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neetily · 4 months ago

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Need a hand? — (SDV) Sam

— ✧ warnings: Hand & Finger Kink, Oral Fixation, Choking, Vaginal Fingering, Scent Kink, drool, saliva, Praise Kink, Premature Ejaculation — ✧ word count: 3,335 — ✧ genre: smut (18+)

— ✧ A/N: reposting from my old account since i was asked to! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

It’s a late cool Thursday night in the middle of Fall. Your animals have already been seen to and sent to bed, your crops picked and watered for the next harvest, and so what else is there to do on a middle of the week day when all chores are finished? Why, help Sam with music writing of course.

He had asked you at the beginning of the week for help regarding his bands newest song lyrics using the excuse that both Sebastian and Abigail have been too busy to lend a hand and he’d appreciate an outsiders opinion on what they had so far. Of course you said yes, glad to be of any help to any of your neighbours but especially for a close friend like Sam.

When you had accepted he silently swallowed the fact that he doesn’t actually need help with the lyrics, and is instead using this as a ploy to spend some time with you, but you didn’t need to know that. Both Seb and Abigail were more than available to help, but he had ‘forgot’ to ask them. Similarly, they 'forgot’ to help, both friends aware of his infatuated plans.

Being a farmer is busy work, he understand this, and so the guilt that creeps up his spine as you welcome him into your log cabin for the night, tail between his legs as you lead him to your bedroom is something he chooses to ignore. You seem to genuinely want to help, and here he is taking time out of your precious schedule for his own selfish gains.

What he can’t ignore, however, is how heavy your scent fills his senses once seated at the head of your bed. He should have accounted for it, really, but it takes him by surprise the minute he enters your bedroom. It’s instantly his new favourite scent, and when you briefly leave to grab some drinks he takes the opportunity and runs with it, shoving his face against your sheets and sharply inhaling.

Bad move, he’s quick to think. He’s had a crush on you for a while now and he knows it’s painfully obvious to everyone in town. He can only hope that it isn’t as clear to you, but you’ve probably already caught on to his true intentions. Ever insightful, he’s trying his best not to come on too strongly. It’s just- you smell so good, has him salivating, drool pooling in his mouth at the thought of being wrapped up in your scent. Arousal drips from his tip but your footsteps pull him back to reality prompting him to sit up perhaps a bit too straight too quickly for it to look natural. Thankfully you don’t mention it. Whether it’s out of pity or genuine obliviousness does not matter to him.

“So, could you play the melody for me?” You ask when returning with the drinks. “Might help with the lyric writing, you know.” You’re blushing after those words, as if there are hidden meanings between the lines but Sam is too fried by his previous actions to analyse. Instead, he nods, dragging his guitar up to his crossed legs on the bed. At least this way his growing erection could be hidden until he gets his shit under control.

You’d asked him to bring his guitar along for the purpose of helping, and though he’s confident in his skill to, you know, play the guitar seeing as it’s literally his job, his fingers twitch against the strings as you sit opposite of him. You pass him his drink and he gulps it down, the ice cold water shocking his body enough to steel his nerves a little.

“Right. Ya ready?” His voice is shaky and it’s embarrassing enough to cause a faint blush upon his cheeks. You smile in return and nod.

“Let’s hear it.”

A second or two passes as he prepares himself, strumming randomly in an effort to stall what he thinks he might fail. But, when he looks back at you and soaks in your encouraging eyes he feels more determined than ever. Time to show off- help, he means.

With a few fumbles at the start Sam easily slips into his groove, the new song being a bit slower paced compared to his bands previous tracks, but intricate nonetheless. His head is down, focused intently on completing his song for you seeing as this is the reason why he’s here, however midway through he tilts his head up out of curiosity, seeking your reaction to his new sound. And oh what a sight he sees.

You’re sat there staring intently at his fingers, switching between his two hands as he plucks and pulls on the strings, pride swelling in his chest at the though that just maybe, perhaps, you like his hands. He watches are you lashes flutter when the song picks up pace, how you toy with your lips and bring a finger up to you mouth in what he thinks, hopes, is amazement when he pulls off the hardest section effortlessly. And by extension, when his fingers play the strings faster. A devious smirk finds its way to his lips, ego boosted under your stare, tongue poking at the side of his cheek at the way your lips remained ever so slightly open in your gawking.

He’s resolved in his ability now, comfortably finishing up the last few notes of the song and awaiting your reaction. It’s lagged, and he struggles to contain his giddy heart at your flustered state.

“W-wow…” You stutter, and he thinks that you sound better than any song he’s ever played. “That was, um, really good, Sam.” You cough, looking away from his hooded gaze.

“Yeah?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice and he hopes to God you pick up on it, wants to make you blush as hard as you make him, wants to provoke you further into submission. “Ya really think so?”

You hum at him, head hung low and bottom lip dragged between your teeth. You’re so cute when your shy, and it does something terrible to him, cock springing more to life at this new power imbalance. He’d hoped it’d have died down by focusing on his guitar, but thanks to your reaction he hadn’t a hope in Hell of calming down now.

He sets his guitar aside, fiddling with his fingers indecisively before murmuring fuck it under his breath. If you don’t like what he’s planning, he knows you’ll say so. Knows at least you aren’t afraid to tell him exactly what you think when it counts, this past year and a half he’s spent with you confirming that. So, without warning he shifts in front of you, moving closer so that he’s sat directly at your own crossed legs. His hands pick up your own, and he’s so gentle in his grasp. Despite being a hard working farmer, your hands are surprisingly soft compared to his calloused guitar tips and he can’t stop his wandering mind. Thinks about how good they’d feel wrapped around his cock, how small they are and how his own completely encase them. Bony, just like his own, and he doesn’t want to let go.

“Thanks ’s much.” He beams, big bright grin tugging on his cheeks at your shy praise. He hopes he’s affecting you as much as you are him and when he takes a peek he’s pleased to know it’s true.

You’re staring at his hands again, brows furrowed and all, and he has to turn it up a notch. Lust straining in his pants at the fact that just his hands have this much of an effect on you.

He removes one hand from your own and places it upon your cheeks, pushing stray strands of hair behind your ear. And though it may be cliché and a little awkward, he’s beyond caring after hearing your very audible gasp. It sets off something deep in his abdomen, cock twitching at the sinful sound and he yearns for many many more of those gasps.

His thumb rests against your cheek and he watches as your chest huffs with each struggled inhale. To your credit, he’s not doing much better either. Butterflies fill the space in his lungs and the room suddenly feels much too small. He knows he’s not hiding his attraction very well, especially considering how hard his cock is from just a few brief touches and how on display he’s made himself, but you seem to actually be enjoying the show too.

He gulps, fighting between his rational brain and his aching cock. Sure, he loves seeing you in this teased state. Goes straight to his cock when you’re physically unable to look at anything but his long fingers and large hands. But, he doesn’t want to scare you off. Doesn’t want to be that creepy guy.

But when you place your free hand on top of his holding your other, he thinks you’ve made the decision for him. Is ecstatic to know you’re at least attracted to him enough to accept his advances. He might have a chance, right?

His thumb moves to rest against your bottom lip, heart racing as you finally peer up at him and he almost cums on the spot. Big dewy doe eyes that beg for more, and who is he if not a giver? He tugs at your lip gently, dragging it down and watches in awe as your tongue slightly pokes out over it, a string of saliva connecting his thumb to your mouth. No words are said, but he supposed they don’t have to be, not when your body is doing all the talking he needs.

He’s on autopilot at this point, and guesses you must be too. Without too much thinking he dips his thumb into your inviting mouth, stares at your lips as they immediately wrap around his digit only to draw out a low groan from him at the feeling of your tongue against it. Briefly imagines it as his cock, said cock throbbing in response.

“Careful.” He cautions, and you smile at his words. It’s not like you can reply verbally, so instead you swallow up more of his thumb, suckling gently on it and it’s a shame that he already feels like he’s reached his limit because you look so fucking pretty like this. All soft and compliant, yet still knowingly mocking his weaknesses. It’s hot. It’s almost too much, and he knows only you can make him this weak with such few touches.

He visibly shudders at your ministrations on him and pokes another finger into your mouth. And then another, and withdraws his thumb. Lets you lick and suck at them while he tends to his hard on that’s just begging for attention. Digs the heel of his palm against his tip and folds in on himself at how good it feels. He’s much too sensitive thanks to your tongue and it definitely shows in the way he’s panting for more.

You pop off his fingers and drop his hand, a thin few stretches of saliva leaving you connected to him. “You good?” You inquire, matching your question with a cocky eyebrow and a slanted grin. He’s in love with the change in your demeanour, finds it exciting that you’re just as turned on as he is.

“No, I- actually, ’m not doing ’s good.” Sam laughs, head over heels for you, completely captivated with the full body blush you’re wearing. It’s not a particularly warm night, but he’s certainly overheating. “What 'bout you?”

Through a sigh you grab at his wet hand and drag it towards your cunt, the saliva that’s left on his fingers pressing directly against your own soaked through shorts. It causes him to grip at his cock with his other hand in an effort to last longer, but his fists squeezes a bit too tight and has the opposite effect. Best to leave it untouched for now.

“What is it?” He inquires through gritted teeth, even though he knows exactly what you want. It’s a game, and he’s happy to hear you play along.

“Your fingers, please.” You ask simply, and he admires how honest you’re being. Can taste the want in your voice, and he’s more than eager to give. He only wishes he was able to look at your face, but his eyes remain glued to your cunt. Specifically stuck on the growing wet patch, of which he’s unsure is your own slick versus your saliva, but it drives him crazy regardless, lust fuelling his next actions.

With nervous hands he prompts you to lay back at the foot of your head, carful to reposition both you and himself so that you’re comfortable. The way you look up at him fills him with anxious desire, all blushed and delicate, and he wants to look after you so well.

Once you’re down and seemingly ready he whispers a faint “Well, since ya asked ’s nicely…” before carefully dragging down both your shorts and underwear together. He helps you raise to lift them off your legs only to carelessly throw them to the side, leaving them a mess on the floor. He thinks he should have been more gentleman like, but you have him hooked on a string, hungry for more, and so when you hesitantly close your legs upon being laid bare he can’t help but let out a frustrated sob.

“Please, baby. Need ’t see ’t help.”

You look to the side, away from his frowning features before slowly opening up for him, and he wonders why you’re so self conscious the moment he sees your cunt.

“Wow.” He sounds breathless, and truth be told he is. “Look at ya, ’s pretty- an all for me?”

He lowers his frame to be eye level with your pussy, salivates at how wet you are. He hears a small squeak at his breath fanning over your lips unintentionally, and so decides to do it on purpose. Oh how he loves the sounds you make.

Once again he inhales your scent, and though this is a much stronger - and different - smell, he loves it all the same. Wants to eat you up, lick you dry, but he did promise you his fingers. Saves the thought for a later date.

He repositions so that he’s hovering above you, one hand to the side of your head while his prominent hand lowers to your cunt. There’s a restless tension in the space left between you both, and he makes you squirm as he leaves you hanging.

“Sam-” You choke on your words, his thumb pressing lightly against your clit as soon as you started to speak.

“Oh, ’m sorry.” He taunts, boyish grin dripping through his words. You know he’s not, and he’s not hiding it well with the way his tongue wets his lips the moment your hands grip at his shoulders for stability. He’s well aware it’s not quite what you had in mind when you asked for his fingers, but he’ll get there. Wants to make you beg for it, get as needy as you’ve made him when he’s had to spend all those nights alone fucking his fist to the thought of you. A little payback, if you will.

Plus, he wants to drag this out for as long as possible. He’s thought about this moment far too many times to count, and he can’t quite believe it’s happening on this chilly Fall night. It’s not a special day by any means, but it is now, forever etched into his spank bank for months to come. Each pant, each moan you let slip he eats up, matching yours with his own in sheer desperation for you.

He’s rubbing much too slow circles on your clit, can see it’s frustratingly close to what you need and yet still not enough by the way your eyebrows knit together, how every time he picks up speed only to slow down again he can feel your fists ball up a little tighter on his shirt.

“Sam, please-” You look back to him, mouth agape and eyes pleading to finally give you what you’re seeking. If he hadn’t fallen for you already, this surely would have made him.

“Shh.” He coos, sweat collecting in his hair as he concentrates on giving you just enough to leave you hanging. “I know, got'cha, don’ have ta worry.”

And yet he’s not cruel, and he’s certainly not strong enough to not listen when it comes to you.

Slowly, slowly, he stops rubbing your clit in favour of dipping his fingers lower, collecting slick on his way down to your opening. He watches your face contort in pleasure as he pushes a digit in, his pace gradual as he doesn’t want to hurt you in any way.

You immediately keen, lips forming a tight line as you whine for him and his hips buck at the sound alone. Once, twice, thrusting in urgency and yet he offers himself no relief. No, he wants to focus completely on you despite his stuttering hands and stammering hips.

He works his finger in and out of you gently, curls it right at the end to offer some respite in his teasing. His fingers are long, far longer than your own and he’s quick to pick up on your moaning and writhing that you want- no, need more.

Another finger is added, the two of them still curling in on you but mixed with a faster pace and he has your back arched ever so slightly into him. He feels dizzy, longs to see you like this every day. Face scrunched up, mouth gasping, trembling legs as he kneels over you. You’re dripping, slick gushing out at his every entry, and he struggles to decide on where to look. Your blissed out face or your sopping cunt. He flashes between them both, intent on increasing the speed at which he fucks his fingers into you. Even if only to selfishly hear and watch you cum on his fingers.

You let our a particularly loud moan as he brings back his thumb into play, rubbing harsh circles on your clit as well as fingering you, and it proves to be too much to handle for you.

He think you’re trying to call his name, but your sorry attempts at doing so only egg him on to fuck you harder, faster, convinces him to wrap his free hand round your neck. He’s mindful enough to not squeeze too hard, but the surprised look you wear at the additional stimulus causes him to curse.

“Close?” He questions, though it’s barely audible over the uneven breaths he’s letting out. Your eyes roll back and he feels your walls tighten around him, his cock begging for release that he has to will off until you cum first.

It doesn’t take long, not when he decides to choke you just a little harder at the first sign of your end approaching. He urges you on with a chaste kiss to your cheek, and soon enough you’re clamping around his fingers. It’s tight, and so so hot that Sam also cums with you, his own pants stained and soiled without even getting touched. He makes sure to let go of your throat as you cum, wanting to actually hear you come undone because of him and you do not disappoint. You’re loud, gasping, head thrown back and gushing all over him when your orgasm hits. And even when you come down, you’re still heaving, body tired.

Sam stays quiet as he cums, keeps an eye open in favour of watching you. Besides, it’s a little embarrassing to cum prematurely like this but you’re quick to catch on, a breathless laugh filling the room when Sam removes his fingers from your cunt.

“Maybe next time we can focus on you, yeah?”

And Sam likes the sound of that.

#sdv smut #stardew valley smut #sdv sam smut #stardew valley sam smut #sam🛹

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cheolsblackgf · 2 years ago

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bags

⇒ woozi x reader

⇒ word count: 750 (it was last time i checked, but then i added some stuff so just disregard this)

⇒ warnings: none

⇒ content: certified fluff zone; established relationship with dare I say tsundere!jihoon

⇒ note: enjoy ♡

“i’m bored.” you say, throwing another crumbled paper ball in the recycling bin. your boyfriend’s eyes dart to you quickly, before going back to his computer screen. “you’re always bored when you come here,” he remarks, followed by some audible clicking, “I don’t know why you keep coming.” he adds in a barely audible voice. you pretend you don’t hear him, and he pretends he didn’t say anything. he knows why you come here every tuesday after work and he loves when you come, though he won’t say it in as many words. ever since you first got into a relationship with him, he’s made it seem like he doesn’t like having you around. though it’s probably because his confession could’ve been described as embarrassing, you don’t see it that way. (your name spelled (incorrectly) in butter on a piece of toast, followed by “I like you”.)

at that point in your life, you didn’t have an adequate amount of time to make breakfast since you were always running late, so it was always toast. he picked up on that and managed to catch you one day outside of your office building. the piece of toast was cold, and the butter was barely visible, but he had a whole little speech planned out and even through the obvious sleep deprivation, he was adorable and you’ve liked him ever since.

now, in order to somehow make up for the dignity he supposedly lost during that encounter (and the relentless teasing from you), he pretends you’re a nuisance any chance he gets. at first, you just thought he was being silly, but over time, and the more he called you silly names very obviously filled with love like “dummy” (your favourite) among others, you realised he was totally committed to this bit. it didn’t annoy you like it may annoy someone else because he’s jihoon, and you know what he’s capable of.

about six months from the beginning of your relationship, jihoon invited you to his workplace. it’s a cozy little studio on the middle floor of a big building in the city. it’s about a fifteen minute walk from your office, but you don’t mind it.

at the start, he wasn’t really meaning for it to become a routine or expecting you to come each time, but the more he invited you, the more you built it into your schedule. tuesday was always the golden day. work ends early for you on that day, and you don’t have as many errands.

he always orders takeout for you when he knows you’re coming by, too, which might be the sweetest thing. you don’t always get to eat lunch on tuesdays because you wouldn’t be able to leave early if you took the optional lunch break they offered at your office. jihoon knows this, and he always makes sure to ask you what you’re feeling that day so he can order accordingly.

today, he ordered fish and chips from the “anything” restaurant down the street. he never gets anything when he orders you food, but he “tastes” your food each time. so much so that you portion off every meal with him. this should bug you, but how could it? you almost never finish all your food by yourself anyways.

