#my spicy boy may murder me in my sleep | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

smallraindrops-blog · 3 years ago

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A Road To Somewhere.

For prompt: road trip

Hypnos/male!reader

Thanatos/Zagreus/Meg in the background.

5.7k total, link to part two at the end.

Warnings: some sexual stuff are talked about but the most that happens is kissing and cuddling. Jokes about cannibalism as well. Alcohol uses. No beta.

Summary: Why talk about your feelings with your childhood best friend when you can just go on a road trip?

A/N: sorry for going silent, I was dealing with some medical issues on top of helping my partner with stuff.

To the Anon who requested this, I'm sorry about the wait, I hope you like this and feel free to always hit me for another request!

At three in the morning, your phone rang.

You groaned as you rolled across your bed. and you squinted at the brightness of your phone.

Hypnos' photo flashed on the screen, the one where he stole your letterman jacket to nap in on the school bus that Zagreus had sent it to you. And if you kept the photo five years after high school, well that is your business and nobody else's.

You hesitated, not sure you want to talk to him right now. After that night, the only thing you and Hypnos traded was polite, almost cold texts. not your usual meme or lazy chatting about whatever. But something about the picture of Hypnos' sleeping face pushed you to respond.

You swiped the green button.

"You are coming with me." Hypnos said, or rather slurred.

You covered your face,"Hypnos, dude. Are you drunk right now?"

"You- you said you have never seen the ocean right?" Hypnos asked, ignoring your question.

"Where are you? I am coming to get you." You turned on your lamp, looking for a pair of jeans to wear.

"No- no." Hypnos said firmly and very drunkenly. "Y/N, dude. I'm fine. I'm at my shitty apartment." Hypnos paused, "You know, the one where my brother hooked up with Meg. And Zagreus. At the same time. Which is really effing weird for me."

"I - Hypnos-" you tried to think of what to say. The said incident happened over a little month ago and Hypnos had the misfortune of walking in at the wrong time. Which of course because Hypnos got his heart broken by Meg lead up to Hypnos trying to hook up with you to get over her.

"Look, you always said you wanted to see the ocean right?" Hypnos yawned, which you took as a good sign. Hopefully it means your dumb best friend will pass out soon and not ruin his liver for rest of the day.

"Yeah, what of it?" You asked, frustrated at Hypnos for doing this to himself and to you.

"Road trip!" Hypnos dragged out the words with a laugh. "I will be picking you up tomorrow. Love you bestie."

"Hypnos wait no, we can't just leave." You said. You waited for a response, "Hypnos?" You asked worriedly.

A snore came through the phone and you sighed. You turned off the lamp and laid back down, listening to Hypnos' deep breathing.

You stared at the ceiling, and tried not to think about the last time Hypnos got this drunk. Or about that night or how Hypnos acted like nothing happened the next day.

You rolled over to face your phone and closed your eyes.

You will just stay on the line in case Hypnos wakes up.

💤

"You can't be serious, Hypnos." You said as he went through your clothes, uncaring of any boundaries you may have.

But honestly with Hypnos, you had long lost any boundaries. You knew you should actually try to enforce some but you craved just being near him.

"I am! I need to get away for a bit and you told me you were taking a week off right? And it starts today or last night technically." Hypnos held up a lime green shirt and made a face at it.

"Yes for a staycation, I don't have extra money for a motel or anything like that." You replied, and took the shirt away to place it back on its hanger.

"It's my treat, Y/N." Hypnos leaned on you, his head on your shoulder. You tried not to notice how warm he was against you or his big golden puppy dog eyes. "Come on, a free trip away with your best friend aka me aka the best thing ever with your favorite person ever-" Hypnos rambled.

"Fine, only because you said you will pay for everything." You sighed, You hated how hard it was to say no to him.

Hypnos cheered and pulled you into a bear hug. You savored the warmth despite not wanting to.

You just needed a vacation too. To clear your head. And who knows, you and Hypnos could finally get back to being normal.

💤

Hypnos was in the driver's seat as you closed the truck and joined him in the car. A pen dangled from his teeth as his golden eyes flicked across the map. He glanced at you as you strapped in.

"It will be a two days drive if we only stop when we need to. That gives us three days at the beach or wherever else we end up doing." Hypnos took the pen out and marked a couple spots on the map.

"Couldn't we just use our phone GPS?" You asked.

"Nope, the place I'm taking you isn't a normal public beach and we have to drive through some mountains and mountains always win over gps." Hypnos pointed the pen at you. "Always." He said in a mock doom voice.

You rolled your eyes, and with a finger pushed the pen out your face. "Alright but if we get lost in the mountains. I call first dibs on eating you."

"Ha, jokes on you, bestie. I got almost no tender fat on me. So enjoy gnawing on my worthless bones." Hypnos crackled as he started the car. He tossed the map in your lab and peeled out of the driveway.

His deft fingers quickly found some music as Tom Petty sang through the radio.

Hypnos sang along badly. You covered up your smile, it feel good just near him again even if you didn't want to admit it.

Within minutes, Hypnos had weaved into the midmorning traffic. But even with the traffic, you already feel a little lighter.

💤

The first day of the drive went surprisingly well, even with traffic for the first hour. The skies were a vivid blue with fat, lazy clouds that casted shadows across the land.

Hypnos had the windows rolled down, one arm out of the window and music blasting. His shades should have made him look like a frat boy but you actually liked how they looked with his messy white curls and dark red shirt.

You kept your mouth shut and just watched the landscape change from suburbia to the fields dotted with cows and horses.

It was the most peace you had felt in a long while even with the elephant in between you and Hypnos.

It wasn't until twilight had followed you to the motel that the problems started.

"Is that a permanently closed sign?" Hypnos asked flatly, his shades resting on his head.

You nodded, "I had a feeling the trip started a little too well."

You and Hypnos both stared at the sign, the red and white words mocked you.

"I knew google was lying to me." Hypnos murmured.

"We can just sleep in the car, Hypnos." You followed him as he turned back. "We probably shouldn't drive anymore tonight."

Hypnos shook his head, "Nope, we would get murder so fast." He snapped his fingers to make his point. He threw an arm around your shoulders and guided you back to the car. "Come on, I bet there's another place just up ahead."

"And if there is not?" You asked, noticing how easily you fit next to him.

"There will be." Hypnos said confidently.

At your doubtful look, he said cheerfully,

"Or we could just get murder in a much nicer area."

💤

It was almost an hour before you saw the faint vacancy light just peeking behind the trees.

You gasped, "There! Do you see it?"

"Yeah, I see it." Hypnos replied, perking up. The rundown motel looked like someone's idea of what an old western inn looked like without actually never seeing one before.

But after driving for an extra hour and half, it looked like heaven.

Hypnos pulled up in the first empty spot he found which was plenty of.

"Stay here, keep an eye on the car. Don't get murdered." Hypnos said as he locked the car up. He only looked back once as he entered the building.

You slumped in your seat, exhaustion overtaken you. Your phone buzzed in your hand, Zagreus's name popped up.

'Is Hypnos with you??'

You stared down at the text, why is Zagreus asking you?

'Yeah, why?' you replied.

Immediately, Zagreus responded.

'He hasn't responded to any of our texts or calls.'

In a separate text, 'Is he okay? I knew my talk with him was rough but I didn't expect this. '

You bit your lip, just realizing that you haven't heard Hypnos' phone go off all day. Normally, Hypnos' phone was glued in his hand and he was always constantly texting or playing a game.

You looked up, making sure Hypnos was still in the building.

You replied, 'I think he just needs a break. I will let you know if anything happens but maybe just give him some breathing room. Also what talk?'

Three dots appeared and disappeared a few times before Zagreus' response came.

'No, I know. We just wanted to make sure he wasn't alone. Thanks.'

You rubbed your face, unsure what to make of the texts and that Hypnos, a known phone addict, hasn't been on his phone all day. And that Zagreus didn't bother to tell you what 'talk' he had with Hypnos.

You looked back up and saw Hypnos walking back a grin on his face. When your eyes met his, he waved the roomcard and a plastic bag triumphantly.

You pushed your worries aside for now, Hypnos will talk to you when he is ready.

💤

"Uhh, dude. There is only one bed." You said blankly when Hypnos turned the lights on. All the room had was a single hotel bed and a little table with two chairs. The whole area looked like it never left the seventies.

"And a sofa." Hypnos pointed out as he flopped down on it. The sofa creaked loudly as if threatening to snap in half. "I can sleep on anything, remember?"

"If you are sure." You grabbed the plastic bag from the floor as you sat down on the bed.

You dumped the goods on the bed. There was a healthy mix of spicy ramen bowls, candy bars and cans of soda.

You picked out the one you knew Hypnos liked and set on making dinner.

The sofa kept creeking each time Hypnos twitched or even breath. Hypnos' eyes were close but there was a tension to his body that kept him looking truly relaxed.

You debated on telling him that Zagreus had reached out to you but the tight frown on his face kept you from saying anything.

The microwave gave a high pitch beep and you quickly pulled out the ramen and placed the hot bowl on the table. "Hey, Hypnos. Soup on." You told him as you got your bowl ready.

"Oh. Thanks. Wanna have a soda?" Hypnos asked.

You thanked him as you dug into your own dinner and honestly the cheap ramen was the best thing you tasted after not getting lunch during the drive.

Hypnos was unusually quiet during dinner and while getting ready for bed. You couldn't help noticing that Hypnos never once picked up his phone.

Hypnos yawned and sat on the sofa much more carefully yet the beast still creaked in warning.

You sighed, there was no way you or him would sleep with all that creaking.

"Hypnos, just come to bed. I think it's a queen so we got plenty of room." You told him as you got under the covers. You met his gaze, his eyes bright even with the dark circles under them.

"Okay." He agreed softly. He gave you a look that you ignored as he joined you. He turned off the lights. "Good night, Y/N."

You rolled on your side, back facing Hypnos. "Good night." You yawned widely, already halfway to sleep.

💤

You didn't quite wake up all the way, not at first. You blinked at the wall, small cracks in the blinds allowed for small rays of sunlight to break though. It made the motel room feel cozy even with the ugly decor.

There was an arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders and you sank into its hold with a sigh.

Your eyes closed before your brain realized that you could feel another body pressed against your back, legs tangled together.

You snapped awake, your body went rigid and you heard Hypnos grumbled against your nape.

You relaxed, letting out a breath when you remembered Hypnos was in bed with you. Hypnos, during sleepovers when you were children, always ended up clinging on to you.

It was almost nice, a return to a simpler time. Almost.

It was a very different experience when you both were adults. You flushed when Hypnos pressed a little harder against your body, a pleased, sleepy hum rumbled in his chest.

You could feel him pressed against your lower back and damnit, your traitor of a body was responding. You squeezed your eyes shut, flushed from shame and want.

Your mind flashed back to the last time you allowed Hypnos this close.

You could still remember how he pushed you into his dark bedroom and kissed you again and again. How it felt being under him on his bed. How you almost let him have more.

And you knew you wouldn't survive if Hypnos acted just like he did the morning after.

With the small strength you were able to find, you pulled out of his hold or rather you tried to.

His arm went tight and kept you in the bed, "Where are you going so early?" His sleep rough voice mumbled against your skin.

You ignored the goosebumps he caused and you sighed annoyed. "Come on, you're being a jerk. I need to go get ready for the trip."

"Hmm, we drove more than we planned. We still have some time." Hypnos murmured, clearly going back to sleep. You grabbed the blanket with your free arm and yanked it off the both of you.

Hypnos yelped at the sudden cold and let you go. You darted out the bed and grinned at the scowl Hypnos had. You tossed the blanket over his face and walked away. "Early birds get the worm Hypnos!" You called out as you headed to the bathroom.

You bit back a laugh at the loud groan Hypnos made.

💤

After a quick stop for coffee and pancakes with bacon which Hypnos immediately drowned in syrup much to your disgust of the sheer amount of sugar, you were back on the road.

After an hour of staring out the window at patches of woods between the farmlands, you turned to look at Hypnos.

"What is it about this place that made you pick it? I looked at the map, we could get to the ocean quicker if we went along the other route. " You thought for a moment, "And you know, not to have to drive past the mountains."

"Yeah, if you want to see what everyone else sees and deal with the crowds." Hypnos scoffed. He pulled his shades down a bit to look at you, his windblown curls bounced with the movement.

You prayed he didn't notice your blush.

"Also my mom told me about this place a million times. Trust me, it is going to be worth the wait." And with that, Hypnos focused back on driving.

You turned back to the open window, silently hating yourself for still being attracted to him.

"Hey- is that a cow?" Hypnos asked, already slowing down. You looked down the road and saw the animal. You couldn't help the laugh that came out. "Yeah it is."

The stray cow stared down at the car. It was apparently unconcerned about being hit as it chewed on the grass in its mouth.

Hypnos pressed down on the horn repeatedly and long. The cow kept chewing on its bit of grass, blinking slowly.

"Dumb cow. It knows what it is doing." Hypnos muttered.

You laughed again, "I think that is an oxymoron."

Hypnos scowled and waved his hands at the cow whose tongue had found its nose.

"Well, what bright ideas do you have, Y/N?"

You looked into the bag of snacks down by the footrest. And pulled out a bag of barbecue chips.

"I'm going to lure it out of the road, first chance you get, drive past."

Hypnos pulled his shade down, an eyebrow crocked.

You shook the bag at his doubtful look.

Hypnos' eyes narrowed, eyes sharp and calculating. "That won't work."

"Oh?" You raised a brow. "And why not?"

"Those are barbecue chips, I'm pretty sure even that dumb thing know that smell. And when it smells the barbecue, it will just run you over enraged about the chips."

You leaned toward him, "Wanna make a bet?"

He matched your lean, a bright glint in his eyes. "Sure. If I win, you have to agree to everything I say until we get to the hotel."

"Fine." You agreed. "And if I get the cow out of the way, you can only speak in moos until we get to the hotel."

"Deal." He leaned back into his seat. "Easiest win ever."

You scoffed at him as you got out. "Gee, thanks for believing in me."

You stared down the cow who merely blinked at you.

Hypnos poked his head out the window, laughing "Hey Y/N, when it's moving, start running!"

You shushed him and crinkled the bag at the cow. It took a wary step forward and you opened the bag and it took a sniff.

The cow immediately tried to bite the bag but you took several steps and it followed you. You couldn't stop your smirk at Hypnos' outraged face. "Good cow." You cooed. "Good cow."

You took several steps back into the tall grass and dumped the chips on the ground.

The moment the cow started eating the chips on the ground, you took off like a shot and almost fell into your seat. You barely had a chance to close the door before Hypnos drove off.

You pulled your seatbelt on and waited, a huge grin on your face.

When Hypnos refused to say anything or even look at you, you poked him in his cheek.

"Hypnos." You called his name in a sing-songy tone. "I won the bet. Hypnos. Hypnos." You poked him with each word. There was an evil, childish part of you enjoying this too much.

Hypnos batted your hand away. "Moo fucking moo." He replied sourly.

You playfully frowned, "I don't think cows can say fucking."

"Oh my god."

"They don't say that either."

Part Two

#hades hypnos #hypnos x reader #hypnos x male!reader #requests

35 notes · View notes

wonderlustlucas · 4 years ago

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jack pot ; part 1 - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt You know it’s bad when you’re high as a kite and he’s still on your mind. ⇢ pairing hwang hyunjin x female reader, seo changbin x female reader for like 2 minutes ⇢ word count 7.5k ⇢ genre fluff, angst (not heavy, just in a slow burn kind of way), slight smut ⇢ warnings drug use!!! & lots of it (marijuana), grinding, implied smut ⇢ summary College is a matter of working hard and playing hard. It’s an opportunity to start fresh, to grow as an individual and to blossom with those you befriend. People come and people go, leaving their mark on your life and showing you all the parts of becoming an adult. Some, however, do more than leave their mark. Some take just as much as they give. Things become complicated once they take the entirety of your love because you outright offered it to them.—college!au ; stoner!au ; friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n yo!!! disclaimer: this initially was going to just be a long one shot but i decided to split it up into 3 parts, so just to let u all know part 1 & 2 does not have a ton of hyunjin interaction, they’re more character/plot building. part 3 is when things will get spicy ♥︎ i hope u enjoy! if u rb make sure to let me know what u thought in the tags mwah also i finally switched from ___ to yn are u guys proud of me :)

prelude.

Sometimes you really, truly, honestly think you could go right ahead and kill Han Jisung.

You say it all the time. Sometimes it’s a simple, “I will literally kill you,” or when you are feeling extra spicy, “Sleep with one eye open tonight.” He, of course, laughs it off like you aren’t vibrating with the urge to kick his kneecaps in. You seriously have lost count of all the times he has brought you to the brink of insanity.

And honestly, you have watched enough murder documentaries on Netflix that you probably could do it, but, you know, spending the rest of your life in prison does not sound that appealing. Plus, there’s the ever-troubling detail that Han Jisung is the closest thing you have to a best friend. So, it sort of goes against your basic human morals to backstab—literally—the most important human in your life.

But he really makes you crazy. Why you agreed to share an apartment with him in the first place is a mystery, but the fact that you leased it again for junior year is what really makes you lose sleep at night. Because, while he may be your best friend, Jisung is the epitome of a little shit. If such a compound word was in the dictionary, it simply would say ‘Han Jisung.’ Somehow, though, it makes you love him even more. Maybe it’s true that ‘opposites attract,’ or, perhaps, maybe it’s because no matter how much embarrassment and general self-loathing he may have caused you in the past, it has benefitted you in the end.

For example, his constant teasing about your lack of friends eventually led to you befriending a group of girls you always admired from afar. His snarky comments concerning your nonexistent social life finally got to you and now you can proudly wear the title of one of the best beer pong players in your class. His presence in general has taught you to stand up for yourself and what you believe in, whether it’s against him, your parents, a toxic friend, hell, even a professor. Proving people wrong, especially Jisung, is your favorite pastime.

Sometimes, though, it’s not that easy.

There’s one area in your life where you have accepted defeat. One area in your life where Jisung has his most fun. One area, or, perhaps one person, where you simply cannot step beyond your comfort zone.

Hwang Hyunjin is your Achilles tendon and Jisung is the arrow. There are times, along with all the times you’ve considered strangling Jisung in his sleep, where you have sat and actually prayed to the gods to send someone else. Someone not nearly as perfect as Hyunjin and someone not nearly as unattainable. Alas, these prayers, hook-ups, Tinder dates, anything to get him off your mind has proved futile; because here you are three years later, stuck with this stupid, absolutely infuriating crush on the only boy who has ever owned your heart because you outright gave it to him.

one.

You are beginning to think the two bubbly junior girls who led the campus tour you attended last year lied about the dining hall.

Correction: they one hundred percent lied.

Because even though the newly renovated food court looks nice—unscratched linoleum floors, shiny marble countertops and all sorts of seating to choose from—there must be something fishy going on with the cooks. Literally. Just last week, an upperclassman had a breakdown when she forked into her tuna (why anyone would want college seafood is another story) to find a worm right there in the middle of it. You have found little shards of glass in the yogurt and bugs even at You-Cook, but that’s all a part of the college experience, right?

“Are you sure there’s no spiders or anything? Did you check?” Beside you, Maddie watches with furrowed brows as you spoon a hefty serving of scrambled eggs onto your plate. Chuckling, you move down to grab a few sausages and a chocolate chip muffin before they are gone for the rest of the day; Lord knows, you are only a month in and carbohydrates have quickly become your emotional support, just like everyone else. “Yes, I checked,” you assure her, hiding a laugh with your hand as she leans over to further scrutinize the eggs, “I didn’t see any arachnids.”

“Good,” she hums, satisfied with your answer, “can you grab a banana muffin for me? They’re usually at the bottom.”

Nodding, you turn back to the blessed muffin basket, pushing away blueberry, corn, double chocolate, all because Maddie has to be different and go for the macadamia nut banana.

“Are those the dinosaur socks they were selling on move-in day?” In front of you, someone asks, and your first instinct is to look down at your feet just to confirm. 8:30 calculus simply turns your brain to mush and remembering how you dressed for the day is near impossible. “Yes!” Laughing, you lift your leg to get a closer look at the cute green t-rexes on skates. “I was sold once I heard they were a dollar.”

Tearing your gaze away from said socks, you look up and suddenly feel as if you have bumped into an angel. Maybe there were spiders in the eggs, deadly poisonous spiders that crawled up the spoon while you weren’t paying attention and bit your hand and now you are dead and this is the angel leading you to the heavens. That, or this simply is the most beautiful human you have ever seen up close and your brain does not know how to process it. Well, maybe that’s a little extreme, but you definitely have never been so starstruck in your life.

The boy in front of you says something but you don’t hear it, senses and thoughts momentarily Off™ as you gawk at him. Aside from the deep undereye bags you all have claimed the past few weeks, this stranger is as close to perfect as you can get. Sure, Seungmin and his roommates are pretty cute—but what the fuck?

Something tells you that you have been silently staring at him, wide-eyed and mouth hanging open for far too long when his brows raise in a mix of confusion and expectation. Shit. What did he say? Synapses suddenly shooting like fireworks in your brain, you desperately try to remember his reply but instead, all you had focused on was the plumpness of his lips as he spoke and not the words themselves.

Clearing your throat, you blink once, twice, hoping you were hallucinating the whole time and the boy in front of you is not Hercules incarnate.

Lucky for you or him, you can’t tell, but he is still as attractive as he was two seconds ago. “Sorry, what?” You blurt, loud, too loud, flinching at the sound of your own voice. Instead of recognizing that you are totally off your rocker, he smiles, a soft, toothy smile that has your muscles turning to goo.

“I said I bought them, too,” cutest-boy-in-the-universe repeats, looking down and you follow his gaze, “my roommates were making fun of me, so I’m glad I finally found someone who bought them.” Alas, as he tugs at the fabric of his jeans to slightly lift the cuff you see that he, too, wears the same socks. You think you’re in love.

“Well, your roommates clearly have no taste,” you deadpan, shakily meeting his eyes once he looks back up. He laughs softly, eyes scrunching at the action and you positively swoon until silence settles over you and he takes the opportunity to regard you, gaze sweeping down your frame and up again. You hold your breath because, 1) holy shit, you would get on your knees for him right now and 2) you suddenly wish you were wearing more than the ‘just-woke-up-to-get-pegged-by-calc’ fit.

“I’m Hyunjin,” he finally says and you release all the air trapped in your lungs. “YN,” you return, grasping his outreached hand and thanking the heavens it is as sweaty as yours. “Well, it was nice to meet you, YN,” Hyunjin proceeds, releasing your hand and offering a gentle smile.

“You too, Mr. Sock Man,” you grin, rocking on your heels and realizing with a pang of disappointment that your breakfast has probably gone cold. Well, that’s okay, because right now you are totally content standing here in the middle of the dining hall, silently staring at this Hyunjin with a stupid smile plastered on your face. And the best part? He apparently is just fine doing that, too.

