked look on Jon’s face, and the erratic motion of his free hand, clenched into a fist at his side and twitching in an attempt to calm himself. Martin steps forward quickly, outstretching a hand.

“Jon, love? Are you alright?”

Jon fixes his eyes on Martin; kind, beautiful Martin who still goes a bit grey at the fingertips and the eyes when anxiety seizes him, Martin who has always been there, always been there, ever since the beginning. Jon anchors himself as he looks at that familiar, beloved face, and tries to take a breath.

“I-I don’t know,” He manages, because this all feels very silly now. He’s a grown person standing in the center of a bathroom, clutching his boyfriend’s shaving razor like it’s a weapon, for God’s sake, all because of what? Some facial hair? Good Lord, he’s being ridiculous. “Probably, I just… um.” He trails off, gut sinking as emotions spiral through him, too fast to pin down and name.

“Okay,” Martin says gently, shuffling a step closer. “Why do you have that?” He gestures to the razor in Jon’s hand, and Jon twitches, holding it closer.

“I need to borrow it,” He explains, stumbling. “I can’t- I need-“ He makes a frustrated noise and tries to get his thoughts to align. He inhales deeply and tries again. “I need to …shave. This-“ he gestures jerkily towards his face. “This is too much.”

Martin nods carefully, eyes glued to Jon’s face. “Too much?” His question is as gentle as his eyes, and Jon has to glance away for a moment, overwhelmed by being seen.

“It’s… complicated,” He begins, the fist pressed to his chest beginning to lighten up. “It… it just itches, all the time. Like- like a thousand ants under my skin, w-which is ridiculous because it doesn’t actually hurt or itch or- or anything, it just…” he glances back to Martin’s eyes, furtive and desperate for him to understand. “I need it to stop.”

“Oh,” Martin softens even more before Jon’s eyes, his face melting with understanding and sadness. “Oh, Jon. I didn’t realize you were having dysphoria.”

At the word dysphoria Jon glances sharply up, uncertainty fraught on his face, and Martin backtracks quickly.

“Or- s-sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. Is it-”

“N-no, Martin, it-it’s fine.” Jon waves Martin’s nerves aside and finds that he finally has a decent enough hold on his own to lower the hand that had been pressed against his chest. He turns around in the bathroom and sits down on the edge of the bathtub, sighing heavily. “It might be dysphoria, I don’t…” He hesitates, chuckling slightly. “I’m not quite sure I know it well enough to place it. Gender hasn’t exactly been… a priority these days.”

Martin nods and follows him deeper into the bathroom, setting down the lid of the toilet so he can sit on it and listen to Jon blunder through his feelings.

“It might be? I mean… I know I’m not a man, per say, but it… I mean, it could also be so many other things at this point. It’s just- I know it’s stupid to overthink, but—“

“Hey, hey,” Martin cuts him off, extending a hand to brush against the side of his knee. “It isn’t stupid, Jon. You don’t have to have a label or a reason in order to be uncomfortable. It’s- you’re allowed to call it just that; uncomfortable.”

Jon nods, looking down at the hands clasped in his lap.

“I know. It just hit me so suddenly, I-” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead, careful to avoid brushing any of the hairs on his face. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Martin murmurs, and his hand rests more solidly on Jon’s knee. “Is this alright?”

Jon nods mutely, and lets himself expel some more of the tension in his shoulders as he focuses on the motion of Martin’s thumb sweeping softly over his knee.

“It reminds me of the circus,” Jon breathes after a moment of silence, and Martin’s hand stills against him, attentive and horrified. “When- when they…” He inhales sharply, willing his voice not to break. “Well, I couldn’t very well shave it,” He clenches his hands into fists again, still holding the razor tightly in his right. “Got it off as quickly as possible once I could.”

Martin exhales. “I remember that. I thought you just… I dunno, just really nicked yourself. I didn’t think about… yeah.”

“Yes,” Jon agrees, keeping his gaze on the hand on his knee. “I-I mean, I definitely did, nick myself that is. I wasn’t really thinking about doing it properly, I suppose.”

“Like just now?” Martin asks, kindly, gently, not judging. Jon feels his chest pinch anyways.

“Yes.” He admits quietly. Martin leans down to press a careful kiss to Jon’s knee.

“Okay, well, this time we’ll do it properly,” Martin raises himself from the toilet seat, reaching down into the cupboards to pull forth the shaving cream and a towel, and holds them out towards Jon.

Jon blinks, looks at the objects and then up at Martin, unsure of what’s being offered. “Sorry?”

“You still want the beard off, right? Let’s just make sure you don’t upset your skin,” He cracks a humorous smile. “Then it’ll actually start itching.”

Jon takes the can from his hand, but still frowns. “Us?”

“I- yeah,” Martin shifts his weight, fidgeting with the towel. “I can help, if that’s alright with you. You don’t… always seem to handle mirrors the best? And I’ve helped shave another person before so… yeah. If you want.”

Jon’s world stutters to a blushing halt. Martin’s right, he doesn’t like to linger on his face in mirrors even on the best days (of which today is certainly not one) and as much as he’s accustomed to doing this himself, what Martin is promising is intimate; an extension of vulnerability and the promise of a care that he hardly takes with himself. The more he considers it, the more finds himself tentatively wanting it, and he nods carefully. He trusts Martin, he’s decided a thousand times by now.

“Alright,” He agrees, and smiles.

Martin smiles in response. “Alright. Do you want me to um-” He gestures with the towel in his hand, and Jon nods.

Martin makes quick work of running the towel under the tap until it’s warm, and then wringing it out so it’s ready to actually use. He takes his seat again and tips Jon’s head back with a hand to lay the towel gently overtop, letting the warmth seep into his skin. It’s more effort than Jon usually puts in, or used to, when he did this more regularly, but he finds it’s a nice feeling, and he almost misses it when Martin takes the towel away again.

“Right,” Martin continues, looks pointedly to the can of shaving cream in Jon’s hand and Jon hesitates.

“Ah. Maybe not that part? Th-the actual shaving is fine, but-”

“Oh! Yeah, of course,” Martin nods, not questioning, and reaches forward instead to gently take the razor itself from Jon’s fist so he can use both hands to get the shaving cream on his face. Jon surrenders the razor, forcing himself to trust it in Martin’s hands, to trust that Martin won’t just leave him hanging.

He tries not to think too hard about the feeling of the cream on his skin. It’s a far cry from lotion, so it doesn’t bring up any sense memories, thankfully, but it’s still an uncomfortable texture, and he focuses on the sound of Martin’s breathing to keep himself from slipping.

Fortunately it doesn’t take long; soon enough Jon’s finished, wiping his hands on his trousers, and then Martin’s shifting closer, taking Jon’s face in his hands like it’s something precious, something to be loved and cared for. He is very close, his dark brown eyes nearly black with focus as he gently reaffirms that Jon’s sure about this, and then the cool razor swipes across Jon’s cheek.

Jon’s heart lurches in his chest, a messy combination of nerves and gratefulness, but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move at all, and just watches Martin focus with gentle certaintly as the blade passes over his cheeks again and again in careful, confident strokes. His fingers whisper at Jon’s chin when he tilts up his head and swipes the blade carefully up the top of his throat, brow furrowed and tongue poking out of his lips in concentration.

Jon holds his breath, wills his heart to still, but it’s alright, with Martin it’s always alright. His hands are warm as they cup his cheeks, tilt him this way and that, thorough in their task, and his fingertips are gentle as they lift his chin and brush away foam and ghost over his throat. He never even comes close to nicking him, and Jon feels a great warmth unspooling in his chest, stinging his eyes.

“All done,” Martin finishes triumphantly, his face breaking into a grin as he hands Jon the towel again, lets him wipe off his own face.

There’s no coarse texture as the fabric touches his face, no itching or discomfort as it drags over his chin, and the steady drumbeat of wrongness that had pervaded him for weeks finally, finally dissipates, unblocking his lungs and releasing the tightness from his shoulders. He runs a hand over his chin, and finds a shy smile quickly taking over his face, affection and relief filling him up from the inside out and spilling onto his features.

“Thank you,” He breathes, and Martin matches his smile with one of his own, and nods, nothing but respect and affection in his eyes.

“Any time,” Martin says seriously, before reaching out to take Jon’s hand and slowly bringing it to his lips, giving Jon ample time to pull away. “You don’t have to struggle with this stuff alone,” He murmurs against Jon’s knuckles. “It’s easier together.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Jon’s response is quiet, and Martin kisses his hand then; gentle, and full of reverence. Jon finds that he could melt right into the floor and be happy for the rest of his life.

He reaches up to pull Martin down into a kiss, gentle and insistent and grateful, lacing his hands in his hair and sighing against his lips at the sensation, noting how nice it feels to kiss his boyfriend without his itching skin pressing at his thoughts.

The kiss stays chaste, and eventually Jon pulls back just enough to press their foreheads together, keeping his eyes closed, reveling in it. “Together, then.” He affirms, and Martin smiles.

“One way or another.”

#sorry this took forever but in my defense im insane so here we are #the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #tma fic #jonmartin fic #jonbinary #nonbinary jonathan sims #gender dysphoria #YES it’s a shaving fic ok listen. listen. im 🥺#my writing #answered #set in the safehouse!!

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crab-in-a-pocket · 4 years

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#2 w/ farmer/elliott perhaps?

thank you!! damn that was fast, haha. so, since i'm writing this as a little drabble/super super short fic, let me introduce to you my farmer, nick. three essential things you must know about her: she's tall, she's got light feet, and she has a source that tells her almost everything she needs to know about the town. by tall i mean 5'11 which isnt too far off from elliott's height acc to this guide:

so many of you guys are asking for elliott content and another person asked for the same prompt but flustered elliott so i'll respond to that with a link to this :) this is adorable and so cute so here ya go:

2- “No no no, sorry! I just-… I honestly didn’t think you even knew my name.”

Elliott stretches in his seat, his joints popping with disuse. It's nearly the afternoon and he needs a change of view-- his inspiration's dragging at the sight of the worn plank walls and the atmosphere in his rather cramped cabin. In fairness, it's cozy when he returns home from the crowded saloon, but right now, what he really needs is a healthy dose of sea air.

Elliott rises and leaves his desk as it is, taking his coat off the back of his chair. He pushes it back with a scrape and turns to the door, pulling it open. A creak echoes through his tiny shack, but it's drowned by the sudden sound of waves crashing on the shore and the calling seagulls.

He locks the door behind him and admires the view. He had been so enamored by the view that he didn't hesitate to lease the cabin from its previous owner when he first came-- then, regret set in when he realized that the owner really meant shack. The view always made up for it, though. It's a world of difference compared to Zuzu City and that just made it so much better.

"Oh, what's that?" Elliott says to himself, noticing something strange. He quickens his strides and inspects the oddity-- the broken plank bridge is no longer broken. His lips quirk up into a smile of delight and bemusement. He had always wanted to properly explore the other side of the river's mouth but who had fixed it...?

He tests the bridge with a foot. He can swim and the river isn't too large, but he's not aure how deep it is. To Elliott's astonishment, the bridge doesn't wobble under his weight. It's structurally sound-- did Robin fix it?

Elliot hurries across the bridge and catches sight of the tideland. He heads towards it and grins when he sees the little creatures and the crabs scuttling around, careful to avoid disturbing them. He looks at each and every tidepool and only then does he notice the footprints in the sand, shallow and barely noticeable.

Elliott turns to look at the old docks and he's surprised to see the silhoutte of a person fishing-- and evidently struggling. Elliott considers going to see who that mysterious person is (clearly not Willy, the stranger's not nearly as scruffy) but he takes another look at the rotting wood and changes his mind.

He'll meet whoever it is if they come back to land soon. In truth, he's hoping that it's the newcomer-- the new granger living on the very nearly abandoned Salem Farm. Leah's offered him a fair amount of gossip that she overheard in the Saloon and presented it to him with a surprising eagerness.

"I didn't quite catch her name, I would've asked Marnie but she wasn't there. First, she's tall. I'm not quite sure how tall but Mayor Lewis said she's taller than him, which isn't really much, honestly, but she's supposed to be pretty tall. He vaguely gestured around here," she had said, making a cut movement somewhere around Elliott's chin. "She's also very nice but hard-to-read, which Mayor Lewis complained about. I don't think it's so much of a problem, personally."

Leah had carried on with more waffle but it sufficed to say that Elliott wasn't very intrigued with those pieces of information. It was only when he caught sight of her inside the Saloon just as she was about to leave and just as he returned from the loo.

He didn't quite catch the sound of her voice, unfortunately, but he did catch a glimpse of short, dark hair, deeply tanned skin, and one elegant, long-fingered hand waving goodbye. And that was it.

Elliott's got a thing for intriguing not-quite-meetings and airs of mystery, to put it lightly, and he found himself writing about this short-haired, nameless, faceless person.

"Hey, Elliott. How goes it?"

Elliott jolts, nearly falling into the tide pool as he whirls around and almost comes face to face with a stranger. His face has probably done that one comical expression of surprise that Leah never fails to laugh at. Oh, hell, he didn't even hear her come close!

"Oh, sorry about that. I didn't mean to startle you," the stranger says, taking a step back and holding out her hand. "Nicola Salem, local newcomer. You can call me Nick. You must be Elliott, you live on that old shack there, don't you?"

Elliott hesistantly takes her hand. His face feels hot with embarassment. If there is something he believes in, it's probably that first impressions matter and he's never going to recover from this encounter.

"I-- yes, I live in the shack. I mean-- yes, I'm Elliott. Pleasure to meet you, Nicola," he says. Much to his displeasure, it comes out in a slight stammer. Ah, fuck.

"I never did catch your last name, but it doesn't matter, there aren't many other redhead writers named Elliott living in dilapidated shacks on the beach, are there? And I said you could call me Nick. No formalities here, don't worry."

Elliott smiles-- she's rather cheeky. Nick's much, much prettier than he expected. And... much taller. Her eyes are large and a curious shade of what's usually called hazel-- instead, he doesn't limit her eye color to a word and tries not to stare at the brilliant shades of blue, brown, and green. She's as tanned as she last was-- oh, she has dimples.

His face is probably as red as his hair, an unflattering shade of pink, but he steadies his voice to maintain some semblance of dignity. He opens his mouth to speak when he realizes that he's been staring at her a moment too long.

"Say, I've come off too strong, haven't I? I'm terribly sorry, Elliott, I really must've startled you. If you'd prefer, I'm not too busy later and... we can properly introduce ourselves at the Saloon, what do you say? Drinks on me if you're going. And you don't have to accept the invitation either, I don't mind."

Nick winces and takes another step back, a disconcerted look on her face.

Elliott takes a step forward. “No, no, no, sorry, it's fine! It's fine. I just-- I honestly didn’t think you even knew my name. So, it's fine. You startled me, yes, but I'm perfectly fine, now.”

"Oh. Oh, well, then, I'm glad," she replies uncertainly.

"I think I'll take you up on that invitation, if it's still open," Elliot offers, finally recovering from his brief moments of awkwardness. "I certainly don't mean to impose."

Nick stares at him for second, and then two. Then, she smiles widely. "Sure, sure, eight o'clock, then! I'll-- I'll see you around!" She turns away from him, a hand up in goodbye.

"Yes, same to... you," Elliott replies, trailing off as Nick vanishes from sight.

He shakes his head he turns to leave the tideland. Cloth sticks to his ankle-- grimacing, he peels off the wet cuffs of his trousers and heads back across the river to his shack. He was so distracted he didn't notice!

Elliott enters his cabin again. It no longer looks cramped. Pulling the chair towards him, he revels in its clatter and scrape. He gets to writing, glancing at the clock to note the time.

Four more hours.

Elliott turns back to his papers, smiling to himself.

#sdv #sdv fic #sdv headcanons #sdv elliot #stardew valley #stardew #stardew elliott #sdv elliott #stardew hcs #i got carried away a little #follow 👑 share ❤️ enjoy 🍑#asks open #also send me prompts

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wastelandlovingscenarios · 4 years

Note

aaaa hi I'm the 11 anon (self conscious nb!sosu w nick) and i forgot to mention that it's for romanced nick!! and I popped danse in that ask just in case you weren't feeling like writing for nick! (I understand how that feels, its hard to write for someone you're not in the right mood to write for) if my previous ask didn't go through, disregard this one! I hope you have a good day! 💖

hello! the previous one went through and i’m so sorry you’re having a rough week! i really hope it gets better for you. i’m wishing you nothing but happiness and safety! i hope i did this ask right and please enjoy. ❤️

if i used the wrong pronouns or had an entirely different view on it, please let me know! ❤️

prompt #11: “why’d you choose me?”

Nick:

they sat in front of the mirror, tears in their eyes as the radio played quietly in the background. there were scattered clothes on the floor and accessories littered over the desk they sat near, only reminding them of how self conscious they were.

it was their date night and somehow, sole couldn’t just settle with one outfit or look, overthinking about their appearance everytime they attempted to put something together. why couldn’t they just decide? why’d it have to be so hard for them?

they were gonna be late at this rate, and the last thing sole wanted was to make nick wait just because of their insecurities. the thoughts swirling in their head distracted them from the knocking that echoed within their room. “sweetheart?” sole jumped in their seat, frightened by the sudden break of silence. “can i come in?” sole knew that sweet voice from anywhere; it was the only one that could sooth their mind of the vicious thoughts that surrounded it.

they quickly wiped their tears away with the blanket nearby them, “of course!” and like that, nick slowly opened the door with a soft smile, closing it behind him gently. “just checking up on you to see if you’re doing alright.”

the mess in the room had already sent him the message that they were in fact not doing so good. his eyes flickered from the scattered items to sole, who desperately tried to avoid eye contact with him by tidying up the desk. this was more than enough for him to conclude that something wasn’t right.

“sorry, nick. i didn’t hear you knocking.” he quietly picked the clothes off the floor, gently throwing them over his forearm as he spoke, eyes fixated on them. “that’s alright.” he neatly folded them and stacked it on the bed, saving them the work later. after a few moments of silence, nick slowly brought up the topic. “is everything okay?”

soles mouth opened to respond, but tears began to well in their eyes at the question. ‘not now’ they thought pleadingly, choking back any sobs that threatened to escape. ‘not now, please.’

nick frowned and walked over to sole, wrapping his arms around their shoulders from behind. he pulled them into a hug, placing a kiss on their hair soothingly. “hey, sweetheart. if you’re going through something, you know i’m here for you.”

before they knew it, a soft sob escaped their mouth as they attempted to hide their face with the palm of their hands. nick whispered comforting words to them, continuing the hug, “it’s okay, sweetheart. let it out.”

“i don’t know, nick. i don’t know why you’re still with me.” they cried, “why’d you choose me? why would anyone choose me?”

they immediately felt themselves being spun around by the synth gently and locked eyes with his yellow ones. to say he was devastated to hear those words was an understatement. “hey now,” he said calmly, “i don’t ever wanna hear you say this again.”

“but-“

“there’s no buts, whys, or ifs, sole. there’s no further questions.” sole remained quiet with tears as nick stared them down with a sad expression, “you wanna know why i chose you, sweetheart?”

nick caressed their cheek with his hand, swiping away a tear that fell with his thumb. sole leaned into his touch, resting their hand on top of his. “i chose you because i love you for who you are. no one in this damn universe will ever compare to you,” he smiled softly, “you’re too amazing for this world. out of my years of being alive, choosing you will always be the best choice i’ve ever made and nothing will convince me otherwise.”

he leaned forward to place a kiss on their forehead, “i love you, sole. no matter who you are and who you will become, nothing will affect the way i feel for you.”

sole let out another cry, but this time with a much happier reason and embraced nick, wrapping both arms around his torso. he smiled and hugged them back, resting his cheek on their head. “thank you, nick.”

“no need to thank me,” he muttered, running his fingers through their hair, “now how’s about i help you choose an outfit and we’ll get going? i hope you’re still up for that date night.”

sole smiled, hugging nick a little tighter. “of course.”