“oh shit,” you exclaim as a notification comes through your phone. it’s the grocery carrier announcing your groceries being dropped off. “I have to go, my groceries are sitting outside my doorstep and I don’t want them to go bad. damn, I thought he would’ve come later.” you curse. when they say speedy delivery, they mean it.

jihoon’s pout is barely visible, but when he turns to look at you, you see he’s not thrilled to hear you’re leaving. he goes to grab your bag from the hook on the wall for you, but moves like there’s double sided tape on the bottom of his shoes.

you get up and tidy your area before going to stand in front of your boyfriend to bid him goodbye. he grabs both your arms and pulls you in, causing you to completely forget your script. “see you later.” he says placing a fairly quick peck to your lips. he lets you go soon after, but when you don’t move, he’s confused.

“do that again.” you request. jihoon doesn’t usually kiss you. he’s usually on the receiving end because his version of affection involves less intimate contact, which is fine with you. it won’t stop you from kissing him, though.

“you’re pathetic.” he replies, and kisses you again. “okay, again.”

“your groceries–” he reminds you, though you haven’t forgotten. to hell with the goddamn groceries.

“it’s just yogurt. kiss me again.”

“okay, okay!”

#woozi x reader #woozi scenarios #woozi fluff #woozi imagines #lee jihoon x reader #lee jihoon fluff #lee jihoon imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios

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alcoholfreenayeon · 2 years ago

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I’m not sleepy!

Reader x Nayeon

Fluff

Ask: Can i request nayeon coming home after a long day and falling sleep on readers lap? (Both are dating)

You were on the couch in the living room, scrolling through your phone when you heard the front door open. Your immediate thought was that Nayeon is back so your focus is back on your phone when you notice the time. It’s almost midnight, Nayeon always stays back at her dorm if her schedule is keeps her busy til night.

Nervously you manage to gather the courage to make your way towards the front door. You’re pretty sure you did hear the door open. You reach the entrance and see that the door is still closed and locked. You look out through the peep hole and confirm that there is no one outside. Weird. It’s probably just your mind playing tricks on you, it’s really late, your alone, yup, makes sense.

Convincing yourself that it really was nothing, you make your back to the living room only to find Nayeon sitting on the couch, mischievously smiling ear to ear.

‘I got you!’, she declared cheekily

‘You did not!’, you immediately protest, realizing what happened. ‘I knew it was you, I was just making sure you locked the door’, you continue in your defense.

‘Haha! Thats not true! You looked like you saw a ghost!’, Nayeon continued sassily, getting up to your face and staring at you smugly.

You sigh in defeat and sit down knowing that she’s not going to let it go until you admit you were scared. Obviously you were and obviously you were never going to admit it. You try changing the topic, ‘so….how did you end up coming here, I thought you would have stayed at the dorm.’

‘I thought changing my routine for once wouldn’t hurt and also to scare you’, she replied with a grin.

‘You’re really not going to let this go…’, you reply in defeat.

‘Nope. Now I’m going to get changed, til then why don’t you’, she pauses and yawns, ‘put on our show and maybe take out something to snack on?’, she said exiting the room while stretching.

You nod and look through what you have to eat, there’s some chicken popcorn you have left and you also have some chips somewhere. You put on the show you and Nayeon have been watching recently, waiting for her to come back.

A few moments later Nayeon comes back dressed in her pajamas which was fluffy white pants and a pink hoodie. You smile at her and she coyly looks away, sitting next to you.

You both start snacking as the show’s intro starts. That’s when you notice her slightly baggy eyes and how every few moments Nayeon blinks slowly, like she’s trying not to sleep. ‘Nayeon are you sleepy?’

‘Hmm? No I’m not, I’m just’ ,she yawns again, ‘I’m just….enjoying the food.’

‘That doesn’t make sense.’

‘That’s because you…you don’t like chicken popcorn as much i as do.’

‘What does chicken popcorn have to do with your sleepiness?! And I definitely like it more than you do!’

‘Mmmm…no..’, she replies nudging her head against your shoulder.

You wrap one hand around her shoulder, rubbing it gently, ‘you can go to sleep, we’ll watch the rest of the episode tomorrow.’

‘I’m not! Going to sleep! I’m not tired…’, she protests sitting up straight.

You smile and raise your hand in defense as an idea strikes your mind, ‘fine fine, you’re not sleepy.’

A couple minutes later you abruptly get up warranting a pout from Nayeon who was leaning against you. ‘Where are you going!’ She questions indignantly.

‘I’ll be back in a minute’, you promise her. You return a minute later with a blanket and find that Nayeon has her hood up and has curled up on the couch, looking at you. She looks so adorable here, you think to yourself. You smile and put the blanket on her, almost wrapping it around her completely. She happily complies at first but then jolt up and looks at you with a sleepy glare, ‘you are trying to make me sleep’.

‘I’m not! I thought you might be cold and besides isn’t it more comfortable to be on the sofa with a blanket?’

‘Fine’ she concedes and is beginning to relax when you suddenly pull her close to you so that her head rests on your chest and you lean towards her. ‘Oh! What are you….’ ,She says suddenly feeling a little shy.

‘I want to cuddle for a bit’ ,you explain smiling to which she nods and nestles her head on your chest. You gently pat her sides feeling her relax. This continues for a few minutes and then Nayeon lowers herself slowly til she is laying on your lap. Smiling you begin to stroke her head gently and see that she falls asleep in a few moments.

From the outside you might be looking really calm but from the inside you were ready to explode as in the last few minutes you couldn’t believe how cute Nayeon looked and acted. Taking a deep breath calm yourself and rest your head against couch, feeling your eyes flutter, you didn’t realize how drowsy you were feeling. The atmosphere seemed perfect, the faint noise of the tv, the cute breathing sounds of your girlfriend, really what more could one want. Slowly you began to drift off too….

#twice #kpop gg #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #reader x idol #twice nayeon #im nayeon #nayeon x reader #nayeon #twice x reader

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void-occupation · 4 months ago

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hello its me- haunting your dashboard and askbox once more haha-

i saw this somewhere else but I don't remember where; what would hell's version of winter be like? I remembered your headcanon about alastor getting cold easily and I would just like to share my vision.

so hell has an extreme climate- we know that- so winter is basically Antarctica. not alastor-friendly AT ALL, it only ever happens once in a blue moon in hell so he's never really had to deal with this before. the whump possibilities are endless lmao. all-around suffering for the deer man.

do with this what you will! no pressure ofc, this is more like a concept you could make your own story or au with so i'm not sure if it counts as an ask- but do whatever you wanna, and if you did ever do a fic, (if that be a series or a one-shot) I would love to make a comic or cover as a Collab! :D

PLEASE never apologize for haunting my dash/asks, this blog is very ghost-friendly!!!!! All ghosts are allowed to haunt as they please!!

As for your beautiful vision: I love it. I will help it grow and will nourish it until it becomes a beautiful whump monster right here on my little laptop. Not sure WHEN I will make it happen, but I WILL make it happen. For now though, I will simply add to this headcanon (expect whatever I add to probably end up in the fic lol)

Winter in Hell is quite the phenomena - only occurring around once every century or so. It doesn't stick to a set schedule though (Lucifer still shudders when he remembers that time that they had five winters within the span of a single decade.) They are also completely by surprise: the most notice Hell has ever had for a winter is that the temperature dropped five degrees in one day. The next morning, sinners couldn't even open their doors the snow was piled so high. And of course, it wouldn't be Hell if the winters were the normal length, no. Winters in Hell can be anything from six months to the record of three motherfucking years. The last winter took place in the late 1910s - about a decade or so before Alastor died.

As mentioned in my previous headcanon, Alastor is a Louisiana boy. And Louisiana did not receive a SINGLE FUCKING INCH of snowfall the entire time Alastor was alive (trust me I CHECKED, that shit is WILD). That means a few things. 1.) Alastor has never seen snow in his now 120ish years of existing. 2.) Alastor has never felt anything below 50°F his entire existence. 3.) Alastor is painfully thin, which means his body has no way to preserve heat. And 4.) Alastor does not appear to have any clothing besides his three-piece suit that he wears all the time in Hell's usual blazing temperatures with seemingly no issue. Of course, this means that his suit would do nothing for him in Actual Cold Weather since he's so used to it.

With all of this knowledge, the only conclusion I can draw is that once winter actually hits, Alastor is royally FUCKED. Especially considering that a winter in Hell is compiled of all of the worst things about winter. The cold air is dry, and the wind is sharp and biting - in the way that leaves your face stinging and your hands and lips splitting. Somehow simultaneously, the snow can change between huge flakes and straight-up sleet, which if you've ever been in sleet, you know it sucks major ass.

If someone doesn't give Alastor a heated blanket He Will Die. Alastor makes the mistake of going outside exactly twice (because let's face it, I love him but this man is too prideful to accept that the weather will kill him after only one attempt - he's Just A Bit Dumb). Both times he has to be rescued by someone at the hotel after he almost fucking freezes to death like An Idiot, and he manages to also get hypothermia both times because he refuses to do anything in halves. After he also almost freezes to death in his room (which is how they find out there's a draft), he's not even allowed in there, and they move him to a guest room right next to Charlie and Vaggie's room that Lucifer added a fireplace to. He alternates between the kitchen (the oven is very warm and Food), his room (the fireplace is very warm and the bed is cozy), and the couch in the lobby (the fireplace is very warm and the couch is cozy and also Alastor is antisocially social).

He is cold. He is miserable. He is perpetually shaking like an old chihuahua. Some of the residents thought it was funny at first, but that quickly stopped after the first Almost Death. They have to watch him because Alastor becomes very despondent, and if he stops shivering, he needs to be warmed up again. Alastor is more exhausted during the winter then he has ever been in his entire existence due to all the energy his body is burning trying to stay warm. He's sleeping more than ever, but he looks absolutely terrible - eyebags so dark they look like a goth guy's eyeshadow, hair a mess, and an overall very strained look about him. He also eats a lot less, so he begins losing weight which is the exact opposite of helpful in this situation. It gets to the point where Husk is willingly braving the elements to get to the butcher shop Alastor likes just to get sinner meat so he will hopefully get something in him.

This winter is the first time any of them have ever seen him willingly snuggle up to someone, and it's fucking LUCIFER because this little bastard puts out the most heat because for some reason that it part of being a seraphim. Lucifer for his part just kinda lets it slide because Alastor would probably die if he didn't and that would make Charlie sad. Ok, and he kinda reminds Lucifer of when Charlie was little and would snuggle up to him, but that's no one's business but his own. If he's a little softer with Alastor afterwards, and less easily provoked by the sinner, that is also no one's business but his own.

hooo, I really let this one get away from me lol. Hope you enjoy this, and please feel free to haunt me as much as you want!! And when I eventually get this pushed out, it would be absolutely fantastic if you decided to make a comic/cover. I absolutely love your art

#alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #answered asks #asks/requests are open #winter in hell is fucking BRUTAL and I will not accept criticism on this #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanon

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steddieunderdogfics · 7 months ago

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This week’s writer spotlight feature is: MuseumGiftShopEraser! They have 9 works on AO3 in the Stranger Things Fandom, and 6 of those are in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @museumgiftshoperaser:

Paint the Devil on the Wall

Conversations About Love

Now I'm A Stranger

An Exercise In Denial

Baby, You Were Meant To Follow Me

Her fics are BEAUTIFUL. When I first read Paint the Devil on the Wall I was so obsessed I immediately recced the fic to everyone I knew who would be vaguely interested in a steddie fic. -- anonymous

Below the cut, @museumgiftshoperaser answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I stumbled into it immediately after season 4 came out. I’ve felt very attached to Steve as a character from the beginning of the show and I think I was subconsciously waiting for someone to pair him up with. I think they’re both such great characters to explore themes of dealing with expectation (either by conforming, or fighting against it) and that’s something I always love to write about.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Absolute sucker for fake dating. Can’t get enough of it.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Enemies to lovers! Though now that I’m looking through my AO3 I haven’t actually written that much of it. It doesn’t have to be very intense enemies, though. I just like it when characters don’t immediately get along.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

My brain has been forever rewired by took you for a working boy by pukner. It’s such a gentle, nuanced queer story. It feels vulnerable to me in a way that really only fanfiction can be. Can I sneak in another one?? Because everyone should also absolutely read the shame is on the other side by scoops_ahoy. It taps into this very specific kind of queer compartmentalizing, that I’ve never seen written this well. It broke my heart and patched it right back up.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’ve been stupidly busy with my masters lately so there’s probably not a lot of writing on my horizon. I do have a wip called Doll that I’m slowly chipping away at. It’s a little darker than stuff I’ve written before. I know ‘dark’ isn’t really a trope, but I’m excited to see if I can push these characters a little further.

What is your writing process like?

Absolute chaos. I write non-chronologically, without an outline, all in the same document. I keep writing snippets and scenes until the whole thing slowly comes together.

Do you have any writing quirks?

Italicizing words for emphasis. I love it so much, you can rip it from my cold dead hands. It accidentally makes its way into my academic writing for my degree sometimes which is a little embarrassing, but I just love the flair of it.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I don’t really do schedules, it doesn’t work for me at all. I try to make sure I have a decent amount of the story written before I start posting to give me a bit of a head start, but forcing myself to finish something by a certain date is a surefire way to kill my motivation.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Probably Paint the Devil on the Wall. It was the first time I’d written the entire story before I started posting so it went through way more rounds of editing than normal. I think you can really tell. It’s also the longest story I’ve ever written (in general, even outside of fanfic). The whole project gave me a lot of confidence as a writer.

How did you get the idea for Paint the Devil on the Wall?

I knew I wanted to participate in the Bigbang and the deadline was coming up, but I still didn’t have an idea. I decided to work backwards and try to think of something that would be fun for the artist(s) to draw. I had a vision of Eddie wearing dungarees without a shirt, absolutely covered in paint and I knew I had to write something to make it happen. I set the story in 80s New York because neo expressionism is really the only kind of art I could see Eddie making. I think it suits him very well. I do actually have a background in art, though! I’m currently getting my MFA, but I’ve worked full time as an artist for several years before that. I had a lot of fun working my passion for art (and all those art history classes I had to take) into the fic.

When writing Paint the Devil on the Wall, what was something you didn’t expect?

All of Steve’s character, to be honest. The fic is written from Eddie’s POV and for a large part of it he has a very hard time figuring out what Steve’s deal is. Right alongside him, I also had an incredibly hard time figuring out his character. It wasn’t until I was working on the final chapter that he finally clicked for me. I realized very late, just like Eddie, that Steve liked him from the very beginning. Most of the enemies to lovers premise was all in Eddie’s head.

What inspired Now I'm a Stranger?

Oh boy, that was forever ago! I remember I started writing it while I was camping with friends because I liked having something to do after everyone went to bed at night. I think I had the idea for that very first scene where Steve doesn’t remember Eddie and it all sort of spiraled from there.

What was your favorite part to write from An Exercise in Denial?

That was the very first fic I wrote, right after season 4 came out! I’ve never written something that fast, I think the whole thing took me less than a week. My favorite part was probably Robin being completely exasperated with both of them. They’re such complete idiots in that fic.

How do/did you feel writing Baby, You Were Meant To Follow Me?

Ahhh… I never got around to finishing that one. I probably never will, to be honest. I wrote the first two parts quite quickly and then the idea I had for the plot spiraled out of control and I realized I didn’t actually feel like writing the rest of it. There were going to be a lot of misunderstandings and I learned that I find that an incredibly frustrating trope to write (when done for drama at least. For comedy, I’m a sucker for misunderstandings.) So I guess I felt a little in over my head.

What was the most difficult part of writing Conversations About Love?

The ending! That fic is so incredibly personal to me and I knew from the beginning that I wanted it to have a very sappy, happy ending. It was important to me to write an aromantic character getting everything they wanted, but I realized as I was writing it that I don’t actually fully know what that means. So it took a bit more soul searching than fics typically do, but it was very much worth it.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I still think the short little prologue for Paint the Devil on the Wall is the best thing I’ve written. “You don’t draw on things that aren’t yours, baby” is probably the best summary I have for that story.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Not really!

Thank you to our author, @museumgiftshoperaser, and our anonymous nominator! See more of @museumgiftshoperaser works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#writer's wednesday #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #ao3 writer #steddie writers

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prettygirl-gabi · 1 year ago

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We Should Do This More Often

Rating: General Audiences

Warning:Fluffy fluff, even more fluff

Category:F/M

Fandom: Seventeen (SVT) (boyband)

Relationships: !Idol-boyfriend Woozi x !f idol reader

Summary: You and Woozi are both idols from different companies you're a member of Alora under KQ ent. So your love story was unexpected but yet so pure, and everyone loved it. But you both loved the rainy nights

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

It was a rainy night and Woozi was feeling cozy in his safe place. He had just finished working on some new music and was ready to relax. Suddenly, he heard a knock on the dorm room's studio door. He stumbled to opened it, slightly expecting one of the boys to tell him to go to bed but only to find his girlfriend - you standing there with a big smile on your face.

"Hey babe," you said as he steps to the sode to let you walk in and you give him a tightly hug. "Hey," Woozi replied as he closed the door behind you. "What brings you here?" "I just wanted to see you, pluse we got some free time in our schedules for a few weeks" you said as you took off your (woozi's) coat and hung it over his computerchair. "Well, I'm glad you did," Woozi said as he led you over to the couch. "It's perfect cuddle weather." You smiled at him and snuggled up next to him on the couch. The both of you sat there for a while, listening to the rain outside and enjoying each other's company.

"I love nights like this," you said as you rest your head on Woozi's chest. "Me too," Woozi replied as he wrapped his arms around you securely. "It's so peaceful, now please save your work so we can stay like this all night." He sighed but did it and locked the computer only to come back to you as quickly as he left your arms.

You sat there in silence for a few minutes before speaking up again. "You know what would make this night even better?" "What?" Woozi asked curiously. "If we watched a movie together," you suggested with a smile. Woozi grinned back at you. "That sounds like a great idea." The both of you left the studio and made your way to his room with all of the snacks on course.