“YN!” Somewhere behind you, Maddie calls your name and it thrusts you head-first back into reality. “Did you find a banana muffin? I can’t find— oh. Who’s this?” Appearing beside you, visibly shocked having found you in a staring contest with a very tall, very cute boy. “Oh, uh,” you huff out a laugh, scrambling to get yourself together, “Hyunjin, this is Maddie, my roommate. Maddie, this is Hyunjin. We have the same socks.”

Brows shooting up at the puzzling introduction, Maddie bites back a laugh and looks back and forth between you and Hyunjin. “Well, you don’t hear that every day,” smiling to hide her confusion, she offers him a small wave with her hand full of muffin packs, “nice to meet you.”

Hyunjin smiles in return, gaze quickly returning to you. “I’ll be off, then. Gotta get the waffles while they’re still warm. I’ll see you around.”

And before you know it, he’s off toward the other end of the breakfast counter.

“Um, what the fuck?” Maddie whispers excitedly as you make your way toward your usual table, elbow repeatedly jabbing into your side. “I have no idea what just happened. I think I’m dreaming,” you sigh blissfully, relieved to find that Jisung and Seungmin were able to claim your favorite booth. “No, definitely not dreaming. He’s totally into you. You have to hang out.”

“What?” You sputter, nearly tripping over your own two feet. Then, lowering your voice as you near the two boys, “I – no, he isn’t. How can you tell? That was like, the cutest guy I’ve ever talked to, and you think he’s into me?”

“Who’s the cutest guy ever?” Jisung pipes up, eyes lighting up and you curse him and his fucking bat hearing.

“No one,” you grumble, smiling softly at Seungmin when he gets up so you don’t have to sit on the end, leaving Maddie to sit next to the other one. “Is it me?” Jisung grins with a flutter of his eyelashes. He’s convinced the only reason you dislike him is because you’ve actually fallen in love with him, but that’s far from the truth. You don’t even dislike him—he’s just one of the first guys you’ve met who meets your sarcasm with as much ferocity, and that is a hard pill to swallow.

“In your dreams, Han,” you sneer, gracing him with a dramatic eye roll before tearing open the bag of your muffin. Comfortable conversation quickly falls into place as you eat, complaints about your classes, Seungmin trying to convince you to join them at the first party they will be attending while Jisung mocks you for wanting to stay home, Maddie asking where Felix is and Seungmin explaining that he got so high last night he ended up staying up past four playing Overwatch and is currently sleeping past all his classes.

Then, in the midst of guzzling your apple juice, Jisung leans out of his seat to call down the aisle. “Hwang! Come pull a chair over!”

Curiosity peaked, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and crane your neck to see over Seungmin’s fat head for who this ‘Hwang’ could be until, like the universe is really trying to kill you, the Hyunjin you met not even ten minutes ago has reached your table. “Hey,” he grins brightly, dabbing up the two boys before he glances to you, mouth promptly falling open. Certain you mirror the same expression, you struggle to find your words as Jisung and Seungmin look between you in shared confusion. “First we share socks, now it’s these dumpheads?”

Ignoring the way they scowl, Hyunjin giggles shamelessly and grabs a chair from an adjacent table to sit at the head of your booth. “It would seem that way.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. You guys know each other?” Jisung scoffs in disbelief, pointedly looking at you as if you’ve gone and disproved everything he pegged of you. “We just met,” Hyunjin replies with a shy smile, sparing you a quick glance before cutting into his waffle. Jisung looks to you and you offer an affirmative nod.

“And how are you guys friends?” Maddie asks, sensing your panic. “He’s Changbin and Minho’s roommate,” Seungmin answers.

You choke on a mouthful of juice.

“Christ, you good?” Seungmin snickers, offering a few slaps to your back. With a muffled yes, you look to Hyunjin with pleading eyes. “Please don’t tell them I said they have no taste.”

He laughs, arching a brow at you. “No way. They’ll get a kick out of that.”

“Oh, Christ,” faking a cry, you bury your face into your palms, “so much for making friends.”

“It’s okay, YN,” Jisung soothes with faux sympathy, “no one wants to be your friend anyway.”

Scoffing, the table quickly falls silent when you look up with rage in your eyes. “I bet when someone asks your parents about you, they change the subject,” you spit, shooting daggers at him before stabbing your fork into an innocent chunk of egg. To your utmost surprise but total delight, the other three burst into a fit of laughter, leaving you smirking smugly and Jisung sulking.

“Anyway,” Maddie promptly changes the subject back to her chemistry professor who has started every class playing Britney Spears. Tucked away in your corner finishing the last of your sausage and stifling the urge to get up for more, it isn’t until Hyunjin begins to speak do you realize that you have been quietly watching him the entire time. You would blame the soft morning sunshine shining through the windows and illuminating the right side of his face for making him look so ethereal, but you know that isn’t the case; from short, messy black hair, silver hoop earrings, thick, defined brows, the soft curves of his nose and the pouty fullness of his lips, you are totally, completely mesmerized.

And then, the sole of a sneaker is slammed right into your shin. “OW!” You yelp, loud, and for a moment you forget the pain in favor of the embarrassment that comes with the number of heads that turn to look at you. “Sorry. Bit my tongue,” you lie, earning an unconvinced look from Maddie. “Go on,” you nod toward Hyunjin to continue whatever he was saying before directing a furious glare to Jisung, who fails to hide his triumphant smirk as he enthusiastically types on his phone.

Just as you have bent down to rub at your throbbing leg, your phone vibrates twice against the table.

han jisung [now] stop staring, ur lucky hwang is as dense as a rock or he would have left a long time ago bc of you

han jisung [now] so THAT’S the ‘cutest guy ever’ huh? so ur straight after all

Squeezing your hands into fists, you prepare to fire back a reply that will have him crying. But he has different plans.

“Oh, Hyunjin, did YN tell you she’s a dancer, too?” He exaggerates your previous mention of dancing and has the audacity to wink at you. Thanks, Mr. Match Maker.

“Really?” Hyunjin gasps excitedly, eyes lighting up and totally missing the flabbergasted what? that sputters from your lips.

“I – well, no,” you hiss, scowling at Jisung, “I used to do ballet when I was younger but that’s it. Why, though? Do you dance?”

“He’s here on a scholarship,” Seungmin explains, “and minors in creative writing.”

“Oh,” you squeak, glancing to Hyunjin who is all but smiling like a cherub, completely oblivious, “that’s amazing. You must have a crazy schedule.” Chewing the last of his waffle, he hums in agreement. “Yeah, it gets really stressful at times. But it’s worth it,” Hyunjin chuckles. Then fucking winks.

Unable to hold his gaze, you whip your head back around in a panic and reach for the mere sip left of your juice. “Speaking of crazy schedules,” he hums, slapping both Jisung and Seungmin on the shoulders, “I must head out. This was fun. I may start crashing the party more now.” Rising from his seat, Hyunjin swings his bag over a shoulder and grins brightly. Realizing it would be rude to not say goodbye, you force yourself to look back to him and offer a feeble wave.

“And YN, don’t bite your tongue when you eat, yeah?”

You’re going to pass out.

two.

Felix likes to think of you as his corrupted child when it comes to smoking weed.

A few weeks before you would all be returning home for winter break, he came knocking on your door with a proposition. “No one wants to smoke with me. Do you want to?”

This, for sure, was not what you were expecting on a cold Tuesday night in December. Despite the general curiosity and always wanting to ‘try it’ simply to feel like a teenager breaking the rules, you told him you never smoked before. “I know,” he said with a smile, “that’s why I’m asking.”

So, you agreed. Reaching for your hand, Felix snuck you out the window and led you halfway across campus to the junior parking lot, giving you ample opportunities to back out when he felt how badly you were shaking. “Whose car is this?” You laughed in disbelief when he unlocked a beaten-up Nissan near the outskirts of the lot.

“Kim Woojin. The junior?” He replied once you settled in the passenger seat next to him. “Oh.” You blinked, confused. “He lets you smoke in his car?”

“He gets me weed, too,” Felix giggled, reaching into the pockets of his sweatshirt and coming out with two tightly wrapped blunts, each about two inches long, “I’ll turn the heat on a little so we don’t freeze but we have to keep the windows open. I’m not going to have you hotbox for your first time.” You had no idea what that meant, but you agreed nonetheless.

With a brief lesson on what to do that truly made no sense until you tried it for yourself, Felix lit the blunt, took a few small hits to get it started, and then passed it to you. Holding it gingerly between your thumb and index finger, you brought the unlit end to your lips and sucked as he instructed ‘like a straw,’ breathing it into your lungs and ignoring the faint taste of smoke. Unsure of when to stop, it wasn’t until your throat felt as if it was on fire did you realize just how much you had inhaled.

“Shit,” you wheezed, coughing and choking and watching with wide eyes at the amount of cloudy white smoke that left your mouth and nostrils. Passing it back to Felix, you scrambled for the cold water bottle he brought along, downing half of it in one go to soothe the burn. “Good?” He asked, blowing out the window and turning back to you with eyes full of concern.

“Yeah,” you huffed, “give me a few, though.”

Humming in agreement, Felix connected his phone to the car’s Bluetooth and began playing what he calls his ‘getting high playlist,’ and before long, you fell in love with the feeling.

When break was over, you were dying to try it again. Felix was more than happy to be of service.

For all of March, it turned into a daily thing.

Now, you try to smoke only once a week for the sake of not dying, or something.

australian felix kjellberg❤️ [now] come hang at 201?

When the text notification pops up in the corner of your laptop screen amid your YouTube binge, your bones jitter with a mix of dread and excitement.

Dread, because that’s Hyunjin’s room. Excitement, because that’s Hyunjin’s room.

Maddie must hear your sigh. “What’s wrong?” She asks from her cozied position in bed, hand deep in a bag of popcorn.

“It’s Felix,” you start, “but he said to go to Hyunjin’s room.”

She blinks, unfazed. “And? I don’t see the problem here.”

“Well, I don’t know,” you count on your fingers, “first, I don’t know how to act around Hyunjin sober. Second, I don’t know how to act around Hyunjin high. Third, I am very touchy when high. Fourth, Hyunjin is always touchy.”

Maddie scoffs. “That’s a pretty lame argument, YN,” she laughs, “isn’t that what you want to happen?”

“Well,” she’s got a point, “yes, but it still makes me nervous. He makes me nervous.” Closing your laptop, you shimmy out of bed and debate changing out of your cotton shorts and tee shirt. Nah. You’ll probably end up going back to Felix’s and sleeping there. You put a sports bra and deodorant on and call it a day.

Maddie finds this hilarious. “You know what should make you nervous? The fact that you’re usually the only girl getting high with, what? Six guys? You know they all want to fuck you.”

“I try not to think about that, actually,” cringing, you try to erase Felix’s voice when he’s high as a kite or Changbin’s arms from your mind, “and you don’t know that. Sometimes Ryujin and Lia are there. Or, you know, you could always come. You don’t have to smoke, just come hang out. I know you want to give Minho a fat smooch.”

Her nose wrinkles in disgust. “I love you, and I appreciate the invite, but I don’t feel like babysitting a bunch of stoners, even if Minho is there.”

Laughing, all you can offer her is a shrug. “I don’t blame you,” grabbing your phone, wallet, and charger, you make your way over to her and bend over to press a goodnight kiss to her forehead, “if you need me, don’t. I’ll probably be dead.”

“Oh Lord,” Maddie cackles, watching you struggle to open the window, “don’t die. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“I’ll try,” you grin, military saluting once you’ve managed to flop over the ledge. With one last wave, you close the window behind you and thank admissions for giving you a room on the first floor.

[9:34 PM] YN: omw now, gather your forces to help me in :)

Nights in 201 are always interesting. First, their room is on the second floor, so climbing through the window is an experience. Things would be a hell of a lot easier if you could just walk in and out of residence halls as you please, but with the officer at the front desk documenting who comes in and who goes out, there would be a knock at the door at midnight asking you to leave. Second: as Maddie said, 201 means the whole squad is showing up. And when the whole squad shows up, you’re bound to feel a mix of anxiety and desire deep within your bones no matter how hard set you are on Mr. Hwang. And third: you know you’re in for one fucked up night.

[9:42 PM] YN: hereee

Standing awkwardly behind their building, you try and calm the nerves that always come when you know you will be with Hyunjin. Considering how close the two of you have become over the past few months, one would think you would have gotten a grip on those pesky feelings.

Yet again, it’s kind of hard to do that when he looks and acts like that all the time.

When the window slides open, you are expecting Changbin to hang halfway out for you to grab on to with the rest of them holding onto his legs. Instead, a tall, metal ladder of sorts is pushed out until it lands with a thud! at your feet, granting you a perfect staircase into the room.

Well, you certainly don’t see that every day.

Blinking in confusion, you do not know whether to focus on the crowd of boys waving at you from above or this abomination of a stepstool that was practically thrown out a window for you. Accepting the chain of events as just another fever dream of an experience in 201, you shake your head and begin to ascend on shaky legs, graciously taking Jisung’s hand and clinging to both him and Seungmin as they help you into the room. “Thanks,” you huff, giving them both a hug in return to their chivalry. And they dare say it’s dead!

Behind you, Changbin and Hyunjin lift the ladder-stepstool mutation back into the room and it isn’t until they have folded it into a more compact piece and set it against the wall do you speak up.

“Did you… buy a ladder?”

“Yes!” Minho bellows, thrilled by your successful entrance. “Isn’t it great?” After pulling back from a hug, he keeps his hands on your shoulders just to shake you like a bobble-head.

“Yes,” you grunt once he’s released you, head swimming, “a lot easier than hauling both me and Changbin through the window, right?” Looking to said boy, you can’t help but melt into his side when he pulls you close. “No worries,” Changbin beams, rubbing your arm, “at least we have some funny memories now.” When he moves to flop onto his bed, you realize with a shudder that you are alone with Hyunjin.

Well, technically not alone since they are all right there, but alone in the sense that they are not paying attention to you nor him.

“Hey, YN. I missed you,” he singsongs, engulfing you in one of his monster bear hugs. Disregarding the heart palpitations they may cause, Hyunjin’s hugs are truly the best and you wish you would initiate them more if it didn’t seem like such a big deal in that smooth brain of yours. “I missed you, too,” you mutter into his chest, squeezing your arms around him as if to engrave this feeling into your mind forever. “We saw each other, like, five hours ago,” he reminds you, finally pulling back and taking your will to live with him. God, he has no idea.

“And? You’re the only one here who doesn’t make me suicidal,” you lie because, in reality, he actually does. Just in a different way. “Aw,” he coos, large hand squeezing your side and you think you could orgasm on command, “good thing we have tonight, then, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you squeak, finally remembering to breathe when he steps away to sit beside Seungmin on his bed. Suddenly, you are feeling incredibly grateful no one is next to Changbin because, well, 1) he is closer to Felix and 2), you need a distraction.

“Hello, Felix,” you greet the boy sunk deep in a bean bag chair, busy grinding leaves and packing them into the bowl of a bong. “How are you this fine evening, YN?” He asks once you have settled beside Changbin, brows knitting together when the older boy drapes his arm around your waist.

“Good. Tired, though. How ‘bout you?”

“You didn’t have to come if you’re tired! We all know you work your ass off, no one’s gonna judge if you chose to stay home and sleep,” Felix expresses, giving you a look that screams ‘mom.’

“No! I’m not that tired,” you assure him, reaching for his hand and squeezing for extra effect, “you know I wouldn’t miss this. You’ve made me a pothead.”

With a proud smile, he returns to his designated job and begins working on the second, smaller bong. “So,” stretching to set your things on the desk beside Changbin’s bed, you turn to him with a knowing smile, “how’s the album coming?”

“Great!” He beams, eyes lighting up at the topic. “Jisung is a great addition. Did I tell you we started meeting with someone else, too?”

“No, who?”

“He’s a sophomore, Bang Chan?” Somewhere behind you, Felix passes a bong to Jisung for the first hit. “Bang Chan? Holy shit, Binnie,” repeatedly punching his arm to express your excitement, “that’s amazing! I didn’t know he was into music production. Not that I’ve ever talked to him, but.”

“No, I get you,” he hums, giving your side a firm squeeze, “he’s really awesome making beats. I hope we’re successful.” Then, reaching past you, he takes the second bong and a lighter from Felix. When he resituates himself, he’s considerably closer than before. You don’t mind.

“Ladies first?” Changbin offers with a crooked grin, handing them to you. Then, on second thought, he holds onto the lighter to do the honors. “Sure. Thanks,” you laugh, glancing across the room to find everyone arguing over which color to set the lights to as they wait for their high. Bringing the tube to your lips, you offer a miniscule nod to him and then he is setting flame to the bowl. Sucking strong enough to generate bubbles, you unplug the bowl once he stops and breathe in as much as your lungs can handle in one go. Then, once you have exhaled, you quickly finish what’s left in the tube before passing it to Changbin with a pleased smile.

“That was a lot,” he points out once you have handed the bong back to him. “Hey, you’re the one who kept lighting it for thirty seconds. Mother would be proud,” you joke, reciprocating the same service and lighting the bowl until he glares at you beneath his bangs.

The best part about being high is the fact that you are constantly laughing. Things won’t even be that funny, but once someone starts laughing—you’re done for. You laugh so hard it hurts, and then once it’s all over, you realize it wasn’t funny at all. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a squirrel?” Minho asks Jisung at some point. You absolutely loose it. It quite possibly is the funniest thing you have ever heard.

Pouting, Squirrel Boy leaves Minho alone on his bed to come crash beside you. “How are you, my tender oozing blossom?”

Squinting at him past the way your eyes burn, you make grabby hands and pull him close to wrap your arms around his teeny waist. Changbin grumbles in protest, but he’s too transfixed on the light’s soft in and out fade of different colors to say anything else. “Please, don’t ever call me that again,” you mumble into Jisung’s mop of brown hair.

“What?” He gasps, tilting to look up at you with puppy eyes. “You didn’t like it?”

“Nope,” smiling lazily, you rest your head atop his, “I love you, but I’m not ready for pet names yet.” His face morphs from a frown to one lit with excitement. “Holy shit, did you just say you love me? Do my eyes deceive me?”

“That would be your ‘ears,’ but yes,” you hum, brain simply not capable of denying it the way your sober self would. “More than Changbin?” Jisung whispers.

“Yes, but don’t tell him,” you return quietly, biting back a laugh.

“More than Hyunjin?” He counters. At this, you look up to find said boy sat with his legs to his chest across the room. Next to Seungmin, he looks like a giant; but a happy, pouty giant that keeps talking about how much he could go for a winter melon tea right now.

“Never.”

One and a half (half because it was just the rest of Minho’s terribly big hit that left tears streaming down his cheeks) and an unfinished game of Cards Against Humanity later, you find yourself in a blissful headspace. The song playing quietly through Felix’s speaker makes it feel like you are bouncing down stairs and then going up again, and the lights are oh so pretty, pink fading to red, yellow to green, blue to purple and so on. Things are fuzzy but crystal clear at the same time, the popcorn you’ve been shoveling into your mouth tastes heavenly, and your body feels like it is engulfed in a warm, comforting hug.

Or, that could just be Changbin.

Somewhere in between trying to get more comfortable and him yanking you to stay next to him when you attempted to get up and hug Seungmin for something sweet he said, you now find yourself on your back with a clinging Changbin on your side. You are so comfortable, but also insanely hot, and as you begin to slowly come down from your high as the hours tick by, you begin to realize it’s for another reason.

What started as an innocent hand on your side turned into his thumb rubbing meaningless patterns against your shirt, which then turned into his hand slipping beneath to splay against the warmth of your skin. Growing increasingly needy as the minutes go by, you turn to look at everyone around you. Jisung, who found himself returning to Minho, appears to be passed out with him on the far end of the room. Seungmin, curled up on the floor with a pillow and a heap of blankets. Felix, who finished off the rest of his weed, scrolls aimlessly on his phone still at the peak of his high.

And Hyunjin, who you assume has been fast asleep on his bed for a while now if the arm flung over his face tells you anything. For a moment, you feel sick with sadness. So close, but so far he lies, always a step out of reach. But you can’t deny how Changbin makes you feel—for right now, at least. And it would be a shame to miss out on an opportunity with someone else because the one you want is unattainable.

Right?

Changbin must sense the way your breathing increases, must feel the way your body reacts to the slightest of touches, yet he takes his time. He is soft in the way his hand travels up your arm, rough fingertips grazing over your collarbones before smoothing down over your chest and abdomen. It isn’t until you are about to burst at the seams does he give your ass a strong squeeze and urge your leg over his hips.

“Changbin,” you sigh, biting your lip to keep from whimpering when he begins pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the length of your throat. “Please touch me.”

He only makes a sound of agreement, savoring the way you squirm and grip onto his arm for dear life. When he offers an experimental roll of his hips to grind against you, you practically go feral. The last time you were touched in such a way was at a party in the beginning of the semester Jisung and co. physically forced you to go to, and Changbin has barely even touched you and it’s already better than the rushed sex you had that night.

“Wait,” he huffs, pausing his ministrations no matter how difficult it is to do so, “we can’t.”

“What?” You hiss, trying to keep your voice quiet, “why?”

“Because you’re high, and I’m high, and I’m not going to do anything unless you really want me to,” Changbin explains, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips when you frown in response. “But I do want you to,” you huff, chasing his mouth for another, “I trust you one hundred percent.”

“Are you sure, YN?” What about Hyunjin? is what he really means and you know he’s right. You should have never told Felix.

Trying to ignore the wetness of your underwear, you turn to lie on your back. “Whatever. Never mind,” you mumble, and when you glance back to him, you can’t help the way your heart soars with him still pressed closely to your side, blinking tiredly at you. But like he said, it’s not Hyunjin. “Just get some sleep, Binnie. Forget it happened,” smiling past the tears that threaten to spill, you ruffle his hair and press a softer kiss to his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” Changbin whispers, returning the affection with a kiss to your shoulder. In minutes, he is snoring softly beside you.

You can’t fall asleep to save your life.

Reaching for your phone to check the time, you grit your teeth once you realize it’s almost four and you definitely have been staring at the ceiling for more than an hour. For starters, you are freezing now; unlike these passed out hooligans, you are showing a lot more skin and not being under the blankets is not doing you well. And secondly, it’s hard to fall asleep when your thoughts are flying miles a minute.

Is this how it’s going to be, then? Whenever you see someone, will the little guy on your shoulder whisper in your ear that it’s not Hyunjin? Or will people deem you off limits because they know of your infatuation? People who know, at least—Changbin is the first, apparently.

Just need to get comfy, you decide, trying to ignore such thoughts and turning to lie on your stomach. Bless Felix for leaving the lights on, too—you may be coming down from your high, but the vibe is simply immaculate. Tucking a hand under your cheek and following the ropes of light on the ceiling and up the walls, you find this to be enough to calm your nerves. Enough to make your eyelids heavy. Finally.