#fallout #fallout 4 #fallout 4 companions react #fallout 4 companions #fallout 4 reacts #fallout+4+companions+reaction #fallout fanfiction #fo4 reacts #companions react #nick valentine #nick valentine x sole survivor #fluff #angst #react

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wonderlustlucas · 5 years

Text

four - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt They say good things come in fours. Who? Couldn’t tell you, but they especially do during Christmas. Maybe that’s just Saint Nick. ⇢ pairing hyunjin x female reader ⇢ word count 11.7k ⇢ genre fluff ⇢ warnings swearing. mentions of alcohol & s e x. teenagerz being teenagerz. insane amount of fluff & stupidity. kind of ends w a smutty cliffhanger. ⇢ summary After suppressing how you felt about Hyunjin back in high school, you thought you were done going back on your feelings. Turns out, a little time apart, the spirit of Christmas, and an accidental nap is the perfect cocktail for falling in love with your best friend.—friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n hello & merry christmas! here is a gift for you all on this very merry day. also, thank you for 1,000 followers! that in itself is one of the best presents i could ask for. thank you for all your kindness & support on my blog & for following me in the first place! it truly means so much to me. i hope you enjoy reading! ♥︎

big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇[now] Sorry! I just woke up

big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇[now] Whats wrong fool

big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇[now] Did u rlly think 12 texts were gonna wake me up?🤦🏻‍♂️ godt damn u on some WACK shit

You roll your eyes in time with each consecutive text that Hyunjin sends, waiting for the lock screen of your phone to blacken after reading them. He’s about as useless as pedals on a wheelchair, you think, ignoring the texts and forcing the device into the snug back pocket of your jeans before transferring the last two excessively packed grocery bags into the trunk of your car with an exhausted huff. Christ, if the bagging lady put one more item in those bags, she would be the one to blame for six cans of soup rolling about the parking lot.

The license plate rattles when you slam the trunk lid closed before hurrying around to the driver’s side and anxiously hopping inside to start blasting the heat. It is obnoxiously chilly for the first of September. Well, not really. Your body is just beginning to get used to the ungodly wrath of summer’s sweltering heat leaving you in a constant state of sweat and nausea for the past three months. Not that you’re complaining, of course. You nearly did somersaults of joy when the morning news reported a temperature of sixty-one degrees with some wind gusts and welcomed the beginning signs of autumn with open arms.

You would never admit to Mom who told yo uon the way out to change out of a tank top or at least wear a jacket, but yes— you are, in fact, cold. But now you have godsent warmth blowing from the vents and the seat warmer on its highest setting beginning to thaw away the goosebumps painted on your skin. Giving your arms one last rub, you lean up enough to retrieve your phone and open the conversation with Hyunjin.

[2:37 PM] YN: please. smell my balls

[2:37 PM] YN: nothings wrong btw. i was GOING to ask if u wanted any specific snacks for tn buttttt someone didn’t answer

[2:37 PM] YN: and excuse u i called too. i may be an idiot but im not stupid

[2:38 PM] YN: ik u would never hear a text when ur having wet dreams of yeji

You stop there with a smug smirk when the three dots on his side appear, knowing you’ve hit his funny bone with this one.

[2:38 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: Bruh

[2:38 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇 :I’ve literally never have had a wet dream ab Yeji pls stop

You cannot fight your shit-eating grin, thumbs circling over the keyboard in thought as he apparently deletes whatever other text he was going to send when the three dots disappear.

[2:38 PM] YN: mmhmmmm

[2:38 PM] YN: because last time you slept over you weren’t whimpering her name in ur sleep

[2:38 PM] YN: sureeeee

You decide to end your teasing there and continue once you’re home. It is starting to get late, after all, and Mom will begin to worry that the creepy employee always in aisle sixteen has abducted you. Plus, you’re cruel and like to watch Hyunjin suffer. Switching the ringer off, you throw your phone into the cupholder and drastically lower the heat and turn off the seat warmer. It’s starting to feel like a sauna in here, and not in a fun way. Can’t understand how anyone enjoys hanging out in a sauna to begin with anyway, but to each their own, you guess.

In the five-minute drive it takes until you are pulling into the driveway, Hyunjin calls three times. He is incredibly peeved at your lack of a response to his distressed texts and still wound up from your text about Yeji. As if! You’re already a clown not realizing his ever-growing affections for you, but to think he had a crush on Yeji? You’re the whole damn circus!

By the time he calls a fifth time, now sat up on his elbow in bed and strumming an annoyed beat of his fingers at his thigh because he really just wants to yell at you for being the most annoying person alive (and maybe to hear your voice, too), you have brought in the last of the bags and look to Mom who has started to put the groceries away and expects you to half-heartedly do the same.

“It’s Hyunjin. He’s having an existential crisis because I haven’t answered his texts,” you explain to her, unenthusiastically holding your phone as it vibrates against your palm. Half of you wants her to ask to finish putting everything away first just so you can torture him even longer. Alas, such extravagant wishes are denied, because when it comes to Hyunjin, your parents would undoubtedly throw you under the bus just to keep that boy happy. And so, just like any other time, Mom’s undying love for Hyunjin has her dismissing you from the kitchen with a hearty laugh.

“Jesus Christ! What?” You hiss, halfway up the stairs when you tap to answer his call on the last ring.

“Wow! Look who finally decided to answer!” Hyunjin shouts back, the swoosh of his sheets once he finally falls back against his pillow again rustling all too loudly through the phone. “I was driving,” you spit, marching into your bedroom and collapsing against your bed, the same rustle of your blankets sounding loudly into his ear. “There’s a thing called the speaker, ___. Ever heard of it?” He retorts, evidently shutting you up and he knows he won this round if your silence is anything to go by.

“Whatever,” you groan, using all your toe strength to kick the sneakers off your feet by their soles, “what was so important that you couldn’t wait and had to call me five billion times?”

“I had a question. And you hurt my feelings.” Well, shit. You can practically hear and see his pout through the phone and your heart positively swells in your chest at how undeniably, unjustifiably cute he is. You sigh.

“I’m sorry for making fun of you about Yeji. I’m going to do it again but next time I promise I won’t pull the wet dream card,” you apologize frankly; because, in all honesty, it would be worse to say you are not going to do it again when you most certainly will. Bullying Hyunjin is fun, what can you say?

Hyunjin heaves an exasperated breath from his lungs because he knows there is no point in arguing with quite possibly the most sarcastic human he knows and that’s the best form of an apology he’s going to get. Whatever. He’ll make sure to wipe his morning snot and droll on your shirt in the morning. “Anyway,” he grumbles, in the background you hear Kkami bark from a few rooms over, “I was going to ask if you wanted to come over my place instead? I know your parents probably want to see me and stuff but mine are out of town for the night so we can sleep in my bed until like three without Mom waking us up to force feed breakfast.” You roll your eyes. Of course your parents want to see him.

“Plus, Mom just put that grey comforter I know you really like on my bed so we can cuddle all night and watch stuff on YouTube,” he quickly adds as a convincing afterthought. He’s really got his sales pitch going on this one. Truth is, you have only slept in his bed with that stupidly soft blanket twice last winter break, but it’s still sweet that he remembers how much you loved it (aka how quickly you fell asleep and how grumpy you were being woken up because it’s just that darn cozy). Either way, you would never pass up an opportunity to snuggle up with Hyunjin in the comfort of his own bed with his citrusy, floral scent on the pillows luring you to sleep.

“My Mom is going to be heartbroken, Hyunjin,” you tease, “but who cares. You had me sold at sleeping until three. Do you still want me to bring the snacks I got?”

“Oh, thank God. I love your Mom’s cooking but I haven’t left bed all day and I really want to keep it that way. And yes, please. I’ve been eating dry cereal for the past two hours.”

“Hyunjin, have you brushed your teeth yet?”

“No. Didn’t you just hear me? I said I’ve been in bed all day. Eating cereal. When would I have brushed my teeth?”

“You’ve officially taken breakfast in bed to a whole new level, Jin. I’ll see you in a few hours. Oh, and please, you have no concept of personal space so make sure you brush your teeth before I come over.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Love ya, bye,” Hyunjin promptly hangs up, probably eager to get back to binging whatever drama he’s watching before you lecture him about his hygiene again. Not that it matters, anyway; chances are, it went in one ear and right out the other and you’re going to drag him out of bed later to brush his teeth.

Damn. You didn’t even get the chance to say love you back. Not that it matters.

It doesn’t, you quickly shut down the pesky thought that keeps you up at night and force it back into the storage part of your brain labeled ‘Deal with Later,’ because, really, you’ll have to think about that later. It’s not that you don’t want to think about it yet… you just don’t have the time to stop and really figure out what your feelings toward Hyunjin actually are. Yeah. That’s it.

And now isn’t the time, you tell yourself, scooting up the mattress in order to bury your face in the pillows to suffocate the pounding throb in your head. Hyunjin is nothing special.

Well, no. That’s a lie. Everything about Hyunjin is special. Anyone with eyes, ears, even a nose can sense that. You had quickly found out just how wonderful he is when you met him freshman year of high school. At the time, he was everyone’s sweetheart by the first day, but it just so happened his eyes were all on you.

He was obviously adorable, and every class you had together he always made a point to talk to you and returned your sarcasm with an impressive level of expertise. So, when it came to him asking you to the first homecoming, the answer was yes without a second thought. But during the last slow dance of the night, with his hands gently holding your waist, he at last listened to his conscience and revealed that as much as he liked you, he truly did not want to date in high school. Or right then, at least. And honestly, you were glad; Hyunjin was quite possibly your favorite person you had met thus far, and you would have rather kept him as a friend than commit to a relationship the second month of school and risk losing him later down the road.

And boy, keep him as a friend you did. As it turned out, Hyunjin grew to be your truest, best friend in high school. Sure, you each had your own friend groups, but the two of you were the iconic pair everybody knew. But strictly platonic, despite the rumors and wishes that went around for the next four years. You like to think that neither of you ever developed feelings past what everyone feels toward their best friend— an innocent, wholesome sort of love.

But when had things changed? Hormones, as always, were definitely a big part of it. Hyunjin was always a cutie, but it wasn’t until he grew into his own skin and developed a newfound confidence did you start to see him differently. Until everyone saw him differently. Neither of you missed the way people stared him down, pupils dilating every time he ran his fingers through the black tufts of his hair, hearts aching for some sort of interaction. Or when you started attending parties, groups of girls would fling themselves at him in a blundering disarray, most of which he would turn down with a gentle dismissal that flew over their heads, too drunk to actually care.

But then there were times his dick made the decision for him, desperation and deprivation weighing in on him and you’d watch with a tight jaw as he’d leave the room with the pretty girl of the night skipping after him. You never realized it was only on those nights did you wind up in the back seat of Han Jisung’s car.

But even after the physical attraction sizzled out over time, things were not the same. Hyunjin wasn’t your hidden little treasure anymore. All eyes were set on him and it took more than a glass of water to swallow your jealousy. But why? Why were you so resentful all of a sudden?

It’s hard to share Hwang Hyunjin, you decided. Once established that you were his main hoe and he was yours, it became a significant burden watching others try and get in between. Not that they did it with a malicious attempt to separate you, but it still hurt. You’re selfish, and you admit it— Hyunjin, quite frankly, is the love of your life. Romantic or not, nothing could change your feelings toward him. It goes beyond his unfathomable beauty and spunky personality. Everything about him from his nose to his hands, to his distaste for onions and the way his face scrunches up when he lets out that giggle of his and even to the way he prefers to sleep against the wall but will force you to when you’re over so he can “protect you in case there’s a monster” all mount into this big, giant section of your heart set aside for Hyunjin.

So despite your efforts to ignore the pang of jealousy each time he would find a potential someone or the joy whenever he’d find his way back because “they kept wanting to hang out in the morning even though I said I don’t wake up before noon,” this Hyunjin-shaped hole in your heart seems to only grow the longer you ignore it. Kind of like every medical condition out there: the longer you ignore it, the worse it gets. So, basically Hyunjin is your heart disease.

Yikes. Sounds a lot worse when you try putting it into words.

Well, he won’t be your heart defect for long if he keeps ruining those pearly whites of his by only brushing once just before bed, you chuckle to yourself, rolling to your side at the sudden lack of oxygen between your face and the pillow. There’s a fleeting moment without thought when you unconsciously reach for your phone to check for any notifications before the fattest revelation of them all falls from the ceiling and smacks you right upside the face.

Shit. Looks like you’ve gone right ahead and totally dissected each and every fiber of your feelings for Hyunjin.

Blinking up at the ceiling, the weight of your emotions isn’t as heavy as you expected them to be. Instead, it’s more of a breath of fresh air, as if you have finally accepted the way things fell instead of ignoring them. Your feelings for Hyunjin have always been there. It just took a little effort to get them out.

Nevertheless, it is going to be difficult hanging out with him in a few hours with your exposed emotions still needing to be processed. Especially when he will pull you to his side and keep you nestled there the entire night. Rubbing your temples, you realize it will take some serious self-control to put everything on the back burner and just enjoy the time spent with Hyunjin.

Sighing, you check the time on your phone again. 3:21 and a text from Hyunjin asking if you could bring green tea.

“Mom!” You yell, defeated. “You were right!”

You used to think Hyunjin lived far away. Truthfully, he’s only fifteen minutes away if you go ten over the speed limit. But the only way to get to his house entails driving through the chaos of the mall and town center, which adds an extra ten minutes sitting through traffic no matter the time of day.

Now, Hyunjin’s college campus is two hours away. Well, technically five from you, since you’re almost three hours away in the opposite direction. So you’re lucky if you get to see him once a month with how hectic school becomes and how difficult it is trying to plan to come home the same weekend. Fortunately, it has worked out this semester. And while you should spend this time with your families, they know how much you crave one another’s company as the weeks drag on. The twenty-two minutes it takes getting to each other’s homes is totally worth it.

You expect Hyunjin to tell you to use the key hidden underneath the resin meditating frog statue in the front garden to unlock the front door when you text him you have arrived, but to your utmost surprise, he’s there, awake, to open the door for you.

“Stinky!” You yell, dropping your things on the floor to burry yourself in his embrace, standing on your tippy toes to wrap your arms around his neck in order to really get the full experience of hugging your favorite giant. “Poopy!” He shouts in return, long arms winding tightly around your waist and even going so far as to lift you up a few inches. God. Hate when he does that.

“Why are you up? I thought I’d have to let myself in with you sleeping all your problems away,” you ask, smiling gratefully when he bends down to pick up your bag. “I realized Kkami hadn’t been out all day, so I came down to let him out and find actual food,” Hyunjin explains as he makes way into the kitchen, opening the back door to let said dog back inside. “Aw, poor thing,” you pout, squatting to scratch at Kkami’s neck when he zooms faster than the speed of light to you, “does that mean you brushed your teeth?”

“I did, actually,” Hyunjin snorts right back, scrunching his nose at you before turning away to open the fridge. Sitting on the floor with Kkami in your lap, you take the opportunity to finally get a good look at Hyunjin now that he’s distracted. And of course, he looks good. Really good. Last time you saw him he still was a brunette, a look he rocked during the spring and summer months. This is the first time you’ve seen the freshly dyed black hair in person. Even though he always looks handsome, something about Hyunjin with black hair completely changes his aura. Brings back memories of how badly you wanted him in high school. You shiver at the thought.

And, to top it all off, how he manages to stay in such disgustingly good shape despite his atrocious eating habits never ceases to amaze you. Like, come on. The boy eats worse than a raccoon seven days out of the week, lives off boba, works out maybe five times a month, dances in his free time and still keeps his body in tiptop shape. God, you hate him. His pediatrician probably hates him, too. You even go as far as to sniff the fries in your dining hall and you gain five pounds.

Even now, he looks unnecessarily regal in the baggy material of his sweatpants and flannel. And the warmth of his kitchen’s ambient lighting does nothing to suppress the heavy thumping of your heart. So casual is his dress, yet how immaculate he looks rummaging the cabinets for a snack.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, the familiar softness of his voice shaking you from your daze as he closes the refrigerator door after his unsuccessful search. Here’s the thing: you really aren’t hungry, but Hyunjin clearly is, so if you say no then all he will be thinking about is food until you decide that you are hungry. “Yeah,” is what you say, nudging Kkami off your crossed legs to stand, “I brought green tea and a few snacks, but we could order Chinese food or something. The place near Dunkin’ and the gas station makes bubble tea now, too.”

Hyunjin’s brows shoot up, flashing his boxy smile. “Is it good?”

“I mean, I’ve only had their pork dumplings and mango tea before, and it was pretty good. I don’t know about their noodles or anything, though,” you shrug, moving to stand beside him at the kitchen island. Distracted by Kkami trying to jump onto the sofa in the living room, you don’t look to Hyunjin until the poor dog is successful in doing so. Startled to find him already gazing down at you, your heart truly is not prepared for him to go right ahead and wrap his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. Totally not freaking out or trying to overthink his need to constantly cling, you justify his actions by quickly recalling the time he said, “My head is too godtdamn big for my godtdamn body.” More like his head is too heavy because instead of a brain it’s just a chunk of cement up there. He just needs to rest his head sometimes.

Yeah.

“Mm, I don’t know,” Hyunjin hums, swaying your body with his to an unheard tune. By now, any coherent thought has dissipated into thin air and all you can do is melt against him. “Why?” You manage.

“’Cus if we order anything that means I’ll have to get up and get it.”

“Oh my God, Hyunjin, really?” You laugh. Your hands naturally glide to where his are linked at your stomach, pressing to interlock your fingers overtop his. “If that’s the only reason for your uncertainty than I could always come get it, idiot.”

“No! It’s okay,” Hyunjin says, jumping back before you can even process it, “I’m not that hungry anyway.”

“Ohhh ‘kay,” you laugh breathlessly, whiplashed by the whole thing. Good thing you aren’t hungry, because when was the last time Hyunjin turned down food? Blinking at him precariously, he doesn’t seem to notice until one too many seconds of silence pass by.

“C’mon,” he demands excitedly, jumping back into reality, “my roommate told me to watch this anime called Soul Eater but I wanted to watch it with you.” Once again, before anything can even register past every single That Was Cute™ alarm ringing in your brain, Hyunjin is grabbing your bag and reaching for your hand, leading you out of the kitchen and upstairs.

You and Hyunjin binge aforementioned anime until he falls asleep first around 2 AM, only stopping to order food an hour in (he’s an indecisive man indeed), to get up to retrieve it, and to actually eat while catching up. For most of the night, you are able to forget the way his heartbeat against your back mirrored your own in the kitchen. But then, a little while after you fall asleep yourself, Hyunjin unconsciously shifts closer and you spend another hour blinking at his relaxed hand twitching against your abdomen, trying to keep the hurricane inside your heart at bay.

You can’t make it home October. Hyunjin texted you to let you know he was going to be the third weekend in, and you tried desperately to manage your time in order to make it work. But one group project in chem lead to another paper in psych and before you knew it, your roommate was listening to you sob over a boy and curse out your classes.

September left you emotionally wrecked, to be totally honest. You hate Hyunjin and you hate the way he makes you feel and you especially hate how realizing you have a crush on him makes you unsure if everything he does is his way of hinting he feels the same or if he’s always been this touchy and you are just now recognizing it. So, missing a month of seeing your favorite human being essentially means missing another day of trying to decipher which actions of his go in the Friend list, and which go in the Questionable list. And that, my friend, is unacceptable.

You absolutely cannot not go home this month. November is the calm before the storm (the storm being exams looming the second week of December), and while it would be beneficial maybe staying on campus to continue preparing, you tell yourself going home will be just as helpful. Mental breaks, and stuff. Totally not just to see Hyunjin.

Either way, Hyunjin asks you if you would join him on the seventeenth to go to his second cousin’s christening and you absolutely cannot say no when you know how bored Hyunjin gets at family events when they aren’t for him. And so, fast forward to the third Sunday of November and you are ready to pass out ten minutes after entering the church.

“I’m so happy for you two! I always knew you would last into college,” one of Hyunjin’s aunts exclaims, pinching your cheeks but the only pinch you feel is that of your heart.