After scrolling through Netflix for a bit, you both finally settled on an old classic movie that you both loved. As you watched the movie together, both of you couldn't help but make comments about certain scenes or characters that you found funny or interesting. It was one of those moments where everything felt perfect - being wrapped up in each other's arms, watching a great movie, and listening to the rain outside.

After the movie ended, and your eyes being low woozi decided to call it a night for the both of you. Woozi had gotten up from the be and stretched his arms out. "I should probably head home," you sat up fully and said with a yawn. Woozi shook his head in disagreement. "Yeah, no it's pretty late,cold and too wet for you to uber back home." You nodded you head walked over to the bathroom together to do your routine before you both crashed. Woozi had gotten done before you so he opened the window slightly to smell and hear the rain a lot better. Once finished with your routine you gave him a loving back hug. "Thanks for tonight, baby" you said with a smile pressed to his back. "I had a great time." "Me too," Woozi replied as he turned and hugged you back. "We should do this more often." You nodded in agreement as you and Woozi laid peaceful I the beg together.

"But how about we put on Transformers" you asked going to HBO: Max. "I think that's perfect baby," Woozi stated as he kissed the top of your forehead. The both of you crashed as soon as the part when they were in Egypt.

#kpop #seventeen ambw #woozi imagines #svt woozi #seungkwan #kpop fluff #svt imagines #rainy night #couple cuddling #idol reader #support the writers!#comments really appreciated #lee ji hoon #jihoon x reader #x jihoon #x reader #x woozi

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insomniakisses · 2 years ago

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Sometimes you have to learn to share

Requested? no

Warnings/Notes: jealousy, drama in friendships, jennie being a smol sassy bean, Sua lowkey jennie bashes, kind of ooc but i feel like pissed of and jealous Sua is lowkey a bitch.

Note 2: i spent days on this bc i have minimal time to dedicate a day to wrote so i thing it may flick between tenses.

Fic type: fluff, slightly angst

Reader: fem reader

You’d been Boras best friend for what felt like a lifetime. The two of you having met when you were trainees eventually debuting in different companies. Her in Happy face, later DCC and you in YG entertainment. Which was were you had originally met Jennie, finding her having some extra practice in on of the practice rooms.

You fondly remember how she had been so on guard about you interrupting her, assuming you were some crazy fan that had walked in rather than what you were; a trainee who had booked the practice room for extra practice the before before your debut.

That night the two of you had decided to share the room, intending to practice together as one was preparing for debut and the other a solo comeback. However the night took a turn when you fell trying to do a flip and Jennie managed to keep you from falling flat on your face. After that the two of you spent the night talking and getting to know each other, only realising how much of a fuck up that was when the morning staff entered the room and you were both very late for your schedules.

It was 2 months after that day that you two saw each other again, your schedules aligning and you running into each other in the YG canteen. Well she was running you were daydreaming. Regardless, it ended in her ice coffee all over your white shirt and her “helping” by rubbing it in even more. You proposed changing while she went to the studio since she seemed so desperate to get there fast but you never would of guessed leaving with her number.

She laughed at your shocked face when she had asked if she could give you her number, giving the excuse of replacing your shirt. Taking the opportunity to grab your wrist and pull out a marker, scribbling something down before skipping away.

“X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X, Jennie x”

It was the weekend when you finally text her, filled with nerves and slight embarrassment at your awkwardness. Fearing she might not remember you at all.

Unknown 10:23 am: Hey! Its y/n

Unknown 10:26 am: realised you probably don’t know my name, we met in the practice room.. then you spilt your coffee on me

Jennie 🫢 12:34 pm: Oh hey sorry, i was recording!! I’m free in an hour if you want to go shopping and replace that hideous shirt

Clumsy Girl 12:34 pm: So my shirts hideous now 🤨 I’m not good enough for the likes of miss Jennie Kim of BLACKPINK? I see i see 😂

Jennie 🫢 12:35 pm: Well… it was a nice colour?? 😂 AND i didn’t even mention your shoes 😉

Clumsy Girl☺️ 12:35 pm: So i guess ill meet you outside the building in 10, should i dress up for u little miss Chanel?

Chanel Princess 👑 12:36 pm: Like you could 😂😉

Chanel Princess 👑 12:36 pm: See you in 5! ☺️ I wait for no one 😌

You remember having to sprint half way there just to be on time, only for her to record your out of breath half walk half jog when you arrived. Claiming it was the best thing she had scene all day. And although you had planned on going on a shopping spree you had seen an arcade and practically dragged the girl in claiming she had to play at least one game.

Having spent the day playing game after game, you ended the night with a go on the claw machines winning her a dumpling plush and claiming it looked just like her. You could see the red taint her cheeks and how her gummy smile practically lit up the whole street and in that moment you couldn’t understand why anyone could possibly hate her.

Though the sky was dark and the air has began to get chilly, you decided to walk her home talking about anything and everything until you saw her starting to get a bit cold. Stopping you had attempted to take off your jacket only for her to raise a brow at you,

“If you think your going to go all knight in shining armour on me and give me that flimsy hoodie to ‘keep me warm’ then your dead wrong” she huffed pulling out a designer jacked from her bag and slipping it on.

“I am prepared and stylish!” She flicks her hair dramatically with a wink, “besides, it takes more than a half ripped hoodie that smells of arcade and practice room to woo me miss lover girl” she gives you a light shove.

Raising your hands in defence you nod approvingly “noted.” Smiling softly you pick up your conversation once more, unaware to the buzzing of your phone in your pocket.

Walking her up the drive to her house you could help but smile when she stopped at the door to give you a shy wave, holding back her grin before she all but skipped inside leaving you a giddy mess as you made your way back to your own house, finally fishing your phone out of your hoodie.

27 miss calls from Dancing Queen 💃🏻

23 messages from Drancing Queen 💃🏻

112 messages from Dreamcatcher and Y/N 💖

Gasping you quickly dialled Boras number going straight to answer machine, which was expected given it seemed like you had been ignoring her. Trying her phone again, this time it picked up,

~on the phone~

You: Bora Hey! I’m so sorry i was out and-

Siyeon: She doesn’t want to talk to you.

You: W-What? But she called me? Many times i might add

Siyeon: Maybe because you missed out weekly film night and didn’t even give us a reason why… we were all worried you know.

You: I’m so sorry! I can come round now? With ice cream and more stuff and-

Beeeeeeep

Sighing you decided to just go home figuring your friends would talk when they felt less hurt. Walking inside your bedroom you went straight to bed feeling incredibly guilty.

For the next few weeks you got radio silence from dreamcatcher, bar Jiu who had called a few times to check you were okay. Feeling alone you leaned on your members a lot more and made many new friends in the company. Eventually regularly having lunch with ur band mates, Blackpink and even some of the soloists and BTS members.

With all the radio silence on dreamcatchers end you felt your friendship with them drifting away to the point you figured they didn’t want to be around you any more. It hurt more that bora, a long time friend you saw as an older sister was leaving you out also.

But with all the lunch time hangouts around friends you and Jennie were only growing closer and closer and maybe you were so focused on your new routine and daily life you forgot to check in with dreamcatcher as much, missed some of there calls and even declined a few while hanging out with them.

It had been 4 months since your first date with Jennie and you could honestly say you were head over heals in love with her. She was the cutest person you’d ever met with twice as much sass. But despite her walls to protect her self deep inside was a shy and caring person who wouldn’t harm a fly, unless your names Lisa and you wear her clothes.

So caught up in your conversation with Jennie you failed to notice Bora, Gahyeon and Yoohyeon coming into the canteen planning to have lunch with you since they figured you still ate alone being to shy to talk to anyone. But there you were on a massive table of boisterous idols laughing and joking with your eyes locked on Jennie’s both of you smiling so wide as you conversed. Giggling and laughing about something nothing but love in your eyes. The boiling point being when she leaned in to peck your lips before winking and scurrying off with the rest of her group leaving you a bright red mess. The boys all cheering and making kissing noises at you while you sat still in shock.

Huffing she stormed off throwing the lunch she had made for you in the trash and angrily texting you to meet her at your dorm later, claiming you had to talk. Which leads you to now. Standing in your groups kitchen awkwardly as the older girl prepares food for you girls, the girls in questing hiding in there rooms from fear of Boras rage never having seen her so pissed.

“So,” she starts cutting the pepper way more harshly than needed causing you to wince “I hear you and Blackpink’s Jennie Kim are very… close”

Laughing awkwardly you hum, “w-well we are kind of close I guess..” you back away slightly as her chopping speeds up sparing a glance to the girls who were peering out their doors, silently asking for help but receiving doors shutting as an answer..

“Look Bora, Jen just-“ the chopping stops but she doesn’t turn to face you, but you can feel the way her face screws up and eyes harden. The air turning cold and tense around you.

“I mean, Jennie, she’s just so nice and sweet. Jennie is a caring person and we got close while around the company, Jennie even likes the show i wanted you to watch and-“

“Jennie this! Jennie that! WHO CARES ABOUT JENNIE!?” She turns around knife pointing at you.

“Bora.. i.. do..?” You chuckle awkwardly eyes flicking between her and the knife until she slams it down. “I like her a lot actually!”

“But does that dumb bitch spare a thought for you! Or is it all money and sex for her, wouldn’t put it past her“ she laughs “probably just using you because she’s bored and your such an easy target for a slut like he-“

“Don’t even finish that sentence!” You growl turning around to get the door intending to tell her to leave but freezing when u see Jennie standing there, silent tears rolling down her face as she begins to back up.

“Jennie! No don’t leave please!” You pull her into your arms as she cries, feeling Bora glare daggers at you from the kitchen.

“Well she should, There isn’t any room for her or food” she huffs with a laugh “Go on little miss big shot idol, leave!”

“No.” Tightening your arms around a shaking Jennie you glare at your old friend. “She stays. You go! You can come back when you learn some fucking manners”

She storms out telling you how Jennie will be bored of you in a week and not to come crawling back to her when that happens. But you couldn’t give a shit about that right now. Kissing jennies head you pull her to the couch and wipe her tears as she sniffles. “Y-you know none of thats true right, i would never-“

“I know” you smile, rubbing her back as she leans into you. “Why would you do that for me, loose a friend I mean?” You look at her like she had grown another head, “because bora was out of line and i care about you… i care about you a lot”

You feel her smile into your chest. “Does that mean were dating?” You let out a shocked laugh before exclaiming “was that not clear the last 3 times we made out!”

“Oh shush” she huffs curling into you as she turns on a movie to watch, rearranging herself till she was basically tucked into you like a baby kitten. Your baby kitten.

A/n: i accept no dreamcatcher or blackpink bashing tho!

Anyway! I hope you like it ;)

ps. originally was a male reader but i changed it sooo

#dreamcatcher #blackpink #blackpink x reader #dreamcatcher x reader #kim sua #sua #sua x reader #sua imagines #kim bora #bora x reader #bora imagines #kim jennie #jennie x reader #jennie imagines

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valkyrieromanoff · 2 months ago

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🎃 LATE NIGHT PUMPKIN PIE: FIVES X YOU (day 5 of 31)

synopsis: After a long time seeing each other, you and Fives finally manage to use the time to bake together.

warning: fluffy, establish relationship.

a/n: Hello there, I don't know why, but in my head Fives was going to be a houseboy, while his partner saves the day. He's fought enough, he deserves a rest, hope you like it💖

ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴ

ᴍʏ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ

ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ꜰᴇʟʟ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ

It was late at night—no, probably midnight—when you sent a message to Fives via comlink. The chill of the season had crept into the halls of the Republic barracks, the cool air a subtle reminder that autumn had fully settled in. The Clone Wars kept your schedule precarious and chaotic, always pulling you in opposite directions, and with the battles at their peak, it was rare to find time to spend together. You couldn't help but wonder if the galaxy was conspiring to keep you apart—whenever you were returning from a mission, he was just heading out.

But tonight, or rather this morning, you had a brief reprieve. And you knew you couldn’t let this chance slip through your fingers. You quickly typed a message, your fingers flying across the screen as you hurried down the dimly lit hallways to the cafeteria. At this hour, the space was nearly empty, save for a few flickering lights casting long shadows. The clone troopers who had just returned from missions were likely fast asleep, craving their beds above all else.

The kitchen area was quiet, except for the faint hum of machinery, the air filled with the distant scent of warm spices that clung to the cool night air. As you spread out the ingredients on the counter—flour, cinnamon, cloves, and a vibrant orange pumpkin—you felt a shiver run down your spine, not from the cold, but from the anticipation of seeing Fives. You hadn't been together like this in too long.

Just as you were starting to slice the pumpkin, Fives walked in, yawning, rubbing his eyes in a futile attempt to chase away the lingering fatigue. His armor clinked softly, but he had long since removed his helmet, letting the dim light cast soft shadows over his face.

“I hope you have a good reason for dragging me out of bed at this hour, mesh’la,” he teased, his voice still heavy with sleep as he approached.

“Isn’t seeing me reason enough?” you shot back, a playful smile on your lips as you met his gaze.

He smirked, wrapping an arm around your waist as he leaned into you, the warmth of his body instantly chasing away the autumn chill. “You could have snuck into my bunk, and we could’ve slept cuddling,” he suggested, his voice a soft rumble in your ear.

You bit your lip, tempted by the idea. “I admit, that sounds appealing, but I wanted to do something different. We never get a chance to do anything together, and I wanted tonight to be special.”

His brow furrowed slightly as he picked up on the slight melancholy in your tone. "Ahh, I see. So this is really about the pumpkin pie, huh?” he joked with a dramatic sigh. “Confess, mesh’la, you just didn’t want to fight with that pumpkin alone.”

A genuine laugh escaped you, your breath fogging in the cool air. “How did you know?” you teased back, rolling your eyes as you handed him a knife. The air outside seemed to echo your laughter, a soft breeze blowing through the cracks, carrying with it the scent of fallen leaves and the quiet promise of winter.

Fives grinned, and in that moment, the weariness melted from his features. You both settled into a comfortable rhythm, updating each other on your latest missions as you worked. His voice lit up with pride as he recounted how one of the prisoners he’d rescued from a Separatist base asked if he was an angel. You smirked, unable to resist a teasing comment, but you found yourself deeply content in the domesticity of it all.

It didn’t matter that neither of you were expert cooks—the time together was what counted. The kitchen, dimly lit by the flickering overhead lights, was soon filled with your shared laughter. Fives opened a bag of flour too forcefully, and a plume of white exploded into the air, coating your hair and clothes. He stood there, looking half surprised, half amused as the powder settled over both of you, turning you into a pair of ghostly figures.

“Well, if we didn’t have a mess before, we certainly do now,” you said through giggles, swiping flour from your face.

“I’m just trying to get us into the Halloween spirit, mesh’la,” Fives quipped, his eyes shining with mirth. “A little flour never hurt anyone.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “Right, well, if you’re going to haunt the kitchen, you can at least make yourself useful. How much cinnamon do you think this needs?”

Fives raised an eyebrow, leaning over to inspect your attempt at pumpkin pie filling. “Honestly? Not a clue. But if you want a real shock, you could try tasting it,” he suggested with a grin, nudging you with his elbow as he shaped the dough and placed it into the oven.

You sighed, feigning frustration as you added more cinnamon and cloves, stirring the mixture thoughtfully. A spoonful later, you frowned. “Needs more cloves,” you muttered, reaching for the jar.

Fives smirked, stepping closer, his thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth to catch a bit of the filling. Without breaking eye contact, he popped it into his mouth and hummed in approval. “Mmm, more cloves it is.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the intimate gesture, the warmth of his touch lingering long after. You quickly poured the filling into the dough, and Fives slid the pie into the oven. As the minutes ticked by, you leaned back against him, your body fitting perfectly into his embrace. The warmth of his chest pressed into your back, and his goatee tickled your neck as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“You know,” he mused softly, his breath warm against your skin, “you’re not a bad cook. You might be ready to settle down and get married.”

You raised an eyebrow, twisting slightly to look at him. “Oh really?”

He nodded, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, just imagine—I come home after a long day, greeted by the smell of fresh pies and kisses from my amazing wife. Except, of course, since I’d be married to you, I’d be the househusband. You’d be off saving the galaxy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Trophy husband, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he replied without missing a beat, wiggling his eyebrows. “I’d gossip with all the other stay-at-home husbands about how awesome my Jedi wife is.”

Before you could respond, the timer went off, signaling that the pie was done. Fives pulled it from the oven, and the rich, spicy aroma filled the small kitchen. The scent of cinnamon and cloves mixed with the sweetness of the pumpkin, creating a warm, comforting atmosphere despite the chill in the air.

You both sat down with forks in hand, savoring the first bite. “It’s perfect,” you hummed as the flavors danced across your tongue.

Fives grinned, leaning closer until his lips brushed your cheek. “Almost perfect,” he whispered before closing the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow and sweet, much like the pie you had just made.

#fives x you #arc trooper fives #arc trooper fives x reader #arc trooper fives x you #halloween special

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mothguillotine · 2 months ago

Text

Epilogue

Main Masterlist

cw: swearing (it's happy time now)

word count: 1.1k

Summary: It’s been three months since you were locked in a basement and had to fight an interdimensional monster made out of dead bodies.

Three Months Later…

You are laying on your bed as an early fall breeze blows in your curtains, it has a bit of a nip to it. And if you didn’t have a personal heater curled up behind you, you would probably be cold. The perk of having Robin as your girlfriend really measures up in this instance.

“You know Steve is gonna be here soon,” you tell her, pulling her hand from your waist and giving it a kiss you continue, “He doesn’t like waiting.”

Robin moans out and then says, “But I don’t wanna move.”

“Well, babe when school starts in a week we can’t cuddle everyday anyway,” you tell her trying to get up but she pulls you back into her.

“Says, who?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” you tell her flatly, “Our schedules. We're gonna be lucky if we get to work together.”