Someone lets out a monster train snore. Seungmin, you think, biting your lip to keep from laughing. Or, it could be Hyunjin. The thought is so amusing you can’t help but squint at the boy across from you to better see his outline, hoping he will do it again just to confirm.

No, not Hyunjin.

Because he’s facing you, eyes open, a soft smile plastered on his face. Well, fuck.

No reason to panic, you console yourself, returning a gentle smile in the assumption he can even see you. And you stay like that for a while, simply watching one another for an infinite amount of time. It’s not much, but it means something, you think, lost in the way the contours and highlights of his face change with each color the lights fade to. Just as you remember the whole point of getting on your stomach was to fall asleep, Hyunjin moves. Reaching for his phone, you watch in confusion as he brings it close to his face and starts typing.

hwang hyunjin👁👄👁 [now] Come sleep w me?

You almost throw up in your mouth. You must be dreaming. Surely.

Blinking against the harsh light of your phone, you cannot help your smile as you reread the text.

[4:02 am] YN: wont that b a little sus for bin

[4:02 am] hwang hyunjin👁👄👁: If anyone asks just say he kept kicking u or something

You don’t need to be told twice. Now that he has turned onto his side facing the other direction, Changbin does not stir once you slowly move to sit up and stand, nor when you reach for the quilt crumbled at the foot of the bed to pull over him. It’s not much, but hopefully it will keep him from waking in a few hours freezing to death. Then, as you tiptoe your way over to Hyunjin’s bed, avoiding Felix now that he’s sprawled half way off the bean bag, you cannot tell if you are still shivering from the cold or if the fact you are going to be sleepingwith Hyunjin in one, tiny single bed is finally clicking in your brain. Like Maddie said, this is something you want, right?

As you draw closer, Hyunjin shifts to make room and lifts the covers for you to quietly slip beneath. “Thank you,” you whisper, pulling the blanket up to your chin and trying to ignore the feeling of being so close to him. “Of course. You looked real cold over there,” he smiles tiredly. Then, his arm cautiously curls around you to rest by your head, fingers swiping stray hairs away from your face.

“I was,” you admit. Eyes level to his lips, you strain to look him in the eyes to resist the temptation now that he’s pulled you so close. “Changbin fell asleep and I felt bad waking him.”

Hyunjin doesn’t reply. He seems momentarily lost in thought, brows slightly furrowed as he chews on the inside of his lip.

“Do you like him?” He finally asks, voice shaky with hesitation.

“What?” You sputter, shocked at such a presumption. Yet again…

“No, no I don’t. I mean—as a friend, yes, but, you know,” you trail off, squeezing your eyes shut. You desperately wish you were not having this conversation right now. “He was touching you, though. And it looked like you liked it,” Hyunjin whispers, thumb swiping against your cheekbone.

“I mean, well yeah, I did. But I’m not close enough to like him like that. It’s just a physical attraction,” realizing you are discussing what went down with Changbin to Hyunjin, you suddenly pull back and lean up on an elbow to get a better look at him, heat now spreading up your limbs like fire. “Were you watching us, Hwang?”

“Yes,” he admits, “it’s kind of hard not to.” Your heart stops beating.

“I – what?” You manage once you have remembered how to breathe. “I didn’t know you were awake, we wouldn’t have… what do you mean, ‘it’s kind of hard not to?’”

“You know what I mean, YN,” Hyunjin mutters, arm slipping around your waist and pulling you to lie down with him again, this time, your chest pressed to his. “I like looking at you. You’re very pretty.”

You definitely must still be high, because you are seriously having a hard time wrapping your mind around Hyunjin calling you pretty, as well as being so close, and somewhere deep in your mind wonders if he knows. If he knows how your heart is on the line here. Knows that with him moving closer, you are taking a huge risk.

When Hyunjin kisses you, you forget that this could be the worst mistake you’ve made in a long time. Wrapped around his fingers, you pray this is his way of saying he feels the same.

“YN!” You wake to Seungmin gently shaking your shoulder. “YN, wake up. Your phone has been vibrating for twenty minutes now. It’s Maddie.”

The wave of panic washing over you dispels the grogginess you feel from suddenly being yanked from sleep, as well as the recognition of where you are and who you’re with. Frantic, you sit up and nod in thanks to him before taking the call. “Hello?”

“Oh, thank God you answered,” Maddie cries, voice choked, “I’m sorry, I know you’re still out, but I just threw up and I feel so terrible and when I get up I feel so nauseous. Can you come home?”

“Shit, Maddie, don’t apologize,” you whisper, rushing to grab your things as Seungmin unfolds The Ladder as quietly as possible, “I’m leaving now. Don’t move, you don’t want it to get worse. I’ll be there as fast as I can, okay?”

“Okay,” she whimpers before hanging up.

“Thank you, Minnie,” pressing a kiss to his cheek, you begin to climb down. “Is everything okay?” He asks, watching as you go with a worried frown. “Yes, it’s fine. Just a little emergency, don’t worry,” praying no one is out and about watching as you climb from the back of their building, you rush back to help Maddie as fast as you can.

You stay back in your dorm with Maddie for the rest of the weekend, fetching her water and ginger ale and food she can handle, helping her to the restroom, and binging all sorts of shows and movies with her. Seungmin, Jisung, and Minho visit Sunday evening, joining you for a few hours to watch Pokémon. You think it’s just because Minho knew it would be a good opportunity to snuggle with Maddie.

You can’t help but feel disappointed when Hyunjin isn’t with them. You refrained from telling Maddie what happened in 201, too caught up wanting to make sure she was alright, and by now you are starting to feel as if it wasn’t even real. Maybe you made the whole night up in your marijuana-infused brain. And snuggled up with Jisung, you can’t help but wish it was this annoying shit you were falling in love with.

On Monday morning, Hyunjin doesn’t show up for breakfast. On Tuesday, you find out he has been hanging out with a girl he met at his favorite boba joint and apparently won’t shut up about. First, you run back to your dorm to cry to Maddie, having to explain all of Friday night to her. When she leaves for her lab, you call Felix for an emergency smoke session. When Maddie texts that she is going to be out late working on a project, you call Changbin to tell him that you really do want him to.

Like you said, it’s just a physical attraction, right?

⇢ part 2

546 notes · View notes

catalists · 4 years ago

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fjorclay fic recs, vol. 1

If the influx of people into the Fjorclay server is any indication, a number of people have been boarding this good good ship lately, and I wanted to put together a little rec list of (some of) my favorite Fjorclay fics for anyone who might be looking.

Your disclaimer: this is not a full literature review, and although I crowd-sourced a little, this is definitely mostly my personal favorites. Caveat lector!

* = fic is rated M or E

Ideation by starkraving

Fjord admires Caduceus, you know, in a totally normal and not at all weird way. Beauregard notices.

An earlier Fjorclay fic and not any less powerful for it. The language here is incredibly precise and the take on Fjord is incredible.

through the trance* by starstrung

Once he’s communed with the Wildmother, Fjord keeps wanting to do it again.

This fic. This fic. One of my favorites, not just for the absolute pitch-perfect Fjord and Caduceus, but for nailing every last one of the Mighty Nein’s voices. Not to mention it manages to be hilarious and heartrending sometimes in the same line.

for I will hold them for you by constanted

Wanting is difficult, like Caduceus had said, and Fjord is used to wanting, but he’s not used to wanting things that are… like Caduceus. Soft and like-sunsets. Things that are bleeding out before him. Etcetera.

(or: The party's split, and a difficult battle leaves Melora's boys fresh out of magic and Caduceus severely damaged. Fjord tries his best to take care of him. Blood loss makes clerics say the darnedest things.)

This is my personal favorite of Bee’s fics, because, well, it’s hurt/comfort and it’s amazing hurt/comfort with a side of perfect dialogue. But she has many other excellent fics as well and they’re very worth reading too.

the morning calls your name by MithrilWren

It’s not so much that Fjord stops sleeping. It’s more that it’s begun to taper down: the number of hours he spends with his eyes closed.

Fjord wages a losing war against insomnia. Caduceus notices.

You may have noticed a theme to these recs: excellent, thoughtful characterization, dialogue where you can really hear their voices, and hurt/comfort. This checks all the boxes and is beautifully written besides.

no man is an island (but we sure are on one) by kaeda

Fjord takes advantage of the Mighty Nein's island getaway to romance Caduceus. It takes Caduceus some time to notice.

Speaking of pitch-perfect Mighty Nein: this fic has it. Also, excellent blend of emotion and plot, the perfect getting-together fic in a way that feels believable for the show.

gardens full of aching trees by galacticdrift

Just...kicking around some ideas about how little Cad heals himself, mainly, and why that might be, and how Fjord might react upon finding out (spoilers: they kiss). I meant for this to get spicy with the Lay On Hands but Fjord really just had his heart set on yearning instead.

Title from Murder By Death's "Solitary One."

It’s all about that yearning! And lovely prose, and the sort of care I long to see the Mighty Nein exhibit towards Caduceus a little more often in canon. It’s soft. This fic is soft.

you’re scared to die alone, i know by moonbeatblues

Caduceus Clay is a strange one.

He could say that— has, actually, said that— about everyone else here, but with Caduceus he really means it. He says he’s from somewhere up north, out of Empire territory, and he flies like it, too.

That is to say, Caduceus Clay kinda flies like shit.

(expanding the mech au on a request)

Now we take a step into AU territory! This little mech au is so vivid and my only complaint is that there isn’t more of it. The mythology created in such a short piece is incredible.

gonna build you up, gonna help you believe by patchworkgirlofoz

Listen. Have you ever looked at the story of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, maybe at a tender and impressionable young age and deeply imprinted on it, but wanted so badly to change 95% of what happens in that story? Cool, me too.

An AU based on an old medieval poem--this description does it zero justice. If you like the story Gawain and the Green Knight, read this immediately. If you don’t know it but like fairytales, read this immediately. If that doesn’t apply to you, still read this immediately, it’s an incredibly clever adaptation that gets right into the heart of Fjord as a character and it’s beautiful.

your dust from mine by MithrilWren

Fjord was born to more than a servant’s life, but doesn’t know it. Prince Caduceus is betrothed to a man, but the wrong one.

A tale of mistaken identities, fairytale foolery, and the power of true love’s kiss.

(Or. a loose retelling of ‘The Goose Girl’, with some decidedly CR twists.)

A still ongoing fairy tale AU! Updates every week or two and kicks my ass every time. Absolutely incredible. (I made a rule that each author could only go on this list once, but for MithrilWren I have broken it.)

***

And, if you’re still looking for fic, I have a few, but most recently:

guide me to where we restart by Chrome

Grief in general is a difficult thing for Fjord to wrap his head around. He hasn’t truly grieved a terrible loss before; never had anything he couldn’t bear losing before. Now—he can’t imagine losing Caduceus. Can hardly imagine a day without him. “Do you think it gets easier?”

“Oh,” Caduceus says, “Everything gets easier, I think.”

---

After everything, Caduceus and Fjord find a little house on a cliff by the sea, and a life follows.

#fjorclay #teahaw #caduceus clay #fjord #critical role #cr fic #cr fic recs

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 16

First time reader click here

Summary/TWs: Trouble is brewing. Canon-typical violence, graphic descriptions of wounds and Clint whump. Bad, terrible, no-good medical accuracy. Aliens. Reader is an anxious genius with low self-esteem and PTSD. ✨spicy sadness✨

From now on, chapters will be posted un-beta-ed. She's taking a lil break. 💖💝✨

I liked to think I had made peace with the fact that my boys and girls had one hell of a dangerous job. Natasha, Clint, Steve and Bucky frequently left for missions and while I missed their usual bickering in the background, it wasn't like the tower's common room became absolutely quiet. The fact that they mostly did recon-only missions helped, too, as they would come home unharmed and in one piece. The worry was there but subtle - like setting the table and including silverware for the people who were gone on a mission.

Peter's patrols went less smoothly, usually. He was small and even in his spider-suit, the boy was frequently underestimated by common thugs. Apparently, they didn't know how to read the news - it was blatantly obvious the hero was enhanced. And yet somehow, Pete more often than not sported all sorts of bruises, scratches and tears.

Tony and I routinely tore out our hair over the spiderboy's carelessness. The engineer had a funny way of showing he cared for Peter. Once I got to know him better, my brain dubbed them as Irondad and Spiderson. And it wasn't weird at all, somehow, that I was basically fucking my best friend's dad. Tony never made me uncomfortable, if anything, he went to great lengths to accommodate my whims. Tony continuously found time for me, answered my dumb questions and soldiered through the shenanigans I got up to after having too much caffeine and too little sleep.

Sitting in the quiet, empty common room was unnerving. It was shortly after dinner time - the evening news skipped their usual political debate in favour of the battle that was raging downtown, the reason for my headache and wrung hands.

I missed Tony's running mouth. The aliens the team was fighting looked quite hilarious, murderous intentions aside, and I could only imagine the way Tony and Clint would mock them. Hentai rejects. Tentacle porn knock-offs. The aliens were squid-like, about half the size of a human and very, very slippery, from what I spied on the TV.

An irritated-looking Stephen had me equal parts apprehensive and drooling - one after another, he conjured up a series of small portals, teleporting the aggressive octopods only god knew where. It would have looked incredibly badass if not for the exhausted sheen of sweat I could see on his brow, even despite the camera footage being shaky and grainy.

The news footage showed Tony - Iron Man, soaring contentedly through the darkening skies and taking out the squirmy mass of tentacles with his plasma beam repulsors. Steve and Bucky and Loki appeared too, sporadically, being well-oiled murder machines. Nothing new.

Yet, I worried. The little worm of doubt was squirming full-force. I tried to ignore it, yet pacing, sitting and playing Candy Crush got me nowhere. I pestered Friday to order pizza, the team's usual post-mission order plus a large one for me - stress-eating was better than stress-popping-molly in a tower full of superheroes. It took some courage to admit to myself I'd gotten attached enough to be this much from running away from all that in a blind panic.

And it would be the best option for them, really, because they had much sensible things to worry about than me. Yet every time, my selfishness won against even the most logical arguments I presented. I hated fighting myself but it was all I did - not only I was in love with Tony, I loved him.

Even when he forgot about my existence for five days, to emerge from his workshop with a new piece of tech that revolutionised one or another or something else. I loved him when he annoyed the ever living fuck out of everybody, me included, because I knew that it was hilarious to see people getting riled up over totally trivial shit. I loved Tony Stark when he ran away from his feelings, and everybody else's, because he never managed to run far enough. Or he didn't want to. I loved him, because he was like a multilayered puzzle, complex and captivating and beautiful.

I thought a lot about it, more than people would have noticed. For someone as selfish and goal-oriented as me, Tony lived in my head rent-free most of the time. And nobody would find out if I had the choice because let's face it, I'm a short cameo in his life. I'm a fuckin' catch and even then, I can't expect to hold his attention forever. His genius is too brilliant to settle for one when he could easily have the whole damn world.

Another hour consisted of me pacing and accompanying the pizza delivery boys to the common floor. It was hilarious - they were obviously star-struck about walking the same carpet as their heroes. I could see the faint hope of meeting one of the Avengers in their eyes, their posture. All they got was me - in my sweatpants, Tony's tee and no bra. My tits got the attention they deserved, at least.

My lounging was interrupted by a golden circle noisily appearing in the middle of the room, followed by Clint abruptly falling through it with a pained moan. I froze, the pizza in my mouth turning to ash - Strange poked his head through the hole in space, finding my eyes. He looked exhausted.

"Help him, I don't have much time," He breathed and disappeared, closing the portal behind himself.

The pizza piece flew back in the box as I stumbled, jumped over the headrest, kneeling beside Clint in no time. "Bird, tell me what hurts," I demanded. Not that I had a clue what to do. I mean, I knew basic first aid and...

"My leg," He gritted out, curling in on himself. Fear flooded me, limbs turning to lead. Hawk had a good pain tolerance, I knew he could break an arm and not utter a single syllable until he thought it safe to showcase his vulnerability. "That squid motherfucker stung me, I don't know. My whole body is on fire," His speech was slurred.

I nodded, deciding to limit the touching to only the necessary actions. The leg of his pants was torn and the wound itself was shaped like a whip mark, thin and red and angry. It oozed a yellowish pus-like substance, it smelled bitter, almost like stale water and seaweed salad. I didn't know much about aliens but jellyfish stings, I could work with. A short Google check later, I had an approximate plan.

"Friday, run diagnostics." I ordered, taking a deep breath and filing away the fear, the panic and anxiety for later.

"Mr. Barton has a wound that appears to be contaminated with an unknown chemical that is causing an adverse reaction. The elevated body temperature suggests that his immune system is fighting it. I would suggest a blood test to examine the offending specimens."

A blood draw? I could do that. I definitely, absolutely, could do that.

"Bird, Clint, did you hear that?" I gently touched his shoulder only for him to recoil from my hand, muttering unintelligibly. "Pretty bird, I'm going to help you. Let me." My bedside manner needed improvement - with brain running a mile a minute, I babbled utter nonsense as Friday directed me to the needed supplies. Getting the blood was a feat on it's own - I had to physically sit on top of Clint to get but a tiny vial of the red liquid.

A few tears escaped the emotional fortress I had to build within myself. Clint was in so, so much pain - pain I was inadvertently making worse by touching him. I sprinted to Bruce's lab, feeding the sample to be analysed by Friday, tearing through the room in a hurricane. First aid kit, IV, saline, antibiotics. Restraints, too, just in case.

"Analysis complete. The contaminant appears to be acting similarly to a parasitic infection with a short life-span. Primarily feeds on copper, iron and various metals contained in the human body. Does not appear to reproduce or multiply, my algorithms cannot determine the cause of said behaviour. Calculating..." Friday's mechanical voice paused. "I have calculated the approximate duration of Mr. Barton's symptoms. Onset of critical stage in one to three hours. Complete extinction of parasitic organisms in approximately sixty hours."

"Fri, do you think I have a chance of saving Clint before he goes crazy from pain? And have you figured out what's causing it?" My brain was all over the place.

"I have the best faith in you, miss." The AI sounded almost... Comforting? "I am still running multiple diagnostics. My algorithms suggest the organisms may be attacking the nerve endings - reason unclear."

An idea struck me. A crazy, brash, absurd idea. The pathogen was alien and we didn't have antibiotics to kill it. Even if I gave Clint some sort of medicine, it could go awry really really quickly. Besides, wasn't there a medical team for this..?

"Friday, alert the medical suite."

"Request denied. Per Mr. Stark's protocols, only Sir himself and Dr. Banner are authorized to request medical assistance in case of alien pathogen contamination."

"Fuck. Fuck, that makes no fuckin' sense!" I yelled helplessly. "Okay, do you have blood matching Clint's type laying around?" I asked sarcastically. This protocol pissed me off. What was Tony scared of? That someone would steal alien germs? Too late for that, there were plenty of samples all over the sidewalks downtown.

"A-positive, blue refrigerator, top shelf." Friday's answer was curt.

My hands shook. My whole body shook. Clint was laying in fetal position right where I'd left him and the man wasn't looking better - he became paler, dark circles under his eyes, clammy sweat breaking on every exposed part of his skin. Moving him was out of the question - Clint violently recoiled from me once I tried to touch him.

Reluctantly, I dragged the dining room chairs and piled up whatever heavy things I could on top of them, praying to every god that they would hold a trained man trash around in pain. Then, came the restraints. Belts with clips unlike one could see in a movie with a psych ward. I fumbled with them, then with Clint - very slowly, but I got both of his arms fastened and the man rolled onto his back.

"Wwhat... S'appening..?" Hawk finally slurred, cracking his eyes to see my (probably) disheveled and panicked face.

"This is going to hurt, I won't lie. A lot," I rambled, setting up the tools needed for both a blood draw and a blood transfusion. "I'm not a doctor. I'm not a scientist. You have alien parasites in your blood. I'm going to get rid of em," I announced, not mentioning the fact that I had to Google all the things I was going to do to him.

"S'okay, I trust you," Clint slurred again, moving about much more weakly than before. The tips of his fingers began to turn blue and the blood vessels on his face stood out in a pink-purple web. Not good.

My finest thinking moment: laying out some tarp around the archer and putting on gloves and a mask to minimize the possibility of getting infected. I started with the wound first, carefully wiping away the yellowish goop and immediately sealing it into a biohazard container. Some alcohol around the edges, the wound began emanating a faint wisp of smoke as Clint yelled hoarsely. I didn't even react - man, aliens and their germs were fuckin' weird.

Another biohazard container traveled next to Clint's arm. I had a disposable scalpel in one hand and my courage in another - it was now or never. The vein I was cutting was a minor one, but with Clint's body in total disarray, it was an ugly fountain of pinkish-purple liquid that spurted from it. I was no doctor but blood shouldn't have looked like that.

I stared at the timer on my phone. Twenty seconds, thirty, fifty. Eighty seconds, the blood was beginning to have more of a red hue. Clint's breathing slowed, tremors subsiding by a smidgen. One hundred and eighty seconds, the stream was a healthy deep red colour. With a swift motion, I wrapped up the wound, folded his arm, tied off the blood flow higher up his arm with a spare restraint. Clint wasn't moving much anymore; my hand that periodically checked his pulse shook but dutifully did it's job. His heart was working steady.

Compared to having to drain a friend of his blood, setting up the IV with a transfusion was a walk in the park. My mind was empty of any thoughts but for the actions needed to complete the process.

The container with contaminated blood, closed, sealed and put in a plastic bag, along with the gloves and the tarp. My own exposed flesh, meticulously scrubbed with alcohol until the skin became red and raw. All the instruments, Clint's pants, my clothes - in the bag.

The archer himself was laying still, his breathing steady and calm, face no longer looking like he was one step away from the grave. After undoing the restraints, I wiped down every surface we touched with Tony's vodka - rubbing alcohol had run out and I was too emotionally drained to go downstairs and leave Clint for too long. Whenever the booze collided with a stray drop of blood, a wispy smoke emerged. Such an interesting reaction. Part of me couldn't wait to examine the phenomena together with Bruce. The other part was considering the possibility of having a panic attack in a seafood restaurant.

"Fri, keep an eye- a sensor on Clint for me, will ya? I need a shower and some pants," I denounced tiredly, padding to the communal shower. I found respite, however brief, under the steam for a few minutes. Then I found Tony's old tee and a pair of someone's sweats - I didn't care whose. Post-stress adrenaline shivers had me feeling stark naked in the middle of Alaska despite the room being a toasty, comfortable temperature according to the digital thermostat.

Now I just had to think about what to tell the team.

Propping Clint's head on a decorative pillow and covering him with a soft fleece blanket was the least I could have done for the long suffering archer. The floor was hard but I sat next to him, running a hand through his matted hair, my brain an incomprehensible mess.