Clearly she is misinformed, or just prone to jumping to conclusions but yet again, you can’t really blame her with how couple-y you and Hyunjin are. Past the single tunnel vision of your gaze, you watch her smile falter when Hyunjin goes rigid beside you and oh my God this is the most embarrassing moment of my life, his whole family thinks we’re dating and here we are still stuck in each other’s friendz—

“I’m glad you think so, imo,” Hyunjin suddenly picks up, sneaking an arm around to rest his hand on your hip, tugging you close, “I don’t know what I’ll do if she ever decides to leave me.”

It’s nice to think that he means it, to imagine that you are here not as a tag-along but to join him in a family ceremony because you are part of the family. The thought turns your blood to sugar and everything surrounding you falls apart; you listen to the rest of their conversation without processing it, the precise detailing in the marble pillars blurs into a mass of white, and you still feel his strong hold on the curve of your waist yet you are lost in the swam of possibilities.

How lovely it would be to live up to her assumption. To ‘last into college’ as a couple, not as best friends. To be able to call him yours even when you’re not together, to come home and kiss his lips, to sleep in his bed and it mean more than the laziness of blowing up the air mattress. At some point, he leads you into the third pew to sit beside his parents, and when you greet them with a hug all you can think about is them viewing you as more than their son’s friend.

God, you hate it.

You’re not as religious as Hyunjin and his family. But for the first time in years, you find yourself looking to the crucifix during the service and praying to whoever is up there to give you some strength and patience, because Lord do you need it.

Hyunjin is a funny guy.

Or so he thinks.

It’s not that he isn’t funny. It’s just— compared to your friends Minho or Changbin, he isn’t at the top of the list. When you think of Hyunjin, the first words that pop up are soft, loud, and dramatic.

It’s not that he isn’t funny. He’s just weird.

Insanely, ridiculously weird. For example, the time he called Jeongin a vitamin. Or the time he slapped half a bottle of sunscreen on his face. Or his random bouts of dancing at inappropriate moments. Just to name a few.

After the Baptism, Hyunjin acted like nothing happened. Didn’t even bring it up. Not even a joke. After the ceremony, you joined his family for a luncheon, which just involved the two of you being weird and making peculiar dancing videos on SnapChat with the swirly filter and complaining about school for a few hours until he drove you home. Obviously you stopped for food again on the way.

But that was it. Things went on as normal, and you returned to campus later that night and forced the whole experience to the back of your brain. It was officially grind season, and grind season meant studying for exams. No parties. No boys. And certainly no Hyunjin.

You both were home for winter break in the blink of an eye. And in normal Hyunjin style, he sort of vanished for the first week. Probably catching up on his strict sleeping schedule, you presumed, and accepted the fact that it was going to be a few days before you saw or even heard from him. The only anticipation you felt was wanting to give him his Christmas gift.

After what seems like an eternity away from Hyunjin, you get out of the shower on this fine Saturday before Christmas to find a slew of texts from him.

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: Aloha mamacita

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: How do u feel about getting froyo tn

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: We can get fat and then u can sleepover aaaand

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: We can stare at the wall for a few hours

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: And

[5:53 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: *cough*

[5:53 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: Exchange Jesus gifts

See? Weird. Who wants froyo when it’s thirty degrees out?

[5:53 PM] YN: “aloha mamacita”

[5:53 PM] YN: uHmmmMMM

[5:53 PM] YN: im down mr president

[5:54 PM] YN: why do u want ice cream in winter tho. don’t u want like

[5:54 PM] YN: hot chocolate or seomthing

Obviously not. Two hours later, Hyunjin arrives to pick you up for froyo despite all your efforts in convincing him maybe you could take the train to the city and watch a light show, or simply drive around and swoon over the rich people houses and their Christmas decorations. He didn’t budge. This leads you to your second question of the day: why is it that when you threw on sweats for the occasion you called yourself a hag, but upon entering Hyunjin’s car you make a mental note of how hot he looks when he’s wearing the same exact thing? You groan at the thought. It’s because it’s Hyunjin, of course.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle,” he greets, flicking your forehead once you settle into the seat of his Subaru WRX because he’s a hotshot and likes to flex that he can drive a manual. Not really— the car is absolute garbage by now, having been his Dad’s old car (his Dad likes to flex too, apparently). However, Hyunjin takes care of it enough for it to seem five years old instead of ten, and, either way, watching him work the stick shift is unexplainably hot.

You swat his hand away. “Drive, bitch,” you huff, twisting to buckle yourself in. Once he’s reversed out of your driveway, you glance back to find him fighting against a devilish smirk.

“So,” you start once he has navigated out of your neighborhood. His brow twitches up. “Are you taking Hawaiian and French at school? You’ve been throwing quite a lot of languages at me recently.” Hyunjin shoots you an unamused look. You return it with a wrinkle of your nose.

“Anyway,” he ignores your teasing, pausing to switch gears for whatever reason so he can make it through a yellow light, “how did your exams go?”

“Well, you know…” You trail off, looking to your window. It feels a lot later than eight o’clock. With it getting dark so early in the evening nowadays, it feels as if nighttime is always following you.

“You know… what?” Hyunjin interrupts your daze, concern laced in his voice. “They were fine. I passed everything, I’m just worried about my major,” you explain sadly, barely glancing at him before you are turning back to the window to stare at the moon. Must be nice being a moon. Just get to hang out in the sky watching everyone and being watched.

“I mean, if you want to switch, now’s the time. Better do it now before the second semester,” Hyunjin advises, wise as always. Not really, but he’s right. “What are you thinking of going into?”

Yikes. He’s going to kill you.

“Nursing,” you blurt.

“Oh my Lanta, ___, are you serious?” He groans, stopping at a convenient red light presenting the perfect opportunity for him to smack his forehead on the wheel. Dramatic. “How are you gonna manage that? You’ll practically be two years behind everyone else!”

“I know,” you sigh, throwing your head back on the headrest, “that’s the problem. Bio just isn’t doing it for me. I don’t think I can spend the rest of my life in a lab watching mitosis. I need something more rewarding, so theoretically nursing is a perfect start. I don’t know, though.”

“Why don’t you switch to interior design or something? We could get our own HGTV show, ___,” he says, but you don’t meet his gaze when he glances over because beneath his words, you can sense some serious hopefulness. Interior design would be cool, but you’ve never considered that as a career choice. You once helped your parents pick out everything when they redid a bathroom at home and that turned out great, but as a major?

“I don’t know, man. I’ll have to talk to my counselor about it, I guess,” you shrug, pulling the hood of your sweatshirt over your head and tightening the drawstrings until the material covers your eyes, “why can’t you audition to be a K-pop star or something? I could be your manager. Heck, even your makeup artist. I’ve done your makeup before, remember?”

Hyunjin laughs, loud, and the sound sinks deep into your heart and makes you feel warm all over. Stress? Gone.

For the next few minutes or so, the ride is comfortably quiet. At some point, he turns on the radio and Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You” floods your brain and reminds you to look forward to exchanging Christmas gifts later. God, you hope he likes it. You really went out on the sentimental gifts this year.

Hood shielding your vision, you jump when his large hand suddenly comes to grab the top of your head, squeezing hard and you imagine he’s trying to press some hopefulness into your brain. “Hand on the penis stick, Hwang,” you bark, blindly reaching for his own head across the way and pulling his ear when you do so. Good Lord, you hope no one can see into the car because… what.

Hyunjin lets out a giggle this time, reaching to pull you into a headlock and even though he’s got your head shoved up against his sturdy chest and goes on to give you a noogie, you’re stuck being all high and loopy on the sound of his happiness. And hey, it’s nice to know you’re the cause of it.

“We’re literally parked, idiot. If you had your hood down you would’ve realized,” Hyunjin snickers, releasing you after watching you struggle for a few seconds. Jerking away from him, you swiftly pull back your hood. “Oh,” you laugh, reading the flashy Yogo Factory sign above the building in front of you, “you could’ve just told me instead of watching me bask in misery.”

Hyunjin suitably ignores your moaning and groaning by getting out of the car and standing in front of the car, illuminated by the headlights. Why? Why must he look so scrumptious in his black hoodie and grey sweatpants and four-year-old white Nike sneakers? He has no gosh darn right!

After fixing the mess he made of your hair, you at last join him outside the car, shooting him another glare and moving ahead of him to open the shop’s door without waiting for him. “From now on, we have to start texting each other what we’re wearing before we go out, ‘cus this looks a little ri-donk-ulous,” Hyunjin whispers in your ear as you make your way to the cup selection, trying to ignore all the stares you— no, he is getting along the way.

“What do you mean?” You ask, plucking two medium sized cups up before turning to look at him. Then you look down at yourself. Oh. Looks like you’re both wearing the hoodie from junior spirit week. “Nice.” Just Couple Things™!

Back to Hyunjin being weird— why did he drag you all the way out here just to get a cup of chocolate frozen yogurt and maybe half a scoop of peanut butter chips?

Meanwhile, he watches in absolute disgust as you blow through your own dessert. Vanilla yogurt with probably every topping offered because you physically cannot make a decision, especially when they have chunks of cookie dough up there.

“So,” Hyunjin starts, trying not to look you in the eye considering you look like a goblin shoveling globs of diabetes down your throat, “have you talked to Jisung recently?”

You choke on a Fruity Pebble at his inquiry, prompting him to reach across the table and slap your back a few times until your esophagus is cleared. “Ugh,” clearing your throat one last time, you take a few sips of water while shooting him a glare. Jisung? Really? “How dense are you?” You hiss unintentionally.

Hyunjin raises his hands in defense. “Just a question.”

Yeah, just a question. Dumbass. “I mean,” you laugh awkwardly, “not really. We have a streak on Snap and sometimes we’ll talk occasionally but I don’t text him every day or anything. How about you?”

He shrugs, concentrating instead on stirring his yogurt into a goopy mess. “Eh. We still use our group chat a lot but that’s it. He’s too busy making music in Malaysia.”

You chuckle at this, picking out the boba from your own cup and leaving the rest now that it has started to look like something sold at the Chum Bucket. “That sucks,” you offer, not the best at giving him consolidation, you opt for linking your feet around his own in some weird act of intimacy, “isn’t he coming home for the holidays, though? I’m sure you can all have a reunion soon.”

“Yeah, he is,” Hyunjin hums, suddenly too focused on trying to escape your trap under the table. Annoyed Hyunjin is cute. “Stoooop,” he whines, kicking at your shins before breaking into boisterous laughter at your relentlessness, “I will not hesitate to throw this cup at your face.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff, “I’d like to see you try.”

At this, Hyunjin drops his stupidly long arms beneath the table and easily captures your foot by the ankle, pulling hard enough for you to slip down your side of the booth. “Hyunjin!” You shriek, panicking slightly at your sweaty hand’s insecure grip against the leather. You’re going to fall. You’re going to fall flat on your ass underneath a table at a frozen yogurt place because the boy you like pulled your foot too hard. Fantastic. Ignoring you, he starts to wiggle your shoe off your foot no matter how hard you try to squirm out of his relentless grip. “Stop trying to eat my toes in the middle of Yogo!”

Finally, he releases your foot, letting it fall limp against his thigh.

“God,” you huff, breathless as you squirm back up your seat, cheeks burning ferociously, “you are such an ass.”

Behind the playful smirk he fails to hide, something darker glints in Hyunjin’s eyes and it makes your heart skip a beat. Then, “We should go.” The suggestion makes the heat of your blush scorch even hotter down your neck and you instinctively turn away, only to find the customers on the other side of the shop watching you with just as perturbed looks. Fantastic, part two.

“Okie,” you squeak out, blinking after him in complete and total bewilderment as to what just happened when he gets up to throw his trash away. Whatever. Following after him, you too toss your cup out before quickly finding your hand engulfed by his larger one as he leads you back outside, the sudden sharpness of the cold air bringing tears to your eyes. You desperately want to ask him what that was about, or why he’s acting so sneaky, but you stay silent, too afraid your voice will come out shaky and vulnerable. Instead, you let him tug you into his side and try to keep up with him no matter how badly your knees threaten to buckle with each glance you sneak up at him.

It’s silent when you enter the car, watching warily as he reverses out of the parking spot and maneuvers through the lot. Your heart rate seemingly cannot slow itself down, adrenaline taking the place of oxygen the longer you stare at him, at the concentrated scrunch to his face, at the cute tip of his button nose and at the swell of his lips and you distantly wonder what would happen if you pulled him into a kiss at the next red light.

In the midst of your daydream Hyunjin clears his throat, bringing you back to reality and you realize with a startle that he has caught you. Jesus Christ! What has gotten into you? You mentally smack yourself upside the head, instantly turning away from his cocky little gaze and staring straight ahead in search of something else to focus on. “___,” he sing-songs, slow and sensual and entirely demolishing the walls you have built around yourself. It is at this red light you wish to simply open the door and run.

“Yes?” You manage, wincing at how small your voice sounds and while looking out his window instead of into his eyes, you notice him grip the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. The tension is insurmountable, weighing in heavily on your chest and you desperately wish to arrive home, even though that means having to survive the next twelve hours with him. Anything is better than the small confines of his car.

“What do you want to do when we get home?” He asks, cool as a cucumber. You pale. It is a dangerous question and you do not know if he realizes that. “Um,” you cough, scooting to sit up straight, “whatever you want.” You whisper the last part, genuinely petrified because you have absolutely no idea if your brain is twisting everything to make it seem like Hyunjin is flirting or if things are totally normal. No idea.

“Hm,” he offers, tilting his head in thought, “we shall see.”

Yeah. We shall.

The rest of the ride is quiet, comfortably or uncomfortably you cannot say because you are too busy trying to calm the Spongebob burning office scene occurring inside your own head, hopelessly telling yourself that everything is fine, Hyunjin’s fine, you’re fine. Just pretend like nothing happened, you tell yourself when Hyunjin pulls into his driveway with practiced ease. “Ugh,” he groans after retrieving your bag from the back seat, and you watch with a raised brow as he skips up to his porch, yelling, “I have to pee!”

“Begone with you, piss boy,” you tease, holding the screen door open for him as he struggles to unlock the storm door and pulling on one of his hoodie’s drawstrings just to annoy him. “Stop,” he growls, low and playful but nevertheless sending a swarm of butterflies to your tummy. You ignore him. Finally unlocking the door, Hyunjin shoves the keys into his pocket and seizes your wrist, yanking your arm down with enough force to nearly topple you into him. “Why are you being so annoying tonight?” He frowns at you, nose and brows scrunched in irritation and it is only because of his proximity do you finally soften up.

“Sorry,” you pout back, bringing your other hand up to boop his nose, “I just missed ya.”

“Ew,” he snorts, stepping past the threshold and kicking off his shoes. You follow suit, closing the door behind you and clicking the lock into place as Kkami comes sprinting over. “B-R-B,” Hyunjin announces, presumably bouncing away to the bathroom.

“Oh, boy,” you huff, squatting to pick up the fluffy little dog and hugging him close to your chest, “your dad is making my life very difficult.” Pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head, you put Kkami back down and grab your bag before heading upstairs, knowing Hyunjin is going to take his grand old time and probably take a shit while he’s at it. Plus, you’re impatient and dying to take your bra off.

Aside from what light his Gudetama nightlight offers, Hyunjin’s room is ultimately left dark. Here’s the thing: he used to have a lamp on his dresser, but then he took it with him to college and only brings it home for summer because he’s lazy and sleeps the majority of the time he’s home, anyway. Instead, he put up his little remote-controlled Christmas tree in addition to the lava lamp he has beside his bed. Perfect. For Hyunjin, at least.

Switching both of these on, their subtle glow offers just enough to keep you from banging your toe against something. It’s happened one too many times. Hyunjin’s room isn’t messy— he really isn’t a messy person to begin with, but he will reorganize the furniture in his room fifty times a year and you never know where the crooked leg to his bedside table will be to ambush your pinky toe.

Setting your bag onto his bed, you excitedly fumble past all your layers and unclasp your bra, maneuvering out of it with a delighted exhale just as Hyunjin begins his ascent up the stairs, steps creaking loudly under his heavy trudging. “I’m an idiot,” he grumbles, leaning against the doorframe to catch his breath.

You don’t bother to look at him, opting to quickly retort instead, “We been knew.”

“Ugh,” Hyunjin groans, exasperated, and you finally turn to him after successfully jamming aforementioned undergarment into your bag, “anyways. I don’t know why I didn’t just come up here, because I have to wash my face anyway and you do too and now we’re both going to have to share a sink.”

“Aw,” you coo, tone dripping with sarcasm as you pat his arm, “poor baby has to share the bathroom.”

“I’m actually going to strangle you,” he sighs, nevertheless following after you into the bathroom.

“Kinky.”

Hyunjin glares, unamused as he opens a drawer for his pink bow hairband and your striped pink and blue one that he bought for you, but keeps here for sleepovers. Yeah. He throws it to your face. “Sorry,” you offer, pulling the soft headband up to hold your hair back, “I’ll try to stop. I’m just so used to annoying you.”

“Clearly,” he scoffs, flashing his stupidly cute teasing smile and in your head, you imagine raising a white flag in surrender— he’s got you, he’s won, it’s over. Time to call it quits and head home. Evidently shut up (for now), you offer him a roll of your eyes before turning on the sink to wet your hands before pumping out some of his scrumptious watermelon face wash. Maybe if you scrub hard enough, you’ll manage to rinse away all the overwhelming thoughts of the night, too.

Barefaced Hyunjin is immaculate. Well, Hyunjin is immaculate twenty-four hours out of the day, but barefaced, freshly washed, hair messy, ready for bed Hyunjin is immaculate, and you are one of the few people lucky enough to see this eighth wonder of the world as often as you do.

Now, maybe it has something to do with the unexpected ambiance the light from his laptop, Christmas lights, and lava lamp have created together that makes him look so unfairly beautiful at this given moment. Or, you’re just insanely pussywhipped and looking for an excuse. You try not to think about it.

“Why are you so squirmy tonight?” He asks, frustrated enough to interrupt Kermit singing ‘Shawty I don’t mind’ playing from his laptop. “I’m not,” you defend, a weak argument indeed, given that you have just finished adjusting your position beside him for the umpteenth time.

“I mean, four female Ghostbusters? The feminists are taking over! I’m an ad—”

“___, you’ve touched my dick like four times. Don’t try and tell me you’re not squirmy. What’s wrong?” Hyunjin interrupts a second Vine, and even goes on to talk over ‘I have the power of God and anime on my side!’ like a lunatic. Oh Christ, you have? Surely you would have noticed. “Sorry,” you mumble, embarrassed as you bury your face into the curve of his pectoral and instinctively move your leg settled between his away, “I’m just hot, to be honest.” Technically, it is not a lie. Hyunjin’s family definitely keeps their thermostat at a higher temperature than yours and you always manage to sweat your ass off every time you come over. This time, however, you are certain it has more to do with the assault your heart is facing rather than your sweat glands.

At the sound of his tap against the spacebar to pause the video, you wordlessly and reluctantly sit up from your comfortable spot beside him in order to rid yourself of your heavy sweatshirt. Now, here lies the problem. Sweatshirt: off. Nipples: out. Realistically, Hyunjin has seen your boobs a number of times over the past few years, and even if he hadn’t, he probably wouldn’t even bat an eye. But right now, your heart is on the line, you’re embarrassed and you’re trying to play it extremely safe.

You toss the hoodie to the floor and nestle right back where you were anyway, slinging your right arm over his torso and ignoring his sharp intake of breath when you snuggle closer. “Better?” He asks, voice strained and it literally makes you nauseous. “Yep.”

He resumes the video. You had started early in the night watching Pom Poko, which unsurprisingly ended with the two of you crying at the bittersweet ending, then moved to TikTok compilations on YouTube to cheer up before moving on from them and onto the classic Vine compilations. You paid good attention for the most part, chuckling along with him to ‘What up, I’m Jared, I’m nineteen and I never fucking learned how to read,’ ‘Bruh chill, I don’t know why you in a big time rush,’ and all the other absolute comedic masterpieces. But after the fourth or fifth video of the same six second clips with an occasional rare one, you began to grow bored and decided to do what you do best: admire Hyunjin.