“Oh, please,” she says, “If anyone doesn’t get hired it’s Steve.”

“Yeah, that's fair enough,” you tell her, “But we also need to get interviewed first, so get up.”

As the two of you are finishing up in your mirror you hear a horn from outside, “Okay, thats Steve,” you tell her.

“How do I look?” Robin asks, giving you a spin.

“Very professional,” you tell her with a smile, “And what about me?”

“Very hot,” she tells you and you slap her shoulder, “Kidding, kidding, you look amazing.”

The two of you walk down stairs into the kitchen where your mom is standing over the stove mixing a pot.

“Are you two off for the interview?” your mom asks, looking behind her.

“Yeah,” you respond, “Steve is waiting so we have to go.”

“Okay,” she tells you, “Good luck, hopefully this place doesn’t burn down!”

You don’t answer, instead just putting on your shoes and leaving. When you open the door you see Steve waiting in his car, impatiently tapping his fingers on the wheel. You turn to close the door and you hear Steve yell from behind you, “Took you long enough!”

“We're coming!” Robin yells back, “Jeez.”

Both of you walk towards Steve's car and get in, “We’re gonna be late.”

“Well then let's get going,” you tell him from the back, Robin reaches her hand back and you hold it.

“Hey Rob? Can you look over my resume?” he asks and while Steve is driving he notices, “Oh, come on what did I say about P.D.A?”

“Fuck off,” Robin tells him still reading his resume, “I wanna hold my girlfriends hand.”

“Oh,” Steve says in surprise, “You guys made it official?”

“Yeah,” Robin says bashfully, “Last Saturday.”

Steve slaps Robin on the back, with more force than intended, “Congrats!” he says excitedly, “I’ve been waiting!”

“Waiting for us to be official?” you ask.

“Well it has been three months,” Steve tells you and he pulls the car into the Family Video parking lot. Robin lets go of your hand and you grab your purse.

“Let’s go get these jobs,” Steve tells the two of you and opens his car door.

“Let’s do this,” you tell Robin and open the door.

“You put your mom down as a reference?” Robin asks Steve.

“Yeah, why not?” he asks, “She’s, like, super well-respected.”

“That’s kinda sad Steve,” you tell him, “Why not use your basketball coach?”

Steve stops in front of the door, hand grasping the handle, “Well, shit.”

“You’re such a dingus,” Robin tells him and opens the door next to him.

All three of you walk up to the counter where an employee is sitting watching a movie on one of the many TVs. Even when you are standing there he still doesn’t look away from the screen.

“Ahem,” Robin fake clears her throat, “We have resumes.”

The guy looks away from the TV and at all of you, he lets out a breath and says in a monotone voice, “Let me see them.”

You take out your resume from your purse and put it on the counter along with Steve and Robin. He takes a few minutes to look over each of them, Steve’s being the shortest.

“It says you were fired?” he asks.

“Uh, just to be clear we weren’t fired, you know,” Robin tells him, “The mall burned down and, like, killed a bunch of people.”

“Thanks for sharing,” he says in the same monotone voice, “Didn’t know. Three favorite movies. Go.”

He snaps his fingers and points at Robin first, “Uh… The Apartment, Hidden Fortress, Children of Paradise.”

He snaps again at you, “You, go.”

“I- uh, The Exorcist, Alien, and um, Annie,” you tell him.

Finally he snaps at Steve, “Now, you.”

“Favorite movies?” Steve asks, caught off guard.

“Did I stutter?” he asks.

“Uhhhhh, Animal House, for sure,” Steve tells him to which both you and Robin cringe, “Ummm…”

“Eyes on me, Harrington,” he tells him and points his fingers between the two of them.

“Yeah, uhhh,” Steve continues to bomb, “Star Wars.”

“A New Hope?” he asks.

“A new what-now?” Steve asks.

“What he means is Empire,” you interject.

“Yeah and the one with the DeLorean and Alex P. Keaton, and he’s trying to bang his mom,” Steve tells him and laughs, “Those are my top three. Classics.”

He looks between the three of you, “You two start Monday. You start never.”

Steve's face falls as the two of you look at him with sympathy.

“Will you just, um…” Robin starts, “Will you give us a minute?”

“Why?” Steve asks.

“Let’s just go over here, bud,” you tell him and pull him over to a display.

“That was so bad,” Steve says to you, dragging his hands over his face.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you say, “You can’t get every job you want.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he says, “I just wanna work with you guys again.”

“How about we rent a movie and hang out at your house later?” you suggest, “I may have a little something for later as long as your parents aren’t home.”

As the two of you walk back to the front of the store Steve turns to say something to you but instead trips over a cardboard cutout, “Goddammit. This is-”

Both Robin and the employee look at him, Steve picks up the cutout and looks at it, “Hm,” he attempts to fix the sign readjusting the stand.

“I should have said Fast Times,” Steve sighs and sets down the cutout, “Hey, Keith! I should have said Fast Times! Ever heard of it?��

Robin looks back, smiles, then shakes her head. The three of you leave with new jobs and a promise of a joint.

The End :)

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley #y/n #reader #fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x reader #slow burn #friends to lovers #fluff #angst #fluff and angst #original character #wlw #sapphic #cannon lesbian character #canon compliant

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liushenbrainrot · 3 months ago

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This is me trying to make a oneshot fanfiction of Bingqiu ft. Shang Qinghua in a modern au while listening to ALL NIGHT by VickeeLo on repeat….all because of a single tiktok <33 I don’t know how this will turn out but I’m already expecting it to turn out horrible. This is my first fanfic so I wonder how this will turn out.

ALL NIGHT

Shen Qingqiu was engrossed in the routine of late-night grading, the soft scratch of his pen the only sound in the quiet dorm room. The warm, faint light from his desk lamp cast long shadows across the scattered papers, blending with the muted glow of the city outside the window. Across the room, his dormmate, Shang Qinghua, was similarly absorbed in his own work, the faint hum of his laptop filling the space between them.

Both were teachers at the same school, their lives tangled up in shared responsibilities and that oh-so-subtle bond that only comes from enduring countless nights like these, where time seemed to stand still. Or, more accurately, they were too exhausted to muster up their usual banter and silently decided it would be best to focus on grading papers.

Shen Qingqiu was lost in the monotony of grading papers, the soft rustle of turning pages blending with the rhythmic tapping of Shang Qinghua's keyboard across the room. The stillness was almost comforting, a rare moment of peace amidst their demanding schedules.

Suddenly, the tranquility was shattered by a loud crash from outside their dorm window. Shen Qingqiu’s hand jerked, his pen leaving an angry streak of ink across the page. He froze, eyes narrowing, while Shang Qinghua jumped in his seat, nearly knocking over his coffee.

“What the hell was that?” Shang Qinghua whispered, his voice tinged with unease as he glanced toward the window.

Shen Qingqiu didn’t answer immediately, his mind racing. He could feel his irritation bubbling up, mixing with an involuntary spike of curiosity. “I swear, if some idiot is causing trouble at this hour…” he muttered under his breath.

Shang Qinghua, still wide-eyed, looked at him with a mix of concern and expectation. “You’re not actually going out there, are you? It’s probably just some students messing around.”

But Shen Qingqiu was already on his feet, the floorboards creaking under his weight. He straightened his posture, determination flickering in his eyes. “I’m not going to sit here and let them disturb the peace. If it’s students, they’ll wish they hadn’t crossed me.”

Shang Qinghua sighed, clearly torn between staying safe in the warmth of their dorm and his sense of duty as a teacher. “Fine, but I’m not letting you go alone. If something happens, we’re both getting blamed.”

Shen Qingqiu shot him a smirk, his irritation momentarily replaced by a spark of mischief. “Suit yourself.”

As they approached the window, the cool night air seeped through the thin glass, carrying with it the faint sound of distant voices. Shen Qingqiu’s pulse quickened, anticipation mingling with his annoyance. He pushed the curtain aside, ready to confront whatever was causing the disturbance, while Shang Qinghua hovered nervously behind him.

Outside, the night was alive with a strange energy, shadows moving in the dim light, hinting at something just out of sight

---

As Shen Qingqiu peeled back the curtain, ready to give a scathing lecture to whatever fool was making noise at this ungodly hour, the sight that greeted him turned his blood cold. His face drained of color faster than the ink in a cheap ballpoint pen.

Standing under the streetlamp like the star of some cheesy teen drama, Luo Binghe—his golden student, the pride of the school—held up a giant, glittering sign that screamed: "Shizun, go out with me!"

Shen Qingqiu’s brain came to a screeching halt. ‘This can’t be happening. There’s no way. Did I fall asleep on my papers? Am I having some kind of weird, stress-induced nightmare?’

But no, this was all too real. Flowers—‘roses, because of course, it had to be roses’—were scattered around Luo Binghe’s feet as if he’d ransacked a florist. And in his other hand? A boombox. Shen Qingqiu could only watch in horror as it started blaring out a slow, sensual beat, the lyrics a direct assault on his sanity: "I wanna fuck with you all night… boy can we fuck the..."

‘I’m going to die. I’m actually going to die. Right here, right now. Someone, please, end my suffering.’ Shen Qingqiu’s mind spiraled. ‘Is this how I go out? Death by public humiliation?’

Beside him, Shang Qinghua made a strangled noise—a cross between a snort and a gasp. “What the hell was that?” Shang Qinghua whispered, his voice shaking with the effort not to burst out laughing.

‘Oh, you heard that too? Good, it’s not just me. Unfortunately.’ Shen Qingqiu could only nod, his eyes wide with horror. ‘The universe really decided to put me through this tonight. Just what did I do to deserve this?’

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe called out, his voice filled with so much earnestness it made Shen Qingqiu want to leap out of the window and flee. ‘Don’t you dare—‘

“Please, accept my feelings!”

‘well shit’ Shen Qingqiu felt his soul leave his body. ‘This is a disaster. This is worse than a disaster. What do I even do?’ He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a strangled noise somewhere between a squeak and a cry for help. Meanwhile, Shang Qinghua was practically convulsing in silent laughter beside him, tears streaming down his face. “You… you have to do something!” he gasped out, clearly relishing every second of Shen Qingqiu’s torment.

After a short while, Shen Qingqiu finally managed to regain control of his voice—sort of. “Luo Binghe! What do you think you’re doing?!” he demanded, his voice cracking just a bit at the end. ‘Smooth. Real smooth, Shen Qingqiu. That’s how you establish authority.’

Luo Binghe’s smile only widened, his eyes sparkling like he was the hero of a rom-com. “I’m confessing my love, Shizun! I’ve admired you for so long—”

‘Admired? Admired?! You’re supposed to admire my teaching methods, not serenade me with R-rated songs at three in the morning!’ Shen Qingqiu slapped a hand over his face, praying for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. “Go back to your dorm this instant, or I swear, I’ll—” He will what? Fail him? Suspend him? How do you even discipline a student for something like this? Unfortunately, There’s no handbook for ‘student confesses undying love in the middle of the night with a boombox.

Luo Binghe’s face fell, and Shen Qingqiu felt a brief pang of guilt—quickly smothered by the overwhelming need to make this all stop. “And turn off that ridiculous music!” he snapped, pointing a trembling finger at the boombox.

Luo Binghe obediently clicked it off, leaving behind an awkward silence that was somehow even worse. “Shizun…” he began, looking like a kicked puppy, but Shen Qingqiu was having none of it. He yanked the curtain shut, leaning against the wall as if he’d just survived a battle.

‘I’m never going to live this down. Never. This is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.’

---

Shen Qingqiu had hoped that by closing the window, he’d put an end to the night’s absurdity. But there was Luo Binghe, still standing outside, his handsome figure illuminated by the streetlights, his shoulders drooping but his determination clearly unshaken.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe called out with determination, “I just want you to know, this isn’t over yet.”

Shen Qingqiu, exhausted and barely holding onto his patience, rubbed his temples. ‘Of course not’ he thought wryly. ‘Because clearly, serenading me in the middle of the night was just the warm-up act.’

“I’m coming back,” Luo Binghe continued, his voice filled with fiery resolve. “You can’t get rid of me that easily. I’ll find a way to prove my feelings, even if it takes a thousand roses!”

Shen Qingqiu blinked, trying to suppress a chuckle. He shook his head, struggling to keep his tone even. “A thousand roses? Is this your idea of romance or a plot twist in a soap opera?”

Luo Binghe’s face lit up with renewed determination. “You’ll see, Shizun! I’ll find a way. This isn’t the last you’ve heard of me.” As Shen Qingqiu watched, he could have sworn he saw a smirk playing at the corners of Luo Binghe’s lips. To the casual observer, it was undoubtedly captivating—a subtle curve that suggested effortless charm and an irresistible allure. It was the sort of smile that made hearts race and drew gazes like moths to a flame, a promise of untold delights and mysteries.

But to Shen Qingqiu, that smirk felt like a warning. It was as if the smirk were a mask hiding something far darker beneath the surface. To him, it wasn’t just an alluring gesture; it was a flicker of something predatory, a hint of danger veiled in charm. Shen Qingqiu’s skin prickled with unease. He could almost see the smirk’s underlying threat, a reminder that behind those beguiling curves lay an intent he’d rather not fully understand.

---

Shen Qingqiu closed the window with a mix of relief and sheer disbelief. He stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space outside as if willing the ridiculousness of the situation to evaporate. ‘What did I even do to deserve this?’ he wondered, feeling a bewildered laugh bubble up. ‘All I did was try to teach—was there a ‘become an unwitting romantic lead’ clause in my contract that I missed?’

Turning back to see Shang Qinghua still watching with barely contained laughter, Shen Qingqiu shook his head, struggling to find his words. “That was… something,” he finally managed, his voice tinged with incredulity.

Shang Qinghua grinned widely. “Luo Binghe’s persistence could win awards. I wonder what did you do to make him head over heels for you that badly. ”

“Yeah,” Shen Qingqiu was wondering the same damn thing as well. Even he, himself didn’t know too.

Shen Qingqiu replied with a tired smile, still trying to wrap his head around the absurdity. He shook his head again, adding, “If this keeps up, I’ll need to start charging him for disturbing the peace, trespassing, and maybe even a noise violation or two.”

Shang Qinghua chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, at least we know he won’t be giving up anytime soon. If nothing else, it makes for a good story.”

“Shut the hell up Airplane..” Shen Qingqiu protested, settling back at his desk. He tried to focus on his work, but the image of Luo Binghe’s earnest, dramatic face kept reappearing in his mind. As they returned to their tasks, the earlier chaos slowly faded into the background. Shen Qingqiu sighed. He hoped for a bit more normalcy in the days ahead, though with Luo Binghe’s persistence, he wasn’t holding his breath.

#svsss #mxtx svsss #oneshot #first fanfic #mxtx #scum villian self saving system #scumbag system #danmei #no beta we die like shen qingqiu

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nctsjiho · 2 years ago

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Going Home

cw: strong language, mentions of blood and injury, <10k words || era: December 18, 2022

❀ Sometimes it takes a while to realise who your actual family are, and sometimes you realise it when it's just too late

Chapter I:

“Last night there was a reported hit and run in the outskirts of Seoul in the direction of Incheon. The hit vehicle crashed into two other cars, causing a massive crash. Thankfully only one person was heavily injured, the four other victims: a mother with her daughter and two young males, were only lightly injured.

“The crash that occurred at the beginning of a bridge caused major damage to the infrastructure of the bridge. Police have closed off that bridge and authorities are clearing the scene. The perpetrator who caused the crash has not yet been found.

“All traffic heading towards Incheon Airport has been safely redirected. Those who planned on travelling out via this bridge are hereby warned to head out to the airport earlier to assure a timely arrival.”

“Wow, that’s insane,” Haechan reacted in a breathy tone after hearing the news. “To think those people were probably heading out on holiday and now they have to spend time at the hospital.”

Taeyong nodded with a tight-lipped hum, he patted the youngest on his shoulder before sitting down next to him. “I hope they’re all well.”

It was cold in the practice room. The thermostat had only been turned on when the first of the members arrived for their dance practice session. Something about the air in the room today didn't sit right. Maybe it was the frosty weather outside, the equally uncomfortable temperature inside or the exhaustion the members were feeling with their packed schedule, but the mood really wasn’t feeling right at that moment.

“Where are the others?” The leader looked from Haechan to Taeil, who both shrugged their shoulders, yet before Taeil could vocalise his unknowing, the door of the practice room swung open.

“I’m sorry we’re late!” Mark heaved and stumbled into the room.

Taeil chuckled a bit at the younger man’s frantic exterior. “Don’t tell me you actually ran up here.” It wasn’t even a question, more like a statement out of incredulity which had Taeil hardly suppressing a laugh.

“We were in the car,” Johnny said as he pushed past Mark. Jungwoo and Jaehyun followed him shortly. “Did you hear the news about the hit and run? It’s crazy.”

Haechan mimicked Taeyong’s earlier tight-lipped hum in acknowledgment, “yeah we’ve heard.”

“So we were listening to it and came up here as soon as the report was over.”

Noticing Mark struggling with his bag and belongings, Taeyong stood up to lend him a helping hand. Mark mouthed a quick thank you, mentioning briefly how his morning had already been so hectic and he couldn’t seem to keep it together. Taeyong offered him a comforting pat on the back and told him he should take a few deep breaths. Mark complied and after having collected himself, showed Taeyong a grateful smile.

“That makes us seven out of ten. Any ideas where the rest are?” Taeyong asked the whole group.

The boys all shook their heads bar Jungwoo, who spoke up, “I’m not sure, but I think I remember Doyoung mentioned he had something to attend to before noon. I don’t know about Yuta and JiHo though. Should I call?”

Taeyong shook his head dismissively. “They’ll get here soon enough, let’s start warming up already.”

Practice was in session not long after. The members started warming up and began going over choreography. About 15 minutes in, Doyoung and Yuta joined. They seemed distracted and Taeyong took note of it, but didn’t mention it out loud. The practice wasn’t even halted, they just continued on and the two latecomers joined wordlessly so as to not waste any time.