✨ TAGLIST OF MY LOVELIES (OPEN) ✨

@another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x y/n #stephen strange x y/n #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x reader

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dxvilmanlev · 3 years ago

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Can i get one piece match up please? Also any gender is fine.

I'm female she/her pronouns; 5'8 tall; zodiac sign: leo; idk if it matters but I'm white; i have short light brow hair and dark brown ayes; beauty mark on tip of my nose, chin, under my left aye, and on my right cheek.

Most of the time I'm pretty laid back and chill but i can be irritatated easily, i won't get violent but i will use your insecurities against you in arguments.

[when i do get physical I'm pretty violent but that's rare case of scenario]

I'm what you call mom friend in my friends group, cautious one, responsible one and i have pretty good advices too. I'm very good listener, i won't judge you and i won't pity you either. I'm pretty mature but i can be bubbly and outgoing when i want to be.

I'm ambivert, not necessarily shy but not social butterfly either.

I like: cats, snakes, animals in general; spicy food; horror [movies, animes, books, mangas] psychology, fantasy; playing volleyball; drawing; listening to music;

I dislike: rats, dogs; sweets; romance movies[i hate romance movies but i enjoy books] people who break promises.

My friends describe me as straight forward, honest, responsible, sarcastic and confident;

I have insomnia [i sleep once in every 28 hour for 4 hours; not even pills help] and i struggle with showing some of my emotions [for exemple i dislike crying in front of others, shoving others I'm stressed, insecure or nervous about something, my friends and family know me as someon who is confident in herself, finishs everything she starts, good at her studies and e.c.t; I don't want to disappoint them and i think it's embarrassing] i like dealing problems on my own.

I enjoy joking around with my friends [most of my jokes are offensive, about anime or sexual btw]

I cringe at everytime some pats my head or compliments me [i dislike unnecessary compliments] I don't mind PDA, I'm good at remembering other likes and dislikes or even embarrassing moments, I'm good at planning [those plans are usually about how to get closer to certain person or skipping school without getting scolded from either my pharents or teacher; i have 100% succeed] when i say skipping school it may seem like i dislike studying or i have bad grades but besides math i have straight A's and B's in everything [chemistry and physics are only subjects i have B's in]

Fun fact: i have hands fetish; I'm more into pretty boys;

I enjoy watching murder documentaries

My love languages are teasing and acts of service.

Of course! and Im sorry this one took me so long

Here’s Your Match

I Match you with…

Nami!

- i just can see you to being cute together

- she admires your confidence and honesty

- i see her as the type to not give many compliments unless she’s being sincere so when she does she really means it

- will only come to you when your upset if you need her, she knows your strong

You were sat up in bed, having trouble sleeping, when Nami knocked on your door.

“Chopper made some medicine that may help you sleep.” She said walking towards your bed.

“You think it might work.” You asked.

“Well chopper made it with you in mind, so i think so.” She smiled.

“Even if it doesn’t, i still get to cuddle you.” You laughed.

She handed you the medicine allowing you to take it. So you did, grabbing your water and taking it.

“Now come cuddle.” You said pulling her down into the bed.

She squealed, lightly laughing. You cuddled up next to her, giving her cheek a light kiss. She played with your hair as you slowly fell asleep.

Matchups are Closed

#one piece #one piece match up #op nami #nami #lev’s match ups🤍

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cle1024 · 5 years ago

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save me, save you | hhj

member: hwang hyunjin

genre: angst, fluff

summary: getting involved with the mafia was certainly not something you aimed to do in life―it was something you would’ve gratefully avoided, you much preferred breathing and living peacefully. yet, somehow, meeting him made the danger worth it. mafia!au, gang!au, fem!reader

warnings: mentions of murder, violence, drugs, swearing

a/n: so uh,, i know nothing about saving someone’s life or fixing up a stab/bullet wound, and i also wasn’t taught much about human anatomy, so there WILL be inaccuracies in the medical scenes. i apologise in advance and i guess this is a cringe warning for anyone who is actually educated on those situations, i dropped out of science so can’t relate. i started this not long after miroh dropped i could just never be bothered to finish it until recently, but third hyunjin fanfic in a row here we come!!!!!!

There was no doubt in your mind that Felix Lee was your best friend and always had been.

The two of you grew up near one another, subsequently attending school together for the majority of your lives. It was the third day of school when the freckled boy approached you, tanned skin and dark hair, but a bright smile and sparkly eyes.

“My name is Felix, let’s be friends!”

“Okay.”

Life by Felix’s side was enjoyable, content. Life was normal. And so, when Felix broke the news that he was moving to South Korea, you were understandably devastated. Though, you knew how much it meant to Felix: getting more in touch with his culture, family, and pursuing his studies more seriously and competitively. Nonetheless, despite all the pain and upset you felt, you supported his decision and maintained contact with him.

That was six years ago when Felix left. Now, you’d both graduated from high school, Felix had acquired a stable job (that’s all he would tell you about it), and you were applying for an international studies program. You had no interest in the program initially, but your local universities had less than stellar resources for the course you wanted to study, and your teachers had constantly reassured that you were smart enough for a more prestigious institution elsewhere in the world. That and the fact the program meant your tuition would cost much less. You hadn’t expected to be accepted into the program, nor did you expect to receive a letter from the prestigious Seoul National University accepting your enrolment, yet you sat there with the printed letter in front of your awestruck face. It was only natural that you immediately text Felix—you told each other, almost, everything and he lived in Seoul, this could be the reunion you’d joked about when he first left.

| so i got accepted into seoul national university | but i don’t speak good korean | lix: LMAO ME NEITHER HOLY FUCK

Twelve months had passed since that message was sent. Your were almost fluent in speaking Korean, you much preferred just listening to it and speaking English with Felix. A sigh escaped your lips as you trudged to your apartment door, exhaustion racked your body from the unbearable demand of studying medical science. You tried to convince yourself it would pay off, but you weren’t certain yet. Perhaps when you sit your exams you’ll find out. Exams. Why did you have to think that up? It drew a small groan from your mouth as you shoved the key into your apartment door, prepared to fall face first into the couch and complain to the air. Though your desires could not be fulfilled. Sitting on the very couch you intended to fall into was Felix, twirling a swiss army knife twirl around his right fingers as he watched his phone intently. There was also a gun on the coffee table. Someone’s gun was on your coffee table. You had a lot running through your mind, many questions and minor concerns about why the fuck Felix had illicit weaponry in your house, but all you managed to say was, “oh.” The boy obviously hadn’t heard you come in, his head snapping up and his fingers halting their twirling. Looking in your eyes, he felt obligated to tell you everything.

“That means I’m, basically, part of the mafia,” he paused to lick his lips, “we don’t sell weapons to the wrong people or kill for money. It’s more about… corruption and the occasional cocaine,” he summed up gently. You could definitively say it was the wildest fucking thing Felix had ever said to you, and you’d had some pretty odd conversations at two in the morning. As far as you knew, his job was stable and high paying, but you didn’t know it was completely and utterly illegal. Most sane people would flip their shit in this situation, cut off ties with Felix and shove him—along with all his weapons—out of the apartment. You didn’t react that way, and you weren’t sure whether it was because you were far too open-minded or because you had slowly lost your mind over time and become desensitised to any sort of shocking news.

“Oh.”

Felix chewed on his lip as you processed the information, clasping and unclasping his hands. He prepared for the worst, but you simply shrugged, “okay.”

Felix was beyond bewildered, “y-you’re not mad? Or scared?” Your eyes softened at his questioning.

“Felix, why would I be mad? It’s your life, do whatever you want with it. Your job doesn’t change the fact you’re a freckled sook who cried when you made your ramen too spicy.”

“Okay, that was one time,” you laughed at his defensive expression and that was enough to break the facade completely. The two of you laughed for a little while until Felix’s face returned to a more serious expression, “Y/N, I promise you, you’re in no danger whatsoever. The golden rule in this district is to leave innocent people out of it, regardless of how much someone fucked you over. If anyone, and I mean anyone, does anything that alarms you or threatens you, you call me right away. Understand?”

A soft smile stretched across your face at his concern, “of course I will,” Felix breathed a sigh of relief. If anything happened to you, especially at the fault of his job, he’d never forgive himself. To him, family came before his own safety; you were his unbiological sibling and he would always protect you as best as he could.

It was all fine and dandy until someone broke that rule. Your eyes stung with exhaustion, the bright screen of your laptop glared at you as you tiredly read the words displayed on the screen. There was nothing you craved more at the moment than sleep; you seemed to be craving that a lot since you came to Korea. At first, you thought the distant sound of a doorknob being wobbled was one of your neighbours. It was a Friday night—or Saturday morning, you supposed—they’d probably gone out, got shit-faced and stumbled back home, having forgotten how to unlock a door. But then the noise stopped, a door squeaked open and was gently shut. You heard the door click back into place, and that’s when things started to feel off. It sounded too close to be next door—now that you thought about it, neither of your neighbours would even be out at this time. Perhaps it was Felix, he had often complained about how shitty the door to your apartment was. With a stretch of your arms and legs momentarily you pushed yourself from the bed, creeping towards your bedroom door. The cool metal of the doorknob brushed against your skin, seconds away from being opened when a series of crashes sounded from the small living room on the other side of the door. Felix may be clumsy, he may sit up too quickly and hit his head on tables, but he rarely managed to break anything in the process—if he did then the sound was followed with a string of English curses, but cuss words never came. You were starting to believe it was Felix. With all the courage you could muster, you opened the bedroom door and stood shocked at the scene in front of you. A vase lay broken on the floor—crash one. Your white sofa had been tipped backwards, the cushions scattered the floor. The coffee table had been overturned, candles left strewn on the floor. Your porcelain plate, which had previously sat by the sink, was attempting to escape the kitchen in hundreds of pieces—crash two. The wooden shelving unit diagonal to your bedroom had been tipped over, all your picture frames smashed into dangerous shards of glass—crash three. The chest of drawers near your bedroom door had been left untouched for the time being, a photo of you and Felix at seven years old perfectly intact. In the midst of chaos, a man stood with a black ski mask covering his face. All you could see where his ominous brown eyes, staring right back at you. It felt like you were staring into a dark pool, full of mystery yet devoid of emotion or sense of reality. It seemed to happen in an instant; one minute you were standing there in an intense stare off, the next you had been shoved against the wall of your living room right next to your bedroom door, your phone falling from your free hand in the process. His glove-clad hand wrapped securely around your throat, the pressure of his fingers increasing to cut off your air supply once and for all. You clawed at him, but you already knew it was no use. He was twice the size of you, had the upper hand, and had already weakened you significantly. You’d already accepted that you were destined to die at some point, everyone was, but you’d always secretly prayed that you’d get to say goodbye first. You didn’t want to leave without telling your parents you loved them, or telling your friends back home that they were some of the greatest people you’d ever met, or just saying a simple ‘cya’ to Felix, as you always did. Felix. The memory struck you like lightning as your vision started to spot slightly. When he confessed to you about his career, made that promise of protection, he had purposefully left something behind.

“Take this,” Felix said as he held the swiss army knife towards you.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“If you ever need to defend yourself and I can’t, for some reason, use it.”

You’d made the wise decision to hide it in your living room, behind that picture of you and Felix. If you could stretch your arm just a little further, you could grab the red covering. Your fingers strained as you held out for the weapon, head lifting up as your vision worsened. The sharp metal tickled at your fingers, causing you to desperately snatch the weapon up. You used all the coherence you had left, swiftly flicking the knife out of the plastic covering. Your vision was blurred, severely, and you could feel yourself losing consciousness. Just a little longer. With all the strength you could muster, you brought the blade upwards, taking no notice of where you stabbed him. A grunt left his lips, followed by some choked gasps. His hand unlatched from your neck to grab his own. You fell to your knees, wheezing for oxygen desperately, taking deep breaths as you coughed and gasped. Your eyes traveled downwards, catching sight of the red. There was blood all along the knife, staining your fingers. The man lay ahead of you on his back, blood spilling from his throat as he twitched and choked up the metallic substance. It was all over the floor around him. You could tell you’d caught an artery. In desperation, you tugged the purple hoodie from your shoulders, holding it against the man’s open neck wound. It seemed to get harder to breathe, even without the hand working to restrict your. Hands shaking, covered in the man’s crimson blood, tears streamed down your face. With the absence of your purple hoodie, now stained with the blood of someone else, the cold air nipped at your exposed skin. There were some red smears on your once white singlet. Why was there so much red? The shaking of your hands only worsened as you crawled to sit against the wall, hand reaching for the cellphone you’d dropped in the commotion. You only needed one person right now. The phone didn’t ring for long.

“Y/N, what’s up?” Felix spoke calmly through the phone, blissfully unaware. A sob forced up your throat as you tried to talk.

“F-Felix, I killed someone. Oh, God, I killed someone,” your voice came out between broken sobs. You could imagine Felix standing up in a panic, gathering his shit and furrowing his eyebrows.

“What do you mean? Where are you?”

“I-I’m at home, someone came in and I didn’t know what was happening and I-I stabbed him, Felix I sta-”

“Hey, take a deep breath, okay? I’m on my way right now, don’t move,” you nodded in response, knowing fully well that Felix couldn’t see you. Mumbling an okay, you ended the call.

Felix gently pushed open the door, ushering in the others. Chan, Minho and Changbin had insisted on coming along with Felix, worried someone else could be lurking and waiting for Felix to enter your apartment block. The apartment was in disarray: furniture tipped, photo frames shattered, a plate thrown carelessly like a toy. A body surrounded by blood, and Felix’s childhood friend sitting against the wall behind it, shaking. The purple material of your hoodie was stained, noticeably so, laying across your legs haphazardly. Felix rushed forward, crouching to your level and pulling you into his chest. The others watched from a few feet away, uncertain of what to say or do.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” Felix cooed as sobs wracked your form. He swayed you gently, petting your hair to calm you down. The youngest turned his attention towards the other boys once your sobs quietened slightly, “Minho, can you take Y/N back down to the car? We’ll be down in a minute,” Minho nodded silently, gently walking towards you to scoop you up in his arms, the hoodie remaining bundled up on your legs. Neither of you said a word once you entered the car. Minho peeled the cover up from your lap, slightly gagging at the toxic iron scent of the blood. He gently take your hands in his as he washed off as much blood as he could with a white cloth and water bottle. Your mind was evidently elsewhere.

Chan and Felix returned to the car ten minutes later after thoroughly searching for stolen possessions. Chan filled Minho in on the details, hoping you’d gain some closure from hearing them, “he was from NCT, had some silver bracelets and their wallet shoved in his bag. Changbin called Woojin, they’ll put everything back in place,” Minho nodded softly as Felix opened up the car door on your other side. The car starts as Felix takes one of your hands in his, the red stains faded to a lighter tone. You seemed to take no notice, staring blankly at the car’s console in front of you.

It was late, or early depending on how you see it. Red lines illuminated in formation of the time, 3:36am. The car had pulled up in front of a dark house in a quieter area of Seoul, yet still off one of the main roads. You concluded that it was only quiet because of the ungodly time, otherwise there would be cars cramming the streets, honking left and right. Chan exited the car first, purposefully closing the door gently to not alarm or shock you, Minho following suit. Felix opened his door, tugging your hand gently to encourage you to leave the vehicle. It was as if you were on autopilot. Blood splattered legs moved on their own as the green hoodie Minho had leant you protected your arms from the chilling night air, Felix’s arm slipped around your waist to support you as you walked into the house. He noticed that Woojin’s car was missing from the street; he wondered how long it would take Woojin and Changbin to fix up your apartment. As you stepped foot inside the quiet house, it revealed itself to be much larger than you initially thought. The kitchen was furthest from you, a spiral staircase to the right that led you both upstairs and downstairs, a hallway that trailed off from the left side of the living room. The living room was cozy and inhabited by two boys packing cocaine. Lovely.

“Hey ma- what the fuck?” The smaller of the two, a brunette boy with chubby cheeks, spoke as he raised his head to greet the returning members. The other boy, with lighter brown hair, almost a dirty blonde, mirrored the other’s confusion. Neither had expected to see a random person with bloody hands, legs and absent eyes being guided through the house by Felix. The freckled boy didn’t stop to greet them, immediately guiding you upstairs to wash off in the bathroom. The two boys immediately understood the severity of the situation, but they still craved for answers.

“NCT went after them. All they did was defend themselves from death,” Chan spoke firmly, his eyebrows slightly curved in a mix of sympathy and fury.

Jisung’s eyebrows furrowed, “but we don’t go after innocent people?”

Chan huffed in response, “clearly NCT had other plans. Where’s Seungmin?”

“Basement. Jeongin’s there too,” Hyunjin spoke as he turned his attention back to the white substance on the coffee table. Chan nodded firmly before leaving, Minho falling onto the empty couch across from the two boys to stretch his tired limbs. Hyunjin sat with furrowed eyebrows, staring at the table intensely.

“Hyunjin, you good?” Minho questioned in concern.

“Yeah, just… something feels off about this.”

Jisung huffed a laugh, “well, yeah, NCT just broke a golden rule.”

“That’s the point, why would they?” Jisung had suddenly lost interest in the business transaction being organised on the table, Minho sitting up in curiosity. Hyunjin flickered his eyes to the staircase momentarily, “you know how anal they are about maintaining that rule. Taeyong made the damn rule after…” Hyunjin trailed off as all eyes lowered solemnly, no one wanted to utter her name. They all knew how much it hurt Taeyong when she was murdered, everyone was hurt, shocked. There was no reason to bring up old pain, “why would they break it now?” Minho tilted his head as he wandered over the possibilities, Jisung put his focus back on the white substance with a sigh.

“Whatever the reason, Chan will make them pay,” his nimbled hands continued with his previous work, “no fucking doubt.”

Chan stood as Taeyong entered the cafe, bowing and shaking hands before sitting down again. It was better to meet in a public setting, less likely for emotions and irrationality to get the better of anyone involved. The older ran a hand through his fiery red hair in frustration, “what happened?”

Chan lowered his voice cautiously, “Felix’s friend, Y/N... one of your men tried to kill them this past Friday.”

Taeyong moved forward in his seat, leaning his elbows on the table with narrowed eyes, “what are you talking about?”

“Ji Hansol broke into their apartment and almost killed an innocent person. One of your men broke the golden rule.”

“Where is he?” Taeyong was evidently furious; that rule was the one thing he drilled into his employees’ minds.

“Dead. It was either him or them.”

Taeyong shook his head in disbelief, “if they hadn’t have already killed him I would’ve done it myself,” he paused abruptly, eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement, “wait—Ji Hansol?” Chan nodded, “how is that possible? He’s meant to be in China.”

Chan mirrored Taeyong’s look of confusion, “then what the hell was he doing here?”

Taeyong sighed, “as suspicious as it looks, I swear on her life that NCT was not behind this in any way. I’ll get the documents to prove he wasn’t meant to be here, I’ll help you get to the bottom of this, I’ll do whatever I can,” his voice softened significantly, “no innocent person deserves to die.”

Lee Taeyong, as intimidating as he could be, was truly a weakened man. Behind the eyebrow slit, dark narrowed eyes, fiery red hair and commanding presence, he was a grieving lover, a leader of men who could die under his call. Chan knew he hadn’t lived the same experiences as the older, but he understood the fear that plagued him. The fear of losing everything, everyone—the only difference was that Taeyong had already experienced that when she died. Seulgi had done such a good job at keeping Taeyong together, but in doing so she became the only thing that could tear him apart.

No one had a clue as to why you were targeted to begin with. NCT had proven their lack of involvement, none of Chan’s gang — which you’d come to know as ‘Stray Kids’ — had done anything to provoke Hansol, and he clearly wasn’t here to give an explanation. Seungmin had spent weeks researching the man, with the occasional help of Jeongin when he wasn’t at school or using an innocent childlike facade to coax information. After just over two months, Seungmin had finally found out what happened. During that time, you hadn’t left the guest room unless it was absolutely necessary. Felix and Changbin had returned to your apartment the day after the break-in to collect the belongings you’d need most desperately; none of them wanted you returning to the apartment until there was an answer.

Seungmin’s chair swivelled around to face Chan and Taeyong in the doorway, “Voler.”

“What?”

“It’s French for ‘steal’ apparently,” Seungmin gestured his pen towards his desk, “it’s also the name of a huge hitman and robbery scheme across Asia. It’s believed to have stemmed from the Yakuza, but nothing’s confirmed. Our dear Hansol happened to be a loyal member.”

Taeyong shook his head in disbelief, “I-I don’t understand, how could he betray us like that?”

Seungmin sighed softly, “it paid very high, mainly because the stakes were so high. That doesn’t matter though, we’ve got a bigger problem on our hands now,” Seungmin’s hands sifted through the scattered information on his desk, a small noise of triumph leaving his soft lips once he retrieved the piece he was looking for, “they’ve got a base in Ilsandong-gu, Hansol was stationed at that specific base-”

“Which means they were more likely to have involvement in Y/N’s robbery,” Chan voiced earning a satisfied nod from Seungmin. The curly-haired man turned to Taeyong, “you in?”

Taeyong eyed the younger two momentarily, “without a fucking doubt.”

Woojin grunted slightly as he supported Hyunjin with his left arm. They all knew the dangers this mission presented, but none of them quite preempted severe injury. Everything had been going to plan; Changbin sniped the first man who presented himself, Minho snuck up on the second, then all hell broke loose. There was blood everywhere, gunshots whizzing past barricades left and right, it was pure chaos. Hyunjin had been grappling with a rival member, trying to gain dominance in order to reach for the gun abandoned beside the two. He had almost reached it when the other forced a knife through his abdomen towards the upper right of his belly button. Changbin took the chance to shoot the perpetrator in the head after noticing the situation, desperately signalling to Woojin. Soon, all of SKZ were alerted of Hyunjin’s state, covering Woojin from gunfire as he half-dragged half-carried Hyunjin out of the warehouse.

When you heard the door burst open, the last thing you expected to see was a groaning Hyunjin leaning on Woojin for support. You saw the blood staining his shirt, pouring from his abdomen, causing your stomach to churn and rid of the desire to eat the sandwich you’d just made. You hardly knew Hyunjin, or Woojin, or any of SKZ except for Felix, but you knew where your morals lied. If there was a man bleeding out in front of you, you’d do everything you could to save his life. There’s no denying that you didn’t have extreme confidence in your medical ability, at least in terms of operating on dying people, but you put that aside in the moment. You knew how the human body worked and how to save it, all you had to do was not fuck up in the process. Instantly, you snap into action, trailing behind Woojin towards their designated medical room. The only time you’d entered the room was when Felix forced you inside so Woojin could properly check the bruises on your neck. You had taken notice of the lack of anesthesia or oxygen masks to be used in desperate situations—Felix had once told you that Woojin always patched them up, but he also told you that no one had ever been fatally wounded.