Sure, ‘Come get yo juice!’ followed by the loud smash of the oven made you smile, but you found the flashing lights casting shadows beneath Hyunjin’s eyes and lips much more fascinating. Of course, this is not the first time you have been held so close to him. But it is, however, all too easy to get lost in the sight of him and you’ve noticed recently that you are in desperate need of a map. Whether it’s due to your time away from him or simply an appreciation for untouched beauty you do not know.

Even now, your gaze flickers to his laptop once you hear ‘Get to Del Taco,’ but having already watched it five thousand times you tilt your head upward to catch Hyunjin’s silent giggle at ‘free-sha-voca-do.’ It’s a vicious cycle, really, going back and forth between wanting to simply enjoy the night and realizing enjoying the night lies totally in Hyunjin’s presence. And so, you continue to fall into this trap each time until you pay no mind to the videos at all, basking in the brilliance of Hyunjin’s joyous smile and the warmth his happiness makes you feel. It is this thought that slowly tugs you to sleep, a fight to keep your heavy eyelids open lost until finally, you give in to the comfort and allow yourself to drift off to the sound of ‘Step the fuck up, Kyle.’

You think you are dreaming.

You think.

“___,” the softness of Hyunjin’s voice at the crown of your head eases you from the clutches of sleep and you stretch your locked limbs before curling further into his side. “We didn’t open presents.” Even though you can’t see him, you can hear his pout, and you realize you must be awake to hear the disappointed words caught sluggishly between his lips so vividly. You hum, hesitant to open your eyes because you really want to go back to sleep. Just for a little while. And so, you ask, “What time is it?”

“Just past two,” he whispers.

You hum again, trying to formulate a sensible sentence in the parts of your brain still asleep, “We can… wake up at four. And open gifts. Okay?”

“Okay, weirdo,” Hyunjin chuckles to himself, sliding lower down the mattress after shutting his laptop.

You think you are dreaming.

You think.

You can’t remember ever falling asleep facing each other. But yet again, your brain is clouded beyond capability and now, you know for certain you are dreaming. Hyunjin never faces you.

Blinking slowly, it takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the impenetrable darkness and you struggle to make out the features of Hyunjin’s face. You know you are dreaming, and so you tug him closer, throwing a leg over his thigh and an arm over his waist. Even in your sleep, you feel the sadness pricking at your heart, for even it knows this is only what dreams are made of. You like to make the best of it.

“You know I love you, Jinnie, right?” Your voice comes out funny, drawn out and mumbled like your tongue is numb and you fight the urge to feel for yourself.

“Of course I do. I love you too.” His reply surprises you. You thought he was asleep and, either way, hearing such fond words from him puts your heart at ease. He must be misunderstood.

“No. I mean like… I like you, love you. Like I want to kiss you… kiss you good morning and before bed love you. Send you hearts and take stupid couple pics and… go on dumb dates love you. You know?” Your words feel garbled and incomprehensible the longer you go on, trying to express how you feel when nothing is real proving to be increasingly difficult. God, if only you could do it when things are real.

You start to feel yourself slipping as he mutters a reply, mind in free fall and fuck, fuck, fuck, he’s whispering and you can’t hear him but you are too tired and helpless to wake yourself up to hear it. No, too lost in the next dream to go back. You can’t tell what is real and what isn’t. Christ, were you awake? You can’t tell. All you know is that you are warm, so, so warm and letting sleep take over you once more is the best answer to all your questions.

Hyunjin always says he hates waking people up. Because he’s normally the one needing to be awoken, whenever the roles are swapped he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.

This time, however, he takes it upon himself to repeatedly smack your face with his pillow. Not a fun experience when it’s coming from someone who fails to recognize his own strength. “Jesus, fuck! Okay!” You hiss, the cloud of sleep abruptly ripped away from you with the slap of his pillow against your skin. Arms raised defensively in front of you, you catch his next swing and tear the pillow out of his grasp to shield yourself all before you have even opened your eyes. When you do so, with the blatant intention just to find where he is and hurl the pillow at him, you are met with the harsh light from his ceiling fan and have to squint past the stinging white light to see his shit-eating grin.

“Was that necessary?” You groan, undeniably annoyed and wanting to glare at him more but needing to rub the ache out of your eyes. “Yes,” is all he says, reaching for your bag and catapulting it to you. He is incredibly lucky you are quick enough to catch it before it thumps against your head. What has gotten into him? Did he eat an entire bag of Pixy Stix while you were asleep? You watch, still dazed from sleep and reeling from the whole pillow smacking attack, as he flings open his closet door and turns back around with two neatly wrapped boxes. You squint to make out the dancing Santa T-rex wrapping paper.

“Oh,” you chirp, understanding, and you unzip your bag to retrieve the large box taking up the majority of space, “thanks for waking me up. I’m surprised you remembered. Did you stay up?”

A rosy blush burns its way across his cheekbones. Odd. “I, um— yeah. No, actually,” he stutters, really odd, given he was bouncing off the walls not even thirty seconds ago, “I set an alarm. You made me sleepy.” Hyunjin sits beside you once you have scooted over, leaning against the wall and crossing his long ass legs. He keeps his eyes trained on the boxes in his hands. “Oh,” you hum, looking to your own gift and suddenly wishing for the mattress to swallow you up, “sorry. I haven’t gotten as much sleep as you on break so far.”

“I don’t think anyone ever has,” he jokes and you finally look to him, sharing a cheeky smile before he gets all shy again, tongue darting out to wet his lips, “um, Merry Christmas, ___.”

It’s a simple phrase, but it makes your heart swell. “Merry Christmas to you too, Hyunjin.” Leaning over, you wrap your arms around his shoulders in an awkward side hug, but still end up feeling all drunk and loopy on love when he eagerly returns the gesture, arms curling around you.

“Okay,” you huff, sitting back, “me first.” You dramatically hold your gift out to him, jittery and nervous all over. Buying for Hyunjin is always hard. He’s just so easy to please, but when you want to do more than just please him it’s a constant battle trying to decide how far out you are going to go for him each year.

You watch impatiently as he tears the wrapping paper open first, and then finally lifts the flaps of the box up. “Aw,” he whimpers, pulling out the quokka plushie and attached certificate, “you adopted a quokka for me?”

You grin when he hugs the soft stuffed animal to his chest, the weight on your shoulders partly lifted from his positive reaction. He reaches back into the box, brow scrunched in thought as he regards the framed picture. “The First Day…?” Hyunjin asks, perplexed as he reads the title above the constellation poster. You scoot closer, leaning over to look it over once more. “This was the constellation of stars on our first day of freshman year. The day we first met.”

“Oh,” Hyunjin sniffs, “that’s really awesome, ___. Thank you. This is coming with me to school.” At this, he hugs you again, probably to hide the tears you know are threatening to spill because Hyunjin is Baby and cries every year. “Anything for my favorite fake Aussie,” you smile, leaning your head on his shoulder as he reads through the quokka adoption letter.

“Okay! Your turn!” He exclaims, setting his gifts back into the box and passing you the smaller one of his. He catches your curious glance to the second one he keeps by his side. “We have to open this one together.”

“Christ, okay. Looks like I’m gonna be crying tonight, too,” you sigh sadly. “Ooh,” jumping ahead of yourself, you wiggle your eyebrows at the white box before you, “Hyunjin if you bought me a Fitbit… I swear to God. How many times have I said I am not working out with you?” However, once you finish tearing open the wrapping paper you find it is not, in fact, a Fitbit.

“It’s not a Fitbit, idiot,” Hyunjin scoffs a second too late, waiting for you to slip the lid off the box. “They’re bond touch bracelets.”

“Explain,” you murmur, enamored but confused at the two little house arrest looking bracelets.

“So basically, we each wear one,” Hyunjin starts, taking one of the bracelets out and a burst of color blooms across its small screen at the motion, “and if you touch it, mine vibrates and I ‘feel’ your touch.” As he explains, he buckles it around your wrist, twisting it so it lies correctly. You silently take the second one and help it on him, brain too caught up to actually say anything.

“Try it,” Hyunjin whispers, suppressing his excitement.

You gingerly bring a finger to the little screen, tapping it once, twice. Nothing happens. Frowning, you try again, tapping and holding, then a second time, and finally— a strip of pink light appears and the bracelet gently vibrates as you tap and hold a random pattern. In response, the bracelet on Hyunjin’s wrist lights up blue, buzzing in the same pattern.

“Oh, Hyunjin,” you sniffle, fighting back your own tears because you refuse to let yourself ugly cry in front of him, “this is amazing. Now I can annoy you year-round. Thank you so, so much. I love you so much.” He hums, pulling you close when you turn to give him a proper hug. To your utmost surprise, however, instead of letting go he curls one fist into your side and helps swing your legs over to straddle his lap. “Oh.”

“___,” Hyunjin sighs thoughtfully, fingers playing with the sleeves of your tee, “I love you, too.”

You nearly spit up your coffee. If you were drinking coffee. Instead, you’re left with a dry mouth and a slack jaw at his words. Huh?

Glancing to the constellation picture peeking out of his box, and then to the matching bracelets you both wear, you find your mind reeling trying to make sense of it all. Yeah, you say the forbidden L-word to each another all the time, but most certainly not with you on his on lap and his lips mere centimeters away. The answer is so obviously clear as day you have trouble believing it.

“Fuck,” you laugh all of a sudden, as soon as the realization hits you, “I wasn’t dreaming, was I?”

Hyunjin lets out a joyous giggle, hands linking behind your back. Unable to hide his smile any longer, he clarifies, “You were not, madam. We literally just finished talking about when we were going to open gifts and then I got ready to sleep. Two seconds later you dumped your heart out to me, but when I answered, you were asleep.”

“Bruh,” you wince, hiding your face with your hands, “I am so sorry you had to deal with that.”

“No, don’t be,” Hyunjin comforts, reaching to tug your hands away. Your gut does somersaults when he intertwines his fingers with yours. “I was actually, uh, planning on doing some sort of confession to you anyway, but then you went right ahead and did it for me. So thanks for that.”

“Wow,” you chuckle, trying to wrap your mind around it all, “does that mean you, ahem, perhaps like me too?”

“No, I just got us really couple-y long distance relationship bracelets, pulled you onto my lap, and kissed you because I just want to be friends.”

“You didn’t kiss m—”

The sly little fucker interrupts your retort by quickly dipping down to press a fat smooch to your lips, missing miserably and you don’t know if he did it on purpose but you quickly fix the problem, releasing his hands to cradle his jaw and tilt his head the right angle. Finally, finally you kiss him, breathing in the smell of him like some sort of aromatherapy and whimpering into his mouth when his tongue swipes against your own. It is like nothing you have ever experienced, the taste and feel of him making you tremble and igniting a burst of electricity through your veins. You could kiss him forever, you think, sucking on his plump bottom lip greedily until he finally pulls back, desperate for air or trying to reel himself in you can’t say.

“You have to open your other gift,” Hyunjin reminds, chest heaving, and your gaze follows his long fingers as they comb his hair away from his forehead. Automatically, as if kissing Hyunjin once grants you some kind of free pass to do the same, you brush a few stray strands away from his face before leaning back to admire him. “Stoooop. You can’t do that and not expect me to kiss you again. Open. Your. Gift.” Hyunjin whines, squishing your cheeks and turning your head away.

“Okay, don’t blame this on me,” you huff, reaching for the second box before jabbing a finger into his chest, “you, sir, need to stop being so beautiful for like, two seconds.”

He scoffs, helping you rip off the wrapping paper, “You’re the beautiful one here.”

“Ew,” you wrinkle your nose, most certainly not used to Hyunjin dishing out such compliments, “this is too Hallmark Christmas movie for me. Let me open my gift in peace, ugly.” This box, unlike the bracelets’, is simple cardboard and when you lift open the lid, a brown leather book looks back at you. “You remember Up?” He asks.

On the leather, it reads Our Adventure Book in mismatched colors. “Yeah,” you whisper, flipping open the cover to find two baby pictures glued on the paper, one of Hyunjin, and one of you. At the top, it’s labeled ‘Before Shit Went Down.’ You laugh.

On the next page, there are random photographs from middle school, and then finally each other’s eighth grade graduation portraits. Then, written at the top is ‘Here It Begins,’ followed by a selfie he randomly took with you a few weeks into school freshman year, and then some from homecoming. Silently flipping through the rest of the book, your tears flow freely now, touched beyond comparison at all the photographs and all the memories accompanying them. Some are from large events like prom, others from random moments you don’t even remember, but each and every one comes together to form a special mold fitting perfectly into that Hyunjin-shaped hole in your heart.

The last picture is from the christening last month. Of course, it isn’t one of the nicer photos his mom took of the two of you, but a SnapChat selfie with the flaming sunglasses filter. He’s mid-laugh and you’re pressing a kiss to his cheek. Funny thing is, you don’t even remember taking it.

The page next to it is blank, aside from what’s written at the top of the page. “Togetha Foreva,” you read aloud, voice choked up and God, you cannot fathom how gross you look right now. “What the fuck, man!” You sob, punching Hyunjin’s shoulder before wiping your nose and cheeks with the back of your hands. “I didn’t sign up for this cock and ball torture.”

Hyunjin laughs loudly at this, pulling you into a hug and giving you a few seconds to recover. “Hyunjin, this is like… seriously the best thing anyone has ever done for me, holy shit. God, you Pinterest son of a bitch, this is such a good idea,” you groan, flipping back through the pages and getting teary-eyed all over again, “I can’t express how much this means to me, Jinnie. Thank you, really.”

Flashing that toothy grin of his, Hyunjin tugs you to lie back down with him and tilts your head up to press a much more accurate kiss to your lips. “I meant what I said before, ___,” he murmurs, “I don’t know what to do without you, and I know we only get to see each other once a month but I can’t keep living as just friends. You’re so much more than that. And I hope all the pictures we add from now on will show this new chapter of our lives. If not, well, then I guess I’ll just burn the book.”

“Are you asking me to be Kkami’s official poop-picker-upper?”

“Yes. Wait— what? No!”

You break into a fit of laughter, only to be interrupted with him pinching your side and causing you to let out a yelp. “Hey!” You bark, jumping closer to him and away from his hand until, finally, you give in to your self-indulgence and go right on ahead in swinging a leg over his hips and pinning him beneath you.

“You ruined my serious love speech, ___,” Hyunjin pouts, face scrunched up at you.

“I’m sorry, baby, go on.”

You pause, blinking slowly at him. He blinks back, the silence in the air weighing in heavily as both of your two brain cells bounce around trying to figure out what did you just call him?

“Never mind,” Hyunjin says, voice a low rumble of thunder as he reaches for your hips and easily flips positions, “I think you’re on the same boat.”

You laugh, tilting your head back and eyeing him indignantly. Fuck, he looks unfairly delectable hovering above you.

“Okay, how many more times do I have to tell you I love you for you to formally ask me to be your girlfriend, stupid?” You scowl, bringing your hands to cradle his neck, thumbs brushing delicately against his jaw.

“Call me baby again and we’ll see about making that happen.”

You raise a brow, tugging his face closer by the chain of his necklace. “You’re lucky it’s Christmas, baby.”

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nyctolovian · 4 years

Text

sweetheart, you look a little tired

Summary: During a power outage at the observatory he works at, Martin finds a spirit trapped in a lantern, thus meeting Jon. The two find themselves developing a relationship together, and realising they'd stay with the other. No matter what.

Written for TMA Fantasy Week (Prompt: Lantern)

A/N: Hey uhhh warning! It’s a tragedy and there is major character death. So you have been warned. Title is from the lyrics of "two" by Sleeping at Last

There was a lantern in the observatory up the hill. It's hard to notice it, tucked into a corner of the storage room, but when you needed light, it'd be hard to miss. It was a glass lantern, framed with a brass that never seemed to lose its shine. Inside was a tall white candle, and, if you looked closely enough, its wick glowed ever-so-slightly, despite the lack of flame.

As though it were trying to light itself.

***

There was a power outage again. You'd think an observatory filled with all these science-y people would have figured out a way to stop all these sudden blackouts but perhaps not. The observatory wasn't exactly as well-funded as it used to be so that might be the reason for this.

Still, Martin found himself in the worst place to be during a blackout, the storage room. The storage room wasn't terrible, per se, just difficult. It was littered with things, and when Martin had first arrived, it seemed as though the scientists at this place had been simply chucking things into the storage room carelessly for the past 50 years. To make things worse, being one of the few underground rooms, the storage would fall pitch black in a blackout. Then, here comes the worst part: there was no one else in the observatory. It was close to 11pm and Martin had been the last to leave. It'd take a while before the light came back, he supposed.

So, not wanting to trip and die in some dusty old storage, Martin bent to his knees and held his hands forward, to make sure he didn't bump into anything while feeling his way out. But that's when he noticed it, a faint glow.

Sitting atop a shelf, was a lantern with a candle in it. For some reason, the wick was slightly glowing, giving off just enough light for it to bounce off its brass beams and allow the lantern to stand out in the pitch black.

Martin frowned and reached for it. As he pulled it towards himself to inspect it, he found that if he squinted hard enough, he could see a box of matches shifting about inside it. He fumbled with the lantern for a while before locating the latch. With the matches in the lantern, he lit the candle. Instantly, the storage room was permeated with the soft light of the flame and Martin could see again.

Picking up the lantern again, he stood up to leave. With the better light, he could see the lantern better now. Its base was hexagonal and the metal beams at its corners rose to support a round roof. The roof was patterned intricately with roses, leaves and vines. The romantic in Martin couldn't help but twist it around to inspect and stare in awe.

"Well, I suppose I have to thank you for this," a voice came from behind.

Squeaking, Martin spun around and saw a man standing right behind him. The lantern slipped from his fingers and the other man let out a noise of fear as he tried and failed to catch the lantern. Luckily, Martin saved it in the nick of time.

"Jesus christ!" the other man hissed. "Don't drop the bloody thing!"

"I— S-Sorry. I j-just, well, you startled me," Martin said, hand over his heavily thumping heart. He inhaled deeply to bring back his customer service voice. "Sir, you're not supposed to be here by the way. This room has restricted access. Were you in the room this entire time? I didn't even notice you when I came in."

"I–" The other man cleared his throat. "Technically, yes, I was in the room the whole time. For about 30 years actually."

"What?"

"I live in this lantern, you see. Or rather, my spirit is trapped in it."

"What?!"

"You released my spirit when you lit the candle," the man went on, gesturing at the lantern, as though to prove a point. That was when Martin noticed it, however, the way the light from the lantern passed through the fingers of the other man. He was translucent.

A ghost.

Martin felt faint.

***

The other man did not faint, but Jon had to support him as he sat heavily on a cardboard box and cradled his head. This time, the man gently placed the lantern on the floor before he could risk dropping it again. It made Jon feel slightly bad for startling him.

But Jon was trying to thank him for god's sake. He was trying to be polite. There really was no need for this Victorian era fainting business. And he had nearly dropped the damn lantern too! Jon had no idea what would happen if the thing broke, but he was pretty sure it couldn't be good news for him.

In hindsight, perhaps Jon should have exercised some tact with the man. It could be quite unpleasant business, accidentally releasing a spirit. In his defense, however, it is quite impossible to go about this business pleasantly.

So, as soon as the other man had calmed down enough, Jon thought it'd be best to establish that he was friendly. "The name is Jonathan Sims," he said, sticking a hand towards the other man. "But you can call me Jon. Nice to meet you."

The man gave him a nervous but gentle smile. "I'm Martin Blackwood. I, uh… am a staff at this observatory. Nice to meet you too!" He received Jon's hand firmly.

As Martin's hand enclosed around his, however, Jon couldn't help the jolt that ran up his arm. He had not had contact with a human being in his 30 odd years of being trapped in the lantern. The warmth and solidness of the other man was… shocking to say the least. But not unwelcome. He had to stop himself from melting into the handshake, like a pathetic wax candle.