Once the first break arrived all the members went to their own corners of the room for a water and snack break.

“You two good?” Taeyong checked on Yuta and Doyoung who both nodded. “Did you hear anything from—”

“The mother who got injured during last night’s hit and run in the direction of Incheon was willing to explain the incident.” The voice of the female reporter sounded from Haechan’s tablet.

“We were heading towards the airport, me and my daughter were going to visit family in Europe. It was fairly empty on this road, since people usually go from the main road. I just remember a car to the left of me, and I think also one behind me. Suddenly I heard a loud noise and the car left of me hit my car. I only remember hearing another car speed by and they didn’t have any lights on. The next thing I know, I was checking on my daughter and we tried to exit the car safely. Luckily we were able to get out easily. Me and my daughter only had some bruises and I had a little cut from the glass of my side window that shattered.”

“Mother and daughter are safe and were able to catch another flight to their destination. The two young injured men have been successfully treated for their injuries in the hospital. The last victim is still in the hospital, getting treated for injuries.”

Once the reporter stopped speaking the room began filling with murmurs. Some of the members were discussing the news, while others had conversations about entirely different things in general.

Yuta didn’t realise he was drowning out the other members’ voices, preoccupied with his own thoughts until something caught his attention.

“—JiHo, so I’m not sure.” Doyoung was talking, but Yuta couldn’t connect enough elements to figure out the context. This was noticed by Doyoung, who placed a hand on the older man’s shoulder and with a chuckle—not necessarily one out of amusement—he asked if something was wrong, “are you okay? You seem spaced out.”

“No,” Yuta began. “It’s nothing. Just… I don’t know anything about JiHo either—”

“Guys!” A loud high pitched voice cut Yuta off. All the members present turned to the door where they found a heaving Sihyun.

Another one, Taeyong thought as this had been the fourth person he had seen walking into this room who looked like their whole morning was filled with misfortune.

“What is it?” Johnny asked carefully as Sihyun had a difficult time speaking any words. No one was sure if it was because she had been running and was out of breath, or because of what she wanted to say.

“Have any of you guys seen JiHo?”

Chapter II:

“You don’t have to leave,” Yuta pouted playfully. He had a hard time hiding his smile as, even though he did feel a bit sad about JiHo returning to her apartment, he was happy she was in a better place than a month prior.

“You say that, but I’m pretty sure Doyoung is annoyed with me hogging his bed 24/7,” she deadpanned. However, the second she made eye contact with her fellow Japanese friend, the two broke out in laughter. “I think I’m messing with that homebody’s safe space too much,” she confessed.

“You can sleep here as well.” Yuta patted the bed he was sitting on—his bed.

In response JiHo scoffed, turning back to his desk where she was looking for her phone charger. “You kick me out every time you want to sleep. No thank you.”

“Hey! I don’t do that. It’s just that you hate me hugging you in your sleep and I need my space,” he countered. As he spoke those words though, he started to realise how contradicting they sounded. “Okay, so maybe we’re not great sleeping buddies, but if you go back to your apartment, who’s going to cook for me? And our movie nights? And game nights! Those are fun, although Haechan always hogs your attention and it’s getting annoying. That tiny boy needs to learn his place—”

Mid-ramble Yuta noticed how JiHo wasn’t responding to him. His eyes scanned JiHo’s unusually stiff figure until he realised what she was doing—or rather what she had seen. “JiHo, it’s not like that—”

“Like what?” Her voice had dropped an octave and there was no emotion in it. She turned around and was holding a small stack of envelopes. “What are these doing here?”

Taking a deep breath in, Yuta stood up and took a step closer, but JiHo moved back instantly. “I— Okay, I got them from your biological parents. They tried to visit you in Japan and I didn’t think you wanted them to, so I told them to leave. They gave those to me.”

JiHo took a few moments to let the information settle before she spoke up. “Japan? When exactly? At the beginning of the year?” When Yuta nodded affirmatively, JiHo scoffed even louder. There was a scowl on her face as she eyed him with anger. “Why didn’t you at least give them to me?”

“I was planning to. Believe me,” Yuta pleaded, trying to reach out to hold JiHo’s hand, but she shook him off. “I just didn’t know how you’d react or—”

“Well, now you know,” JiHo said and grabbed her suitcase, rolling it behind her as she walked out of his room.

“JiHo!” Yuta called after her, but she didn’t answer. She didn’t even look back as she closed the front door behind her and left the dorm.

Defeated, Yuta plopped down on his bed, cradling his head between his hands. He felt like an asshole for not letting the younger girl know about the letters, or that JiHo’s biological parents had tried to visit her, but if he was being honest, he knew that he wasn’t even planning on doing so. He lied to her.

Yuta never wanted to tell JiHo about her biological parents. They weren’t good people, they didn’t have good intentions. All he wanted was to protect her from them. Although he knew that that wasn’t his place nor call, he just wanted to be selfish. He and the members had been around JiHo for so long, caring for her, loving her, he didn’t want JiHo to meet those people who would give her an empty promise of doing what they had done for so many years. He wanted JiHo to see the boys as her family, he didn’t want her to reach out to those fake parents.

Too lost in his thoughts, Yuta fell asleep that night without changing out of his clothes. When he woke up that following morning it had already been close to noon. There was a lingering headache that made his every move that much more painful, more than the muscle ache of sleeping in an uncomfortable position for many hours.

As the late morning progressed he had pondered on whether or not to reach out to JiHo. He wanted to know if she reached her apartment safely last night, but the memories of their fight halted him. JiHo probably didn’t want him to call her. He had probably broken her trust and she must’ve been very angry at him—the anger in her eyes that looked at Yuta was still imprinted in his mind. He had to, however. It would’ve made him an even worse person if he didn’t at least check on her.

Just as expected, his call went to voicemail. JiHo didn’t want to talk to him, Yuta was sure of it. However, he hoped that she had at least seen the call attempt and knew that he was putting in an effort, but that thinking process even sounded selfish to himself. Yuta coined all his thoughts and actions towards JiHo as selfish. That’s just how I am, he thought.

Chapter III:

“What do you mean?” Yuta asked with a shaky voice after Sihyun had run into the practice room asking for JiHo. “Is she not at home?”

Sihyun turned to Yuta as he heard his voice and shook her head. “No… She isn’t,” she answered, but sounded confused.

“Did something happen?” Doyoung mimicked her confused look, sensing the weird atmosphere in the room.

Again Sihyun shook her head and took a step further into the room. “Why are you guys looking like that at me? It’s just that I’ve been setting up for JiHo’s birthday surprise and I don’t want it to get ruined.”

It took a second before the boys all sighed with a sense of relief. “God, you scared me, I thought something happened.”

“OH! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you guys, but… Wait. If JiHo isn’t here and she isn’t at home? Did anyone call her?”

Yuta raised his hand hesitantly, “I called her earlier, she didn’t pick up, but I…” Everyone eyed the Japanese expectantly. “We got in a little fight yesterday night so I think she doesn’t really want to talk to me.”

Taeyong sighed in a mixture of relief, acknowledgment, but also pain. “That’s why you’ve been acting so strange,” he said as he patted his friend on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. It’s hard to get JiHo that angry. She either didn’t see it or she’ll get over it quickly.”

“No, Taeyong. You don’t understand. I really fucked up this time.” Yuta’s eyes were wide before they turned down into a frown. It was clear to Taeyong—and the others—that whatever happened between Yuta and the female member was weighing on him.

“What happened?” Mark asked curiously. Of course he wasn’t beyond realising the weight of the situation, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t actively curious about what had happened. He would have to admit that when Yuta turned to him and let out a deep shaky sigh that he almost felt bad asking, but he thought that it would be best for his friend to air his worries.

“I spoke to JiHo’s biological parents more than half a year ago… during our concerts.” The gasps of disbelief from the members had Yuta lowering his head in shame. He knew that the boys had already made up their minds and thought badly of him for doing so. A comforting hand from his leader, however, had urged him to continue explaining. “JiHo sent them letters when she felt lonely, when she couldn’t see her actual parents. Her biological parents gave me the letters and I never told JiHo about it. I kept them and JiHo found them last night.”

There was tension in the room. It mostly felt like a feeling of shared sadness, but there was a clear air of disappointment and something akin to anger. The latter was very prominent coming from Yuta’s immediate left, where Doyoung stood and let out a scoff.

“Wow,” the Korean sarcastically commented. “Way to go, Yuta.”

“Hey! You would’ve done the same if you were in my position,” Yuta turned to his so-called friend. “If you met those people, you wouldn’t have wanted them around JiHo even for a split second.”

“You should’ve told her about it at least.”

“Don’t act like you’re a saint and never make dumb decisions.”

“You—”

“HEY!” Haechan suddenly yelled, catching everyone's attention. “What Yuta hyung did was dumb, but you can’t say you would’ve handled it differently when you never had to be in his place. Now, it doesn’t matter anyway. We don’t know where JiHo is and I don’t know about you guys, but it’s starting to get a little concerning to me.”

Mark turned to his friend who was heaving a little and put his arm around his shoulder comfortingly. Taeyong nodded in agreement before looking at Yuta and Doyoung and then at the rest. “I’ll call JiHo, see if I can reach her. Sihyun, you can continue preparing for JiHo’s surprise and the two of you—” Taeyong turned to the two members who were previously yelling at each other “—please make up, there’s no need to fight because of this. I’m sure you both are already stressed enough.”

Taeyong disappeared from the room alongside Sihyun, leaving the other members to themselves. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been feeling off the whole day. I slept terribly last night and,” Doyoung sighed. “I just hope things are fine.”

Yuta pulled the man in a quick hug, which Doyoung reciprocated immediately. “No need to apologise. I understand.”

Despite the two men reconciling, the mood in the room still felt a bit off. The members either stood in place, staring at whatever it might be, or were pacing around trying not to get in their head too much.

It proved rather pointless, because with every passing minute—Taeyong was taking a while—the boys grew more uneasy. They were all worried, but Johnny noticed one member in particular seeming to have an ever harder time. “Hey,” he said in almost a whisper. “You don’t seem too well. Is something on your mind?”

Yuta looked up at his taller friend and released his lip that was held hostage between his teeth. He shook his head from side to side, his eyes unfocused and darting around the room. “It’s just that…”

“Just that what?” Jaehyun stepped forward once he noticed Yuta’s expression. It looked like the Japanese man was about to say something, but had a hard time letting the words come out. “Did something come to mind?”

Jaehyun could act all calm, cool and collected as much as he wanted, but the tone of his voice gave him away immediately. He was panicking on the inside, scared that something might have gone wrong. His faked exterior immediately crumbled, however, when Taeyong entered the room with his phone held up high telling the members he wasn’t able to reach JiHo.

“Yuta, speak up,” Doyoung quickly urged.

The man eyed his friends first before he opened his mouth to speak, “Maybe—”

“The victim who was sent to the hospital with major injuries after last night’s hit and run case in Seoul is recovering well. The young man was in the driver’s seat of the first car that got hit with his two other friends in the back of the car. He will be able to leave the hospital by tomorrow. All victims of the crash will be able to spend their holidays safely with their families and friends. The police are still searching for the perpetrator.”

As soon as the female voice got cut off, Yuta let out a huge sigh of relief. Mark’s eyes widened once the realisation set in after he connected Yuta’s earlier demeanour and actions. “You thought that person was JiHo?!”

Mark’s voice boomed through the room, louder than it ever had.

As if caught red-handed, Yuta started to stutter out words defensively. “It wasn’t ruled out! I just thought there was a possibility JiHo might have gone to the airport because she wanted to see her parents,” Yuta’s loud and defensive tone diminished with every passing word. He looked around at his friends and once again dropped his head in shame. “I didn’t want to think like that, but perhaps hearing her biological parents tried to reach out… JiHo might’ve wanted to get in contact with them.”

Although Yuta sounded meek and defeated, the way his voice started to tremble and his words started to mix together, it was clear he had been insanely stressed and in his head before and that his emotions were finally catching up to him.

“Hey hey.” Mark took a step closer and called out to Yuta in a gentle voice, “you were just worried and scared. Let’s just be happy that it wasn't JiHo.”

Yuta shook his head and pressed his eyes shut tight—tears were starting to run down his cheeks. “I still shouldn’t have thought like that. If I even thought it was possible, why didn’t I do anything?”

Mark pouted and looked at Doyoung with a lost look. He didn’t know what to say or do, so opted to hug the Japanese man instead. Doyoung gave Mark a firm nod and with his own hand softly patted Yuta’s back. “You couldn’t have done anything in such a situation anyway. Let’s focus on actually finding JiHo first.”

As on que, Taeyong entered the room with his phone in hand. He was already shaking his head from side to side. “I can’t reach her.”

A collective sigh came from the boys. At this point reaching JiHo started to feel like an urgent matter, but if she wasn’t going to pick up, it did not matter how many times the boys would call.

“Let me try,” Haechan suggested, although having the same mindset as the others. Taeyong was about to say that the idea seemed almost pointless at this time—although he wasn’t against trying a few more times—when Haechan had already pulled out his phone and dialled JiHo’s number.

He tried 3 more times after that and each time the boys looked at him with held breath. The last time though, something was different. It didn’t take about a minute or two before the call went to voicemail.

“What happened?” Jaehyun asked with much urgency in his tone.

Haechan looked as pale as a ghost as he looked up to his older members. There was a confusing mixture of emotions displayed by him and his voice came out meekly as he answered, “it went straight to voicemail.”

Chapter IV:

JiHo slammed her hands on the steering wheel as soon as she sat down in the car. It was Yebin’s car. Yebin, her manager who had gone on pregnancy leave. Her fiance didn’t allow her to drive so Yebin had nicely lent JiHo her car for now.

It was a nice car, though nothing special. Something affordable and big enough for a kid or two in the back seat. JiHo would’ve decided on something else for a car of her own—if she was allowed to at least. This car was nice, but she wanted a car in which she could get away from life for a moment. A car which she could pretty much live in whenever life became too much. Just like at that moment.

She looked at the stack of envelopes on the passenger’s seat before letting out a scoff and immediately turning on the engine. In barely a minute she was on the street already. Despite it being the weekend, the streets of Seoul were rather empty. That shouldn’t have been surprising, noticing the time of day—rather night—it was.

~“Last night there was a reported hit and run in the outskirts of Seoul in the direction of Incheon. The hit vehicle crashed into two other cars, causing a massive crash.”~

Driving was something that went like autopilot for JiHo. One moment she was still in the parking lot, the next she was pulling up at her destination.

Destination…

Driving was so much like going on autopilot that JiHo sometimes didn’t even realise where she was heading. Usually it was just driving from her apartment or the boys dorm to the company, or returning home from the company. Sometimes JiHo would drive to personal schedules or if she just wanted to go out somewhere on her own. She didn’t have a car though, so it was a hassle to ask a manager for permission each time she wanted to go somewhere. If only she could buy her own car. Her father didn’t approve of the idea. Something about it being too dangerous. “Dangerous my ass,” JiHo mumbled to herself as she relived the arguments with her father about the topic in her head.

There was a nice song on the radio. JiHo hummed along with it, letting her body steer the car to wherever it wanted to go.

~“We were heading towards the airport, me and my daughter were going to visit family in Europe. It was fairly empty on this road, since people usually go from the main road.”~

The road she was on was not the one going to her apartment. That much she was sure of, but even though she was aware, even though she mumbled it to herself that this isn’t the way home, it was like her mind wasn’t connecting the dots. She just continued driving.

“God—” JiHo cursed as she had to hit the brakes suddenly. A car in front of her slowed down abruptly before its blinkers changed from the right to the left. With the sudden movement she heard something shift to the side of her. Looking back down at the passenger’s seat she was confronted with her own handwriting. She didn’t have to look closely to know what it said.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dubois

It’s me, JiHo. I was wondering if we could meet up one day.

JiHo internally cringed. She didn’t know whether she was more disappointed that she ever wrote it, or that she was still wondering about how her biological parents had reacted when they first read the letter.

“They probably didn’t even care.” The words she spoke were those to comfort her. It did little to do so however because JiHo quickly felt a hot tear on her cheek. She sniffled and wiped the tear away before really focusing on the street in front of her again. “How did I get here?”

In front of her were two cars. Despite this place being a bit further than the main road—JiHo wanted to be on the road for as long as possible—it was a pretty big road. Three lanes wide, but JiHo was in no rush. She continued behind the car on the most right side, heading towards the bridge.

~just remember a car to the left of me, and I think also one behind me. Suddenly I heard a loud noise and the car left of me hit my car.~

A loud screeching noise came from JiHo’s side. She barely had any time to look up before the four headlights started to blur into one big mess. There was rumbling, the sound of metal bending and screeching and scratching and getting crushed. JiHo tried to keep her eyes on the lights but it quickly became impossible.

The lights started to disappear to the left side of her vision and she felt her body get shaken until she couldn’t see any light anymore.

Chapter V:

“Should we call the police?” Mark suggested, earning some of the boys attention.

“We could, but they might not act on it immediately,” Johnny answered. His face looked like one of worry. It looked like he hadn’t slept in days, yet it was easy to pinpoint the source of his concern.

“I can’t sit here any longer, I’m gonna head out,” Jaehyun said as he grabbed his jacket.

“And do what?”

“I don’t know. Something?! We can sit here all day and wait, or we can try to go out and find her,” Jaehyun stated firmly. When he looked his leader in the eyes, however, his whole semblance shattered. He dropped his jacket and shook his head defeatedly. “Hyung— I just don’t have a good feeling about this. Just sitting here makes me feel useless.”