Woojin’s panic was evident in the way he hastily laid Hyunjin down on the operating table, eyes darting around frantically. With quick steps, you moved beside Woojin, “get a cloth or something to put in his mouth, it’ll muffle the screams,” the older nodded quickly. You turned your attention back to Hyunjin—he was paler than usual, sweating and groaning, his condition was only worsening. As soon as Woojin had shoved the cloth in his mouth you proceeded, ordering him to hold Hyunjin down to the best of his ability. You were glad Woojin was strong; Hyunjin would be in a hell of a lot of pain. Hyunjin’s neck tensed as you placed a hand on the knife’s handle, grunting slightly at the movement. You took a deep breath, laying a hand on his abdomen for support as you removed the knife from him as quickly as you could. A pained scream tore from Hyunjin’s throat, guttural and haunting. The cloth had done little to muffle the sound. Your hands applied pressure to the wound, frantically working to halt the bleeding before it was too late, all the while Woojin promised he would treat Hyunjin to a free meal if he got through the pain.

Hyunjin’s chest raised up and down peacefully as he slept in the white bed of the medical room. After screaming and groaning his way through the process of getting stitches, he haphazardly downed a glass of water before falling asleep. You found it difficult to monitor whether the boy had made it or not due to the lack of heart monitor, the peaceful sounds of his breathing would have to do for now.

“I can’t thank you enough, Y/N, really,” Woojin spoke warmly. You’d have previous assumptions about the mafia and gangs, mainly based on Hollywood flicks that dramatised the career choice, but the nine boys seemed to throw those all out the window. Woojin had a nurturing and calming presence, Felix was playful and giving, that Minho guy who’d fixed you up that night was quiet and respectful. To be fair, the rest of them could have entirely fit the stereotype of the mafia, you just hadn’t interacted with them enough to find out. After the events that brought you here, you decided it would be best to just stay out of the way and keep to yourself—both for your benefit and theirs. You didn’t want to interrupt what they had going on and you didn’t want to interact with anyone. With a polite smile you nodded your head, unsure of how to respond to Woojin.

Chan stood in the doorway as you laid the damp cloth on Hyunjin’s head. Two days had passed since the stabbing and you’d devoted all your time to helping Hyunjin—you figured it would be a good way to repay them for letting you stay here, and you were the most qualified to do so. Hyunjin wanted nothing more than to get back to work but his body simply refused. Exhaustion wracked his limbs when he was awake and every time he attempted to sit up, let alone stand, his head felt like a bowling ball and weighed him back down. He’d fallen asleep not long ago, before Chan came to check on him. You weren’t aware of the older’s presence until he spoke up, startling you into a flinch of fright.

“Thank you for doing this.”

You half-smiled at him, “it’s okay.”

The male sighed gently before walking into the room, the click of the door shutting behind him sliced through the room’s air. You felt his presence beside you as you refused to meet his gaze—he was far too intimidating even by just standing there, “I’m sorry you got dragged into all of this,” his voice was gentler than before. Soft, calm, genuine—he probably wouldn’t fit the stone cold stereotype set by Vito Corleone in The Godfather, “we’ll figure out a safer place for you to go, but, in the meantime, just let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. I truly am sorry that you got dragged into this.”

You turned your head in order to meet Chan’s gaze. It was soft, genuine, and almost broken. You got the feeling that he didn’t enter this lifestyle willingly, that he knew exactly what it was like to suddenly be affiliated with a lifestyle you had little to no prior knowledge about. Chan wasn’t here by choice, but he stuck by it. He followed through with what fate served him and he built an empire from it, he found a family to live through the darkest of days. You admired that more than he could know, “I will. Thank you for what you’ve done.”

Chan didn’t voice it, but he saw your arrival as a potential opportunity. You were familiar with medicine and how to properly patch someone up after they receive a life-threatening injury. Rather than losing two fighters when someone is injured, surely it would be better to have a designated nurse who could stick to the job, instead of forcing Woojin to rush through life-saving surgery in order to make it back to a mission in time to drive everyone back to the house. Chan knew it was a desperate deal, stupid and selfish in all honesty, but your arrival could’ve been a long-term blessing in disguise. After all, Chan’s life had been largely riddled with bad luck, perhaps karma had finally taken mercy on him.

At least a month had passed since the incident—you really had no concept of time in this place—and Hyunjin was slowly, but surely, recovering with no sign of infection. You’d also seen his bare abdomen one too many times at this point since he insists on being shirtless―he avidly insists “it’ll be easier than fucking up my shirt.” Aside from monitoring his recovery and trying not to stare at his perfectly sculpted abdomen, you’d began to form a good bond with Hyunjin during your time together. You never talked to him until the incident, mainly because you never had a reason to leave the room you were staying in, and you couldn’t deny you were slightly mad with yourself for not conversing sooner. He was entertaining to talk to, a little bit of a drama queen sometimes, yet intelligent and open-minded. Hyunjin had a good mix of personality traits, you slightly envied him for such. Surely conversing with someone like yourself was bland and repetitive.

Of course it was unbeknownst to you, but that couldn’t be further from the truth; Hyunjin had taken an interest in you since you began caring for him. All he had known about you prior to your care was that you and Felix had been good friends for a while, you were studying at university, and your shit got rocked by someone you didn’t even know―it was an unfortunate turn to say the least. The fact it happened to you made Hyunjin curse the forces that caused it; there was no reason for you to be dragged into this kind of unforgiving, inescapable lifestyle when you had a heart of gold. He could vividly recall the conversation that prompted the revelation, it must’ve been two or more weeks into his recovery.

“I assume you study nursing or something, right?”

“Medical science, but close enough,” you shrugged nonchalantly.

“Why medical science instead of becoming a doctor or something?”

“We all die one day, I’d rather help find a cure for something than force people to suffer through it slowly.”

Hyunjin hadn’t known how to respond to that, so he didn’t, but it resonated with him. The whole reason he’d joined the business, this kind of inescapable lifestyle, was to earn enough money to pay for better treatment for his mother. He got close, really damn close, but he just didn’t get there in time. The first non-business phone call he got was to inform him about his mother’s passing, he hadn’t received another since.

It was evident to Hyunjin, and every other member, that you were incredibly smart―a fact Felix would boast as if it was his own. Your skills, mainly in the science field, could come in useful to the gang: you had a good medical understanding, knew which chemicals could do harm or hinder a person momentarily. Chan was intrigued by your abilities and more than willing to take you on board, but no one ever joined without the approval of every member. Gaining such had been a difficult task, with Felix insisting that he didn’t want to see you hurt or in harm’s way―his mind quickly changed when Jeongin asked “wouldn’t it be just like a sleepover?” Hyunjin wasn’t as easy to persuade. He didn’t share the fact he was hesitant, but he didn’t need to. It was written all over his symmetrical face.

Truthfully, Hyunjin had grown a little too close to you during his recovery, obliviously until he had a startling epiphany. You were the last thing he saw when he fell asleep, the first thing he saw when he woke up. You cared for him more than yourself, it was evident in your under eye bags and weight loss ― to the point where he had refused to eat unless you were eating with him. When he looked at you, the evening sunset highlighting you perfectly and your hair unstyled, yet sitting neatly on your head, he knew he was in deep. Regarding his feelings, he had two concerns: whether you felt the same way, and whether Felix would be accepting of his feelings and approve him as a candidate for your love; he didn’t need the added possibility of you fucking dying to become the third concern. At the end of the day, he supposed it didn’t matter. Felix would never want anyone to hurt you, and even if he didn’t intend to, Hyunjin knew he would inevitably end up doing so.

When Chan proposed for you to join their gang, you were hesitant to say the least. For you, there was no desperate situation in which you needed cash quickly, no reason to put yourself in harm’s way. It was dangerous, Chan admitted that to your face, but he promised you consistent protection and a position that didn’t include staring down the barrel of a gun.

“Y/N, you’ve been here for four months already. How many times have you been hurt?”

You didn’t like his persuasiveness, or the fact he was right. Since you moved into their guest bedroom you’d felt safer, no longer feeling eyes follow you or whispers of your name in the middle of the night. There was a small part of you that wanted to decline the offer, return home to your apartment and never look in the eyes of Chan or Hyunjin ever again. Of course, that was only a small part of you. Although you hated to admit it, you knew you’d never be able to return to that apartment. Not without seeing the blood all over again, feeling the breath leave your lungs or hearing unexplainable noises elsewhere in the apartment. With a soft movement of your head, you agreed, “okay.”

Chan smiled with a strong nod, he was fond of you after all, as were the others in the group. It seemed that everyone was in support of the decision, especially your freckled friend who beamed as he exclaimed, “it’ll be like an eternal sleepover!”

“That sounds like a nightmare if you’re involved,” Seungmin deadpanned, but his stoic expression was quickly replaced by an amused smile at Felix’s pout. Though, everything wasn’t as it seemed. Hyunjin, as much as he wanted to be, wasn’t excited. You joining the gang ― regardless of whether you would be in the middle of the action ― meant seeing you everyday. Seeing you everyday meant realising how much he admired you. And admiring you meant he would only fall deeper. How could he tell anyone that, though? Such an objection would send a rift of embarrassment, discomfort, awkwardness through the house; everything would fall. There was no time for silly crushes. All he could do was admire you from afar and ache every time you walked away from him, completely oblivious to how he felt. When did he become so weak? Hyunjin didn’t like feeling vulnerable, and that’s exactly how you made him feel. With a soft sigh, he decided it would be better to just stay away.

It was a solid plan―for a month, until Hyunjin was injured again in a trade gone wrong. If he was being completely honest with himself, which he recently was not, the constant thought of you kept him from concentrating during the trade. He felt so out of it, blocking out the sounds of his non-biological brothers yelling as a bullet whizzed towards him. No, all he saw was the way you looked so ethereal in the light, the way you would always be just out of reach. All he could think about with you, there was no time to consider the scars being etched in his abdomen. Faintly, he could feel the burning in his chest, Chan’s arms dragging him away as bullets rang out from Changbin’s position on the roof. He didn’t register being put in the car, or Chan demanding he keep his eyes open with a hand pressed tightly against his chest. He could feel his feet dragging slightly as Chan and Woojin dragged him inside, the sight of Hyunjin’s pale face and bleeding chest forcing Seungmin, Minho and Jeongin to abandon their intense game of uno.

“Oh fuck, fuck, shit,” Chan and Woojin couldn’t find the time to scold Jeongin’s language, too concerned with the dying boy in their arms. Jeongin’s feet pounded up the stairs, throwing your door open and tugging you to the first aid room. The confusion on your features transformed to gut-wrenching worry as soon as you caught sight of Hyunjin, his shirt off and a cloth being stuffed in his mouth―you couldn’t tell whether it was Minho or Woojin who was holding him down while the other gathered the necessary equipment, everything seemed to blur as you jumped into action. You’d found someone willing to sell you, an unlicensed medical student, anesthesia, but it was due to arrive next week―just your luck. Chan’s hands clamped on Hyunjin’s legs, Seungmin turned away to avoid the gruesome sight, Jeongin lingered by the door.

“I’m sorry,” the words came out as a whisper as you took the scalpel from Woojin, slicing across where the bullet had entered. The entry hole was too small to get it out safety―who were you kidding, you weren’t even sure if you could get it out. The cloth only slightly muffled the pained groan Hyunjin let out, gosh, you wished that anesthesia could’ve come sooner. Screams of agony tore from his throat as tweezers worked to remove the bullet, the writhing of his legs causing anxiety to rise in your chest.

“Keep him still,” Woojin ordered. One sudden move and you’d live with the crushing guilt of knowing you let Hyunjin die. Hyunjin seemed to vaguely register Woojin’s words, opting to tense his muscles rather than squirm away from the pain. Seungmin covered his ears with a solemn expression while Jeongin looked away in discomfort, the shrill cries continuing. It was close, too close for your liking, to hitting Hyunjin in a fatal area or embedding deeply in his chest.

“I got it,” you mumbled as the bloody metal was dumped in the dish beside you. Woojin ushered everyone out of the room, Hyunjin’s screams of agony downgrading to groans.

“Give me a call if you need anything,” the oldest closed the door behind him. You heard the front door slam open and shut with frantic footsteps, marking the return of Felix, Changbin and Jisung. Words were calmly and indistinguishably spoken by Chan. Though, it didn’t matter what he was telling them, your priority was making sure Hyunjin wouldn’t cease breathing. His eyelids were fluttering shut from exhaustion, an action that would flare alarm in your chest.

“Please, don’t fall asleep.”

The cloth was removed from his mouth when it was over, your hand raking his hair away from his sweaty forehead, ridding of the uncomfortable sensation. A sigh passed your lips, voice soft as you spoke, “you need to stop making a habit out of this,” it was directed towards Hyunjin, but you weren’t sure he heard it.

Hyunjin wanted to respond, something flirty he could blame on his disorientation and pain, but you were already urging him to down some bottled water. As you cleaned the utensils, Hyunjin allowed his eyes to flutter closed, whispering a gentle “thank you, Y/N.”

Time passed without your acknowledgement; had it been weeks, months? It all blended together, you couldn’t be certain. Hyunjin was close to recovery, but not quite there. Frankly, you were getting tired of his occasional complaints about not “being in action”. Part of you hoped he’d stay out of action if it kept him safe, but you knew that wasn’t an option in this kind of lifestyle. The roots of his hair were coming through, the dirty blonde darkening to have a light brown tone instead. It was the little things that were becoming noticeable as you spent more time with him; the moles on his face, the way the sun seeped through the window and reflected so clearly in his eyes. He sat on what was referred to as the ‘operation table’―except it wasn’t padded and was likely meant for veterinarians―as you searched for mild pain medication. When you turned around, you couldn’t help but take a moment to admire him. His head was turned away from you, gazing wistfully out the window, the setting sun illuminating his honey skin in rays of golden sunshine. He looked like a statue from Greek mythology, sculpted by the Gods to embody perfection, frame marked with the scars of a warrior. They littered his abdomen, one from the stabbing, one from the bullet, one on his lower back that Woojin had patched up for him before you came ― it was obvious in the way it was majorly faded. A sigh passed the male’s plump lips, looking down at his fidgeting hands before looking up at you. If only you knew what he thought about you. How he felt you were incomparable, the finest piece of art to ever be masterfully painted. The oversized white shirt you wore contrasted your glowing skin and hung around your figure in an unfitted, yet still accentuating, manner. It wasn’t quite long enough to hide your blue pyjama shorts from sight. You approached him quietly, holding out the painkillers and a glass of water. Pulling yourself on the table, you sit beside Hyunjin as he downs the painkillers and watch the sunset. He glances over at you curiously, gulping down a mouthful of water, “you seem to be pretty good at saving lives, why aren’t you a doctor already?” A light laugh passed your lips.

“Because I’m not studying to become a doctor, and I haven’t spent, what? Nine years studying?”

“It takes nine years to become a doctor?” Hyunjin’s eyes almost bulged out of his skull. You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Something like that,” a comfortable silence settled between the two of you, watching as the sun swam closer to the horizon, “besides, I don’t think I’d be able to handle the pressure of saving someone’s life.”

A chuckle sounded from Hyunjin, “you say that, yet you’ve saved me from death twice.” You grew silent, he looked at you knowingly. The thought had never crossed your mind, you didn’t want to consider the possibility of Hyunjin dying―you didn’t want to imagine any of them dying, Hyunjin was the only one who’d come close so far.

“Yeah, but that’s… different.”

“How is it different?” Hyunjin looked towards you with a quirked eyebrow; you often wondered that too. You refused to look at him, too afraid of spilling all your secrets with one glance―but they came out in whispers, regardless.

“Because… I can’t live a life where you’re dead.”

The words almost slipped by him, blending in with the light breeze swirling outside, but he caught them. In one sentence, Hyunjin had the answers to every question that’d swarmed his brain since the week after his stabbing. There was no hesitation in his actions, cupping your left cheek in his hand and turning your face towards him. The sun glistened in your eyes, highlighting the enchanting colour of your orbs, shadows danced lightly on your face. In that moment, he wanted you to know that you wouldn’t lose him, no matter what. His eyes fluttered shut as his head dipped down, fulfilling the dream he’d chased since you first saved him. Your lips pressed together in a warm embrace, melting together as if they were made for each other. His tongue swiped at your lower lip, asking for access that you granted. As the sun rays of gold heated your skin and framed your soul, Hyunjin swore he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

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steve0discusses · 4 years ago

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Yugioh Ep 28: Valon Joins the Dead People Gang

So lately it’s been really freakin hot.

Like crazy freakin hot. I haven’t done anything productive because youknow--I live in a Covid hotspot and I’ve been quarantined for what feels like is 6 years, and then to continue the 10 plagues across America, now it’s just really freakin hot.

I was trying to go the hell to sleep when I heard this WIND outside my window at 2 AM. Just...WIND. It was like 5000 degrees outside, and then it started thundering, and then the lightning started hitting and I was like...wtf 2020, please calm down!

So I decided to check Twitter at 3 AM really fast just to make sure this wasn’t a freakin dream. Aaaaaaand Northern California had a Fire tornado warning.

3 words I never thought I’d see in conjunction. Fire tornado Warning.

and it hella dropped in Tahoe, y’all, it was freakin nuts. Meanwhile, Death Valley--the place where Yugi hella biffed it and died, if you don’t remember--hit 130 F (54.4 C, for the metric lovers in the back) so...it’s been a time for every part of California, and now we have some good ol fashioned rolling blackouts accompanied by 27 wildfires (yes, 27 fires) who have turned the sky into a yellow pea soup.

So because of the rolling blackouts (one of our power transformers exploded because of either the lightning or overuse, I dunno) at any point...my power might go out. Because of this, I didn’t feel like booting up Photoshop and so instead I’ll just...work on this.

...something about the Fire Tornado, the yellow shadow realm outside my window, and crazy lightning over San Fransisco reminded me that it’s been a HOT MINUTE since I’ve posted so lets get back to Yugioh. Somehow they knew that the doorway to hell was my back yard and you know what? They’re right. Completely believable and I wish someone would close the damn door.

Tristan read my mind that it’s been such a hot minute since I’ve checked in, that he mansplained a very quick summary of what the hell is currently happening to Tea Gardner.

A brave man, Tristan Taylor. A brave man to risk getting into a fight with Tea, who is the only Goliath on this show that exists without also being a paper card.

Which is when Pharaoh had some news.

I guess without Duke around, Pharaoh had to be the new Killjoy

(read more under the cut)

I exaggerate a little for the caps, but it’s kind of interesting that when Joey is usually on his own, it’s Yugi who’s certain that Joey is about to die and Pharaoh is the one that has to calm little Yugi down. But, when Yugi’s not there, I guess Pharaoh is just already in a Mood.

Mai is really weird this episode! I wish this season had gone into more detail about the extent of the Orichalcos’s mind control. Because Mai could very well be under it’s spell...or not...maybe it has no spell and they’re just falling for it like a placebo?

It’s not like the Orichalcos was ever put on anyone who was “good.” like if it were possessing someone nice like...

....

....(let me think about this, I’ll think of someone on this show who is a true lawful good.)

....

.................Dark Magician Girl, then I’d actually know if this Orichalcos actually IS different from how these characters actually are. But Mai was introduced in this series as a villain, and she’s always been around to bust balls, so it’s like...what part is Mai and what part is not?

Apparently a part that only shows up when Valon dies.

PS Valon turns a very quick 180 right before he died. I honestly thought I had skipped an episode or something because bro mentioned something about...Valon burning down a church or something...but I think that was a spicy headcanon where he mixed up this show with another anime.

I think. If I skipped an episode, y’all would tell me, right? I didn’t skip an episode?

I did skip the card games, however, so something about getting punched like 1000 times in the dick by Joey Wheeler taught Valon how to be human again, and the death that followed the 1000 dick punches inspired Mai to remember that Valon exists and that she Loves Him.

(just flat on his face)

I just...

I am going to give Yugioh this one. They have had so little in terms of relationships--I will give this to them. Good Job Yugioh, you did it. You had a relationship on your show. Sure, it was one where she...never seemed to like the guy at all, but hey--they actually did embrace...a corpse. Good on you, Yugioh.

Again, I have a really difficult time not cracking up about this very tragic moment a little bit because (and I have said this before about relationships on Yugioh), but I have never seen a TV show treat a straight relationship this way. I have never seen Straight Baiting before in my life and it is...WILD.

Also because Valon and Mai have both murdered I want to say hundreds of people at this point, it’s hard to feel too bad about them, although they are drawn as a very cute couple in how their outfits match. They got the finger less gloves, the belts hanging off their collar, the sleeveless outfit that is both too much clothes and too little clothes at the same time.

And like...I really like the idea behind Valon/Mai. I still think that was a good idea to build off of, I just wish that there was more of a sign from Mai that she had any idea that Valon existed prior to this. Because Valon had Orichalcos too, but he was fully able to love her--so what was happening on her end that prevented this? Was it just the amount that she hated Joey was so much more than her love for Valon? Was Valon actually more jealous of her hate of Wheeler and misinterpreted it as love?

Anyway it’s a billion degrees and I don’t have air conditioning so...I think we’ll have more time to think about this next episode. Maybe it’ll occur to me two weeks after this heat wave ends exactly what I am trying to grasp at when it comes to these two, but for now all I can say is...well it was nice.

Ah RIP Valon/tine (or at least I assume that’s the ship name). You lasted almost a whole season. You almost became a thing. I guess well find out if there’s redemption after he eventually gets resurrected.

And on this show we redeem resurrected people kind of a lot, so that seems reasonable. Sure it was a couple hundred people that he murdered but like...we redeemed Marik.

And then she goes back to wigging out like immediately. The flipping and the flopping of Mai Valentine in this episode is a lot.

And immediately after he says something along the lines of this, he follows with...doing this:

Joey! Valon just died so you wouldn’t have to duel Mai Valentine! He’s dead, Joey! Maybe try talking???

The thing about this show is that cards can both heal you and also destroy you, and the line between the two is just...rolling a dice and hoping you come out healed. Yugi played cards against Yami so that Yami could free himself from his guilt and move on--Valon was healed of Orichalcos control because Joey beat him at cards--Seto was “cured” of his more evil side because Yami mind wiped him in a card game--card magic is weird.

At the same time, Cards can take your soul in just So Many Ways--kind of one of the downsides. But, in a very round about way, maybe cards are kind of like therapy in this world. Maybe they don’t have therapy, and all these kids playing card games with eachother is metaphorical to how they all need eachother in order to push eachother to actually go through the steps of-

Ah, who am I kidding? They just really needed to have Mai lose at cards so they could write her off the show.

I do appreciate that the show never tells you that someone’s actions in the past mean they must rot for eternity. This show will never cancel anyone and say “burn that bridge, let’s go” but I feel like murder is...the line where you can just walk away?