Martin must have noticed that reaction because his voice grew concerned. "Are you— are you alright?"

"Just, um, just not used to the physicality of everything," Jon half-lied. He patted his shirt anxiously.

"Right," Martin said, clearly not quite knowing how to respond. He stood up from the cardboard box with a soft grunt. "I-I hope you don't mind but I do need to use your lantern for a bit. To get out."

"Oh, sure thing. As long as you don't mind me tagging along."

Martin smiled politely. "Of course! It's your lantern after all."

The two of them successfully left the room, and entered a corridor. Martin walked down the long corridor without much fuss while Jon tried to open and peer through as many doors as he could without falling too far behind. Each of the rooms looked so interesting.

Finally, they reached the entrance. Martin cleared his throat and turned to Jon. "Well, uh, goodbye then? Where should I leave you? Or do you want to come with me…?"

Immediately, Jon replied, "I'd like to stay here. In one of those rooms. I, well, I'd like to take a look around."

Martin blinked. "W- Sure," he said, nodding. He passed the lantern over to Jon, but Jon's fingers phased right through it.

"Seems like… I can't interact with the lantern specifically," Jon muttered. He pursed his lips. "You can just… leave me…" He frowned.

Martin hummed thoughtfully. Then, he went, "Ah, I know just the thing. Let me just…" He reached behind the front desk and retrieved a battery-powered torchlight. He clicked it on and smiled to himself as it lit up. "Alright! We'll drop you off in an interesting room then!"

***

When Martin next returned to the room, neither Jon nor the lantern was there. He asked Winnie, the janitor, if she had moved it or something, but she said she didn't see any lantern anywhere, though she did note that there were a couple of files strewn across the floor for some reason. Frowning, Martin went to the storage room to take a look and, just as he had suspected, the lantern had returned to the shelf.

He debated internally if he should light it up again, but he recalled Jon's wide-eyed look the previous night, the way he looked as though he wanted to experience everything. He took out a lighter from his pocket and lit the candle (which strangely had not shrunk an inch since yesterday).

As he closed the latch of the lantern, he had expected some sort of dramatic entrance. Or a magical-looking one where a wisp of smoke would trickle out and form the man from yesterday perhaps. Instead, all he got was a disgruntled noise behind him.

"I was in the middle of reading something and the flame went out!"

"Morning, Jon. I was wondering where you were," Martin greeted, turning. In the fluorescent light, it was now even more obvious that Jon was not human at all. The light passed through him and he had a bluish tinge to his entire being.

"The flame went out and the whole lantern simply returned to its original state and position. Can you believe the audacity of the thing? Being bound to this object is unbelievably frustrating." Then, he looked up at Martin. "Will you move the lantern back into that room?" he said, running his hand through his wavy graying locks. "I was still reading about Sirius and I really didn't appreciate being interrupted like this."

"Ah," Martin mumbled. "But… more staff will be entering and it'd be strange to see a ghost hanging around, right?"

Jon's eyebrows twitched with annoyance before he crossed his arms. "You're right."

Martin frowned sympathetically. He looked like an upset puppy, sulking in its dog bed, after its newest toy was ripped out of its muzzle. He had to admit, he was a slight bit weak to puppies like that so he smiled reassuringly at Jon and said, "How about this? I'll move your lantern back before I leave from work."

Jon's eyes practically sparkled with exuberance. "You'd do that?"

***

It became a routine. Martin would enter the observatory early, chat with Jon in storage, go to work, wait till he observatory cleared out, before bringing Jon out. Sometimes, they'd go back to the room Jon was in the previous night before he was rudely yanked back into the lantern and sent back to storage. Sometimes, they'd go to somewhere new, and there was a unique joy in seeing Jon get excited exploring it. He'd usually stick around for an hour longer, chatting with the ghost, before heading home.

Conversations with Jon were pleasant. He was always excited to share whatever new discovery he had made recently, be it a constellation he read about, the theories of black holes or catching a glimpse of Saturn on the observatory's telescope.

There was a point about 3 days into this arrangement that Jon stopped mid-way through one of his rambling and looked up. There was a reddish tinge to his ears as he apologised for talking too much.

"I don't mind," Martin replied. "I've worked here as a file clerk for so long and I've never had anyone explain all this stuff to me actually."

"Never?" the ghost mumbled, frowning. "But you're interested?"

It wasn't that Martin had ever had an overt interest in the cosmos. There was a job application, and he just submitted his job application (altering it slightly to suit their needs). But he supposed he was infected by Jon's enthusiasm and curiosity.

So for an hour or so every night, Martin would sit there, listening to Jon.

***

"Did something happen?" Jon asked as soon as he was released from the lamp.

Martin's eyes looked tired. "Hm? No, it's nothing…"

At least lie better, Jon thought huffily. Martin didn't drop by for three days. Which was incredibly odd considering this was also the man Jon had tried and failed to convince that there was no need to come back on weekends. This made it the first time in 4 months that Jon hadn't seen Martin.

But if he didn't want to elaborate, Jon wouldn't press the issue either. Instead, he tried to play things according to their usual routine. "I'd like to stargaze tonight," he announced. So he was brought to the outdoors. It was a clear night, and up on the hill, away from the bustling city below, the stars were bright.

Jon had picked up a telescope on his way out and he began to set it up on the grassy plains behind the observatory. Meanwhile, Martin sat with his back against a tree, simply watching, as he fiddled with the hook ring on the lantern. As usual, Jon filled the silence between them with his usual rambling.

"I am not expecting anything much today to be honest. But if I had chosen a day that had a supermoon or something, I'd assume there would be more people around and trying to catch it. I think it'd be fun to look at the moon. They say it's the easiest one to start with. And it'd feel more… like a self-made experience to set up a telescope ourselves," Jon said as he tried to align the telescope. He turned around and saw Martin, hunched over himself. "Martin," Jon called.

The other man's head shot up and he plastered on a smile. "Do you need help with anything?"

"Martin, I–" Jon shoved the telescope's cloth bag into the box. "Do you… want to talk to me about it? Whatever's bothering you."

Martin glanced at the ground, and plucked some grass. "I… My mum died."

Jon's eyes widened. "Oh. I-I'm sorry—"

"It's okay," Martin interrupted. "Or… maybe it isn't supposed to be but I… Does it make me a bad person to be relieved that she has?" He looked up, perhaps searching for a reaction from Jon. Jon wasn't sure what he found on his face but whatever Martin saw made him continue, "My mum… she had been ill for a while now and I guess it didn't come as a surprise when the nurses called. Still, to feel… relieved about it. I must be pretty screwed up." Martin ran a hand through his curly reddish locks and looked up at the sky.

Frankly, Jon knew very little about any of this. Loss, family, grief. He'd spent all his existence as a spirit in a lantern by himself. He sat down beside Martin.

"I took care of her for most of my life. More than half of it mothering my own mother. It… I don't resent her, I don't think. It's just tiring. I worked quite a lot of jobs trying to support her. Stopped schooling early to find a job." Martin pressed his face into his palms. "God, it's like I'm blaming her! It's not her fault she's ill. I'm such a horrible son."

"You did your best."

Martin hummed noncommittally.

Jon's eyes flicked up and down. Then, he took a deep breath and stretched his arms out. "Come here."

Quizzically, Martin frowned, but he slowly eased into arm length anyway. Jon shuffled closer and pulled the other man into a bear hug.

Sighing into the embrace, Martin mumbled, "I kind of get why she hates me."

Jon frowned at that but said nothing. Instead, he tightened the embrace and rubbed Martin's back gently.

***

The next time they went stargazing, Martin was in a far better mood and he even helped with setting up of the telescope. They ooh-ed and ahh-ed at the moon and its millions of craters for a while before settling on their back and just looked at the stars above with their naked eyes. They draped a black cloth over the lantern and plunged themselves into relative peaceful darkness. The wind blew and the trees and grass rustled gently around them.

It was well past an hour when Jon cleared his throat nervously and asked, "You're not going home?"

Martin shook his head. Just as Jon thought that this was the end, he began, "Frankly, I don't understand about 30% of the things you say. But, I don't know… It feels nice being talked to."

"Does it? I thought it'd be quite annoying," Jon said jokingly.

"Not annoying at all!" Martin quickly said.

Jon blinked at the force with which he said this.

Eyes fixed upon the sky, Martin pursed his lips. "You know, I never really had someone who would talk to me. Even with my mum, it's usually me telling her something and her just glaring at the corner of the room. If she even wants to see me when I visit. Don't really get along with my coworkers here. Most of them are busy with their science-y astronomy stuff to bother with the file clerk."

Jon looked up at Martin. He supposed he understood that sentiment. Loneliness, that is.

Turning around, Martin smiled. "Gosh, don't look at me like that. What I'm trying to say is I like being with you."

"Oh." Jon felt his face warmed slightly, which was odd.

Everything was odd ever since Martin came around. A spirit shouldn't be warming up all over the place like a little heating pad. And they shouldn't be feeling their undead hearts fluttering like little moths around a lightbulb whenever they hear the storage door click open either.

***

Martin had a boyfriend.

Said boyfriend also kicked him out of the observatory when he suggested staying overnight. "I'm not allowing you to deprive yourself of sleep, Martin Blackwood! You've been sticking around here far too often!" he scolded as he pushed Martin through the door.

As he lay on his bed, arms folded over his stomach, Martin regretted not arguing that he wouldn't be getting much sleep even if he went home tonight. He'd be too busy thinking about his boyfriend.

It would make Jon sputter and his cheeks darken, just like the moment when they both confirmed that, yes, they both had feelings for each other and, yes, maybe they could try this dating thing. After establishing their new relationship, they had sat together in the storage room, holding hands, and leaning against each other. Martin would occasionally catch Jon glimpsing up at him with awestruck eyes before smiling sweetly to himself.

Martin buried his face into his pillow. He was already missing Jon.

***

"There's a meteor shower tonight," Martin said. "Do you want to watch it outside?"

Jon looked up with a slight frown. "But… But there will be people, right? Watching it too. Isn't it better if we stay here?"

Martin shook his head. "No, there won't be anyone," he replied.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am."

The firmness of that reply unsettled Jon. "Wh- Okay… I'll just, um, grab the telescope."

Jon could sense something was coming, but he couldn't tell what. Martin's face was tense, stiff with an unspoken worry. Jon wanted to prod, but he could tell that whatever it was, Martin was planning to say it outside. Still, his stomach was doing flops as he set up the telescope and lay on the grass, waiting. However, the news was much worse than he could imagine.

"The observatory is closing down."

Jon dropped the telescope cover and dived down to catch it before it rolled out of sight. "Wh-What?"

"The town council thought it was a waste of money so they're closing it down. There aren't any plans of tearing down the building I think. It's quite a useless plot of land since it's so far away from everything else," Martin said. "But it's closing. In about a month."

Jon fidgeted with the cover, twisting it in his hands. His heart was beating like a rabbit's. "Then, what does that… what's it mean for…"

"I don't know. I-I'll try to figure something out. But I won't leave you alone. You're not going to be on your own again," Martin said firmly. He took Jon's hand in his and squeezed it.

Jon squeezed back and then in front of Martin, who wrapped arms around him so that Jon's back was resting against his chest. It was warm, and Jon could feel the rapid thumping of Martin's heart against his back.

Gently, Jon lifted Martin's hand and kissed the inside of his wrist.

***

They tried many things. Putting multiple candles. Lighting the lantern as quickly as they could. Putting an electric bulb inside the lantern instead.

But Jon and his lantern were whisked back into the storage room each time the flame of the original candle snuffed out.

That pretty much ruled out any possibility of Martin just bringing Jon home.

Martin was looking ragged by the end of the month, but exhaustion did not beat him up as much as the look of frightened resignation upon Jon's face as the day of the observatory's closure inched towards them.

It was during the last week that Martin moved his bed into the storage room. "I… I'm not sure what else to do," he admitted.

Jon looked so guilty, eyebrows knitted and lips trembling with protest. He tried to tell Martin that it was okay. Martin shouldn't stay here. It was ridiculous. What about his house? What about electricity? What about water? He should take care of himself.

But Martin's made up his mind. It was too cruel to leave Jon alone again. And Martin understood how alone he had been better than anyone else.

Miraculously, it wasn't so bad in the end. Sure, it was a slight pain in the ass, living in an abandoned observatory. There were many new arrangements they had to make, but it was not bad, all things considered. Winters were arguably the worst, but they could live.

The observatory recommended Martin to another job, and it was near the observatory, so that worked out well. It was slightly tiring, climbing up the hill everyday after work, but it was heartwarming when he could light up the lantern in the storage room, and Jon would trickle into existence, smiling fondly.

Even after many years, nobody really wanted to touch the old observatory. It was built on an inconvenient piece of land, and there was frankly little value in investing in it. Nobody bothered climbing up the hill for the abandoned building either.

So for many years, just like that, Martin and Jon had lived together in the old observatory.

***

Humans died eventually. Jon knew that.

In Martin's older years, Jon had an inkling that it was ending. Every night might be the last. He had grown so used to the routines they had built by now that he sometimes forgets that it was odd how Martin grew grey and wrinkly, while he remained the same.

Stuck in space and time, he supposed.

Every night, as they curled around each other, Jon would cup a hand over Martin's face and trace the wrinkles on his forehead. Martin would huff and press his lips against Jon's forehead. "Not everyone can remain young like you, Jon," he teased.

"I only look young," Jon scoffed. "I'm older than you, alright?" Then, he'd press closer to Martin.

Martin was less warm than he was in the past. As though the older one got, the more of life's warmth seemed to seep out of one's body.

The last day Jon's lantern was lit, Martin had been especially warm while they lay in bed together. Martin rubbed circles into Jon's cold palms and then kissed his neck, his jaw, and then his eyes. "Good night," he whispered, closing his eyes.

"Good night," Jon whispered back as usual.

***

There was a lantern in the old abandoned observatory up the hill. It's easy to notice it, placed in the middle of the table in the old storage room. It was a glass lantern, framed with a brass that never seemed to lose its shine. Inside was a tall white candle, and, if you tried to light it, it would simply snuff out, even though there wasn’t a single draft in the room.

As though it fervently refused to be lit.

#tmafantasyweek #tma #magpod #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jmart #fantasy au #MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH #tragedy #my writing #fanfic #tma fanfic #sfw

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saventhhaven · 4 years

Text

Breaking and Entering

Pairing: None

Tags: scared!reader, tired!reader, awkward!Sam, baseball bat

Word Count: 1,528

A/N: Thanks to @spn-imagines-nation for the prompt!

(Gif not mine)

It had been a hellish day at work. After your eight-hour shift had turned into a twelve-hour shift, you were about two seconds away from quitting your job and becoming a stripper instead. Hell, that had been your backup plan for as long as you could remember, but lately, you were more serious than you ever had been. You couldn't wait to get the hell out of there. As soon as you got a raise at your full-time job, you were gone. Quite frankly, that day couldn't come soon enough. Even as part-time, retail was ridiculous. The number one rule was "the customer is always right," and they knew it, too. The especially difficult ones would come in with an un-returnable product and then throw a fit when you couldn't give them anything back for it. In your opinion, someone should put a law in place that forced everyone to work a retail job for at least a year. Maybe then you wouldn't be treated like shit so much.

You were exhausted when you got home - too exhausted even to eat, which was seriously saying something. As soon as you got back home, you had gone upstairs, taken off all clothes aside from your panties and bra, and collapsed into bed. Thankfully, it was a Friday night, and you had the next two days off. Your weekend plans consisted of sleeping from Saturday to Sunday if needed, and pretty much nothing else. That is until a noise from downstairs had your eyes popping open. Instantly, you were wide awake, despite your tiredness when you lay down. For years, your dad had nagged you about installing an alarm system in your house, but you never had seriously considered it, unfortunately. It would definitely come in handy right now.

As you reached over to grab your phone from your nightstand, your heart sunk in your chest. Seriously? Where the hell was it? Obviously, not where it usually was, but still, you couldn't believe your luck. You had to bite your tongue to keep from swearing as you remembered the location of your cellphone. Last night, you had plopped it down on a console table next to the front door with your keys. Peachy. If anything else happened, you were going to start thinking the misfortune of all those busty girls in the hoaky horror movies were for real. Here you were, alone in your house, in your underwear, and your phone was downstairs along with the intruder. Really, this was just perfect.

Swinging your legs over the side of your bed, you were careful not to let the floorboards creak beneath you. You were pretty much already toast, but even more so if you made any noise sneaking up on said intruder. It was moments like these that always made you question your life decisions. For example, not owning a gun, or even a FOID card, for that matter. No, instead, you were stuck with an old aluminum baseball bat from when you were in middle school. Not the worst weapon, in retrospect, but definitely not your first choice either.

As you padded down the (thankfully) carpeted stairs, you tried to keep your heart from beating too loudly, without much luck. At this rate, if your knees knocking together didn't give you away, your loud-ass heartbeat sure as hell would. You glanced around the corner of the wall at the bottom of the staircase, straining your eyes as you peered into the dark living room. The silhouette of a hulking figure moved around the back of your couch, facing away from you. You could tell by the build of the figure that he was a man, but what was he looking for? Too bad for him, it was going to be lights out before he found it. You reared up your bat above your shoulder, letting out a battle cry as you rushed him. Hearing you come up behind him, the man whirled around, ducking your makeshift weapon in the nick of time. You made a note to yourself: no battle cry in the future.

"Scumbucket!" you screeched, swinging the bat around wildly.

"Y/N, hey, it's me!" As the tall man dodged your strikes, something clicked in the back of your brain. You knew that voice.

“Sam?" As you finally realized who was in your home, you flicked on the light.

"Hi," he said with an awkward wave. Narrowing your eyes, you allowed the bat to fall to the floor with a loud clang.

"'Hi?'" You smacked him hard in the arm several times.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, backing away.

"You scared the shit out of me!" you hollered at him.

"Yeah, I can see that," he replied. He gestured to you, clearing his throat uncomfortably as he made an effort not to look. "Y-you... you're, ah..." You glanced down at yourself, half-surprised to see that you were still in your underwear. You had sort of forgotten about that part. Squeezing your eyes shut, you made a face as you shook your head.

"I just can't catch a break, can I?" you muttered. Sam reached for the pile of clean laundry you had been meaning to put away, snagging a shirt and pair of shorts.

"Here," he said, still not making eye contact. You smirked at him as you took the clothes, pulling them on.

"Oh, come on, Sam," you teased. "It's not anything you haven't seen before." The man went beet red.

"W-well, that's-" he stammered. "I-I mean, I-" You snorted.

"Relax. I'm kidding." Sam seemed relieved, letting his shoulders relax. "Listen," you started again. "Not that I'm not happy to see you - I am, seriously, I'm super glad you're not a burglar - but what are you doing here at..." Glancing at a clock on the wall, you sighed. "Four in the morning?" For the first time since he arrived, you got a good look at him, squinting in confusion at his apparel. "And why are you in your FBI gear?" Suddenly, it all clicked, and you held up a finger at him. "Oh, no. No. You did not come here and break into my house at the ass-crack of dawn, by the way, for a case!”

"Look, I'm sorry I scared you," Sam apologized, "but you were a huge help last time, and I could use a hand." You shook your head again as you began to pace. The last time you helped the Winchesters, things got ugly. Like, had to lay low for two months and move away ugly. Because of them, you had to totally uproot your life and start over, and that was something you were not doing again. But the last time you helped the Winchesters, you also saved lives. You helped people, you killed a bad guy, and the world had become a little better because of it. You couldn't just sit idly by knowing that more people might die if you didn't help out.

"And this case is in town?" Sam nodded.

"Yeah. It's the owner of that general goods store down the road." He laid a hand on your shoulder as he looked you in the eye, forcing you to come to a halt. Damn him. He knew you were a goner for those puppy-dog eyes. "I've gotta be honest with you here. It won't be easy, and I hate that I would be putting you in danger," he confessed. "But I can't do this by myself." You gnashed your teeth together.