Taeyong nodded, pulling the taller man into a hug. “I know, but for all we know JiHo is just at the gym blowing off steam, or with a friend. JiHo is a smart girl who needs her distance sometimes. Let’s take it step by s—”

A ringing noise sounded from behind Taeyong. Turning around, he found Doyoung looking down at his phone confused. “Who’s that?”

“I don’t know, I don’t recognise the number,” he mumbled confusedly.

“Maybe it's a sasaeng?” Taeil commented with a slight scowl. It was true that lately the boys and JiHo were getting more sasaeng calls. If it weren’t the usual fan girls that bothered them, then it was this new fan who just called and didn’t say anything. As if to taunt them.

Doyoung shrugged, but decided to pick up the phone anyway. “Hello?”

The boys all watched as Doyoung took the call, trying to understand what was going on by watching his facial expressions.

“Car? ... Black car? … I’m sorry, I can’t— Wait, I’ll step out for a sec—” Doyoung stopped dead in his tracks before asking the person on the other side of the phone to repeat themselves. “No… I, you must be mistaken. There were only 2 cars—”

“On further investigation the police were able to find a third vehicle that was involved in the hit and run last night in Seoul. The car was found about a hundred metres down the side of the bridge. There seemed to be only one passenger in the car. The victim’s condition is not yet known.

“It took the police several hours to find the last vehicle. The car was not immediately found since there were no direct traces suggesting more than 2 vehicles involved, as well as the side of the bridge being very overgrown and there being many trees making the last car difficult to spot. They will do an extra search, expanding the search area to make sure no one else is left unfound.”

Frozen in his spot, Doyoung looked Taeyong dead in the eyes. His eyes were filled to the brim with tears and he had completely forgotten about listening to what the person on the phone was saying.

“Doyoung?” Taeyong whispered, but his friend still couldn’t say a thing. “Please talk to me.”

Before long, Johnny snatched the phone from Doyoung’s hand and held it up to his ear. “Yes? … Yeah I’m— I’m her brother.” As Johnny said that he couldn’t look his members in the eyes and so he turned his back on them and continued talking to the person on the phone.

“Hyung, what’s going on?” Haechan asked in almost a whiny tone. It wasn’t the usual playful tone he carried, but a genuine pained sound. “Can’t you tell us what happened? What did they say?”

Just a few seconds later Johnny turned back to the group. “Taeyong, Yuta, Doyoung?” He looked at the three, calling for their attention, but the latter didn’t budge. “Let’s go.”

The three stood there in shock, unsure of what to do, with Taeyong and Yuta eyeing each other nervously.

“COME ON! If you don’t come I’m taking someone else with me,” Johnny yelled loudly which made Yuta and Taeyong move instantly. To help Doyoung out, the leader pulled him by his arm, only partly getting him out of his trance.

“What about us?” Jungwoo asked in a soft, shaky tone.

A sigh escaped Johnny’s lips and he glanced over the room once again. “Okay, one more person can fit in the car with us. The others, ask for the manager to bring you.”

The other members nodded after they pushed Haechan towards the older members. “Where to?” Mark asked. He sounded almost scared to ask the question and when the response came, his apprehensiveness felt not unwarranted.

“To the hospital goddamnit! Where else to?” Johnny had never been this upset—this angry. When he got angry he’d always try to compose himself, using sarcasm or trying to joke about it to lighten the mood. This time, however, every sense of trying to stay composed—trying to be fake—was thrown out of the window and it was scary.

“Yeah. I’m sorry,” Mark had whispered to himself when he noticed the group leave the room without much of a second glance. Jaehyun was by his side in seconds to give him a pat on his shoulder, but when Mark looked up he didn’t see Jaehyun look at him with a comforting or reassuring gaze. The man himself was dying of nerves. He was just as scared as the rest.

“Let’s just go,” he stated short, earning affirmative hums and nods from the boys as they looked for a manager to bring them to the hospital.

Chapter VI:

“I’m sorry, this many people aren’t allowed in here. It’s family—”

The nurse had barely any time to state the protocol when 5 intimidating men were towering over her. If it weren’t for the clear tears, red eyes and clumped-together eyelashes, the woman would’ve called security without a second of thought.

“We’re her family, she’s all she’s got here.”

The woman nodded nervously before looking down at her clipboard. “A—And who’s family is it that you are?”

“Lim JiHo’s,” Taeyong answered in Johnny’s stead. It wasn’t like Johnny was unable to answer, but his height and clearly sour mood was making the nurse severely uncomfortable to the point Taeyong needed to step in. Johnny was tall and really scary at this moment, but he wouldn’t hurt anyone—besides possibly the person in charge of what had happened—Taeyong just didn’t want anyone to misunderstand his American friend.

“Lim? Lim JiHo?” She continued to leaf through the patient documents until she found the right name. “Oh—” Her expression was all but satisfactory.

“What does that mean?” Yuta asked, a clear waver in his voice. He felt the blood in his veins run cold and cold beads of sweat form on his hairline.

The nurse ushered them towards a waiting room—secluded and cold—before telling them to sit down. “I’ll need you to wait here, I’ll send you JiHo’s doctor immediately.” Before the boys could utter another word the nurse had run off already.

“Hyung,” Haechan whispered as he softly poked Doyoung’s shoulder. The latter turned around to look at the younger man, revealing his bloodshot eyes to Haechan despite not having many tears rolling off his cheeks. “Are you okay?”

Doyoung shook his head. It was the clearest answer he had given since the phone call. “I’m not,” he then voiced his answer. “But that doesn’t matter. All that matters is JiHo.”

Haechan nodded, but felt like it was not right. It seemed like Taeyong felt the same way as he reached out to Doyoung and caressed his arm. “I understand, but you have to stay strong as well. JiHo needs you that way.”

The two best friends shared pained gazes between each other and although not by much, it still felt a bit comforting to Doyoung. His mind couldn’t stop thinking about the what if’s and the maybe’s, but at least he didn’t feel alone.

“Hello good sirs,” a doctor said as he approached the five men. He didn’t share any other niceties and went straight to the point. “As you know JiHo was in that car crash?” When the members nodded, the doctor continued, “as she was found much later she wasn’t in good condition when we found her. She was still awake though not able to respond verbally. We brought her here and she’s currently in surgery.”

“What took them so long?” Yuta asked as soon as the doctor finished speaking, but his tone didn’t hold any hostility. He was genuinely curious as to why they had to suffer so long before being called to the hospital and could only imagine how long JiHo had to suffer alone in that car wreck.

The doctor made a gesture of acknowledgement and answered, “JiHo was found about an hour ago. We, the hospital staff, did think it was for the best to keep this information from the public until we found the family of the victim.” He let out a deep worrisome sigh which had the boys at the edge of their seats. “When the police found her and when she was brought into the hospital JiHo’s injuries were too severe to clearly identify her at first. The police couldn’t find any other identification on her until they found her phone a few more metres away from the car. When they charged it they found your number in it and during the surgery one of the doctors recognised her as well,” he explained. “I’m sincerely sorry about how this process has been going so far.”

“Do we have any updates on her so far?” Taeyong asked and the doctor’s brows settled into another frown.

“JiHo’s condition is still unstable. The surgery is getting wrapped up by now, but just surgery alone won’t make her better. She needs a lot of rest and possibly more surgeries. Due to the severe trauma to the head we have decided to put her into a coma.” Doyoung gasped and jumped out of his chair at the news even if his legs felt like they could give in at any moment. “Without it she won’t make it. She had been bleeding a long time before the police found her. It’s a miracle she even stayed awake for that long.”

“How big are the chances of her being back to normal with a coma?” Johnny asked.

Again the doctor sighed and placed a hand on Doyoung’s shoulder. “JiHo’s a really strong girl. The chances aren’t zero, but it will be really hard for her.” Doyoung dropped his head at the words and scared that he might fall, the doctor gripped both of the idol’s shoulders to keep him up. “It all depends on how hard she fights and seeing the support she has I’m sure she’ll put up a great fright.”

Without many more words said, the doctor excused himself and left the room. A nurse informed them that they could go visit JiHo in her room in about 10 minutes from then and offered to bring Doyoung some water since he started to look very pale. The members politely declined the offer and sat in the room waiting for any developments.

Chapter VII:

A droning in her head woke JiHo up. As she tried to open her eyes she was only met with blackness. At first she wasn’t sure she had even opened her eyes, but as she started to make up the interior of the car she realised it was just dark outside.

Her phone had been placed on the passenger’s seat along with the envelopes, but when she looked to her right instead of seeing those items, she was met with what looked like a branch of a tree. The passenger’s side window was indeed shattered and several branches and bushes were covering that side of the car, making it even darker inside.

With a sigh JiHo went to lean her head on the window on her side only to notice that the glass had also shattered. “Fuck,” she whispered tiredly. A piece of shattered glass had grazed the side of her head, not quite enough to leave a cut or even a scratch, but it was the contact of the glass and her skin that caused all the feeling in her body to return.

JiHo felt a hot stream of liquid on the side of her head. It didn’t take much for JiHo to realise it was blood, her own blood, that covered one side of her face. She tried to move her hand to press the wound shut, but her limbs felt unusually heavy.

“Oh God, please help—” she tried to pray but her words got cut when she heard something in the distance. She noticed the sound of her phone, someone was calling her but she couldn’t pick up. Her phone wasn’t in the car, the distance of the sound made her realise that.

JiHo didn’t know how long she was in the car. She had heard a lot of noise coming from the distance, and what sounded like sirens, but when she was still there after the sun started to come up she wasn’t sure if she had only imagined it.

Despite the sun coming up, her vision hadn’t gotten any clearer. The temperature in the car had dropped significantly from the night as the warmth the car had provided escaped through the shattered windows. Thankfully she was still wearing warm clothes and the pain in her limbs and head were still providing her some semblance of warmth. The sun which just hid her windshield provided a little warmth as well.

At this point JiHo could hear her phone ring more often. It was almost as if the sound was teasing her. She couldn’t see her phone and even if she could, she wouldn’t be able to reach out. At some point she felt like she was getting delusional. She couldn’t possibly be hearing her phone, she normally put it on silent anyway. Yet she wanted to believe her members were worried about her. Although she remembered the way she ran out of Yuta’s room and thought that maybe she had acted a bit childish. Yuta must have had his reasons, and JiHo started to understand why he possibly did what he did.

The ringing sound of the phone was drowned out by a sudden ruckus. It sounded like a group of people, but not one of the voices sounded familiar to her.

“There’s someone here!” was all JiHo could really make out between all the shouts and for the first time that night she was sure that she at least wasn’t imagining those people. She could hear them, she could feel them and eventually she could see them. “Hey, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

JiHo only blinked in response, not having the energy and seemingly not even the ability to respond verbally. “She’s awake! We need to get her out now…” The man continued to speak to the other people, but JiHo could only focus on the fact that he looked so much like Johnny. He wasn’t as tall and he didn’t look as fit as Johnny, but his facial structure reminded her a lot of him. “Hey, we’ll get you out of here. Just stay awake, hmm?”

That was the last thing she heard before she closed her eyes, hoping that she was in caring hands, hoping she would be reunited with her family soon.

Chapter VIII:

“You can go inside now, but I suggest only three people go in at a time,” the nurse told the group. At this point in time, the other four members had arrived at the hospital. The mood in the waiting room had grown indescribably cold after Taeyong had explained the whole situation to the others. That also gave the first five to arrive a moment to take everything in once again and it didn’t make it easier.

“Doyoung?” Taeil called for him and motioned in the direction of JiHo’s room. The younger one shook his head though and slumped back in his chair.

“I think I’ll go last,” he told them. “I need to mentally prepare for this.”

Although everyone knew he could never be prepared—none of them could—they didn’t refute his comment and let three other members go in first.

Taeil went in with Mark and Jaehyun. They stayed in the room for about five or ten minutes before they walked back out. They didn’t say anything and no one asked anything either. All that was clear was that the three looked more defeated, more tired, more sad after they went in—no words were needed to notice that.

The next three were Jungwoo, Haechan and Taeyong. They stayed inside for a little longer than the previous three and when they came outside Taeyong had to support a sobbing Jungwoo to the waiting room. He tended to him for a bit before Jungwoo suggested he’d go outside and get some air.

“I’m coming with you. I think I need to get out of here for a little while,” Mark commented and helped Jungwoo get up from his seat. The two friends walked side by side towards the exit at the end of the hallway.

Once they were gone Taeyong turned to the last three. Johnny gave him a small nod before heading in with Yuta under his arm. Hesitantly Doyoung called for Taeyong’s attention, “how is she?”

Taeyong sighed deeply. “Well…” he mused. “It looks like she’s just sleeping,” he explained and Doyoung nodded although he seemed a bit apprehensive. “She looks a little pale and I don’t like it that I can’t see her smile right now. She looks a lot prettier when she smiles,” Taeyong chuckled sadly as he tried to hold back tears. “She almost doesn’t look like herself, but I can recognize those freckles and birthmarks anywhere.”

Doyoung didn’t say anything as he looked in the direction of JiHo’s room. Johnny and Yuta were already inside, but Doyoung couldn’t get himself to move. “You need to go see her,” Taeyong said firmly, yet his voice still held sympathy and enough gentleness. It was enough for the others to share a look before deciding they should leave the two alone.

“I don’t think I can,” Doyoung answered honestly once Jaehyun, Taeil and Haechan left the room. “I don’t think I can see her today.”

Taeyong pressed his eyes shut as he fought his inner turmoil before taking a step closer to Doyoung. “If you don’t see her today…”

“What?” Doyoung snapped his head at the leader. “What are you saying? She’s not going to die, Taeyong!”

“You don’t know that,” Taeyong said exasperated.

“I do! Even if it’s 0.0001 chance it’s not impossible! She’ll survive!” Taeyong let his friend heave in silence. He did not speak, leaving Doyoung with his thoughts and concerns. “They said she wouldn’t have been awake for so long, but she was. She’s strong enough to get through this.”

“She did that because she wanted us to go see her. Doyoung if you see her state—”

“No! I don’t want to! She’ll be fine,” Doyoung yelled and let his tears run freely. He could barely see Taeyong through his blurred vision, but tried to look him straight in the eyes. “I need her to be fine, Taeyong.”

“So you just won’t see her? Why?”

Doyoung sobbed as he tried to answer Taeyong, who seemed eerily calm, but the truth was he just felt so lost and scared he didn’t know how to act. “I don’t want the last time I see her to be like this. I want to remember her being happy,” Doyoung whispered to broken cries.

“Doyoung,” Taeyong called out for him as he placed his hand on his arm. “I know it's hard, but… This could be the last time you see her— alive,” he choked on his last words. Just as he said it, Doyoung had looked up to make eye contact once again, but upon hearing those words, he fell down to his knees and shook his head.

“No, no, no…” he chanted to himself in pain.

“I’ll be by your side okay?” Taeyong whispered comfortingly and caressed his friend’s arms. The two sat there for a bit before deciding to finally get up. However, just as they were about to turn to the hallway a group of people started rushing through the hallway.

“Doctor! Room 245!” Doyoung and Taeyong looked at each other with horror in their eyes as a group of doctors and nurses headed towards the called room, the number being too familiar.

Taeyong and Doyoung both stood frozen before Yuta and Johnny walked out of the room with extremely pale complexions. “What—”

Before Taeyong could even ask his question Yuta shook his head. “I don’t know, I— I don’t know, I don’t know,” like a broken record he kept repeating the words. Even when Taeyong told him to pull himself together, all he could say was “I don’t know”.

“Defibrillator needed in room 245!”

Doyoung stopped right in his tracks as he tried to walk towards the room before. He felt his body become instantly cold and he felt his breath get taken away. His palms were sweaty despite feeling freezing cold and his body started shivering. The tears that ran down his cheeks felt as if they were burning the skin beneath them. All he could do was watch as doctors ran into the room behind big medical equipment. Doyoung fell to his knees, not realising the blood curdling scream he let out yelling for his little sister, before his whole world became blurry and then turned black completely.

Chapter IX:

“I’ll stay with you no matter what,” JiHo smiled brightly as she traced shapes in the palm of Doyoung’s hand. “You don’t think you can get rid of me do you?” She giggled.

Doyoung didn’t respond, neither did he look at her.

“I don’t like it when you ignore me and you’ve been doing that a lot lately,” she pouted, but it was soon followed by another giggle.

Doyoung sighed. He felt exhausted, but he knew this wouldn’t stop. So he opened his eyes and looked at the girl sitting on the side of his bed. She immediately smiled upon catching his gaze and commented on it, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The boy hadn’t slept in days, his complexion was void of its natural colour and his eyes were dull. “Are you still not going to talk to me?”

Again no answer.

JiHo dramatically sighed, throwing her head back before leaning in really closely. All Doyoung could see were her eyes. The colours were still familiar and bright, but something wasn’t quite the same as before.

“I won’t stop bothering you until you answer! I won’t leave you alone! Even if you get sick of me!” JiHo sang in a childish voice as if she was testing his patience. Doyoung only blinked at her. “I promise you! I won’t leave you alone until you talk to me. Will you not talk to me?”

Doyoung wanted to answer with a no, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to talk to her. He didn’t want to give in even if his whole body, his heart and mind were telling him to talk to her.

“You won’t talk?” JiHo nodded her head before sitting back up straight. She tucked away her hair behind her ears and patted down her white dress before quickly reaching out for Doyoung’s hand again to continue tracing her nonsensical patterns. “Then I’ll stay here and continue to bother you,” she sang to no one in particular, but with a raised brow and a sly peak in Doyoung’s direction he knew she said to get a reaction out of Doyoung. “Fine… I’m not leaving though.”

Doyoung closed his eyes, to suppress the tears in his eyes from falling and smiled softly to himself. Don’t leave. That’s all I want. For you not to leave.

Epilogue:

“They found JiHo’s letters,” Taeil said as he walked inside the dorm. He dropped a stack of envelopes—some looking rougher than others—on the table. “JiHo’s biological parents sent the rest over that JiHo had sent them. I haven’t read them yet. Yuta has and he said you might want them.”