But youknow if that were true of Joey wheeler he’d have no friends left.

During this time, The Yugioh crew was inexplicably lost while, for once in his entire life, Seto was going the correct direction.

Unfortunately, the lure to throw cards at thing was too much for him to go the right direction for very long. It is kind of funny to note that he is the smartest boy in Domino--so he knows you can drive through a hologram--but he just didn’t want to know if they were real or not, so he...didn’t.

Like I think that says a lot about Seto, and I’m sure the show-runners didn’t think about this at all, but he could have tested his theory right now. He could have just seen if these were real in order to know if he was crazy or not...but he’d rather be insane, than be involved with magic.

Anyways, Mai drops that Orichalcos.

Reminder that San Francisco is only 7-12 miles from one end to the other depending on what part of the peninsula you’re on.

But then again, they’re reading a map in Roman characters and these kids are school dropouts who only speak Japanese and maybe Spanish. Maybe they’re actually doing really, really well considering the language barrier?

Anyway that’s all for now I’m gonna go pass out and hopefully when I wake up it’ll be next week when it is no longer hot. If you just got here, this is a link to read these caps from the beginning!

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

#yugion #ygo #photo recap #episode recap #yami muto #tea gardner #joey wheeler #tristan taylor #Valon #Mai Valentine #So much punching #Seto Kaiba shows up for 5 seconds #Mokuba too I guess #S4 #Episode 28

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cherry3point14 · 5 years ago

Text

Stranger Than Fanfiction: Ch 1

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: No actual boys in this chapter. Other than that... confusion? Word count: 2,350. Chapter Summary: What happens when a mild mannered insurance adjuster becomes her own main character? A/N: I honestly. I don’t know.

Ao3 if you prefer

Routine is something that occurs so easily it would be impossible to conduct meaningful studies on the subject. The scientists would fall into their own patterns of routine while researching. A particular coffee drunk on certain mornings, a favorite seat on the evening bus or even a preferred font the research. Even the one team member resisting any sort of routine would become predictable in their attempts to be unexpected.

But this is not a story about scientists studying human nature.

This is a story about Y/N Y/L/N.

In the deepest recesses of her mind, Y/N dared to think she was unpredictable—from her mismatched socks to her affinity for spicy foods—and thus not subject to the weaknesses of mundane routine. Of course, she was wrong.

Every morning she woke up at the same time to the same incessant beeping of her alarm clock. A sound that once silenced she replaced with a sigh because her day began with not wanting to get out of bed. Where others might have drunk coffee she made herself green tea, which she sipped while listening to the news for exactly ten minutes. Enough time to catch the highlights in case some catastrophe was happening in the world, but not so long that she would get distracted.

Each night Y/N would drive home the same route and park on the driveway of her slightly too-large house. On Thursday’s her ageing neighbour would be watering his rose bushes and she’d wave, as good neighbours do.

That is, she followed this routine without question, until the last Friday in May.

There was nothing immediately extraordinary about this day as it started. As usual, she tapped a wordless tune while waiting for her kettle to sing—since she had not heard the idiom about watched pots and their tendency not to boil. Once the steam had finished rising she poured the hot water over the tea and watched the paper bag contort under the pressure of the liquid. Others might walk away and leave their drink to brew without care but not Y/N. She watched the water deepen to a soft green because the perfect tea had a perfect hue. Only by watching it with a keen eye could she properly measure the removal of the bag, once it looked like something akin to the grass in spring.

Again, how she made her tea was not out of the ordinary. Neither was the way she would sit with her mug in one hand and her phone in the other. Focusing half her attention on the news, half on her emails, and leaving no capacity left to appreciate the drink she had so carefully slaved over. After all her tea was it’s usual perfection and did not need much thought. These things were-

“Hello?”

Your thumb hovers over an email that assured you that you had, in fact, won a free iPhone. At the moment you were about to swipe and delete the spam cluttering your inbox you’d heard it. A voice. A woman. She’d been talking about... no. It was your imagination.

These things were puzzle pieces, a mess that Y/N would have to-

“Who’s there?”

Your eyes dart around looking for an intruder without moving your head. You’re not supposed to move your head if there’s someone trying to murder you, probably, that might tip them off that you know they’re there. But no one is there. No shadowy figures in the corner of the room and no burglars in striped shirts carrying burlap sacks. Your question falls on deaf ears. It bounces around your empty living room destined to go unanswered. Except there should be someone, right? As your thumb had moved the voice continued. But from where? From who?

This time you move your thumb slower, agile and waiting. As you do it happens again and you’re determined to find them this time.

These things were puzzle pieces, a mess that Y/N would have to organise before she could see the bigger picture. Except they did not feel like a mess to her, they felt like any other motion on any other day. She continued to wonder if she should buy some bread on the way home and the world continued to turn, unaware of the significance of this particular Friday.

You drop the phone from your hand as if it has given you an electric shock. Your mind flashes to standing in your kitchen minutes ago, craving toast but not having the necessary ingredients. The mental note you’d made was completely internal. You’d thought about getting bread knowing you would definitely forget.

There’s a beat. An actual pause in time where even your heart stops as you’re caught staring at the phone on the sofa cushion next to you.

You pick it up again and turn the device over in your hands. Maybe the sound came from the phone, although that seems impossible. How would your phone know you are out of bread when that’s not something you’ve said out loud? Everyone is so sure that Facebook listens to us all but it seemed unlikely they had jumped to mind reading so soon.

The screen of your phone darkens in warning that it will go to sleep and tapping it reveals the time. You've now sat there, speaking to no-one, longer than you normally would. Now everything else will be rushed. You choke a mouthful of tea and it’s somehow still too hot, so you decide against finishing the cup. Instead, you leap up and continue getting ready, happy to hear, well, nothing. No voice following you, revealing the contents of your kitchen cupboards, or anything else.

And then you finally rush out of your house to your waiting car.

The engine of Y/N’s car made an almost worrying clunking sound as she turned the key in the ignition, a sound that-

Your hand pulls away from the key in an instant as if it’s the key’s fault that the voice has returned. It’s either upset or fear on your face as you look around the inside of your trusty vehicle that’s always got you from A-Z, but now might have betrayed you.

“And it’s eight twenty-five folks, we’ll have traffic coming up in five but before that…”

“Shit.” You respond to the radio, or more specifically the time, realising that you’re now, still, running late.

The engine of Y/N’s car made an almost worrying clunking sound as she turned the key in the ignition. A sound that she would have been worried about were it the first time she’d heard it. The truth was she had been abhorrently ignoring the noise for many months now. By now it was as familiar as the rest of her morning and only solidified that today was so very achingly normal. Today was not the first, nor the last day that she would be running late for work yet it was the most important. Not that Y/N knew.

It’s a struggle to ignore the voice and keep driving. Your foot almost stumbles over the gas a few times and there’s one stop sign that you barely stop for. To be fair it’s not the first time you’ve almost missed this particular stop sign. Although when you start hearing a voice talking about your day, you can pretty much blame everything that goes wrong on that.

The thing you work out quickly, worryingly, is that this voice comes and goes. When she, whoever it is, finishes her little tribute to your crappy car there’s silence. You almost feel sane again. And so you let yourself fall right back into that false sense of security that it was some fluke of your imagination. You finish the journey and make it with five minutes to spare because you always drive a little faster than you should. Even if today you’re running from something unexplainable, you still find your shoulders relaxing as you step out of the car. Regardless of everything you’re on time for work.

Y/N breathed a sigh of relief as her work heels clacked against the tarmac of the underground parking garage. Against all the setbacks and stops signs that had tried to thwart her best-laid plans, she had made it. To Y/N this was the most extraordinary thing about her day. She was certain her journey time would set such a high standard that everything could only go downhill from here.

“Oh my god. Shut up.”

When in fact today would be a day that she would never forget. Today would thrust her into a life so exempt from ten-minute mugs of tea and almost tardiness, that she would look back upon days like this with a skewed sense of nostalgia. Today Y/N pressed the button for the elevator like she had a thousand times before. Whereas tomorrow would be entirely different.

“Obviously,” you huff an annoyed breath, “tomorrow’s Saturday.”

The woman was beginning to annoy you. Both her failure to get to the point and the fact that most of what she was saying was stating the obvious. The frustration bubbling inside your belly gets translated into pressing the button for the elevator more times than you need to, until the doors finally open in front of you.

The harsh fluorescent light of the elevator makes no one look good so you're not worried when you see tired lines on your face in the large mirror. It had been a long week and now to top things off you were going crazy, the things take their toll. At least in eight short hours, you’d be free for the weekend.

“Morning Y/N!” Instead of coming from where you would expect, the chipper voice was about three feet too low and completely out of sight.

“Laura?”

She pops up violently from underneath her desk holding a single post-it note flapping in her hand, “found it!”

“I’m proud of you?” you question, cocking your head to the side and wondering how much coffee she's drunk already.

Y/N was far too distracted to tease her coworker about her overly sunny disposition, as she usually would first thing in the morning. Once again she found her harmless routine interrupted by what she thought to be a series of meaningless accidents. When her preoccupation was down to the larger, irrefutable hands of fate.

“It’s not fate distracting me, it's you!” you whisper with the severity of a shout. By now it was easy to figure out that whoever or whatever the voice was couldn’t hear you. That didn’t stop you voicing your frustration at the new personality stalking you.

“Y/N honey, you ok?”

You look up at Laura to find a mixture of confusion and concern, only to remember that she is there at all.

“Laura! Did you hear that?” The excitement in your voice teeters on paranoia. Maybe it wasn’t you. Maybe you weren’t alone in this.

“Did I hear what?”

“That voice,” you gesture with your hands upwards figuring that it was coming from up high. Despite being on the top floor of the building. “The one drivelling on about fate and-and the fact that I need to buy bread!”

Your chest is heaving underneath your white shirt but only enough that someone close to you, like Laura, might notice your distress.

“Erm. Are you feeling ok?”

Her tone, along with the way she leans over her desk to whisper the question, is enough to snap you out of it. You’re being insane, out loud. It’s one thing to think you’re going crazy but another thing entirely to let other people know that you are.

“Yeah sorry, I erm… I watched a weird film last night.”

Laura laughs at that explanation, somewhat nervously but still, she laughs. She takes the opportunity for an explanation that doesn’t end up with you in a straight jacket. Did they even put people in straight jackets anymore?

“See you at lunch?” She asks the same as ever, ignoring whatever is wrong with you like any workplace friend would.

“Yeah, sure.” The smile on your face is thin while you wave a hand aimlessly to agree to lunch. You start walking to your desk in the quieter corner of the office before she gets truly suspicious.

Colleagues waved and greeted her as she walked through the stuffy yet open plan room. The usual sea of politeness was only personalised with her name here and there. Most of them hardly glanced away from their screens as they spoke to her. So wrapped up in their work that they merely greeted whatever figure it was that moved past them. Y/N was one of these mindless zombies on occasion. Throwing herself into work so deeply that she too would forget common courtesies such as eye contact.

“This isn’t happening,” you mutter when you finally slink into your chair.

It was then, on this Friday, this cloudy and uncertain day, that reprieve came to Y/N in the form of work. A Manila folder floating through the office as if on a cloud. A file atop a pile of files, each as indistinctive as the last. And yet, the file destined for Y/N’s desk would prove to hold the most important paperwork she would ever read. Each distinctive typed letter on each fresh white sheet would be more important than the last. And even Y/N, who had no idea of the significance of what she was about to receive…

“Well, kind of do now.” You grumble watching Hillary wander through the office with a stack of assignments. She arrives at your desk wearing a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes and hands you the topmost one.

…would feel goosebumps prickle her skin as she receives the folder. Almost as if somehow she could perceive the importance of this assignment, without ever having opened it. Little did she know that this seemingly innocuous file would set about her new life, as well as her imminent death.

“Wait. My what?”

Continue to Chapter 2.

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @bloodydaydreamer

#dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn x reader #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean dean the soft lil bean

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corasbunker · 5 years ago

Text

Bad Mood Rising

Sam Winchester x Female!Reader

Warnings: cheesy title, canon typical violence/mention of gore, language, a hint of mild angst?, smut (vaginal sex).

Words: 2,269

Note: Again, feedback is appreciated. I’m still getting the hang of writing reader inserts. Thanks!

Blue lights flickered in your rearview mirror. Shit, that the hell did you do now? You weren’t speeding, and your car was registered. Not registered to you, but that didn’t really matter. It wasn’t stolen.

You pulled over to the curb and shut the car off as you waited for the officer to babble some bullshit story about your tail light or something.

“Y/N?” you heard the instant you rolled your window down. Your gaze snapped to the tall, thin figure beside you. Sheriff uniform, check. Familiar face, check.

“Sam? What the—How the hell did you find me?” you snapped. There was no way he could have known where you were. You were three states over from home and had absolutely no ties to the part of Nebraska you were rolling through.

Sam pursed his lips, then tapped on the door. “I’m glad I found you before they did. There was a pack of werewolves on your tail since Iowa.” His voice was barely a whisper over the passing traffic. “I think they know about you.”

Your eyes widened. Shit. No, they couldn’t know. You’ve been so careful to keep your little, well, condition under wraps as you hunted the very beasts that made you who you were. You shook your head.

“How? It’s not like I’m out at night or anything—”

“And that’s just it,” Sam interrupted. “You’re not acting like a normal werewolf.”

“I’m not a normalwerewolf, Sam,” you mouthed. Sam let out a long sigh, then opened your door for you.

“We need to get you somewhere safe. They weren’t far behind when I started tailing you. They’ve backed off a little since then, but we may only have minutes before they catch up.” He stretched out his long arm and motioned for you to get up.

“My stuff is in the trunk.” You turned and lifted yourself from the driver’s seat. “Give me a minute,” you snapped. Sam took a step back, and you offered a silent apology. It wasn’t him who was putting you on edge.

You had hidden yourself for the last seven years, since the night a werewolf had bitten you in the shoulder and left you to bleed in an alley. Sure, a bite meant you were turned, and there was only a small window of time you had to get a cure. But, you were alone, and no one was there to keep you from turning.

There was only one small hitch, you didn’t exactly turn. Once you ended up at the steps of the Winchester’s bunker, you realized that you may not ever completely transform. Instead, you were only mildly affected by the phases of the moon, leading the boys and you to come to one conclusion.

You were somehow immune to the bite.

Now, you did have some changes, but never anything enough to make you dangerous. Your sense of smell heightened during the full moon, and your overall hunger. Oh, and you sex drive was through the fucking roof. Other than that, you were just stronger than the average human most of the time. You weren’t a wolf, or some sort of freak hybrid. You were just… you.

Sam led you around your small hatchback to the trunk, where you gathered your small arsenal of weapons and a few lore books, then headed for the sheriff car Sam was sporting. He grabbed one of the bags off your shoulder and shuffled you over to the car, then ushered you into the back seat. He probably wanted to keep some sort of appearance for the onlookers that were no doubt eyeing the two of you.

Your ass hit the stiff back seat a little harder than you thought it would, forcing an ooffrom your lungs. Then, Sam slammed the car in gear and floored the two of you down the road.

Sam pulled up to a motel about an hour from where you had left your car. It was a dive, per the Winchester usual, but it didn’t look like the scene of any recent murder. So, that was promising.

Sam quietly helped you schlep all of your belongings into the surprisingly large motel room. There were two beds, doubles, and an adjacent bathroom. To the right of the door, there was a small, apparently ancient sitting area with a love seat and table for two.

“Sorry to just pluck you out of whatever you were doing, but Dean and I have been trailing these guys for a while now. We spotted you at that truck stop in Cedar Rapids. That’s when we realized that they weren’t running from us, they were chasing you.” Sam peeled off his jacket and chucked it onto the loveseat, exposing the toned muscles of his shoulders under his thin thermal. You turned away immediately, furiously trying to chase off the memories of those very muscles under your fingertips.

“So, you think they know about my immunity?” you deadpanned. Sam simply nodded before taking a seat at the small table.

“I’m sure they do. What else would they want with you?”

“Thanks,” you huffed. Sam smirked, shaking his head.

“That’s not what I mean. It’s just that werewolves don’t usually hunt hunters. Sure, they’ll fight back, but they aren’t instigators. Not like vampires.” You nodded in agreement. It all made since.

“What, are they going to make some sort of cure with me?” You plopped down onto the loveseat. You ignored your pounding heart as you focused on the conversation. “Or make some sort of super werewolf army?” Sam shrugged.

“Who knows? But, they must see you as some sort of either threat or benefit. They were definitely interested in you.” He turned towards the window, inspecting the small slit of moonlight that beamed though the top of the curtains. “It’s a full moon.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.” You leaned back and your mind began to race. “So, these fuckers are hunting me instead of hunting their next meal? How would their biology let them do that?” It didn’t make sense. You could feel the full moon, and you didn’t need to hunt. How could the pack resist the urge to hunt without losing their minds?

Sam let out a breath. “I’m sure they aren’t following us now. They can’t resist a meal. So, we’re at an advantage.” He smiled. “We’re safe for the night.”

Like that was any sort of relief. These guys would be almost back to themselves by morning, and they were probably within an hour’s drive from you. So, why the hell were you stopping there?

“So, we aren’t going to try to get more of a distance between us and them?” you muttered, trying not to look at Sam. Your breathing had quickened a little, signaling that the moon was starting to take its full affect. Your blood coursed through your veins, making you suddenly overheated.

Sam shook his head, studying you. He noticed your discomfort. “No. Dean wants us to hang close in case something goes down.” You shot up from your seat.

“Dean’s going in there alone? No!”

“No, Y/N. He has Cas with him, and our friend Jody. They can handle it. He said that I would be the best person to watch you through tonight.” And that’s where Dean was wrong. You and Sam had a history, there was no denying that. But, you had steered clear of the man for the last two years, leaving him out of sight and out of mind. Well, almost out of mind.

Now, he was very much in sight, and the primal thread that raced through you now was making sure he was the only thing clouding your mind.

“Fine. That’s fine. I just—I need to change. Sleeping though the cycle is usually the best move for me.” It was an outright lie. You could never sleep though the full moon, but you needed an excuse to get out of that room.

So, you grabbed your bag and excused yourself to the bathroom. A nice shower would be a good way to get Sam out of your mind. And it would help soothe the ache that pulsed under your skin.

You turned the knob on the hot water and waited for the steam to rise. Then, you entered the blue and orange tiled shower, allowing the heat to devour you.

You could hear Sam shuffling on the other side of the door. Small grunts and sighs filled your supersonic hearing. Shit, were you ever going to get an escape from him? Why couldn’t Dean or Cas have been the ones to pick you up. No, it was Sam Winchester, the sweet and spicy man who made every single one of your nerve flare by the mere mention of his name.

You heard the movement of clothing, sending your imagination into overdrive. You were sure he was changing right now, removing that thermal and exposing those sand dune shoulders. Your mind focused on the memory of his long arms encompassing you, sliding you down creamy sheets and under this thundering form.

The thud of the opening door jarred you from your daydream. “Sam?” you called out from your steamy fog. You were met by the sound of footsteps, nearly forcing your heart from your chest. “Sam?”

“Y/N,” Sam answered with a growl.

And with that one word, you were done for.

You peeled the show curtain back, revealing a very naked, and very aroused Sam staring back at you. You sucked in a breath as you released any last bit of restraint left in your body.

“Sam,” you groaned as he approached you and practically leapt into the shower with you. Your arms stretched, latching onto the towering man as if for dear life. Your ears pounded and your body buzzed as his hands pulled and tugged at any bit of flesh he could grasp.

Your lips met the moment Sam pinned you against the cool tile. His tongue quickly dominated your mouth as he nipped and sucked on your lips. One of his hands found it’s place on your ass, squeezing your cheek while he rolled his hips against you.

Sam’s cock skimmed over your lower stomach, forcing a moan to leave your bound lips. His other hand smoothed down your chest, fingers latching onto one of your nipples, coaxing out a moan.

“Sam,” you huffed. Your head rolled back onto the tile as you let the gorgeous man over you completely take over. His hand slowly lifted from your breast, migrating done to your aching pussy. Your breathing hitched the moment his calloused finger skirted over your clit. You rocked your hips while he nipped against your neck to your shoulder.

Sam slipped his finger further, just barely entering your soaked hole. He groaned at the feeling of your slick encasing his digit.

“Oh, Y/N, I missed this,” he purred into your ear. Then, he scraped his teeth over your earlobe.

“Just shut up and fuck me, Sam,” you commanded. He let out a low chuckle, then he lifted his hand and gripped your right leg. You lifted it up, allowing him to support you against the tile. He lined himself up with your entrance, then paused.

His golden gaze scanned over your face, studying you. You could hear his heart roaring through his chest. There was a glimmer of the gentle part of Sam, the part most people saw, gazing down at you. But, the moment you rolled your hips against him, he lost it.

Sam lifted you ever so slightly, then lowered you down onto his cock. Your nails dug into his smooth shoulders as he stretched you, filling you more than you remembered.

The moment he bottomed out inside you, he began his slow rhythm, pinning you against the wall. He held you impossibly close, moving his lips from your own, to your neck, then back again. Your breathing turned into pants as your body soared on the high of the full moon.

Sam’s hand traveled down to your clit and his finger pressed just right over the throbbing nub. You didn’t know how close you were to your climax until your orgasm was already pulsing though every nerve.

“Sam!” you shrieked while the pounding waves of your arousal washed over your dripping skin. You wiggled as each pulse hit you, but Sam kept you pinned beneath him, quickening his pace. He rocked against you and grit his teeth. He was close; you could sense it.

Just as your climax eased, Sam curled his fingers around your hips and spilled deep inside you. He bucked and moaned as he chased his high, before finally slumping against your body.

The two of you huffed as you struggled to catch your breath. The water was barely lukewarm by now, but it felt good against your searing skin. Even though your bones ached, you never wanted that feeling to go away.

A minute later, Sam’s large hand cupped your cheek. His lips skimmed over yours. Then, he pulled away.

“Y/N,” he repeated. His face changed. The primal need behind his eyes was gone, and replaced by a caring, soft light that made your pounding heart flutter. You just pressed your lips against his and savored the taste of him.

You didn’t know if you would be gone before the morning, leaving him behind like last time. Or, if you would give in and let Sam Winchester enter your life for good. All you knew was that you wanted him to be there right now, and that wasn’t the full moon talking.