"And your brother can't help you?"

"No," Sam replied. "He's in Oregon dealing with a poltergeist." You would be lying if you said you weren't at least a tiny bit intrigued.

"What is it?" you questioned. "Vengeful spirit? Ghoul?"

"Vampire," he answered, earning a surprised look.

"Vampire?” you echoed. "Huh. That's a new one." You had to admit, ever since the boys had left town, life had been painfully boring. "Damn it," you grumbled. With a final huff, you pushed his hand from your shoulder and headed toward the kitchen. "All right." You reached for the coffee pot. If you were going to do this at this hour, caffeine was a must.

"Does that mean..?" Sam asked, hopefully from the living room. You had to hide your eagerness as you turned back around to face him.

"Yeah, I'll help you." Instantly, he let out a breath of relief. "Get in here and give me the rundown before I change my mind and go back to bed." Seeming to call your bluff, he tilted his head, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Well, if it's really too much trouble, I can just go," he offered. As he turned to leave, you grabbed onto his wrist to keep him in place.

"All right, you got me," you revealed. "I'm weirdly excited. Things have been too... normal since you and your brother left." Sam chuckled. "Now sit your ass down while I make some coffee." Once the coffee began to percolate, you sat down across from the youngest Winchester at the kitchen table, allowing your enthusiasm to show in your eyes. "So. Tell me about our monster."

Thank you for reading! <3

As always, links to my masterlist, taglist, and inbox (requests are open!) are in my bio!

My Everythings:

@cole-winchester @alexwinchester23 @1-am-made-of-stardust @thorukindig @fiftyshadesoffandom6783 @hobby27 @supernaturalenchanted @organicpurplepants @odysseyofasiren @defenderrosetyler @crystal-lilac @youshrimpdickfucknugget

#Supernatural #fanfiction #Supernatural fanfiction #one shot #one shot fanfiction #Supernatural one shot #Sam Winchester #reader #original female character #female reader #burglar #scumbucket #not my original idea #my original work though #comedy?#you decide

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snarkwrites · 3 years

Text

12 | gangsta; sweetpea

NOTES:

It's been a while. I've had these two chapters written for a while now but I haven't had time to sit down, edit them a little better and post them. Since I have time now, I thought I'd go ahead and do that, whether you guys asked for these next two chapters or not.

Sorry this took forever! Sorry I'm so slow, I've been settling into a new house and taking care of some IRL stuff / taking a little break. I swear, I'm going to update everything sooner or later. >.>

I love you guys.

WARNINGS:

NON/ LOOSE CANON COMPLIANCE - this is the biggest warning, so if you’re into things that follow exact canon plot you are… definitely not going to like this. ANGST & SLOW BURN, HEAVY SEXUAL TENSIONSTARTING NOW, ACTUALLY - this is just so everyone who started reading this thinking the smut would transpire in a hurry knows that apparently, it is not. VIOLENCE / SWEARING & FIGHTING, POSSIBLE UNDERAGE DRINKING AND OTHER SHENANIGANS- look.. it’s high school. shit happens. also apparently, my ofc Alyssa uses the word fuck like all the time?…EVENTUAL SEXUAL CONTENT / A VIRGIN ORIGINAL CHARACTER- this one is self explanatory. yes, i plan to write a smutty chapter in this at some point. when? i don’t rightly know. it’s got a while before we get there. STALKER TW - this chapter marks the true appearance of Alyssa's ex, Dave Novak. It's hinted heavily that he's a gross asshole who likes to play mind games.

If you're under 18+, probably not a good or wise idea to continue reading this series. Because there are going to be a few dark and adult themes within. I'll warn here, of course, but you need to understand that I don't control you. If you continue to read after having read the warnings and you're upset or don't like something... Totally on you, friend.

PAIRING:

Andrews!Sibling OFC x Sweet Pea.

TAGGING:

@brithedemonspawn is the only person on my Riverdale tag list. If you want to be added, the link to do so is below.

OTHER PARTS:

ONE - TWO - THREE - FOUR - FIVE - SIX - SEVEN - EIGHT - NINE - TEN- ELEVEN - soundtrack

OTHER STUFF:

[ about my writing - tag list doc ]

T W E L V E.

[773 - 589 - 7956] attachment

[773 - 589 - 7956] I think I decided how you can repay me, scarlet…

[773 - 589 - 7956] Better enjoy your quiet and happy little life while you still have it, scarlet. Because soon it’s all going to be ripped right out of your pretty little hands.

[773 - 589 - 7956] That boyfriend of yours isn’t even gonna be able to save you this time, scarlet. You’re mine.

[773 - 589 - 7956] See you soon, scarlet.

Each new text that came in had me tensing up. Careful to keep my phone out of sight of anyone who was nearby. My heart was about to beat right out of my chest and my stomach felt like it sank to the floor. I was barely listening to anything being said around me and I guess it was more obvious than I thought because Toni cleared her throat, nodding to the phone in my hand.

Gazing at me in concern.

“Everything okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“Yeah,yeah. Everything is fine.” I lied. I think at that particular point in time, I was just trying to convince myself that this was all some kind of bad dream. Or worst case scenario, Dave was making empty threats.

Toni eyed me suspiciously. I tried to give her a convincing smile, but I’d have had to be an idiot to even think for a second that she believed me. She eyed my phone and reached for it. I managed to shove it in my pocket.

“Trust me.” I pleaded. She gave me a wary look and sighed, grumbling “Fine, okay. Alright.” under her breath.

And I did my best to push the texts out of my head. Jumping in the conversation she had going on with Cheryl and Veronica. Laughing and talking as if nothing were wrong.

Lying through the skin of my teeth.

XXX

“What’s got you so jumpy?”

The question caught me off guard. I wanted to tell someone what was going on, I really did, but… I didn’t want to worry anyone, either. I was at least 99.9 percent sure that there was absolutely no way that Dave would show up in Riverdale, at least that’s what I was hoping.

I did my best to play it off. Shoveling french fries into my mouth just so I didn’t have to answer right away. My cell phone lit up and I flinched before I could stop myself.

Toni reached for it and I quickly grabbed it and shoved it in my pocket. She gave me a concerned look and I muttered quietly, “Probably just Reggie...again.”

“Reggie’s with that new girl though?” Cheryl spoke up. Gazing at me thoughtfully. My breath caught in my throat because if anyone would catch on to there being something truly wrong with me or something off in the way I was acting, it’d be her or Polly.

So far, I’d managed to fool everyone else into thinking I was alright, even my dad and my brother.

,, Dave won’t come here, it’s not worth the hassle. He’s just playing mind games. That’s all this is. Pull yourself together.” the thought came and I managed a smile, shrugging.

“You’ve been acting weird all week, now that I’m thinking about it.” Cheryl was the one who said it and she gave me an expectant look. Waiting.

“I have not.”

,, I do have one secret I can spill. Maybe if I tell them about my crush on Sweetpea…” and so that’s what I did. Sighing as I reached for the shared plate of fries between the three of us. Raking my fries through my vanilla milkshake and taking a few deep breaths to kind of collect myself, both from Dave’s harassing texts and what I was finally about to get off my chest about having feelings for Sweetpea.

“You have. Start talking.” Toni spoke up, watching me. Sizing me up. If I had to guess, I’d pin money on her sitting across the booth, trying to figure out what was up with my jumpy attitude all week.

“Okay, alright. Fine. But what I’m about to tell you two does not leave this table, okay? It.. It can’t. If Sweetpea ever found out, pretty sure he’d start avoiding me and things would get weird.”

Toni and Cheryl exchanged a look and then Toni nodded. Chewing a mouthful of fries as she muttered calmly, “Go on.”

“ I may or may not have a crush on Sweetpea.”

“Oh, you definitely have a crush on him. It’s kind of obvious.” Cheryl gave a soft teasing grin and I sighed. Dragging my hand through my hair and taking a few seconds to let her words sink in. I almost dreaded asking, but I felt like I had to given that she said it was obvious. “Oh god.. He doesn’t suspect anything.. Right?”

“Oh, he’s the only one whose oblivious. But the rest of us, we’ve known a while.” Toni teased me. Then asked calmly, “Is that all? Why’s that have you so jumpy?”

“Because I know how bad I am at hiding things, okay? I was kind of… I dunno, freaking out I guess.” I eyed her, waiting. Searching her face in the hopes that she accepted what I said and didn’t keep pushing. A few seconds passed and she laughed softly. Took a sip of her strawberry milkshake and asked with a smirk, “Are you gonna do anything about it?”

“Probably not. Every time I even think about it, I manage to talk myself right out of it. He’d laugh his ass off, okay? Besides, remember all the flirting he was doing with Josie when they had to work together during the play?” I pouted as I pointed it out.

Cheryl and Toni exchanged looks and Toni laughed. “He was doing that to make you jealous. Or that’s what I think he was doing. Either way… I think you should do something. He’s not going to and trust me… I’ve known the guy my whole life. I know him well enough to say that I know he has a thing for you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so cranky when you two first met?”

“I thought he was just naturally grumpy?”

“Oh, he is, but the way he was towards you was totally different. He’s only that grumpy when he’s trying to keep his defenses up.” Toni informed me before finishing off her shake.

The door to the diner opened and Sweetpea walked in, Fangs in tow. The two of them were laughing about something. I gave both Cheryl and Toni a pleading look and Cheryl seemed to pick up on my unspoken plea to change the subject thankfully, because she asked, “Are you going to F.P’s retirement party at the Wyrm?”

“Yeah.” I answered, finishing off my milkshake. Sweetpea flopped into the booth beside me, carelessly slinging an arm over the back of the seat. His hand brushed against my shoulder and I swear just the small brush against me felt like someone had taken a livewire and dragged it over my body real slow.

Toni smirked at me, nodding at Sweetpea while he was too busy wolfing down french fries to notice and I shook my head.

“I dare you. No… I triple dare you.. Flirt with him.” Toni gave a teasing grin as she mouthed the words to me and I swallowed hard.

She’s not playing fair. She knows I can’t turn down a dare.

I happened to glance out the window of the diner and when I thought I saw Dave standing there, leaning against a streetlamp, one hand in his pocket and a cigarette dangling between his lips, I nearly choked. This prompted Sweetpea to start hitting me on the back lightly as he laughed and looked at me in concern. “Damn cherry, are you trying to kill yourself?”

Toni’s brow raised and Sweetpea explained what happened earlier in the day, how I’d nicked myself with the scalpel in our first period class while doing a dissection. What Sweetpea didn’t know was that when it happened, it was because I thought I’d seen Dave standing outside in the parking lot, only to blink and the parking lot be empty.

I have got to stop letting his stupid mind games get to me. It’s just because he’s texting me again. It’s just because he knows how to work me up and get me all scared, he used to be good at it when we dated.

He’d never come to Riverdale. He’s just doing this to me for his own sick amusement and every single time I let him get to me, especially when I’m to a point where I’m so paranoid I’m imagining that I see him everywhere lately, it’s letting him win and that pisses me off more than anything.

I’m supposed to be stronger than that, damn it.

Toni eyed me suspiciously and I braced myself. When she didn’t bring up my skittish behavior, I relaxed a little.

I wanted to tell someone what was going on, but at the same time, why? I’m pretty sure this is just Dave, being an absolute bag of dicks.

It has to be that. It has to be.

XXX

He stood outside some podunk little diner right in the heart of town. The hazy red neon gave off a comforting and inviting warmth and he lit his cigarette, fuming in anger as he watched her sitting inside.

“I know you’re not ignoring me, scarlet. I know you’re not.” he muttered, mostly to himself as he turned the collar of his leather jacket up against the wind and started to walk towards the South Side.

Maybe it was time he paid his old buddy Eric a visit. Eric was out of prison. Eric was the one who’d told him where Alyssa was to begin with, though he didn’t realize it.

Dave chuckled and shook his head as he walked towards the shitty apartments on the opposite end of town where Eric lived. Eric owed him a few favors. He was coming to collect.

“Did you really think I was jokin when I told ya I have friends all over? That you weren’t ever gonna get away from me?” he mused to himself as he knocked on the door of a first floor slum apartment.

Eric opened the door, leaning in it lazily. Blinking at him in a daze and smirking. High fiving him as he asked him why he was in town.

Dave whipped out his phone, showing Eric a picture of Alyssa. At first he gave him some story about her running off while he was in the pen. Eric wasn’t buying it, he could see it written in the expression on his face. And that only made him angry. Eric owed him. He was here to collect the favor owed. All he wanted was for Eric to help him out on this one little thing.

Eric shook his head, chuckling in disgust. Gazing at him with a brow raised. “I think you need to leave, man. Now. You don’t want the heat this is gonna bring down on you. And I’m not about to get on a Serpent’s bad side, even if the Serpent in question is just a damn kid.”

“See, I’d like to just put this all behind me, man... but she’s the whole reason I even went to prison to begin with. Then I get out and find out not only is my girl not loyal, she’s also the one who snitched on me?” Dave eyed Eric. Getting irritated because this was not how he saw the conversation going.

“I’m telling you, you need to leave. Forget about Alyssa. I see her around all the time with some kid… Sweet Pea or Green Bean, some shit. The Serpents are not people you fuck with, man. Not around these parts.”

“You know the Serpents aren’t shit to me… Right?” Dave quipped, smirking. “I’ve got this under control. I just need you to help me out a little… C’mon, man. You owe me.”

“I don’t fucking care. I’m not helping you do whatever it is you’re here to do. What I oughta do is put a bullet in your fucking head for even thinking I’d be down for this shit. She’s a kid, man. A fucking kid... Favor or not, man… I’m on the Serpents side with this. Not yours. You need to leave.” Eric warned, giving Dave a firm glare as he folded heavily tattooed arms over his chest.

“Oh, so that’s how you’re playin, huh? Okay. Alright. All I wanna do is see her again. I’m not going to do anything. I just want to straighten things out. Get a little closure on the situation...”

Eric scoffed. “This coming from the king of overreaction. I don’t trust you.I’m breakin code of my gang by even talking to your ass. Nope. The answer is no. I’m not helping. Do whatever you have to do to me, but I’m not about to help you scare some kid. I’ve got better things to do with my time, buddy...”

Dave’s arm shot out and he pinned Eric against the door of his apartment. Smirking at him calmly. “I know you haven’t forgotten just how much your sorry ass owes me. Because that’s what this sounds like.”

“I guess that’s what it is then. Because I’ve seen what the Serpents can do. I’m not about to bring all that down on my head.” Eric stepped back inside his apartment, slamming the door in Dave’s face, leaving him to glare at the closed door and take a swing.

“Guess I’m doing this all by myself.” Dave mused as he turned and wandered down to a shitty dive bar nearby. He needed to have a few rounds. Come up with a plan.

And a little after midnight, after finding himself a few new talkative friends in some local Ghoulies, things were starting to look up for him. And he was slowly forming a plan.

Now he just had to wait. Pick his moment. Toy with her a little more.

“I’m so close I can almost touch you, scarlet. Soon… Soon you’re going to pay for running your mouth to mommy about me...” he smirked to himself as he unlocked his hotel room and stepped inside.

#sweetpea fanfiction #sweetpea fanfic #sweetpea fic #sweetpea imagine #sweetpea imagines #my writing ; sweetpea #my fanfiction; sweetpea #my fics; sweetpea #// stalker tw #// seriously. these next two parts are gonna get a little... scary.#// you have been warned

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whathappensnexts-blog · 4 years

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Chapter 1, part 2 of 2.

***Warning. In this story there is use of drugs and slight descriptions of violence. But there is also love. Enjoy :D ***

Yeah. A good adventure I thought, as we were passing that beach. Finn never completely returned from that bad trip. From that moment on he wasn’t sure if other people could understand what he was saying, so he had to, very anxiously, explain exhaustingly everything he said. Or at least most of it. Now we were walking past that beach and heading to that girl’s house, were the party was. In this period of time I was having some troubles with myself on an emotional and psychological level. I was struggling to understand myself as a young man, a young adult now, fresh out to the world. My first identity crisis.

We arrived at the girl’s place. When we took the turn on the street where the house was, we saw a bunch of people spread out along the road for at least fifty meters. Were they our guys? We could see some familiar figures on the dim lit street. They seemed too many to be our guys. Who were the others? Why are they separated like this? Something had happened, I was sure of it. The vibrations were clear.

“Sup.” We greeted the two closest to us. Instead of an answer we got no recognition and all we heard was “Hey c’mon George, let me punch you?” What? Before I could even get a grip of the situation, George was bend in half and holding his stomach. Jack, the guy that hit him was a heavier than normal guy, at the moment completely and utterly wasted and seeming to have no understanding and not a single care about what was happening in this world.

Finn looked at me nervously. He understood what I had realized just now as well. That we were too loud, in a too quiet neighborhood, at 3 o’clock in the morning, in a town full of old people and he was carrying all the grass we had at this moment. So, he stayed behind with George and I went on with Jack. Jack was moving with a slopy but light walk and he seemed to be unable to control the movement of his head. It was following the rest of his movements and it seemed kinda wobbly, like those funk pop figurines. My presence seemed to make no difference to him. When I asked about what was going on, he only told me that he kissed Pauly. Damn.

We regrouped with the others a bit lower on the street. Now I could see them. They were our guys plus two others who we already knew from around here. The story so far was like this. Jack was hella drank and he kissed Pauly, probably a bit violently. The thing is that Pauly was a very close friend of Jim, one of our pals, and Don (who was not one of us) was in love with her since forever. Poor guy. You could see that something had crumbled inside him. Then a few steps away there was Matt and Nick. Matt was one of us and Nick was a guy we knew like Don. Some words were exchanged in a violent manner. Jim said to Jack something along the lines of “You bastard. You did a really stupid thing you know that? Stay back. Don’t come here”. To which Jack replied a bit confused “Leave me alone”. He wasn’t sure whether to be angry or not. He had no idea what was happening. Jim said “I am warning you back off” and as a response he got a big blot of spit across his face.

Naturally a brawl broke out. Finn and George had caught up with us now and Finn was getting more and more nervous. He told me he had to go. I understood. There was absolutely no reason for the cops to find the weed he had hidden in his pants. Not today thank you very much. He told me to call him when the spirits calm down. The others were trying to separate the guys that were now rolling on the street. Don was mumbling “Let him go dude… let him go” although it was unclear to whom he was talking. Or even if he wanted to be heard. No, he was in his own world trying to gather his pieces. Nick was like “Damn…those idiots” and did nothing. I wouldn’t blame him. He was a relatively small and round guy, no match for the other two who had descended in a beast state as prompted by the booze and their rage. George wanted no part in this now and I wanted a drink. Me and Matt separated the two of them fairly easily. We went on the corner of the pavement to try and calm things down. Of course, this did not happen. Instead some more harsh words were exchanged and then Jim hit Jack out of nowhere while the later was immobilized by Matt. That sneaky bastard. That would have infuriated me as well whether I was drunk or not. As a result, Jack took a bite out of Matt’s hand almost cutting a piece from the guy. A second brawl broke out this time between Matt and Jim against Jack. Don and Nick were already gone. Now me and George had to separate them. We did although at some point Jack tried to hit me but he didn’t succeed. He punched George though again, this time in the face. Poor man.

Now the group was broken up. Only me George and Jack remained with the last one having short manic episodes in intervals of seconds “I’ll kill them…those fuckers…I’ll call them to come here now…Bastards” and then his attention would fly to something else only to return in the same manner as before. The only thing that existed in between this man’s ears was emptiness. You couldn’t talk, you couldn’t reason with him even in the drunk sense. He had gone completely of the rail.