Doyoung’s eyes followed Taeil’s figure as he sat himself down on the couch. He took a few moments before turning his gaze to the envelopes. “How did they find them? I mean the letters that her biological parents didn’t send.”

The question wasn’t so heavy, yet the answer was and Taeil wasn’t sure how to bring it. Johnny was with him when he heard the news and he was angry yet collected. When he went to tell the news to Yuta—Shotaro was with him at the time—he reacted very badly. The younger Japanese member had to calm him down which was a struggle.

Now he was facing another obstacle. He was sure Doyoung wouldn’t take to the news well. “They caught the guy,” he stated simply.

“The guy? Who?”

Taeil pressed his lips together, not wanting to actually say it, but Doyoung needed to know. “The guy that caused the hit and run. Well… He’s actually the guy who caused the fire in JiHo’s apartment that time—” Taeil flinched at Doyoung’s loud gasp. The older of the two was almost afraid Doyoung was going to hit him with how he suddenly jumped up to the front of his seat towards him. “He—uhm—did it on purpose.”

“How did he know where she was going?” Doyoung asked and Taeil was actually surprised, yet confused, with how calm Doyoung was.

“He’s a sasaeng. Had so much stuff on JiHo. I don’t know the details, but he was either following her or he must have had a tracker on her. He’s put into custody right now.”

Doyoung jumped up and pulled at his hair in frustration and disbelief. “Sasaeng?! All he did was attempt to kill her! Why would he even—UGH!”

Taeil sighed and put his head into his hands, propped up against his thighs. “I don’t know— Doyoung,” he called out when he noticed him pacing in front of him. “The police will do their job, but I need you to read this. Shotaro and Yuta translated it, but I think the other thing that’s inside is more important.”

Doyoung’s eyes darted from Taeil’s to the letter and back at him. The older one gave him a nod to urge him to grab it. He hesitated for a few more seconds before taking it. It was a clean letter, no tears or creases, just a simple ivory envelope with a bit of weight to it. Aside from the main letter, Yuta and Shotaro’s translation was added on a separate piece of paper. Doyoung chuckled, comparing Yuta’s still neat handwriting to JiHo’s elegant one. JiHo always had great penmanship even back in 2018 when the letter was dated.

Mr. and Mrs. Dubois

You still haven’t answered any of my letters. At first I was disappointed, but I understand now. You gave me up because you didn’t want children, so maybe you despise the fact I’m writing to you now. Or you moved into another building and my letters aren’t reaching you—I have reasons to believe otherwise though, because my niece is still in contact with you and told me this is not the case. Whatever it might be that makes you ignore me, today it doesn’t bother me as much. As you know I have debuted in my group now. At first I was a bit jealous of how close they were to their families and each other, but recently I started to feel like I belonged. I used to send you letters because I wanted a family that was close to me and didn’t lie about not being able to visit—I’m sure my parents have their reasons, however, that doesn’t change anything about me not being able to see them in real life. Yesterday me and my group members had dinner together and Doyoung called me his little sister. Yuta said he would still bother me like an older brother when we grow old and Taeyong said I’m part of the family now. Maybe I’m living in a temporary state of delight and tomorrow I’ll face the reality that I’m just some girl who these talented people have to deal with, but today I’m feeling happy. It doesn’t matter, because I saw the sincerity in Doyoung’s eyes. He might have laughed after he said it, but he seems to really care about me. Johnny as well! He looks like a big scary guy but he’s the sweetest. He promised to let me drive his car when I’m older, but I’m guessing papa told him about aunt Danny because Johnny was a bit hesitant when I asked him about it again. You do know about aunt Danny right? She died in a car crash when she was really young. If you didn’t know, I'm sorry to tell you right now… SO, papa told me I was never allowed to have my own car and that if I died in a car crash he would kill me. Pfft, that sounds a bit dumb no? Hahaha, I know he’s just worried, but something like that doesn’t happen as much as people think. I’m getting a bit off topic, so I’ll wrap it up quickly. I’m super happy being around my members lately. They take good care of me and I feel like I’m at home with them. That’s why I wanted to say that as long as I’m feeling this way I won’t send any more letters. I always send you letters because I want a family, but I feel like they are here for me more than any of my actual family has ever been. That might sound a little rude, but I can’t apologise for it. It’s the truth.

Stay well! I hope I don’t have to send you any more letters

- NCT’s Lim JiHo

Doyoung smiled sadly and pulled out the last item out of the envelope. It was a collage of pictures of her and the members of NCT back in 2018. Doyoung laughed when he saw the picture of JiHo and him wearing matching shirts with one of them saying “sister” and the other “brother” and JiHo’s unamused face. At that time, he absolutely despised those shirts as well, but seeing JiHo hate them even more was amusing to him.

Doyoung bit back a teary smile as his eyes scanned all the pictures of JiHo with him and his members. Taeil had taken notice of that and sighed softly, “you’re allowed to be happy and smile at those memories.”

Doyoung nodded, but continued to force his smile back down, “I know. It just feels inappropriate at the moment.”

“You’re right,” Taeil said as he stood up. A confused look was plastered on Doyoung’s face as he eyed his older friend. “Let’s go visit JiHo.” Doyoung smiled softly and picked up his coat that had been thrown over the back of the couch.

The two weren’t so quiet as they made their way to the front door—not that they were trying to be—garnering someone’s attention. One of the bedroom doors in the hallway swung open, revealing a dishevelled Haechan. He eyed both men before his eyes widened. “Are you going to visit JiHo?” Taeil hummed in response. “I’m coming with you!”

The older two smiled as they watched Haechan stumble across the living room, grabbing his jacket from where he had abandoned it earlier. “Why do you so eagerly want to come?” Doyoung inquired softly.

Haechan gasped and placed a hand on his chest. “Why would I not want to come?” he countered, but both of his members didn’t answer. “I just—” Suddenly Haechan had become a bit more bashful. “I had a dream about JiHo yesterday and I just felt like singing for her today. Maybe it’ll make her smile,” he explained with red cheeks.

As Taeil cooed, Doyoung scoffed in amusement. “You know she can’t smile— nor hear you, right?”

Haechan nodded, but after putting his shoes on pulled both of his hyungs out the front door. “I know, but maybe in spirit she will hear me and she’ll smile.”

Although Taeil—and the other members—knew Haechan was hurting just as bad as the others, he couldn’t help but admire how positive and strong Haechan had been. He really had become a source of strength for all the other members, even though he sometimes also needed a person to lean on.

Taeil looked at both of his younger members and couldn’t suppress a smile and as he ruffled the youngest’s hair he answered him with, “I’m sure she will”.

---

masterlists: main masterlist || jiho.writings masterlist

#jiho.writings #nct 24th member #nct addition #nct female member #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct additional member #nct female addition #nct added member #nct additions #nct extra member #nct angst #nct 127 angst #kpop!addition #kpop!oc

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oohnotvery · 8 months ago

Text

Edges of the Night (Chapter 8)

Read on AO3 (I'm the_eternal_optimist).

Scully’s eyes blink open and all she sees is darkness. She wiggles her arm out from underneath the blankets and tries to check the time on her watch. She and Mulder didn’t get in bed until one in the morning, but it’s still pitch-black outside. So why is she wide awake right now?

Beside her, Mulder sleeps quietly, his gentle breathing the only sound for miles. She doesn’t know why she does it—maybe because she forgot to check on his injury before getting into bed—but she reaches over to touch his forehead. His skin feels cold. As her eyes adjust, she notices with frustration that he’s kicked off most of the blankets. Carefully, she reaches out and grabs the edge of the bedspread, then pulls it up to his chest. It’s far too cold to be sleeping without covers tonight.

Her movements aren’t subtle enough, though, because just as she’s withdrawing her hand, he loops his fingers loosely around her wrist.

“You awake?” he asks groggily, his voice rough and raspy.

She hums, biting her lip when he shifts onto his side to face her. He pushes the blankets back down to his waist and she tsks.

“You shouldn’t be sleeping without blankets tonight,” she chides. “This cabin has no heating.”

He huffs a laugh and pulls until the sheet covers his shoulders again. “That better, Doctor Scully?”

She nods and shifts to face him too. “Much.”

Silence stretches between them.

“What’s got you awake at this hour?” he finally asks.

“I can’t tell what hour it is,” she deflects.

“It’s three,” he supplies easily, as if it were totally obvious.

She frowns. “How do you know that?”

The blanket covering both of them moves as he shrugs. “Three a.m. is the witching hour,” he explains. “Haven’t you ever noticed that when you wake up in the middle of the night, the clock is always at precisely three o’clock?”

She snorts. “Considering the number of times you used to call me at all hours of the late night and early morning, no, I haven’t noticed a pattern like that.”

“Nag, nag,” he grumbles.

She fingers a loose thread on the blanket. “God, I forgot what it felt like to be this tired and wired.”

“Must have been nice, yeah? Having a normal schedule for a while,” he says tentatively.

She can practically hear the guilt and self-hatred in his voice, but still she nods. “It was nice.”

She licks her lips, considering it. For nine months, she got into bed at a reasonable hour and set the alarm to wake her at another reasonable hour. Except for her first few weeks in San Diego—when her thoughts were obsessively fixated on Mulder and before she prescribed herself sleeping pills—she slept a consistent eight hours each night, and never woke up in the middle. There were never any interruptions, even when Alan slept over. He was quiet, unassuming, opposed to watching television, and preferred to be asleep by nine or ten. And he never, not once, dragged her out of bed to chase cryptids in the forest.

Something shifts uncomfortably in her chest. She’s loath to admit—especially to herself—that she used to look forward to Mulder’s midnight interruptions. How sometimes she slept with the phone on her chest, just in case he called. How many nights, she went to bed in her prettiest pair of pajamas, just in case he showed up. How oftentimes, she felt disappointed in the morning when she was well-rested and recharged.

Back then, life was a challenge, a guessing game. A beautiful, complicated mystery that her brilliant mind couldn’t wait to untangle. And Mulder was at the center of it.

His hand brushes hers, which she’s tucked under her pillow. “What’re you thinking about? The fact that you probably won’t get any REM sleep ‘til you’re back on California time?”

She knows he’s joking, but she can’t manage a laugh. “Actually, I was thinking that my life there had become a little too routine,” she admits truthfully.

She hears the wet crack of his smile across the bed. “Is that right? You miss the hustle and bustle of being out in the field, Agent Scully?”

“Don’t call me that,” she says gently. I miss you, she doesn’t say. You let me go.

“Doctor Scully,” he corrects.

She wrinkles her nose. “God, but I’m not really a doctor either,” she confesses, and part of her really doesn’t want to admit this part to him. Part of her is scared that if he knows just how restless she’s become in San Diego, he’ll have won. He’ll get to celebrate the fact that his misguided plot to save her life actually did—for a time—save her life. No more questionable trips to the forest; no more run-ins with monsters; no more horrifying autopsies. Just boring, normal life.

She sighs. “Being in hospital management is mostly administrative work,” she continues. “Budget meetings, fundraisers. I’ve seen very little of actual practice.”

Mulder is quiet for a long time and she wonders what he’s thinking. Is he reveling in the knowledge that her life looks totally different than it did with him? Is he judging her for the path she’s on?

Finally, he speaks, his voice tinged with solemnity. “You don’t sound happy.”

She wets her lips. “I don’t think I have been,” she says softly, mostly to herself. “Not in the way I used to be.”

Her eyes pierce the darkness to glare at him accusingly.

“But the way it used to be, you were always in danger,” he argues.

“That’s what you fail to understand, Mulder,” she sighs. “You can’t make other people’s choices for them. By booting me from my job—even if it was to protect me—you pushed me into a life that I don’t recognize. A life that doesn’t make me happy. A life I never wanted.”

“But you want it now, right?” he asks. Do you want Alan, the ring, the house on the beach, the respectable career?

“Don’t ask me that,” she whispers with a shake of her head. Her hair swishes softly against the pillow.

She’s having trouble reconciling her own feelings. Sure, parts of her loved the stability California offered. It felt unbelievably good and healthy sometimes. But if she’s honest with herself, she knows she’s never been attracted to normal.

“Oh, don’t tell me you like being on the run with me,” he teases, and it’s such an easy deflection from their overly serious conversation that she grins.

“Ah-ha, I finally made you smile,” he murmurs proudly, his fingers reaching out to brush her wrist.

Her smile fades. “You used to make me smile a lot, Mulder.”

He frowns and withdraws his hand. “No, I didn’t.”

She regards him curiously. When she worked with Mulder, there were certainly moments of darkness, anger, frustration, fear. But right now, all she can remember are the times they laughed together about smalltown cops, or got excited about the same piece of evidence, or joked together at Frohike’s expense, or watched a stupid movie together at two a.m. on a shitty motel room bed because neither of them could sleep.

“I think you don’t understand what you were to me, Mulder.” She sucks in a breath. “If you did, you wouldn’t have sent me away.”

Mulder goes very still, all former joking gone. “And what was I? To you?”

She closes her eyes. She set him up for that question, but it’s something she really doesn’t want to answer. My closest friend, my biggest supporter, my fiercest defender, my protector, my partner, my challenger, my ally, my almost lover.

She snorts at that. Almost? That’s a swing and a miss. They were never ‘almost.’

She opens her eyes and sees him watching with a neutral expression. “Mulder,” she says.

“Yes?”

“That’s what you were to me. Just . . . Mulder.”

Across the dark bed, she sees the slightest hint of a smile rise to his lips. “And you were Scully.”

She nods. That feels right too. Not a federal agent, not a medical doctor, not a pathologist, not a trained investigator. That’s never what she really was, not when she was with him.

“Scully,” she agrees.

He falls quiet for so long that she’s sure he’s drifting off to sleep again. But her mind is still churning, so she prods him with her foot.

“Mulder?”

He hums drowsily.

“How long do you think we’ll be here? Running?”

He clears his throat and shifts, coming so close that she can feel his body heat. God, he is warm. Like a furnace. Maybe he really doesn’t need those blankets.

His fingertips trip across the bed to brush against her cheek, and the touch is so intimate and tender, she blushes. He shouldn’t be touching her like this. She shouldn’t allow it. “Not long, I hope. For your sake.”

She tilts her head and his fingers slip down her cheek to rest along her neck. “Not for yours?”

He’s quiet for so long that she wonders if he isn’t going to answer.

“Mulder?” she prompts.

“I can’t answer that,” he finally says, his dark eyes meeting hers.

She frowns. “What does that mean?”

He pulls his hand away and she hears the quiet tap of his fingers drumming out an anxious rhythm on the sheets. “I don’t ever want you to be in danger like we are now,” he begins carefully. “But having you close again, knowing you’re safe. Being able to talk to you, to see you in person, after nine months without . . . .” He shrugs.

“You did that to me,” she points out testily. “You sent me away.”

“I know. I know what I did.” His voice strains with regret. A beat. “Have you forgiven me?”

She blinks. “I don’t even know if that’s the right word, Mulder. I didn’t have any of the information you had back then. On the outside, it looked like you were pushing me away because you—you suddenly decided you hated me. I suspected it was because you were trying to protect me after my battle with cancer.”

“And now that you know the truth?”

She sighs, considering it. “Now that I know . . . Mulder, we’re in hiding. We’re running. All we have right now is each other. What’s important to focus on is that we’re safe.”

He snorts. “I can see that regaining whatever it was we had between us isn’t important to you.”

She groans irritably and twists the sheets in her fists. “Mulder, nine months ago you told me you didn’t trust me anymore. Then you shoved me out the door and said ‘see you never.’ A few days on the run together does not a renewed relationship make.”

He scoffs indignantly, but a slight smile catches on his lips. “Well, we can only hope that my irresistible charm and alluring features will win the day.”

In spite of herself, she laughs. “We can only hope,” she agrees.

In the silence that follows, a question still hangs over her. She fidgets with the blankets a bit before speaking. “Do you really think the ring was tracking me?”

Mulder sighs and stretches, his calves brushing her feet. God, his body takes up so much space. “I don’t know, to be honest. Alan was a pretty special guy,” he admits on a yawn. “Skinner suggested him, although if I’d had it my way, I’d have just moved out to California myself. You know I never wanted you to move away? That was a blow. I thought you’d just . . . go to Quantico. Never thought you’d move across the country. Anyways, they locked me up pretty tight there for a few weeks after you left.” He shoots her a self-deprecating grin and she shudders thinking about him in a psychiatric ward. “And Alan had special training, a medical background, all that jazz. He could slip easily into the background of your life.” He laughs humorously. “But he didn’t quite stay in the background, did he?”

She swallows against the sudden dryness in her mouth.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

“You may.”

“Nine months. That’s not long,” he observes carefully.

She bites her lip. She knows what he’s getting at, but she won’t feed it to him so easily. “Do you have a question?”

His stark laugh shakes the bed.

“I guess I’m wondering what made you so amenable . . . so quickly.”

“Jesus, Mulder,” she chides, cheeks coloring with embarrassment.

“There had to be something about him,” he prods.

“I don’t know,” she says. “He was nice. Easy. We got along well. Mutual interests, all that.”

“Mutual interest was enough to make you agree to marry him?”

“Mulder,” she warns.

“I’m just trying to decide if it’s strange or not.”

“There’s something strange about a man wanting to marry me?”

“Jesus, Scully, no,” he huffs. “But nine months? That’s pretty quick for a person who doesn’t even commit to a new food group without a months-long investigation into the risks and benefits of said food group.”

She rolls her eyes. “I trusted you quickly,” she points out petulantly.

“You didn’t agree to marryme,” he retorts.

“You didn’t ask,” she deflects easily.

“And if I had?” He scoots closer, leaving only inches between their bodies. His eyes pin her to the bed and she squirms under the scrutiny.