#Sam Winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester and reader #sam and reader #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader smut #sam winchester reader insert #sam winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction

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namjoonchronicles · 5 years ago

Text

million dollar houses | nj, yg

↳ pairing namjoon, you, yoongi

↳ genre drama, fluff, angst, romance, crime

↳ words 6.5k

↳ warnings strong language, description of murder, mentions of prostitution, findom, eloping

↳ notes this was in the wips for about two years before i muster up all courage to have it finished. to me it was the sexiest story i’ve written of namjoon because he has tattoos and whatnot, but the reason why it took as long as it did, was i lacked faith in my writings. when i find a wimp of confidence, i went on and finished it, so here it is, pls enjoy them

↳ summary weeks before the wedding, lawyer min yoongi, your fiance had met up with a client who was charged with a homicide case. seems bleak and unimportant, until you saw this handsome client whom you recognize as your ex-boyfriend with a non-violent history, namjoon. armed with a messy break-up and lingering feelings, will you choose your past with namjoon or will you go forward with yoongi?

One look in my eyes and you should know the truth.

Fumbling with his keys, Yoongi was holding the car keys in between his lips, struggling to shove the key into the keyhole of your apartment. It was not even 7AM and he is already suffering. He had at least three paper bags in one arm and coffee in another and it forced out of him a small strange groan as he managed to twist the keys to open.

"Done," he exasperated. As if it were quite the hassle.

Upon the sounds of the door opening, you winced in bed, but not quite wanting to open your eyes though you hear him affectionately call you, "...babe, I'm home!"

A few things dropped while he walked in and the door slammed shut behind him.

"Fuck, crap," he cursed and set the things on the table except one paper bag that he brought to you in your bedroom.

He simply pushed the door and placed the bag on the empty space of your bed and crawled on all fours with a cheeky over-energized grin plastered on his baby face. The bed dips as his weight begins to settle on it, his body heat radiates to you and it makes you frown.

"You didn't sleep well after I told you the confirmation date, did you?"

He lowers himself to kiss your shoulder and trail them along your neck and jawline until finally your lips, where he lingered longer than the others. He giggles low and brush his lips to the helix of your ear, whispering hotly, "Brought you coffee."

Sliding your hand up his shoulder with your eyes closed still, you circled your arm around his neck and pulled him for a peck with a small suggestive moan, "Tell me all the things I want to hear...you know the way to my heart, mister..." you scrunch your face, and let out a question in a feigned manner, "...who are you again?"

Yoongi bit his lips, and hummed, "Oh dearie, you shouldn't be in my bed if you don't remember my name. And I'm pretty sure it was the only name you chanted a few days ago. This is unfair," he pouted.

"What's unfair?" You peeked at him through one eye. "...I know what your name is, but you don't remember mine..." he murmured, "I'm disappointed, Mrs. Min."

You pinched his chin and shaked it lightly, "Soon. Eager are we."

Yoongi handed you your coffee while you're still seated in bed. He took the paper bag earlier and folded one leg underneath him, "Look what I got from Innisfree."

You took a mouthful gulp of coffee and shook your head out to feigned disapproval.

"...a 100 more days set for a bride-to-be!" Yoongi rejoiced.

"I know, I'm the best fiance there is," Yoongi boasted and had to gulp down the drink in a hurry.

"I didn't know they have these..." You gasped, eyes crinkling at the corners in graceful excitement and collected the box in your hand, gingerly, carefully and so appreciatively. Someone would get you something as expensive and as thoughtful as these. Coming from a male perspective, Yoongi is highly unusual. Be it his love towards Holly, the house dog, and children.

"And, the invitation cards are ready. So we are going to the print shop to fetch it. And then we have food tasting next week," Yoongi listed, "I've emptied my schedule for the whole week. So you don't have to worry about that."

You leaned your head on his shoulder, sitting face to face, "Oh thank goodness for your existence. I have Hoseok's birthday to worry about and I'm about to go insane, and then there's yours too...holy fuck."

Piling yourself with a humanly impossible task is never the plan. The wedding had to be around May this year, and you have been planning it for at least a year. The invitation cards are ready and it feels so real now that Yoongi brought you the things you needed to organize the wedding.

Sometimes things get too difficult too handle that you almost give up. Thankfully, Yoongi understood the pressure of a wedding and so he catches everything that falls out of your hand, metaphorically speaking. Yoongi too is as busy as you are, he had just started his own firm and under the guidance of your father, he was able to organize a few things on his own.

Sometimes, you worry that you're taking up his time by being an emotional wreck especially at the eve of wedding planning, but Yoongi proved to you that it was nothing more than just a mood swing--something he had been effortlessly finding his way about. He was needless to say, impressive in his way of dealing with ordeals that you find meticulous. A God-sent lovable creature who fills your hole in the most enchanting way he could. Although sometimes he struggles with fitting his own time. Like right now, when you sit next to him in the car and he is fumbling on his phone with an unsettling frown on his face. You knew instantly that he was trapped in between something.

"What's wrong honey?" You asked. He hisses before answering, "I forgot that I promised a client to meet today."

"Can't it be postponed until tomorrow?" "The client specifically said today so I don't think he's going to be here tomorrow, what do we do? This case is big, and if I win it, I can give the firm a new recognition and it will be a good start for the firm."

Yoongi chewed his lips. You fished out your phone to call the printing company and tell them that you can't take the printed invitation cards today. The smile on Yoongi's face was indescribable. Although it was brief, you could feel the sincerity.

"What's the case about?" You watched him as he drives. His cream coloured turtle neck covers up until underneath his jaw and his black long coat made his eyes look striking brown. He's breathtakingly beautiful, this lawyer who stole your heart.

"...It's a homicide." He flipped the cars' blinkers to the right and turned the wheel with the heels of his palm, while grumbling low, trying to remember the details of the case.

"My client pleads not guilty to a murder of a man in cement tank...remember that body that came in the news? When you stayed over at my place?"

You blinked a few times, trying to remember.

That night? You had spicy rice cakes and Yoongi's kimchi fried rice. It was extra delicious and he allowed you to stay overnight when he was preparing an argument draft in his legal pad, watching Law & Order Season 8. When he took a phone call and walked to his study room, he left a file open on the dining table. Your fingers were curious about it and so you took time to read what's written on the reports. There were several pictures of gang tattoos and one very disturbing picture of a dead body, found in a hardened cement. And just then, the midnight news covered the story. Your eyes darted to the large screen and you stepped away from the table to watch. Yoongi joined you after a bit.

"A body of a man found in the hardened cement tank a few days ago had been confirmed to be a twenty-two year old young men name, Park Jihoon, who was a Seoul University's dropout. Park was an Advanced Chemistry student who obtained a scholarship from the nation's education bank due to his impressive scores in the last exam held by the International Chemistry Olympiad, it brought pride to the nation."

Your hand dropped to Yoongi's knees as he sat next to you on the couch. "Park's death had been ruled as homicide and investigations are still ongoing. In other news..."

The value of a human is ridiculed nowadays. The strong feeds on the poor down to their dying days. You remembered, feeling repulsive on the thought. Who would want to kill such an aspiring child? He was going to be someone important.

"Yes I remembered that." Yoongi tutted his tongue at your response.

"My client is the one who was accused of killing the boy. He's a gangster." Your eyes bored into Yoongi's unaffected side profile.

Although there was a tinge of guilt in the way his eyes flickered, you knew he wasn't telling you a hundred percent. Yoongi isn't the kind to hide things from you.

"So you're defending this client." Your voice died.

Yoongi puckered his lower lips over the top one and stuck his eyes on the view ahead, "Innocent until proven guilty, remember? If I win this case, my firm will soar."

Blinking away, you stared at the trees on the side of the streets. Things always look different from a moving car. Perceptions. What people choose to see and what is the real truth, Yoongi's job often put him in between good and evil. They say, lawyers have one feet in hell, the other in heaven. And it seemed that he understood your silence.

"I know what you're thinking. But beggars can't be choosers. My clients pay me. And it isn't always about the money, I know. There's always two sides of the story. This case is important to me as how important it is to my firm..." Yoongi persuaded you with his soft tone.

"Ilsan Brotherhood," you shot and Yoongi intercepted, "How did you know?"

You stared at the pavements where people were walking on.

"I read about it, in one of my father's files. They are not to be toyed around with, Yoongi. They are out for blood and most of the time, they will come home with one."

You warned him. "Whatever you have against them, it will not change my mind about taking this case, I'm sure my client is innocent. You haven't heard his side of the story." Yoongi is stubborn. He lets the idea of how winning this case will bring him pride and joy when you feared for his life.

Ilsan Brotherhood was not a stranger to you. They are the most active syndicate since the 2000s up until now. Even your little brother have heard of it.

"Can I come with you?" You unfastened your seatbelt. "Stay in the car." Yoongi shot.

He shut the car door that is parked by the large road, opposed to a bathhouse. You know this bathhouse, it has a Japanese restaurant link to it. Maybe you can't go in the bathhouse, but you can see that the restaurant’s bathroom is connected.. You exited the car and followed after Yoongi's footsteps but instead of entering the bathhouse where he is, you walked into the Japanese restaurant.

"A table for one, in a private room please?" You smiled. And she directed you to the room. They only have a wall made out of bamboo sticks and after the waitress left, you sneaked out of that room and sneak your way through the bathhouse. Until you heard Yoongi's voice coming from the end of the hallway.

"Fuck, he's in the restaurant..." You cursed in your head and scrambled to enter another private room that was thankfully empty but strangely had the lights on.

"...Meticulous, but we can find another loophole in the matter if we look close enough to the witness account," Yoongi commented and is walking in the room where you were.

"So this is the private room of the restaurant that conveniently is connected to the bathhouse?" Yoongi asked and you panic because you hear his footsteps coming nearer and nearer to the sliding door. That's when you crawled into an empty cupboard that was there, fit yourself in the lowest compartment and folded your legs in as small as you can be, leaving a tiny gap open, just large enough for your eyes to see and listen.

"Yoongi is going to kill me..." you thought to yourself but you were honestly not scared.

You only feared getting caught.

Yoongi folded his legs underneath and that's when the Japanese sliding door opened to reveal a tattooed young man with the clear words in big blocks of Old English font: Sinner; on his back. You held your breath and widened your eyes. This man, gangster, who was putting on his Japanese robe, had striking blonde hair and undercut on the sides. His brows strong and purposeful in one glimpse, charismatic in another. You knew that this man was a leader with many loyal followers.

Yoongi was incredibly relaxed and you could tell that it was not his first time meeting this man. He was also cautious enough not to let you know.

"I'm sorry I almost forgot about today," Yoongi started to explain himself and next to Yoongi was another men with long earrings, chirpy and far too smiley to be in a gang, but he oozes an aura of loyalty. It's really difficult to see who else was there but you held on to listen more.

"The boss had been enduring several sleepless nights because he had been getting some unwanted calls from the authorities and wondering if there's anyway you could, pardon the harshness of my words, shut them up..." The young man had a high-pitched voice.

"I know, I've been pulling some strings as well, but it will take time. I want to talk to Namjoon...Jimin, alone." Yoongi dropped his gaze on the table and Namjoon eyed Jimin to leave.

"...I will have to know what happened that night Namjoon," Yoongi explained, "I can't help you if you don't tell me a hundred percent."

Namjoon was visibly obedient by the request. He nodded twice and inhale then exhale, "I will give you all the information needed. I'm not exactly a clean slate to begin with," His voice was an octave lower than Yoongi's. More stories about to be unfold, once Namjoon fixed an appointment to meet Yoongi again, at a later and a more convenient time.

Yoongi excused himself and left Namjoon alone. You watched him sat there, hanging his head low before straightening up in his seat to nip another roll of sushi in his mouth. You were absolutely unafraid.

Yoongi returns to an empty car. He spun around to search for you. "Where the hell did she go?"

Pushing the sliding door open slowly, Namjoon froze in his seat, reaching for a blade underneath his cushion. He softens when he saw a drape of long hair falling on each side of your shoulder. Crawling on all four, you grunted out of your hiding place. And Namjoon began to chew slowly as if it didn't bother him.

"Didn't think I'd meet you this way," he grumbled.

"How much do I need to pay you to not bother Yoongi?" You spat.

And Namjoon answered that with a low chuckle. "...you think you can afford me?" He smiled to his food.

"I'm not playing Namjoon. He's not one of you." You warned, standing up.

"Because he graduates from law school and is from a good family? Congratulations," he was bemused by it.

You rolled your eyes to the side. Namjoon shoved another sheet of dried laver into his mouth. Unaffected by your childish play, he stares back at you like an audience to a performer. He was rather enjoying this.

"You didn't see me here today," you warned him, feet halfway out of the room when you heard Namjoon say, "No reunion kiss?"

Growling inwardly, you left the room undetected at came out of the Japanese Restaurant.

"Where were you?" Yoongi asked from a distance.

"I went to the bathroom, I was about to pee in my pants!" You jogged to him, crossing the empty street. "Hurry, we can still catch up if we go right now. The printing shop is still open."

You sat in the car while Yoongi settled the bills in the printing shop. Your phone dings a message from an unknown number. It said only one thing,

"Pandora, @ 1am."

Of course he'll have your number. Namjoon is capable of anything, including murder.

The faceless and nameless man is Kim Namjoon. Watching Yoongi walked back into the car with two bags full of printed invitations card, you felt your heart tug.

You were certain that this meeting needed to be done so he knows where you stand. You have a life now, and you're determined to keep it. That's why you're here in Pandora at 1 AM as instructed.

Namjoon stood by the handrails, overlooking the night sky, in a grey tuxedo and black dress shirt that compliments his blonde hairdo. His long arm stretch along one side while the other is holding a glass. Musky scent filled the open air on the verandah, in contrast of the hyped clubbing floor just underneath. The smell of cigarettes was still lingering around your nose making you appreciate Namjoon's cologne. Hearing the sound of your sneakers on the wooden surface of the veranda, Namjoon tipped his head up to the night sky, downing a glass of bourbon in his hand.

"Cancer sky's out here tonight to mock me, despicable stars," he rolled his head around, still giving you his back, "Funny how I almost thought you wouldn't come," he added a dry chuckle.

"I came to tell you that it's finally over," you sounded determined. Namjoon hung his head low then throw his head back, in a manner that a broken man should behave.

"He's treating you well?" he paused, smiling at the sky and biting his lips, "...With his expensive Rolex and Gucci ties, his Rolls Royce and wit? You like how he treats you?" He tries to edge you, he turns around to face you, leaning his back to the rails and watch the drink in his swirl with a tut of his tongue, his lips parted a little.

His elbow is on the handrail, as he took another sip, "You've always liked men in high places. Always falling for a fool with great brains," he said in a mocking tone. You marched straight at him and gritting your teeth while he fixes his stance, you growled, "...At least I was not starving."

His personal space was invaded and it was nothing foreign to him, "...I'll give him credit for that." He cocked his eyebrow, gliding his eyes away from you, challenging.

"It's always been about the money isn't it?" You heard him say, pulling his gaze back to you and you stepped back when he took a step forward, downing another painful gulp of strong alcohol into his throat. But the burns he felt in his systems is not as horrific as the wounds you left on him.

You spun around, throwing your hands in your hair before you turn to him and shove him back once, twice.

"I fucking loved you Namjoon. Very much," you growled in his face and stepped away, facing away from him.

"Yeah, but not enough to stay..." Namjoon taunted you while he tailed you.

You faced him one more time. Tears brimming, glassy eyes and pained.

"I would have died for you..." you choked, and, "...I would have fucking died for you."

You pushed banged his chest with your fist and gradually, you weakened as the tears spills.

"You know what we had, it was real..." your lips quivered, your eyes pleading at him to understand.

But his gaze remains hard and unaffected. Those eyes used to be so soft on you. Those hands only held yours and those arms were your home. Those lips belong to you and they say all the things you want to hear. Those intense gaze was yours to take.

Namjoon was yours, all yours.

In a small apartment in the outskirts of town, not more than five years ago, with broken windows and one bedroom, you were so in love. It was your little paradise where Namjoon is a troubled boy everyone stayed away from. Who gave you a peek of his sentimental side and made you fall for his dimpled smile, Namjoon was stained soul with untainted heart. But his appearance made people stay away from him. He couldn't find a job because people don't want to employ a young adult with a mistake he made in his teens. You were his only support system. With no job that pays enough, you were the one sacrificing your time to work in two places. You tutored in the day and worked in a convenience store at night. He walked you to work and back. And even when he smiles, you know he was upset.

"What's wrong baby?" You asked, curling your arm around his waist as you walked. Some people passes you by.

He dropped his gaze to the floor, "...I know what impressions I gave out. I see them giving me 'the eye'. I know I'm a piece of trash, they don't need to be loud about it. The car wash center fired me today, and no pay..." He chuckled dryly and you stopped in your tracks.

Namjoon continued walking but halted after a bit, turning his side at you.

"Come on, I want to be home," he waved his hand, coaxing you to come to him, "The rent is due this week and I have no idea how to pay that," he mumbled.

You put money into an envelope and slid them in the drawer when Namjoon showered. You were prepared. You always put money aside in case shit happened. He slid into the single bed with you, smelling like soap. The bed is so small, your legs overlapped his just to give him more space. Laying on top of him will provide both of you enough space to wriggle about, so it has been a common practice. You lay your head next to his chest where you could hear his heartbeat while his hand will find their way on the small of your back, rubbing them in meaningless circle, thumbing your flesh to soothe you. His touches are always entrancing, gentle and tender. Unlike anything his tattoos represent. He called your name when you're half awake, in whispers, and,

"Do you ever feel like leaving me?" He asked in a small gritty voice, "...you can have a better life without me, you know..." He blinked at the ceiling and inhaled.

That's when you gaze up to him in a newfound consciousness and gave him a peck on the lips, "...Don't say things like that, you know I would never survive a day without you."

He switches on his side and make you lay on your side as well. You lay face to face, while his arm draped lazily over your thin waist. Nose clashing with each other as he sighed,

"I only want what's best for you. I cannot promise you things I want to give you. I want to give you so much...I don't deserve you," his eyes were frightened so they glided away from you.

You look at him with certainty and affections, "...Hey, look at me."

They trail up to you, slowly, almost hesitantly, "...You will find another job. And they'll pay better. And don't worry about the rent, I got you," You patted his chest gently, twice, and an assured smile. He thumbed your chin and then let his thumb ran along the length of your lower lip. His eyes were fixated on it and slowly, he placed them in between his very own, and began to suckle them softly.

"What are we doing baby?" You sighed when he dove his face in your neck, and you feel his lips on that small patch of skin that's known to drive you over the edge without him doing much.

"...The only way I know now that will make you instantly happy," he grazed his teeth on that same spot, pulling you closer than you already are, his voice already throwing your conscience out the window. You don't have to tell him where to caress. Namjoon knows every little spot that would make you weak, like it was in the back of his hand. Guaranteed to make you a writhing mess underneath him.

Making love in small tight places. The fact that you can't make noises makes it even better and rewarding.

When it's good, it’s going great.

But desperation could drive any sane man to become what he's not. Namjoon was going to make money, and he didn't care how.

He didn't like to see you working two jobs and the household is doing things the other way around. You were earning money and raising him. It scarred his pride. So he resorted to the one place you told him not to go, the club. He was quickly and most frequently booked by many wealthy females.

Most of them were lonely widows and secret mistresses of powerful men, who paid Namjoon a remarkable amount of money for his time and a little fun. All the while he was beginning to create his rapport, he had money stacked in one bank account. No longer were you starving to pay the rent and even though he sometimes disappeared into thin air when you search for him, being able to afford things was becoming more important than the reason behind his frequent absence. He was extremely generous in bed and he got better with his words and brought himself with more confidence than before, it was a very good change.

He brought you out of that shitty apartment to a better one.

You have more space but you felt him drifting away. And you don’t know why.

Walking home from work, alone is your everyday now. Namjoon traded his casuals to tuxedos and sandals to leather shoes. He began to bring home many colognes and tell you that it was a gift from the marketing team. One night you found a pink vibrant G-string in his black pants, while doing the laundry. Unable to wait for him to leave the tub, you stormed into the bathroom and threw them in his face. Disappointment. Betrayal.

Namjoon grabbed his robe and went after you, chanting, "Baby, I can explain! Its yours. I got it for you..." A stinging slap went across his face.

"You think I didn't know..." you tipped your head to one side, quizzically, grumbling back at him with glassy eyes, "I know you're fucking around with the widows in this city Namjoon. And wealthy women, you like money that much that you sold your dignity?" You cocked your head to one side, your voice clipped. You grabbed his wallet and took out all the cards he had.

"Thank you for tonight. I had a lot of fun after a long time." "Namjoon, I look forward to our next meeting." "I'm all yours Mr. Kim."

You scoffed. "You create quite a stir now ha... tattooed good-looking man with incredible proportions, you loved the attention? How dare you come home and kiss me with those filthy lips of yours."

"You wanted money. We wanted money." "Gained the right way!" You raised your voice at him. "Well the right way is taking too long!" And he roared just as loud.

You turned away from him, "...Unbelievable."

Namjoon shook his head, pinching his temples between two hands, "...Let's talk about it in the morning," he reaches for your arm and you yanked them away at once.

"Get your hands off of me," You grumbled. He clenched his jaws.

You grabbed your jacket and put on your jeans while he sat on the edge of the bed, covering his face and exhaling.

"Where are you going...it's 3AM," He sighed, "You're giving me a hard time right now. I did what I needed to do," he watched you shove some clothes in a backpack.

You added a chuckle, "My ass. If I was selling myself, we would make more than you ever did."

Zipping them up angrily, "Have fun fucking girls while I'm gone. I'm never coming back. You can give them my clothes," You yanked the door open and stormed out.

“I gave you everything you wanted… a better house, pretty clothes, good food, how dare you do this to me…” he growled, holding the door shut as you struggle to leave.

“That was what you wanted!” you roared in his face, and he visibly froze. You softened,

“I only wanted you,” your voice cracked, brittle and hushed.

It was obvious that he didn’t want the same thing. He was blinded by wealth. And he got comfortable standing on the middle ground at the cost of his soul.

Namjoon's performance dwindled down. He began losing clients, one by one. And although he had more than enough to maintain his lifestyle, he can never fill the hole you left. You cut too deep and he didn't intend to have your replacement anytime soon. His heart was a fool for you and only you.

You were gone for weeks. Jumping to one bathhouse to another with some money you saved from having two jobs. Namjoon knew where you worked so you decided to leave that job and find another. You took wages in doing small sewing jobs just to keep up with yourself. And one night, your free-lance job brought you back to Namjoon's place. You wondered from outside his windows why it's still on. Sitting at the curb to watch some more, you had clothes barely enough to keep you warm, gazing up at the level of his apartment. His extravagant penthouse.

"...Are you sleeping well without me?" You whispered to him as if he was there next to you. You fold your arms and rested them on your knees before laying your head on top of it. I’m not sleeping at all, you whispered in your heart.

Namjoon on your side of the bed. His eyes were unforgiving and he didn't allow himself to sleep since you left. He was going insane on his own that he began to speak to you as if you're in the same room.

"I left the door unlocked, and there's keys under the mat," he said. He sets two plates on the table when he eats while even without you. Bought your favourite chocolate bars that you two used to share. He sat in the walk-in wardrobe and took one of your clothes before sniffing them, inhaling your scent because he misses you so much he could barely think.