At this point I called Finn. “Yeah I can still hear the bastard…No I won’t come now call me later.”. Right. Why didn’t I leave this man and go, just as the others did? I had no desire to deal with a madman at 3 o’clock in the morning. You see, the reason for me not leaving him in his fate was something else besides friendship. Friendship tends to collapse, at least momentarily, in situations like these. No, I was in love with that deranged fool. That so out of control drunkard that was now trying to rip out some metal bars of the street and screaming like a demon. I could see what was going on inside him. I could see he was in a great deal of emotional pain. And it pained me greatly as well. I could see the feelings of worthlessness and failure beating him up. He was torturing himself for some reason I think I could understand but wasn’t able to admit even to myself. That was because he himself was ashamed for whatever he was feeling right now. He was blocking his feelings from himself and that was what was causing that internal clash. How peculiar. I could feel what he was feeling. It is true that love opens a door of genuine understanding that connects you with the other person. An understanding beyond words. A silent most sincere understanding. Now his neck was red, veins all popped out and his face was frozen with intensity. And he was screaming.

George was shocked. “Damn… Alcohol doesn’t do this…why did you let him take drugs? That’s where this is coming from.” He was right. About a week ago he had his first encounter with MDMA. He wanted to do this with me and Finn and I wanted him to do it with us…mostly in hopes of something happening between us. No luck of course. It appears the amphetamines had woken up this lurking despair inside him. Now he stood up and approached the big green street trash bins and pushed them down the road. That was too far. Luckily at this hour there were hardly any cars driving by. Otherwise a really bad accident would have happened. Me George and a cashier from a kiosk near us put the bins back in their place. We thanked him and apologized in an awkward manner. He said nothing. He only looked at us baffled and maybe disappointed. In the meantime, Jack had crossed the road and went on the beach. Thank God at least no one would hear us there and no one would get hurt.

Things started to calm down now. He knew he had pushed it too far and that thought helped ground him in this reality. I could see parts of him coming back, though he was still throwing fits of rage. At one point he pushed George on the rocks but he wasn’t hurt. He also tried to punch me again but didn’t succeed “Jesus Christ man! Get a hold of yourself”. He shook me off but he did hear me. Sometime later Finn arrived and we smoked a joint. We deserved at least that after dealing with this madness. At some point Jack took his clothes off in a last burst of energy. When this cooled off, he hugged me saying something along the lines of how good of a friend I was to him. When he broke off, I could see through his boxers that he had a boner. But that was it for the day. No one was in any kind of flirting mood after all this. We finished the joint and we each returned to our places. What were Jack and George thinking when they were alone, I wonder? How did they feel? That would be interesting to know.

Why am I saying all this? As I said I was struggling with my identity at that time. The events that followed the next days led me to make a decision that would have a tremendous impact on the course of my life. That decision was the first consciously planted seed of goodness that sprung into a huge strong tree, from which the fruits I still enjoy to this day. And I will be enjoying them for as long as I choose to. It was a tree that touched a vein of the world. So naturally its fruits were divine.

The next day went as expected. All of us were hungover each for their own reason. I insisted that me and Jack go for a walk to talk about the events of last night. I wanted to talk to him before the others did. I don’t remember what was said exactly. I only remember patting him in the back while we were seating on the wave breaker and he pressed his head on my shoulder. The he lifted it up. “are we gay?” he asked baffled. A mix of emotions zapped me in a flash. I did feel that he had a gay part in him so, after this I felt like I had hopes to realize my dream of love. I said something along the lines of “What does it matter” or “No one can define you but yourself”. I didn’t feel the need to make any suggestions at this point. I only wanted to know if I had hopes. After that it was only a matter of him falling in love with me, which was the fun part. Or at least that was what I thought at the time. Now I just wanted to make him feel good about himself. Help him heal from last night’s events. Later on, we were leaving and we were about to part ways when we stumbled upon a friend of ours. We chatted a bit with her but we had to leave. At this point Jack hugged me out of the blue really tight. I was surprised as he rarely expressed himself like this especially after choosing to be vulnerable and let his emotions out. I could feel his ‘thank you’. I did make him feel good after all. And that made me feel good as well.

Later that night we gathered at Fred’s place. He had left early the other night so, he did not know what had happened. Tyler wasn’t even there yesterday. He had spent the night in a hotel with his girlfriend. Everyone that night gave a cold shoulder to Jack. Jim and Matt were nowhere to be seen. He claimed to have no recollection of last’s night’s events. It really was like the man was possessed by a demon. Don’t temper with the chemistry of your body. It will drive you mad if you can’t handle it. But none of us including me seemed to understand this. So naturally we kept going.

A few days later I saw Jack and Pauly hanging out by themselves, talking. And a few days later they were a couple. Damn. It didn’t hurt as much as I expected though. Probably I was in denial. I thought they wouldn’t be together for long, that they were unfit for each other. I was only half right. They were totally unfit for each other but their relationship lasted for four years on and off. It has been toxic some times. Maybe even a bit violent as rumor has it. Madness. They drove away from each other only to be reunited by their insecurities and the safety of the known. Why do I say this? Why not by their faith to love, by their faith to themselves to make it work? Maybe it was so, the first time they broke up and got together again. Maybe even the second. Hardly the third. And definitely not the fourth. By that point it was a parody. It is hard to move on in the drug culture.

That December when they first got together, we went to party to Jack’s place. For four consecutive days. The booze and the weed were endless. The second day we did MDMA again. We tried to find LSD but we had no luck there. Plus, Finn was not so eager to return to acid after his last bad trip. So, we settled for MDMA. And there we were at some point in the night mostly naked. Me and Jack talking frantic gibberish about feelings as prompted by the drug. There was a feeling of loving the whole world along with a wondrous sense of touch. At some point he leaned in and kissed me. The emotions I felt were inexplicable. I felt it coming just a few fragments of a second before it did. Or at least hoped so much for it to happen, that it did. I just couldn’t believe it that it finally happened. I tried to kiss him back but he had already pulled away. “Are we gay?” he said to himself. “Why did you try to kiss me back?”. “I…I didn’t…”. Boom. Second wave of shock. Come on what did you expect…He left quickly and went to join the others in the living room. I waited for a bit alone in the other room. Hoping that he’d come back, close the door behind him and stay with me. But no. Of course not. I was feeling both happy and sad at the same time. I went to join the others. We never ever talked about this and that was the last thing that happened between us. I was amazed by myself about how easily I could pretend that it never happened. That everything was ok. Even under the influence of a drug that magnifies your feelings tenfold if not more.

Now a few months later I am faced with a dilemma. What should I do? Should I keep trying to win him over despite him being happy in the relationship he already is? Should I insist? Or should I accept reality as it is and let him live his life and simply wish he is happy?

I chose what I already felt but barely understood. I chose love. In the truest sense. I chose to wish them good. The moment I chose that I felt…relieved. And I smiled. The Gods smiled as well and thus the slag of darkness began to break apart. Later I had many chances to manipulate their relationship. It took quite some effort not to do so. I had to remind myself the love I was serving. Let it come naturally if it even is to come. Do good, genuine good and you’ll be blessed. And so, it did. That was the grand decision of my life. To accept reality as it is, to let go but still harbor love in my heart. I didn’t know it then but that was the choice that changed my life. Love. Always choose love. You’ll never regret it. There was only one very hopeful question arising now. What happens next?

#writters #young writters #writting #story #adventure #literature #young artists #gay literature #love #gay love #gonzo journalism

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between-the-crosses · 4 years

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Ficlet - Farley, Pickering, & Tom w/ Cherries

This was a teeny tiny ficlet prompted (entirely by accident) by ElectricRaven99 in the comments of Chapter 9 of the guns below / now we lie. Alas, there wasn’t any reason to fit it into the main story, narrative-wise -- it probably takes place at the same time as Joe & Will’s conversation at the end of Chapter 9 *u*

Little Blake is fantastically good at never shutting up. Farley finds already that he regrets ever having wished the boy would speak; it is literally endless. Pickering’s hanging on to every word, though; and Farley’s not going to leave him alone with a ghost, because at least with him there it looks like he and Pickering are just having an odd conversation together, not Pickering talking to himself. (And okay, maybe Farley’s just a bit unhappy that Pickering’s so interested in someone else, even if it’s not like the ghost has anything up on Farley in any meaningful way -- ugh, this is so stupid.)

"--and so that's when the Colonel says 'Oh get on with it Adrian,' and the Major -- back when Hepburn was still Major, you see -- he's all 'For God's sake, Edmund, do shut up,' and I tell you Scho nearly fell over from shock!"

"Wait, so Colonel Hepburn knows?" Pickering interrupts, fascinated.

"Colonel Hepburn's a deadman, yeah," baby Blake says with a shrug. "He noticed me 'n Scho chatting one too many times, and that's how he knew Scho could see ghosts."

"Does he know about us?" Farley demands. He can't think of anything worse -- in his experience, it's always been better to keep these things close to the chest. You don't want anyone to know all your tricks, that's just stupid.

Blake assures the both of them that he doesn't. "I don't think he even knows about Joe," he says thoughtfully. "Scho never wanted it to get out that Joe could do it too, 'cause Joe's not as practiced at it, and -- well, Scho's not too happy about being known, either. I mean, at least he weren't in any danger of getting in trouble 'cause of being thought mad or anything, but --" he shrugs again. "Dunno. I should probably ask about that . . ."

The ghost trails off and gets lost in thought over this. It's creepy, watching how his eyes seem to white out like the Grim's when he's not looking at anything in particular.

"Well, I'm hungry," Farley says after a moment. "Pick’, you have supper yet?"

"Oh, actually, I already ate," Pickering says sheepishly. "I went out before you came back . . . sorry."

Damn. He’s going to have to leave Pickering to his own devices after all. "Was there anything good?" Farley asks, and sets about resigning himself to the fact that he’ll just have to leave Pickering with a warning to be careful about being seen. If he eats fast, it won’t be too long . . .

“You’d think, given those cherry orchards they marched us past, there would be,” Pickering says gloomily. “But no, nothing. Same as usual.”

Blake brightens at that. “Cherries?” he says with interest. “What kind -- did you see?”

Pickering’s eager again, excited at having something else to chat about. Farley’s had enough of it. “Well, if they weren’t Morellos, they weren’t worth it anyhow,” he says in his best snob impression. “They’re the only ones worth putting in pies, after all.”

Blake looks startled. Pickering is amazed. “Since when do you know cherries?” he demands.

“Since always,” Farley says, feeling victorious as he gets up. Let’s see if Blake can top that! Farley never thought he’d be thankful for all those hours of nicking food from bakeries as a child, but it looks like listening in on bakers’ talk is useful at last. “I’ll be back in a bit. Try not to get caught talking to nothing, eh?”

#1917 #1917 fanfiction #between the crosses #ficlet #the guns below / now we lie #cherries #extra content #cut scenes

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tempestshakes01 · 4 years

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4-23-20

i’m not quite sure why i started this.

I’m actually writing (almost) daily journal blurbs using this app called Day One. I quite like it. It provides daily prompts. I set a timer for 5 mins and I just write. Not having a routine or schedule is hell for me because I’m either hyperfocused or I can’t focus worth a damn. At that point of the day--when my head hurts and I can’t even focus on a single thought--I go for Joe and I’s daily run/walk. I’m NOT a runner, but my 0 to 5k app is really helping stay on the path toward becoming a runner. I’ve had to restart it multiple times (bad weather, high ankle sprain, illness), but I don’t mind. Every time I have to restart, I note that the process is much easier. I’m currently working my way through week 4 runs which is like 3-5 min “on” and 2 min off for ~30 mins. When I finish the app session, I usually walk for another 30-60mins and then run about 5-10 mins back to the start of our route (we go on the bike paths in the greenway...I’ve always done this because I don’t want to run into people and now it’s great because...well, I don’t have to run into people, lol). In total, we’re usually out there anywhere between an hour to two hours avg. Unfortunately, I’m getting shin pain so I’m going to start saving for some real trail runners, ice my legs, and probably stay on Wk 4 for a few weeks--especially as it gets hotter and Joe gets overheated. I carry water for him mostly, lol. I drink a bit, but most of it goes to the pup. In the hottest parts of summer, I bring my big bottle and his collapsable dish, leave it in the dry creek, and do circuits so I don’t have to haul it around. For Christmas, Nick got me a hiking pack that will carry a few liters in a bladder, so I gotta figure out which ones to buy for when I want to do some damage out in the hills.

This is literally so boring probably, but it’s basically the thing I love most right now. I LOVE going and running through the woods listening to a podcast and blissfully alone from most everybody (I pass on avg...maybe 5 people? 3 on bikes and then 2 other trail walkers/runners). I feel so clear-headed afterward. I think I should start going in the morning again to give me a push for the day, but I really enjoy going and racing dusk. The fireflies come out and it’s utterly magical. Plus, it gets Joe straight into bed after he eats while I shower.

Miss my parents. They’re 20 minutes away, but I have yet to see them since before spring break. That’s a lie, they dropped off homemade burgers and cake for easter since we couldn’t do the holiday together. No one got close or anything, but we were able to talk for a while. My sister and I meet up sporadically since we were together when this all started. They just got foster puppies (but a potential adopter is meeting them now!). Nick switched to working from home for the week and that’s been great. I mean it! I’m happy when Nick’s home. We actually have very similar personalities (hahaha, well, duh, we’re related), but we like our space but we keep the doors open to occasionally yell at each other and so Joe can run between us. Plus, Alyssa comes over on her days off so it’s a full house with Luna as well. Other than that, Nick and I don’t see anyone else or go anywhere except the grocery store (rarely). Oh, and Grace Alex. I’m supposed to see her today! Maybe Zoom w/ Lilz.

I’ll write more later, but that’s all for now.

#miranda this is your life

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lady-o-ren · 5 years

Text

The Witch and the Red Man

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four

Chapter Five

The air within the oakwood chamber was damp, cool and richly lush with the fresh, clean, fragrance of wild mint and lavender that overlapped the twisted bark above as the knotted walls bellowed like the rise and fall of a creatures ribs moaning hauntingly so.

Nevertheless, the creeping night had been a gift of peace for Claire, who laid enveloped in the healing depths of slumber of which she had been without for so long. Where anguish momentarily lifted from her heart steadying it to a calming rhythm, spreading warmth in a glowing blue of harmony that mended not only her bruises and scrapes but also the painful strain of another's cursed psyche that had been consuming her mind, tainting her blood.

And it was that link so quiet as not to stir her from the sanctity and unbothered bliss of a dreamless sleep that had Claire waking with a sense of unease, questioning if the damned red man had absconded stupidly into the night.

Throwing off the muslin sheets where she was bared to her stippled moonlit skin, Claire dressed hastily in clothes unfamiliar but wonderfully clean, even as the thundercloud of her own accursed curls and low-hanging ivy slithering as snakes, blinded her in the rush.

Out the room where she crushed soft pennytops springing through the crackled stone floors, past the clustering white hemlock still curling wildly with infatuation that she slapped away, Claire was met with the oddest of sights that had her palming her eyes.

There sat Jamie, hunched forward on his elbows over the clawed table that was dotted with piles of acorns and pebbles, across the raven known as Boromir and glowering like an adolescent over what seemed like a simple game of draughts.

"You wee fowl of a cheat," Jamie grumbled, causing the accused to ruffle feathers so black they lustered blue and glinted green, while throatily voicing a declaration of his innocence which was simply that of an offended caw.

"Dinna give me any of yer beak, beag suid,or I'll have yer feathers plucked 'till yer fleshed pink." Jamie then continued to argue with Boromir, who practically molting from his rapid flapping, which is when Claire interceded with a clearing of her throat.

Loudly so. Then another. Causing Jamie to flinch from ruddy brow to cornered lip in mid verbal assault, keeping his back decidedly turned knowing he'd find a mocking grin pinching her cheeks.

"What exactly am I interrupting here may I ask? Other than the obvious threat of a full grown man towards an innocent bird."

"Innocent?" He grunted, narrowing his eyes at the percieved guilty. "This bastard was the most decent thing I've met in years, apart from a hare roasted over fire - that is until he defiled our friendship with dirty underhanded play." The accusation was emphasized with a hard pointed finger to the tabletop.

Hand on her hip, "How?"

"I dinna ken, but his mistress is a dark one and I shouldna see why a soul eater as he canna be as well."

"Or just possibly his thumb sized intelligence is greater than yours."

Claire was met with a sideways glare meant to melt her spine down to it's marrow yet, it only prompted a fervent press of her hand to the delightfully spasming muscles of her belly. The first she had felt since her days with Raymond.

"This genius here as ye so believe tried to swallow an acorn whole. Had to pinch his throat for him to caw another day." Boromir denied such a humiliating mishap by chancing a pecking at the broad back of Jamie's hand that he in turn waved in a warning smack to his beak.

"So you're telling me you've lost to a bird that you yourself have given a lowly opinion of intelligence to. No offense to you Boromir," Claire was quick to add, looking over Jamie's burning thatch curling as his annoyance peaked. "I think you're the one with sense."

Jamie then muttered underbreath a garble of something surely belittling in gàidhlig towards her, which was a grand deal better than him directly saying so in words she could understand. And before he changed his mind on that, Claire decided (with sharp insistence of her stomach) she needed sustenance better than a laugh, no matter the small flickering warmth it brought her.

She sought the great iron pot gently steaming and spouting a bubbly croon over the black sooted hearth and stirred it's contents (what looked to be a delicious concoction of bobbling mushrooms, potatoes and other bountiful delights, spiced strongly with cloves of garlic and herbs that crossed enticingly under her nose), wondering where Geillis could be and for that matter the time of day it was. The light that sneaked through the crevices of the saplings glowed rather darkly like the haggard setting of the day and those hours lost ticked away in Claire's mind.

"Is it sundown already?" She asked with a furrowed brow to Jamie, who had been pawing at Boromir's loot of acorns before getting nicked by his beak.

"Aye," Jamie mumbled roughly past his lips where the injured finger was being nursed. "Of what day I canna say. One - two may have past that I've noticed. I suspect something in the water, even the air that's made a blur of it all and it must be something mighty to do us both in. Especially me."

"What makes you think so?"

Jamie's finger glistened with a small drop of blood near black that he smeared against thumb and forefinger before speaking again.

"I woke somewhere between the last we spoke to now, my mouth thirsting. I looked to that pitcher there beside ye as our fine feathered lad here deemed it well enough to drink. Next I knew I was on my face pooled wet in senseless dreams with Boromir pecking at my heid, clawing at my cheek."

Abuse Jamie welcomed as the dreams were nightmares echoing the past that threatened to choke him as the hangman's noose. The pool that drenched him his sweat from a brewing fever of fright with the black bird trying desperately to rouse him from his minds relentless torment. Jamie reluctantly lowered his head in gratitude to Boromir whose guarded stance relaxed to that of a dove.

"I dinna trust the water and that extends to the food. Been eating acorns and black currants from the vine that grows above us since noontide and no misfortune has befallen me yet."

While Claire knew Geillis had a perverse penchant for playing tricks, it wouldn't explain her own sedation as she was immune to all earthly poison. Pondering possibilities she deduced the most obvious.

"While I can't say Geillis isn't capable of doing such a thing, I think it was simply our bodies meeting their limits. Exhaustion overtaking us." Claire reasoned, spooning soup to two bowls crudely shaped from black walnut that sat purposefully aside for her and Jamie (Had Geillis been back since she left them that night?). She placed one in front of him that he wrinkled his nose to, then took her seat at Boromir's end who was ever the gentleman and shuffled aside.

"Even if I were inclined to believe ye, I'm no' touchin' food made from that woman’s baneful hand." Jamie shoved the bowl away, broth dripping down the rim as he reached instead for a large handful of acorns to gorge on without the squawking scorn.

"If we are ever to leave this place and never see one another again - which you've made quite clear is your desire as is mine, you will need your strength, Jamie. The faster you eat the better for us both."

Jamie fixed a single unblinking stare to Claire as he popped the acorns to his mouth, one after the other. Each louder than the last in stubborn emphasis.

"You child." Rolling her eyes, Claire left him to his chosen meal fit for bushy-tailed vermin and tucked in to hers. Lapping up a veggie stacked spoonful that swam hot across her tongue, a peculiar expression fell upon her face that had Jamie's brows pitched high.

"Poison." The word was spoken with an odd tone of smug validation.

"Pepper." Claire retorted flatly, with the heat of it catching in her throat. "Quite a lot too. Still, I'd wager it's a grand deal better than what you're having."