“Come on, Mulder, be serious.” She pushes at his chest. “And besides, I did commit to being in a long-term partnership with you. And I committed to that very quickly.”

“You were sent to spy on me—”

“These relationships aren’t comparable!” she interrupts irritably, pushing at him until he rolls onto his back. She closes her eyes, unwilling to face him. She can practically see the look on his face right now—indignation, irritation, confusion, hurt.

But whatever he’s feeling, he stays stonily silent. It irks her. Why is he picking at this? Why is he insisting she reveal all her vulnerable places?

But if vulnerable is what he wants, fine. He’ll get vulnerable.

“If you really want to know,” she says indignantly, heat rising to her cheeks, “Alan just made sense. You—you ripped my entire life out from under me, Mulder. You have to understand, as my best friend—the closest—my closest—” Her voice breaks unexpectedly, but still, Mulder remains silent.

If he isn’t willing to participate in this conversation anymore, she’s going to make him.Sitting up, she yanks at the string hanging off the bedside lamp until light floods the room.

“Jesus, Scully, warn a man!” Mulder curses, squinting reflexively.

She turns to face him, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. Mulder grumbles and shimmies up on the bed, sporting a petulant frown.

“You—our job—that was everything to me,” she tells him honestly. “You and the X-Files were my entire life. And you took that from me so suddenly, I was left feeling untethered. I—I lost my whole sense of identity when that happened. So of course I clung to the first good thing that appeared in my life. I needed an anchor. When I was offered some semblance of a normal life, when I saw a chance to make something good out of a terrible situation, I jumped. I wanted to trust him. I wanted to love him.”

His frown has faded; his eyes are liquid pain. “And do you? Love him?”

She drops her eyes. Love. That’s a tricky word. What is one love compared to another? What is the moon compared to the sun? And how can you love an Alan when you’ve known—and loved—a Mulder?

Tears of frustration fill her eyes at the unfairness of it all. For reasons she can’t explain, she feels like she has a choice to make. But there’s not a choice, not really. Her only path forward right now is staying hidden until they’re safe. And then she’ll go back to California and figure things out with Alan, right?

Right?

Yes, of course. Because Mulder wouldn’t make sense. Mulder never chose her, not in the way Alan did. Mulder wanted to protect her and keep her safe, sure, but he never loved her. Not romantically, at least.

Her eyes spill over with tears and she doesn’t even know what she’s grieving—Alan or Mulder, Mulder or Alan. The separation from someone who loves her. The absence of a love that she always wanted and never got.

Before she has time to swipe under her eyes, Mulder scoots forward and wraps his arms around her shoulders. Tired of fighting her feelings, she sinks heavily into his chest and sighs as he strokes her hair, his touch both a soothing balm and a maddening flame. Why couldn’t they ever have this?

“I know you miss him,” he murmurs, and she squeezes her eyes shut at his misinterpretation. “I know running is hard. Being away from him is hard.” His fingertips skim her spine and she shifts to bury her face in his neck.

Those things are hard, sure, but definitely not as hard as they should be. She won’t even begin to acknowledge that maybe . . . maybe she even likes this. The running. The being away. The being with Mulder.

He reaches for the lamp and his body folds over hers, bending her slightly backwards to grab the chain. She moves with him, her liquid against his solid. When the lights turn off, he shifts them down into the mattress, arranging them so her head is against his chest. She feels his lips brush her hair as he speaks.

“I’ll get you back to your life,” he promises once again.

Her chest clenches painfully at the thought of facing a life without Mulder again. Of having had him one final time, only to get it taken away once more. She almost can’t bear the thought. It’s like reopening a wound that had been sutured tight, but hadn’t fully healed. How much will she bleed this time?

But apparently, he’s thinking about it—about the after, about what it means for them. And to him, it means separation again.

Wordlessly, she shifts, turning her back to him. He doesn’t seem to fully get her subtle message, but he understands enough, because he slips his arms out from under her. But before he pulls away, his hand falls to her hip and he ducks his head, pressing his lips to her wet cheek.

He lingers for a long moment, too long probably. Much too long.

And then he pulls away, draws the blanket back over her shoulders, and returns to his place across from her.

#dana scully #mulder x scully #the x files #x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #txf #msr fanfic #xfiles fanfic #msr

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sugdenlovesdingle · 1 year ago

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Tarlos @flufftober day 3 (yes, finally)

"Wait, you love me?" "Always have."

Push (AO3)

Some missing moments from Push (S03E04) between TK waking up in the hospital to him coming home to the loft with Carlos.

(after every --- it's a new day)

------

“Hey.” TK said softly to a sleeping Carlos next to his bed. He gave his hand a squeeze. “Carlos.”

Carlos’ eyes flew open and he looked panicked for a moment before finding TK and a sleepy smile spread over his face.

“Hey.” TK said again.

“Hey yourself.” Carlos replied and moved his chair a little closer to the bed, pressing a kiss to TK’s knuckles when he settled down again. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Kind of cold. Still.”

It had been a rough 24 hours. From TK almost dying and Carlos trying to get himself to say goodbye, to him miraculously waking up and getting stronger by the hour.

They were back together but they both knew there were still some difficult conversations to be had. Later. For now though Carlos just sat by TK’s bed and held his hand, fingers lingering on his pulse point, just to remind himself he was there, he was ok, and most importantly, he was his again.

“The doctor said that’s to be expected. It’ll take your body some time to recover from everything.”

TK gave him an amused look.

“What?”

“Have you been talking to my doctor about me?”

“No, no, no. She came to talk to your dad earlier. He was here. And I just… heard it too. I wasn’t digging or anything.”

“Babe, relax, it’s ok. I don’t mind.” TK assured him and Carlos seemed to relax a little at that.

“Do you want me to go find a nurse and ask for another blanket? Or maybe a hot water bottle? I don’t know if they have that but I can ask.”

“No, I’m ok. I just want you.”

Carlos smiled.

“You have me.”

---

“Aren’t you uncomfortable in that chair?” TK asked. He’d woken up from a nap and Carlos was right there in the chair next to his bed. Right where he’d been the past 48 hours, only leaving the room when the medical staff forced him to, or for quick bathroom breaks.

“I’m fine.” Carlos insisted. He sat up a little straighter and cracked his neck and rolled the stiffness from his shoulders. “Your dad went to get some food and call your mom. I think she’s planning on flying out as soon as the storm lets up.”

“Is it still going?” TK glanced at the window but the blinds were closed.

“I don’t know. I haven’t been outside in two days.” Carlos admitted reluctantly. “My mom dropped off a change of clothes for me and some food while you were asleep.” He explained.

TK nodded and they sat in silence for a while. He hated how awkward things still were between them. He’d never had a problem talking to Carlos, not even when he was still in denial he was falling in love with him.

“Don’t you have a shift?” he asked after a while.

Carlos shook his head.

“I had some time off scheduled. To… work on the loft... They made me take the days.”

“Oh…”

“I only got called in because of the storm. And because Marj was back at it again. I didn’t want anyone else picking her up.”

“Wait you arrested Marjan?” TK asked, carefully steering the conversation away from painful topics.

“Yeah. A few times actually. Didn’t she tell you?”

“I haven’t seen much of her lately. Fire got moved to other houses in the city and with the three of us working for Paragon… We just don’t really get to hang like we used to.”

Carlos nodded.

“Do you still hate working for Paragon?”

“So much.” TK groaned. “They only care about money and profits. If I take too long helping someone, I get called into the office to explain myself. But… it’s the only way I can keep working with Cap and Nancy, so I don’t have a choice.”

“Well… I’m here if you want to vent.”

---

“Hey, I found an episode of grand designs. It's probably a rerun though, so you’ve probably already seen it.” TK told Carlos when he came back into the room after a shower.

The nurses had started to take pity on him and his back, and had worked their magic to get a second bed put into TK's room as well as given him a towel and some soap so he could freshen up.

It had been four days since TK had all but come back from the dead and Carlos was slowly starting to accept he wasn't going to disappear or die on him if he left the room for more than five minutes.

“I haven't watched much TV lately. I picked up a lot of extra shifts. I uh… didn't want to be in the loft on my own. I mostly just went to bed the minute I got back after work.” Carlos told him and sat down in the chair next to TK's bed again.

“Let's watch it together then. I think it's just started.” TK scooted over and patted the mattress. Plenty of room for both of us.

“No, no, I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't. Come on, I want to cuddle with my boyfriend.”

Carlos hesitated for a moment before shaking his head and giving in.

“You play dirty.” He said as he carefully got on the bed next to TK, wrapping his arms around him.

“Maybe. But it works.” TK replied, slipping an arm around Carlos' waist and getting comfortable in his embrace.

They watched the show without really paying attention to it, just happy to be close to each other again.

---

“And then Paul got stuck inside the ice house with the girl, but we got them out. And her dad was so happy, he wanted to buy us a Ferrari.” Mateo excitedly told them.

Mateo, Judd, Paul, and Marjan had stopped by to see how he was doing and catch him up on everything that had happened the past few days.

“Uh no, he offered to buy me anything I wanted, you two just tried to talk him into buying you expensive cars.” Paul cut in.

“Hey, I’m a new dad, I deserve to celebrate.” Judd replied.

“Celebrate by having someone buy you a sports car?” TK asked laughingly. “Anyway, show me a picture of my goddaughter.”

“Who says you get to be her godfather?” Marjan asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Almost dying does not automatically give you godparent rights.”

“Oh and being a social media star does?”

“No but being a kickass firefighter might.”

“So that makes me her godfather.” Paul said, daring the others to disagree. “Since you are no longer a firefighter.” He pointed at TK. “And out of the two of us, I’m the one who saved the girl.”

“Technically you didn’t save anyone. The rest of the crew saved you both.” Marjan pointed out.

“Alright quit your fighting. We haven’t decided on godparents yet. But my brothers and Grace’s sisters are higher on the list than y’all.” Judd told them. “But you’re all more than welcome to babysit.”

“Sure. I’ll be happy to.” Marjan said, a little too loudly. “Auntie Marjan will teach her how to deal with all the stupid boys in her life.”

TK laughed.

“She’s only a few days old, Marj.”

“So we’ll start early so when she gets to an age where boys become annoying, she’ll know how to deal with them.” Marjan replied. “Like when they’re obviously still in love with the guy they broke up with and won’t tell you why but just mope around for months.”

“Well you won’t have to deal with that anymore.” TK told her and looked at Carlos who was sitting next to him on the bed, quietly observing and letting the madness wash over him. “Right babe?”

Carlos just smiled and met him halfway when he leaned in for a kiss.

---

“TK will you please tell your mother I am not lying or trying to placate her when I say you’re doing better?” Owen said, exasperated, walking into TK’s hospital room, holding his phone away from his ear.

TK had been moved out of the ICU and onto a regular ward that morning, but thankfully still had a room to himself.

He took the phone from his dad.

“Hey mom, dad is not lying. This time.” He joked and laughed at Owen’s reaction. “I’m ok.”

“What does your doctor say about that?” Gwyn asked. “I know what you and your dad are like.”

“Mom, I really am ok. The doctors actually think I can go home soon.” TK lied. He was desperate to get out of hospital but none of the doctors had said anything about discharging him yet.

“As soon as the weather improves and Jonah’s ear infection clears up, we’re on the next flight out.” Gwyn promised. “I hate the thought of you on your own in that hospital because your dad has to single handedly save Austin from a blizzard.”

“I'm not on my own. Carlos is here.” TK said, ignoring his mom’s dig at his father and reaching out for Carlos’ hand.

“Oh Carlos is huh, does that mean the romance is back on?”

TK laughed.

“Don’t pretend dad hasn’t told you.”

“He might have mentioned him being at the hospital a lot.” Gwyn admitted. “But you know what your father is like, he never tells me anything important and leaves out all of the details.”

“There are no details. Carlos is here, we talked, I love him, he loves me… and we’re back together. We know what not to do now. We want to make it work. We are going to make it work.” TK said determined and looked at Carlos who squeezed his hand in confirmation.

Suddenly he heard a loud wailing in the background and Gwyn sighed.

“Jonah just woke up. I have to go honey, I’ll see you soon. Give Carlos my love.”

“I will. Give Jonah a kiss from me. Bye mom.” TK replied and ended the call.

“Wait, you love me?” Carlos asked, mischievous smile tugging at his lips.

TK had missed that smile.

He put a hand on Carlos’ cheek and leaned in.

“Always have.” He murmured right before kissing him to show him exactly how much.

Next to them Owen said something about giving them some privacy but neither of them noticed.

---

“Hello TK, good to see you again.” Andrea Reyes walked into TK’s hospital room, making both him and Carlos sit up straighter.

“Mama, what are you doing here?” Carlos asked her.

“Coming to see how TK is doing of course.” She said matter-of-factly. “I ran into Owen yesterday and he mentioned how the two of you have been camping out here, so I thought I’d come visit and check on you both.”

“I’m sorry for not keeping you updated. I was going to come over but things have been a little hectic here, especially the first few days and - ”

“It’s ok.” Andrea interrupted and looked at the two men for a moment and smiled. “Carlos, will you go get me a coffee from the restaurant downstairs?”

“There is a machine down the hall… The coffee isn’t great but it’s drinkable, or I could try getting you something from the nurse’s lounge. They won’t mind. They know me by now.” Carlos rambled.

“Carlitos.” Andrea started. “Por favor.” She just said and waited.

Carlos sighed and got up.

“Si mama.”

She waited until Carlos had left the room and then sat down next to TK’s bed.

“If you’re coming to give me the shovel talk and tell me not to hurt Carlos again, you won’t have to. I love him and I won’t ever hurt him again, I promise.”

Andrea smiled.

“That’s good to know sweetheart.”

“I’m really sorry I hurt him.”

“I know. He does too.”

TK nodded.

“I know I’ll have to earn your trust again after everything, but I promise I will do anything to convince you I’m serious about Carlos. I love him and I want to be with him. Forever. If that’s how long he’ll have me. And that’s probably not what you want to hear but…” TK trailed off, not really knowing what it was he wanted to say.

“Carlos is a big boy, he can make his own decisions about his love life.” Andrea told him. “If he’s happy, I’m happy. And if you boys want to be together again, then I’m the first to welcome you back into the Reyes family.”

“Really?”

“Of course. All I’ve ever wanted is for my kids to be happy. And you make Carlos happy, anyone can see that.”

“He makes me happy too.”

“That’s all that matters.” Andrea patted his hand. “Now when you get out of here, you boys should come over for dinner sometime. Gabriel would love to see you again too and I’ll make ropa vieja the way Carlos’ grandmother makes it. It’s his favourite.”

---

“I’m going stir crazy in here.” TK complained. “I haven’t been outside in almost two weeks.”

“The last time you were outside you nearly died.” Carlos reminded him.

“Yeah but I didn’t. And now I feel like I might die of boredom.”

“Oh I’m boring you am I? I’ve been in this hospital just as long as you, sleeping in these uncomfortable chairs, and this is the thanks I get?” Carlos said, trying to sound serious and angry but the smile on his face gave him away. “Give me five minutes.” He got up and quickly kissed TK before leaving the room.

“Where are you going?”

“Five minutes!”

“Carlos!”

“I’ll be right back!”

True to his word, Carlos did come back within five minutes, but TK wasn’t thrilled with what he’d brought with him.

“What’s that?”

“Someone who has spent as much time in hospitals as you have should know what this is.”

TK rolled his eyes.

“I’m not getting in that thing.”

“Why not? It’s the perfect solution to your boredom problem.”

“I can walk.”

“You’ve barely walked more than 10 steps the past two weeks. Come on, get in.”

“Why do I have to get in a wheelchair? How is this a solution?”

“Because..” Carlos started, grabbing a blanket from the bed and draping it over the chair. “We’re going out.”

“Out? Out where? I can’t just leave this place. My mom will fly over here and drag me back herself.”

Carlos chuckled, knowing Gwyn would probably at least try to do exactly that.

“Just downstairs. To the hospital garden. The weather is nice.”

“How do you know, you’ve been stuck in here with me the whole time.”

“One of the nurses just told me.” Carlos said laughingly. “Come on, let’s get some fresh air and maybe some ice cream.”

“Are you seriously bribing me with ice cream?”

“That depends… is it working?”

After a few minutes of back and forth, TK reluctantly got in the wheelchair and let Carlos wheel him to the hospital garden where they sat down on a bench.

“This is nice.” TK admitted, closing him eyes and tilting his face up to the sun.

“You mean I was right? This was a good idea.” Carlos teased.

“Shut up.” TK shot back, happily accepting the kiss Carlos pressed to his temple.

They stayed on the bench for a while, sitting close together to keep warm because TK refused to cover up with the blanket and choosing to wrap himself in Carlos’ jacket instead.

“I can’t wait to get out of here. I feel fine and I’m just taking up a bed when there’s someone out there who might really need it.”

“I’m sure they won’t keep you here longer than necessary.”

“I know…” TK sighed. “I’m just bored. And I miss my own bed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, is that so strange? It’s a hospital, not a hotel. The beds aren’t that comfortable. And I’m fed up with the blood tests and the IVs and the wires they keep attaching to me.”

“I know. I get that. I just… there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Ok… Sounds serious…”

“No. Yes. I mean. Yes it’s serious. But nothing bad, I promise.”

“That does nothing to reassure me.”

Carlos shook his head. The conversation was not going the way he’d planned.

“I was hoping... That when you can get out of here... You would want to come back to the loft. With me. Permanently.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you? Again?” TK asked, a smile spreading over his face.

“Yes. Again. I don’t want you to go back to your dad’s house, I want you to come home with me. The loft was always supposed to be ours… but I understand if you think it’s too soon or you’re not ready or something but -”

TK shut him up with a kiss.

“There’s nothing I want more.” He vowed. “But you’re helping me tell my dad.”

#tarlos #911 lone star #flufftober2023 #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #my writing

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