While Claire continued to eat, the steamy aroma relentlessly teased Jamie's fortitude that crumbled with every writhing lurch of his stomach, groaning so like a feral shriek it startled even himself.

Uttering, "Shit," Jamie grabbed for the spoon, provoking a smile that warmed Claire better than the soup. The heat of it spreading to her cheeks when her glowing amusement was mistaken for gloating and was met with a firm press of his boot over the tip of hers, 'Dinna say a word.'

She didn't.

Instead the whizzing and crackling fire did the talking with the nervous rustling of summers last verdant creation sneering back. Boromir's gurgling kraa filled the gaps between as he joined the feast at Jamie's urging. Bickering forgotten, forgiveness granted.

Time would have passed pleasantly, the silence preferable over a chancing of another snide remark taken farther then a jest, more cruel than a bite, if not for the entrance from the brisk outside of one who could see to the center of a man if evil be found there and relished in it so.

"Keep on wi' yer daggers stag and I'll tear yer eyes to crush beneath my shoon." Her white teeth gleaming in the dusky light, Geillis chuckled darkly at Jamie until Boromir shrieked in his defense, fingers tensing at the clasps of her cloak.

"Bleeding devil's, yer getting a mouth on ye. And the state of ye," she clicked her tongue sharply as she chucked her cloak to hang on the roots protruding from the walls. "Mussed as a drowned rat."

Despite his less than kind proclamations earlier, Jamie gently stroked his knuckle to Boromir's feathered back, softly speaking most sincere. "Ye've a most handsome feather about ye, lad. Dinna mind yer Mistresses foul withered tongue."

Defiant eyed, Jamie shrugged his shoulders dismissively as Claire hushed him, fingers curling in her lap as if to strike the words from his mouth but little too late.

Her unnatural feral eyes became entirely devoid of white, but upon hearing the hitch in Claire's throat pleading gaze, Geillis sighed and curled her lovely mouth so wide that it sent a chill through the three.

"Och, sweet on each other are ye now?" Her voice sopping with mockery. "Beware my kinsman, the glutton will shit on ye when his gullet is filled to the brim. Vomits when he dips his pecker in the drink too. But at the very least he swallows his own sick."

Amused with herself, Geillis walked to the hearth and raised her chilled palms to the fire, kindling bright as the flame. Her blonde lashes flicked nearly flittering closed when Claire asked where she had been.

"The sleep steal yer memories as well, mo calman geal? I shouldna be surprised what wi' the both of ye still-bodied as death when I shuffled about these days past." Her mossy eyes crinkled at the corners. "And ye ungrateful pair are welcomed for the clothes and food."

"You have our gratitude, Geillie. Immensely ," Claire's voice rose in appeasement, looking over her shoulder to Jamie who stared just as hard back. Geillis however hummed in appreciation.

"I've been asking around the wood to find ye both passage past where my name willna help ye. I conversed at great length wi' every spirit I have favor wi'. Exhausted me so." Her face flushed unabashed to the roots of her hair, giggling like a youth.

"But it was mo Aloisia, who held the way." She said fondly. "A nymph from the very waters of Iona, practically drowned me to do so. Had watercress in the crack of my arse."

Before she could detail any further where reeds and lily pads had caressed her, Claire hurriedly interrupted her. "So it's by the river we journey?"

"Aye, a wee boat long abandoned is drifting our way now to quickly set ye to Le Havre before the butcher can find ye. And he is searching mo leannan, the trees whisper it. Water is the answer."

"What do you think, Jamie?" Claire turned to Jamie who had been silent through it all to find his hands clapped to his face where he had gone green as the briny sea.

"Jamie?"

"Damn all ye soulless woman." He wretchedly groaned looking to retch right on the spot.

___

A/N: Thank you to all who continue to read this story.

#outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #jamie x claire #weird stuff #weird writing #wrm

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bakusquadup · 6 years

Note

can i get a long fic w/ dabi + prompt 62 "your not as quiet as you think you are"? thanks!

Hey friend! I’ve actually been getting quite a lot of requests for Dabi, so I figured I’d start with this one because it piqued my interest. I kinda got overeager and took some liberties that you may not have wanted. It got a little dark lol. Anyway, enjoy?

-Shelley

Dabi

Three lefts, a right, down the hallway, and up the stairs to the main room. You repeated the directions in your mind as you swiftly made your way through the building. On your first hero mission, you were racing through the League of Villains’ hideout, hoping to find some intelligence on their next attack. Around every corner, you could hear voices muttering about various unintelligible topics. Each time you would hear a voice, you would pause, back pressed to the nearest wall as you waited for the people to move along.

Three lefts, a right, down the hallway, and up the stairs to the main room. Only the hallway and stairs left. Halting when a high-pitched feminine voice came from one of the nearby room, you listened around you for signs of other villains.

“You know…” A deep voice rung out behind you, causing you to whip around to find the source. You spun to find yourself face-to-face with the League of Villains’ own Dabi, his purpled scars and stapled face sending a chill down your spine. “You’re not as quiet as you think you are.” You barely had time to react before he was pressing a damp cloth to your mouth, pulling your head forward to make sure you couldn’t pry yourself free. For a moment, you squirmed, but the chloroform worked too quickly and you were out the next.

You awoke to find Dabi standing over you, his fingers sizzling with small blue flames. You were in a small, dimly-lit room with half a dozen filing cabinets and a lone door beyond your captor. Thick, white rope was wrapped around your torso and your hands, the fibers digging into your skin and leaving rope burns. Giving you a slanted grin that pulled his scars taught, Dabi brushed them against your cheek, causing you to pull back in agony. The fire was white-hot, searing at your skin with even the lightest of touches. You felt the scars starting to form, thin red lines raising away from the surrounding skin – four in total, one for each finger. It burned. God, it burned. But you refused to scream out, refused to show this villain any weakness on your part. So, you swallowed your pain. You were on a mission – your first real one – and you were damn-set on doing it. Backup would be there soon.

The torture continued like that for a while, but the pain grew worse with each subsequent burn so eventually you couldn’t hold back the noises of distress anymore. Pain was searing at the skin all across your arms, cheeks, and legs, and fear was growing within your chest.

“You’re scared,” he stated, matter-of-factly. Scared? Of course, you were scared. You were sitting in the hub of Japan’s most prominent villain organization with a known killer waving a hand full of fire near your throat. Your radio sat silent at your hip and you were becoming increasingly aware that no backup was coming. You had been a lab rat, sent out to see what the League of Villains was capable of handling, likely meant to either receive minute intelligence or be left to die. The rest of the heroes were being saved for a larger battle, while you were left to fend for yourself in a building full of dangerous criminals. Yes, you were more scared than you were proud of. But you did not answer. “You’re scared because you know that you’re going to die in here and you don’t know what comes after death.”

“I’m not scared because I don’t know what’s after death,” you spat back instinctively. Dabi narrowed his eyes and pressed his hand closer to your face. The heat of the flames was making you sweat and causing your breathing to go ragged as you struggled to find enough oxygen.

“Oh?”

“I’m scared because I know exactly what comes after death.” Setting your expression, you clenched your jaw and glared forward at him, not letting any feature show that fear. “I know that there’s absolutely nothing. It’s just a black, empty void and there’s no feeling or thinking or knowing or being.” He raised a brow, but did not move. “But I live with that fear constantly as a hero. So, yeah. I’m scared. But not because of anything particularly related to you.”

Dabi stood there frozen for a moment and it was then that you thought would certainly be the end for you. That’s how you would go out, giving a half-assed snarky response to a villain in an attempt to win back some of your dignity. You braced for the flames that would momentarily engulf you.

But they never came. Instead, he pulled his hand back and burst out in a fit of laughter. For a minute, you thought you were hallucinating, that maybe you had been drugged too heavily and weren’t seeing things properly. But no, Dabi from the League of Villains was standing there laughing in response to your aggression. Your brows knit together.

“You’re not like any hero I’ve ever met,” he said, once the laughter subsided to sporadic chuckles. You kept your lips pressed shut, still unsure of what would happen next. “I’ve never seen you before, who are you?”

“Um…” Was that a rhetorical question? When Dabi merely stared, you opted to answer it. “I’m a new hero. I was set to debut after I leave the League of Villains’ hideout.”

“Well, I see that didn’t work out for you.” You didn’t respond. “Where’s your backup?”

“Um, they…” You trailed off.

“Hmm? They’re not coming?” He tipped the edge of your chin up, but you pried away from his grasp, nicking yourself on a staple in his wrist. Pulling his hand back, he walked away from you, shuffling about the room and opening draws as he spoke. “No, they’re not coming. I’ve seen it all before. Sending a hero in to do the dirty work, then abandoning them. It’s typical hero work, actually.” He grabbed something from one of the draws and turned back toward you. “Some make it out anyway. Others don’t. But you…” He presented the object he had just retrieved. A pair of scissors. “You’re much more interesting than them. I have a proposition: join us.” You audibly scoffed.

“Absolutely not. Over my dead body.”

“No, I’d rather not kill you now. That’s starting to seem like such a waste.” He reached behind you and started to cut at the ropes, freeing your hands. “Tell you what? I’ll let you go, but with one condition.” The ropes fell away from your torso and Dabi backed up, leaving you to stand from the chair and move about as you pleased. “If we catch you again, you join us.” He motioned toward a door behind him. “Feel free to go.” You quickly glanced between him and the door and made a break for it – just in case he was bluffing.

“There won’t be a second time,” you called back, once through the door.

“I wouldn’t be too sure.”

#dabi #requests #scenarios #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #asks #anon #mine

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nasanerdevans-blog · 6 years

Text

Someone Pinch Me // [S.R.]

prompt: being a medical prodigy already has it’s ‘holy shit’ moments, but this might be the biggest ‘holy shit’ moment you’ve ever had or will ever have.

warnings: swearing, lots of swearing

enjoy :)

Your hands slowly wrapped around the doorknob, the cool metal contrasting with the warm clamminess of your hands, coming from the rising nerves in your stomach. The large light above the large circular table was out, but two standing lamps that sat in the back corners of the room were flicked on. “Take a seat.” One of the two faceless individuals said, making you jump. Your body jolted forward to the seat that sat on the opposite side of the table.

The room sat silent for entirely too long, but you took this time to take in the characteristic of each of their faces, well, the ones you could see. These people were practically silhouettes due to the lights sitting directly behind them. The man who had instructed you to sit was sitting to the left. His head was smooth, due to his lack of hair, and seemed to have a darker skin complexion. As your eyes shifted towards the other man, the man who first spoke to you, broke the silence. “Are you (Y/F/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N)?” He asked, his voice was hoarse, you heard the turning of paper pages. “Y-Yes, s-sir.” You stammered, fiddling with your fingers in your lap. “Fury, can we turn the damn lights on? You’re gonna give this girl a heart attack.” The voice of his partner was higher pitched, and oddly sounded familiar.

“We’re not doing this good cop, bad cop thing, it never works. You just end up giving everyone heart palpitations.” The familiar voice said, you watched his faceless head turn towards you now. “Sorry kid, can you flip the light on?” He said, more as a demand and less as a question. You turned in the swivel chair and scooted just close enough to reach the switch. The room was quickly flooded with light. You hesitantly turned back around, and almost as a reflex, your jaw dropped. “Holy shit...” Was all you could muddle out. Sitting before you was they one and only, Tony Stark, or Iron Man, both names being just as infamous as the other. What the actual fuck is happening?

That day started off completely normal, nothing but the ordinary.

Your alarm went off at the ungodly hour, four o’clock in the morning. This may seem like an odd hour for a few, but for a someone who works in any sort of medical field this was normal. Your average morning consisted of rolling around in your sheets for another ten minutes, dreading to leave your warm and cozy sheets. Once you finally sit up and swing your feet over the edge of your bed, anticipating the cold floor contrasting with your warmer feet, making a layer of goosebumps layer across your skin.

Striding across the wooden floor to the bathroom across the hall, instantly turning the knob of your shower completely to the warm side, waiting until it was scolding hot, just the way you liked it. The hot water made the sleep-heavy haze, that hung over your body slowly disperse. It wasn’t that you were actually tired, you had been off the last two days, using them to catch up on your lack of sleep. You absolutely loved your job with every fiber of your being, the patients, co-workers, and every other thing that came with this job.

For the most part, your mornings were quick and to the point, the thing that took the longest was the shower, once you were in the warmth, similar to your bed, you struggled to leave it. Besides that, you would just throw on some scrubs and fix your hair into the simplest of styles, that would be out of your way and kept out of your face, so that day was no different. The hospital you worked at was a decent drive away, thirty to forty-five minutes. Your supervisors had asked if you wanted to transfer to a closer hospital, but you declined, you loved the drive, blasting your favorite music. It was just your daily dose of ‘me-time’, which is something you barely had, due to your busy schedule.

The building was twelve stories, completely made of two-toned bricks with hundreds of windows, you always felt bad for the window clearers, heaven forbid, one of the wires snapped. Well, at least they were directly next to a hospital, but still. You turned down the music as you pulled into your assigned parking spot.

“Good morning, Ms. (Y/F/N)!” the receptionist said, a huge smile plastered on her face. You gave her a big smile, while taking a sip of the drink in your hand. Approaching the steel doors with short strides, you clicked the button with a small arrow pointing up, tapping your foot as you waited. The metal box carried you up to the fifth floor, where your unit sat, also known as the ‘Trauma Center’. This specific floor dealt with the most grueling and high-risk injuries, and then being a a Level One Trauma Unit, only added to the insanity. A ‘Level One’ meant it provided total care, prevention and rehabilitation, equipped with learning stations for research programs.

As the elevator doors pulled open, you were instantly greeted by a fellow co-worker and good friend, Jasmine. “Oh hey!” You exclaimed, almost walking into her. The smile that had twisted your lips upwards, was instantly changed into a worried expression. “What's wrong?” You asked, noticing her wide-eyes and arched eyebrows. Instead of explaining anything to you, she simply grabbed the wrist of your free hand, practically dragging you towards the West end of the floor, where most of the classrooms and conference rooms sat. You tried your best to plant yourself on the tile floors, but to no avail, Jasmine just continued to drag you past patients and some nurses.

“What the hell are you doing?” You barked, trying to pry your wrist from her tiny fingers. “You’re gonna bruise me!” You further explained. Opening your mouth to bicker again, but before your could get out the first letter, she stopped, right outside one of the conference room. You looked at her angrily, finally ripping your hand away from hers. You gripped your forearm, shaking your wrist, and checking for any damage. The skin was a small bit irritated, but besides that, everything was still intact.

“Now can you tell me what the fuck is going on?” You whispered-yelled, tossing the empty cup in your other hand into the garbage beside the door. “They’re in there.” Was all she said, you watched her gulp, making the nerves in your stomach only grow stronger. “Who’s in there?” You asked, voice just above a whisper. “Just go in.” She urged, practically pushing you into the door.

And you know how it went from there.

“Can-Can I ask w-why you’re h-here?” You stuttered, something you did often when you became overwhelmingly anxious, leg bouncing up and down under the table, one of the habits you could never break. “You can.” Mr. Stark said, a bright smile on his face, he let out a loud chuckle, laughing at his own’ dad-type’ joke. The other man rolled his only visible ‘eye’, while Tony just continued to chuckle at himself. “We’ll be asking the questions here, Ms. (Y/L/N).” The more intimidating man said, flipping through a file with your name printed on it, last name first followed by your middle initial, and then your first name. “Oh god, Fury, could you be anymore cliche?” Stark asked, leaning back in his chair, propping his head up on his hands. “I’m gonna kick your ass if you don’t shut up, we’re supposed to be intimidating.” They bickered back in forth, which was quite amusing, if you weren't in a complete state of inner chaos you might of laughed, but instead you just watched the two interact. “Bring it old man!” Tony tested, his hand hovering over the glowing triangle over his chest.

Fury changed the subject looking back at you, ignoring whatever Tony mumbled under his breath. “I need you to verify some information for me.” Mr. Fury said, pulling a sheet of paper out of the manilla folder. The questions were simple, like verifying your birthdate, the day you graduated high school/college, etc. “It says here Ms. (Y/L/N), that you are on your last year of medical residency training, at only the age of twenty-four, is that correct?” Nick asked, glancing up at you with his ‘good eye’. “Yes, sir.” You confirmed, bringing your hands up to the desk, still fiddling with your thumbs. “That is six years sooner than the average individual.” You had heard that statistic a million times, you almost rolled your eyes, but you decided against.

“Fury, we know she’s a genius, can we just get on with it? With what we’re actually here for.” Tony said more as a demand, than a question. “I’m never taking you with me to these things ever again.” Nick muttered to Tony, although he was obviously able to hear him. “Alright Ms. (Y/L/N), we are here to offer you a proposition.” You didn’t think your heart could drop any lower into your body, but you felt your heartbeat in your toes. “M-Me?” You asked, dumbfounded. Tony nodded, grabbing another manilla folder from his briefcase.

This is when Tony began to speak to you, “I read the essays you wrote about the effects on the Super Soldier Serum, and I’m very impressed with your knowledge.” Tony explained, this made your heart skip a beat, hearing those words coming from ‘They Tony Stark’ meant more than words can say. “You know things about the serum that has never been released, how is that?” You racked your brain for a moment, resurfacing the information you put into your essays, and quickly began to explain, bur before you could Nick cut you off, “How did you know Potassium was a part of the serum?” He pressed, his eye scanning over a copy of one of the essays in question.

“Potassium’s main job in the body is to grow and build muscles, and since these ‘Super Soldiers’ have the ability to regenerate muscles quickly, there must have been an above average amount of Potassium in the serum.” You explained, both of them watching you intently. They continued to question you on this knowledge, and continue to become more and more impressed with each passing moment. “You’re hired!” Tony exclaimed, jumping out of his seat,pointing at you.

“H-Hired for w-what, sir?” You asked, the nerves bubbling back up. “Oh right, you still have no idea why we’re here.” he mumbled. He slid a manilla folder your way, you caught it right before it slipped off the table. A black bar was printed at the top, white letters spelling out ‘confidential’ with a small bird-like symbol just below it. You flipped open the folder and was greeted by a photo of a familiar face, one you had seen on the news hundreds of times, whether that be through a broadcast, interviews, or through phone videos played by the news. It was Captain America, aka Steve Rogers. You felt like you were looking at something you weren't supposed to, so you quickly closed the folder, pushing it away. “W-What is that?” So many questions swimming through your brain, but that was the only one you could get out.

“We’ve been tip-toeing for too long, so I’m just gonna say it.” Tony said, rolling his eyes and sitting upright in his chair. “Basically, because we’ve been researching you after a tip came in about you existence, and we came here because we believe you would be the perfect nurse for our two Super Soldiers.” All the information was too much to process, you felt like your brain had shut down. “What?” Was all you could muster out. “I don’t have enough time or energy to care for Rogers and Barnes after every fight, so I need someone who is completely dedicated to them, health-wise, and you fit that mold perfectly.” He picked up his briefcase and set it on the table, clicking it shut. “You’ll be their Sexy Sup-Stop.” Nick cuts him off, you didn’t even register what Tony was beginning to say, your brain had practically shut down, and was currently rebooting, you probably looked drunk, with glossy eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Someone pinch me.” You thought to yourself, but it must have slipped past your lips because you heard Tony mumble something, that you couldn’t even register his words. They didn’t even let you get out a yes or no, and not even a ‘can I think about it?’ Instead, they placed a thick manilla folder in front of you, similar to the one you scanned over earlier.

“In here is your contract, and you are not to share this information with anyone, do you understand?” Fury said, his tone back to serious, the same as before Tony began to make a fool of himself. You simply nodded, trying to knock yourself back into reality. “W-What if I-I have any questions?” You asked, looking between the two men. Stark fished around in his pockets for something, and quickly pulled out a small card. “if you have any questions, give me a call.” He said, placing the small business card on the folder. Before you could say anything else, they were already walking out the door, and presumably towards the elevator.

“You really can’t make this shit up.”

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