"Please come back... please." He prayed. It's just not the same without you.

You remember it all. How he stood by the lamp post with his flyers promoting jobs in his worn out shoes and foolish smile to every stranger that passes him by. Those flyers get stepped on, thrown away and torn. You remember how you gave up half of your instant noodles, so he could have more. Money pinching life, but the happiest you had ever been in your entire existence. It didn’t matter if it was raining and he’s drenched, giving out flyers, it didn’t matter if your back is sore from washing dishes in a nearby diner and finger calloused from days on end using detergents, it didn’t matter that it was a hard life to live because Namjoon was there to help you go on. You had Namjoon,

and that was enough.

Just weeks to spare until the wedding. Invitation cards stack on the corner of your shared room. You shouldn’t be thinking about another man in the bed you shared with your fiance. You shouldn’t be thinking about his smile, or his laugh, or the way he looked at you. You shouldn’t be able to word every touch and every moment you spent with him. You shouldn’t be able to make of the shape of his face, the sound of his voice when he is angry, when he is happy or when he is sad, or remember with utmost precision where all his birthmarks are and you shouldn’t have remembered where your favorite one is, the one that’s on his upper right thigh. You shouldn’t be able to point the scars on his right knee and how long it was. You remembered him details. You remembered Namjoon in details. And it’s a wretched thing to do for a bride-to-be.

Tears streamed across your nose bridge, as you lay on the side, boring into the view of an opaque translucent curtain, moving softly. You wipe the tears harshly, with the back of your hand, along with the thoughts of Namjoon and that’s when you hear Yoongi coming in.

“Why are you’re up so late?” he crawled into bed, holding the blankets up, simultaneously, pressing his lips on your shoulder, draping his arm around your waist, inhaling your scent. Thunder crackling in the black sky, flickering lightning behind thick puffs of clouds, and then,

The rain pours. Just like that night.

Dusk until dawn, you promised me.

Not even the rain could stop you two from wanting to dance in the streets. Your skin is wet from sweat and it washed down from the heavy rain. Big smiles on both of your faces, he twirls you around and you go on your tippy toes feeling absolutely safe even when the lightning strikes. Sharing one cup of noodles in the convenient store because that was all you could afford to not go starving for the night. You sewing up his only dress shirt’s button on while he stares down fondly at you, holding up the flashing lights because the room you both rented had the electricity cut off from outstanding bills. You both had nothing, and yet, everything.

You promised that I won’t be alone, and when things go wrong, you’d still be here. You promised. You lied.

You were a fool in love. You gave up your family for that boy. And where else could you have gone, if not back to your family? They built you up from scrap, had you meet the man you’re with today. The wind strikes your face the same way it did with Namjoon, but with feigned calamity. A false security and deceitful smile. Are you convincing yourself that you’re okay with the man you’ve promised to marry? Or are you deceiving yourself into believing that he was right to marry? Especially when you saw his greed to defend someone in the wrong? Just for the sake of his firm?

An unfinished business. A lingering string of thoughts. It buzzes through Namjoon’s mind as he sat in his leather chair, swirling his glass of wine. Scents of Mahogany strikes up his nostril, drilling through his thoughts at the possibility of jail time should he be proven guilty. The boy. Right, the college Chemistry boy.

He threatens the market. It was the only market that feeds Namjoon of his lavish expenses,his uncontrollable urge to possess everything he only dreamt of.

“It was the words that came out of that boy that made me feel he shouldn’t be alive,” Namjoon arched an eyebrow and Yoongi visibly stiffened. Tactless, and merciless--was the way he said it. Namjoon really did sell his soul to the devil. And he proceed to gorily describe how he killed the boy.

“He regurgitates, sputtering blood all over the cord I wrapped around his Adam’s apple, and I dragged his pulsating body through the dirt and put his face into the liquid cement that hasn’t dried. Then I put his entire body inside…” Namjoon’s dark gaze lifts up to meet Yoongi’s and he did the unthinkable,

He smiled.

Without remorse.

“D’you know what he said?” Namjoon rests his elbows on the edge of the table, “Called me a beggar. The nerve of that boy.” He chuckled. But Yoongi didn’t join.

Namjoon downed a mouthful of wine and left his chair. Army of loyal followers waiting for him outside. The police are at the door, with handcuffs. They have him remanded until trials began. Will he remains his stance as not guilty? It is hardly so, now that Yoongi had known the truth. The prosecution's will soon find out what other crimes he did. And he will be in jail for good. While he got remanded, he received a visitor.

“Does your fiance know, you’re here?” he asked, with that boyish grin you were familiar with.

“He won’t, if you don’t tell,” you snapped.

You took one long look to his figure, his face, the features that stood out, the tattoos that boldly peek through his neck hole and syncopate on his skin, his forearms and knuckles.

“Do they make you stronger? Those drawings on your skin?” you asked, through your lashes and your eyes tips up to meet his.

“The pain that comes while I’m getting them, does. It made me feel something after you were gone,” he shrugs his shoulders, sitting slouched in his chair.

“I’m getting married, Namjoon,” not wishing to beat around the bush anymore, you shot, “I’m really getting married…”

Namjoon jutted his chin out, hollowed his cheeks and somberly nodded. His gaze cast down to his lap, “I know…I’ll be in jail.”

You don’t love him, you pitied him. At least, that’s what you told yourself, forcing your eyes stay open and it stings, till tears fall to your cheek.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered, even though he wasn’t even looking at you, he knew, and, “You should be happy, Yoongi’s a great person. You’ll be very happy. Even within this thick walls, I still make you cry…”

“Don’t tell me what to do…” you grumbled. Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you grab your purse and took out a bank account book he had shipped to your home address, “I can’t accept this.”

Along with the handwritten letters that came with it.

The chair scratched against the concrete floor, and Namjoon stared at the bank account book while you exited the room. His lips hung open and he blew hot air to his forehead as the door slammed shut behind you.

The crowds begin to cheer as you walk into the aisle, hand-in-hand with your father. He had a vibrant smile on, to match your subtle ones. And at the end of the aisle was Min Yoongi, your soon-to-be husband. And with every step approaching him, you leave Namjoon and his words behind.

This bank account I started when we rented a room in that run-down apartment.

Veils covered your face. Forward.

I made a vow that I’ll give them to you once the money inside is enough for a decent wedding.

Heart thumps. You tighten your grip around your father’s arm. Forward.

Of many promises that went unfulfilled,

Your knees feel loose but you held on. Forward. Forward.

At least I could fulfill these.

One last row and Yoongi is within reach. Forward.

I wish you happiness, even without me.

Namjoon basks in the sun in his prison attire, by the monkey bars, pondering about the love he had once received, and now lost.

The cost of a million dollar house is his soul, his future and his past.

End.

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stolethekey · 5 years ago

Text

i close my eyes, let it surround me

COMIN’ IN HOT THE NIGHT BEFORE THE DEADLINE HERE WE GO

this is for @397bartonstreet, who asked for something about amy knitting jake a scarf pre-relationship and it being his favorite thing in the world bc he's already lowkey smitten with her. what a concept honestly it took me so long to just wrap my head around how incredible that idea was.

and shoutout to the team at @b99fandomevents for hosting yet another successful event! these things are not easy to do well and y’all do it consistently. thanks for providing a platform for us writers to share our work and make some new friends.

anyway. you can read this on ao3 here. enjoy!

Amy loves the fall.

It’s the perfect season, really – the crisp air is a welcome reprieve from the swampy New York summer, but it’s not the unbearable cold of December, either. It’s a season of scarves and sweaters but not snow boots, of morning walks with a warm coffee in hand but no need for mittens.

It’s also flu season.

And while Amy hasn’t gotten the flu in ten years (flu shots and home remedies, baby!), she takes a sort of strange satisfaction in watching her coworkers succumb to the illness. It’s not that she enjoys their pain – she doesn’t, no matter what Rosa mutters under her breath every year – but this perfectly benign illness is a way for her to finally take care of her colleagues without them complaining.

She likes to take care of people. And flu season is her time to shine.

The only annoying thing about flu season is that Jake somehow also never gets sick. This is a phenomenon, she thinks, that is inexplicable by the known laws of nature, much like platypus eggs or the horizon problem. It is patently unfair that he remains healthy (to use the term loosely) on a diet of sour candy and orange soda, whereas she has had to concoct a careful schedule of Vitamin C and ginger broth to stave off the flu.

In any case, Jake never gets sick. And no matter how unjust Amy believes that to be, every November sees the two of them become the only constants in the bullpen.

So, when she walks into the precinct the second week of November to see his desk empty, the uncomfortable surprise that jolts through her body is completely reasonable. It is completely reasonable for her to badger Captain Holt for her partner’s whereabouts, and upon learning that he is sick, it is completely reasonable for her to hole herself away in the evidence lockup and call said partner.

Jake picks up on the third ring, his voice sounding muted through the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” Amy says, feet shuffling restlessly against the floor. “Holt said you called in sick.”

He gives a weak murmur of assent. “I think I have the flu, or something? I’m so congested and my whole body is cold and I think I have a fever? I can’t really tell.”

Amy feels her eyes narrow. “You’re never sick.”

“I know,” Jake says sourly. “Guess my good luck ran out.”

A faint, triumphant smile starts to make its way across Amy’s face. “So, what you’re saying is – I beat you.”

Jake groans. “Don’t let it go to your head. I personally think the fact that I lasted as long as I did is impressive, considering you spent hours of your time trying to prevent the flu and I just coasted and did nothing.”

Amy’s grin grows wider as he keeps going. “If anything, I think I am the true winner, because I invested less time and still got just as far. It’s about the return on investment. I got an equal return on zero investment.”

“You did not get equal return. I’m not sick. Which means I got more return.”

Jake snorts. “Details.”

“Make fun of my methods all you want,” Amy says loftily. “I get results, boy. Which is why you are currently sitting at home, miserable and cold, while I am working a double homicide.”

A high-pitched whine comes through the receiver, and Amy laughs. “Bye, Jake. I have a murderer to catch.”

She doesn’t talk to him again until later that day, when her phone lights up with a text.

From: Jake Peralta amy help i think it’s getting worse 2:34 pm

She feels a twinge of pity as she types her response.

To: Jake Peralta yes, it does that sometimes 2:35 pm

From: Jake Peralta can u give me some of ur weird home remedies pls i promise i’ll stop making fun of them 2:37 pm

To: Jake Peralta you just called them “weird” 2:38 pm

From: Jake Peralta :( 2:38 pm

From: Jake Peralta ok starting now 2:39 pm

From: Jake Peralta please I think I’m dying 2:45 pm

Amy sighs as she glances at his empty desk, mentally calculating the time it’ll take for her to drive home after her shift and gather her things.

To: Jake Peralta Fine. If you can stay alive for three more hours, I’ll be there at 5:40. 2:47 pm

From: Jake Peralta always so specific (ur the best thank u) 2:48 pm She shows up at his door at 5:40 sharp, two plastic bags in her arms. Her instinctual sarcastic comment dies on the tip of her tongue as the door opens to reveal a disheveled, very-clearly-just-asleep Jake.

“Oh,” she says, taking in his knotted hair and deathly pale skin. “I mean, hi.”

“Yeah, it’s bad,” he grumbles, his voice muted. “Come in.”

He shuffles aside, socked feet sliding against the floorboards, and Amy steps into his apartment.

She notes with some surprise that the floor is mostly bare, uncovered by dirty clothes, and a quick glance reveals no empty take-out containers on the coffee table. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but your place is…surprisingly clean.”

Jake coughs weakly behind her. “I tried to shove some stuff into the cupboards before you got here,” he says, shutting the door. “I know you hate mess.”

Something very unwelcome swells in Amy’s chest as she sets her bags on the counter. “Oh my God, Jake, you really didn’t have to, you’re clearly so sick –“

“Mmm, ’sfine,” he mumbles, turning toward the bedroom. “I’m gonna sleep now. Make yourself at home.”

“Oh,” Amy says again. “I mean, yeah, of course, you need it – I’ll set up here and wait for you.”

“You’re the best.”

She laughs, he gives her a weak, soft smile, and with that, he disappears into his room, leaving her to rifle through her bags in an attempt to bury the flurry of butterflies in her stomach.

When Jake wakes, it takes him a minute to remember that he’s not alone.

It’s a good thing that he remembers when he does, because walking mostly naked into the hallway while his colleague whom he respects very much and may or may not have a tiny crush on is rustling around in his kitchen is absolutely not something he wants to do, no matter how sick he is.

He doesn’t completely remember taking his clothes off, but he guesses somewhere in between him sliding into bed and now, his fever made him go from freezing cold to unbearably hot and that’s why his sweatpants are currently lying abandoned on the floor. He pauses to pull them back on, and as he grabs his T-shirt off the foot of his bed he notes with some relief that he feels somewhat more like himself.

Amy is perched on his couch when he enters the living room, and the gentle kindness in her eyes as she looks up makes his heart clench.

He clears his throat, determinedly trying to focus on something else. “Are you knitting?”

Her eyebrows scrunch together as she looks him up and down, the needles stilling in her hands. “Are you really in a position to be making fun of me right now?”

“I’m not making fun of you,” he says hastily, holding his hands up. “Just – observing. Is that a scarf?”

“It’s going to be, yeah. Good eye.”

He smiles, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s really good. Honestly. I love that shade of blue.”

She returns his smile, and for a moment he thinks that maybe he could get used to this, that maybe he likes the sight of her snuggled comfortably into the side of his couch.

Amy coughs. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” he answers, making his way into the kitchen to hide the blush that’s spread onto his cheeks. “Did you bring those magic cures you promised?”

“Yeah!” She jumps almost excitedly off the couch, laying her half-finished scarf on his coffee table. “Here, let me set it up.”

She hurries past him and starts untying the top of a plastic bag he hadn’t noticed initially. “I actually ordered you some soup and bread – I brought you some meds, too, but you should have something in your stomach before you take them.”

A large plastic tub emerges from the bag, and she grins. “Lucky you – it’s still hot.”

He takes it with a murmur of thanks, and she shoves him toward the table. “Go eat that. I’m gonna prep.”

The soup is heavenly, although Jake isn’t sure it’s possible to mess up chicken noodle soup, and as he tears into the bread he sneaks a glance at Amy.

A pot of liquid is boiling on the stove as she chops something on his cutting board, and as he watches her maneuver easily around his kitchen he feels a curious sense of longing start to rise in his chest.

“Okay,” she says, and his head snaps up. “Push that soup to the side. The goal here is to minimize steam loss, so I’m gonna brief you now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She rolls her eyes, but the authoritative tone remains in her voice when she continues. “When I slide this bowl in front of you, you’re going to lower your face so that it’s immediately above the liquid. And then you’re just gonna breathe it in.”

“Like the way pop stars steam their vocal cords.”

“Sure. Yes. Ready?”

He nods, she pours the liquid from the pot into the bowl, and before he can react, his face is directly above a translucent, brownish-orange broth and a towel is being draped over his head.

“Are you kidnapping me?”

“It’s to keep the steam in. Shut up and close your eyes.”

He does, breathing deeply, and immediately starts coughing. “Wha – what is in this?”

“Don’t move!” Amy says indignantly, her voice muffled through the towel. “It’s apple cider vinegar, ginger, garlic, echinacea, and some peppermint. It should help with the congestion and clear some stuff up.”

“It’s spicy!”

Amy laughs. “You’ll get used to it. Keep breathing.”

He falls silent obediently, and as they lapse into a comfortable quiet he starts to feel it again.

The flu is definitely messing with his brain, but a part of him never wants to be sick without her again. Maybe she could take care of him every time he’s sick or hurt or sad. Maybe he could take care of her, too. Maybe he wants the comfort she brings when she’s here. Maybe her coat could find a permanent place draped over his armchair. Maybe it could stay – and maybe she could stay –

“Okay,” she says suddenly, making him jump almost guiltily. “It’s been like ten minutes – how’s the temperature?”

“Um, good,” he says, forcing his voice to remain casual. “It’s pretty lukewarm, actually. Not much steam left.”

Her voice says, “I think you’re done, then,” and then the towel is yanked off his head and he’s blinking in the bright lights of his living room.

She whisks away the bowl before he even has a chance to react, sliding it onto his countertop with a little flourish. “You can reuse that up to three times – it’ll probably still be good tomorrow. Just re-boil it. I’ll text you the full recipe for when you need to make more – you should probably do this twice a day until you feel better.”

“Um, okay. Thanks.”

She gives him a small smile, then passes him a handful of pills and a glass of water. “Take ‘em.”

He swallows them obediently as she holds up a pill organizer. “I’ve put a week’s supply in here, so you don’t have to figure out how much to take. You should be almost back to normal by the time it runs out, but if not, I’ll give you more.”

He gives her a petulant frown. “I’m not an old man.”

She snorts. “Don’t get sick and beg me like a baby, then.”

He laughs, and she smiles, wringing her hands almost nervously. “I think that’s mostly it – so, um, I’ll head out, let you get some rest – I’ll leave my peppermint and echinacea for you to use, I have plenty at home – ”

“Wait,” he says, much too quickly. “Do you – would you want to stay? I mean, if you’re busy, I totally get it, I just – I’m actually kind of sick of lying in bed all day, and, um, I’d love some company – I read an article about this documentary on cubism we could watch – “

“You’d watch a documentary about cubism with me?”

He gives her an embarrassed smile. “You brought me soup. It’s the least I can do.”

She blushes slightly and rolls her eyes. “Technically, Paul from Postmates brought you soup.”

“Then give me his number and get out of my house.”

Amy laughs, lively and bright, and Jake’s heart soars.

“Fine,” she says, pouring herself a glass of water. “But I’m finishing my scarf as we watch it.”

“Deal.”

And maybe it’s just a coincidence, maybe it’s fate, but when the precinct’s annual Secret Santa rolls around and Jake tears open the wrapping paper to find a familiar, hand-knit blue scarf, he can’t help but feel like the world is trying to tell him something.

Or, maybe, one person is trying to tell him something.

And as he walks into the bullpen the next morning with his new scarf warm and secure around his neck, he finds it really, really hard to tell the difference.

#my fics #my b99 fics #jake x amy #b99 #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine #peraltiago #jake peralta x amy santiago #mine #b99 fall 2019 fic exchange

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makeste · 5 years ago

Text

BnHA Chapter 231: hey wHAT THE FUCK

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “lol what if the guy who can clone himself but is too afraid gets over his fears and makes like 200,000 of him,” and then he chuckled and did it. Re-Destro was all, “(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) ...hey, Skeptic.” Skeptic was all, “!!!” and quickly faded himself out of existence like that kid in that one meme. The Legion of Twices rolled across the city leaving chaos in their wake, and helping Compress out of a jam in the process. Meanwhile King Cone continued to harass Dabi, who’s apparently starting to cook himself from the inside out, which I think we can all agree is probably not good. Then, over in the Ol’ Villain Laboratory, Ujiko abruptly decided to throw the LoV a bone and wake up Machia, because I guess Horikoshi was all “so anyway we should do that climax now I guess.” So on to the climax we go?

Today on BnHA: Machia awakens and starts zooming toward where the action is. We then cut to Osaka, where Hawks is apparently waiting for Dabi to show up (he’s late, wonder why that is) because he has a delivery for him. No idea what said delivery is, none whatsoever. Oh hey there, flashback of Best Jeanist -- OH NO. FLASHBACK OF BEST JEANIST, HAWKS IS COMING. OH MY GOD HE HAS AIRPODS ON HE CAN’T HEAR US ffffff. Anyway so we’re just going to ignore all of that, and back in the present Twice catches up with Spinner and Tomura who are both happy to see him and very pleased with his recent character development. The group of them have almost made it to Re-Destro’s tower, although both Spinner and Twice appear to be concerned about Tomura’s current exhausted state. The chapter ends with Twice (well, one of the Twices) arriving in the tower to rescue Princess Giran from Re-Destro’s clutches, which, fuck yeah.

(All comments are my 99% unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity immediately afterward, and added a couple of ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.)

so if anyone tried to send me an ask in the last 24 hours or so, you may have noticed that my inbox was temporarily closed (I’ve reopened it now). this was due to a very polite anon ask I received yesterday morning which was nonetheless ominous as fuck

like, holy shit, lol. so of course my brain immediately panicked and came up with a whole list of things that this could possibly be referring to

Giran dies

someone else dies

Horikoshi kills another dog

Kacchan’s provisional license is revealed but his thumb is conveniently blocking out his hero name because Horikoshi is, in fact, evil

Re-Destro transforms into a big ugly spider-crab creature like Overhaul

RD transforms into something even worse, like a mushroom, or a centipede

worst-case scenario: “My Hero Academia will be on break next week.” or for two weeks. or, god forbid, an entire month. can you even fucking imagine holy shit

so anyway, as previously mentioned I immediately closed my asks so as to protect myself from any potential spoilers, and then I settled in to wait. and now I am finally reading the chapter, so I guess I should brace myself for whatever terrible things are about to unfold

and we’re opening with... what the fuck...

I guess it’s a nose lol

lmao oh my god

are you telling me he is going to track down Tomura by scent. Tomura just how rank are you after six weeks of nonstop battling in the woods. no wonder Machia hates you so much. was it really so simple this whole time

anyway, so now this is happening

I’m not even the one he’s hunting down and even I’m terrified. say a quick prayer for the Liberation Army of Assholes, everyone. they were, as the name implies, assholes, but I’m not sure anyone deserves what’s about to go down. Geneva Convention about to be violated something fierce

ASKDFJLWIREFJOAIJDLKLSDKFJSLDAKF

WELL IF IT ISN’T THE BIRB TRYING TO GET IN TOUCH WITH HIS BOYFRIEND, WHO UNBEKNOWNST TO HIM IS CURRENTLY FIGHTING GOOD HUMOR WHILE TRYING TO COPE WITH HIS ORGANS BEING ON FIRE. HELLO THERE, HANDSOME

8. new worst-case scenario: Hawks fucking dies. oh my god. I’m about to go put this whole fucking chapter down right now and go take a walk while trying not to panic

so Hawks is crouching on that rooftop with a big ol’ bag. whatcha got there Hawks

(ETA: (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻)

and he’s being smart and stuff

okay correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure that Various Bits Of Giran ominously turning up at all of the League’s Greatest Hits locations ought to count as an incident related to the League. eh?? sounds to me like the Hero Network has been slacking

-- NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

9. NEW NEW WORST-CASE SCENARIO BEST JEANIST FUCKING DIES WHAT THE FUCK

(ETA: and I also missed the part about the sidekicks the first time around! what the fuck!!)

BITCH I REALLY AM ABOUT TO GO OUT ON THAT WALK!?!? WHAT’S HORIKOSHI’S EMAIL I WANT TO WRITE HIM A VERY STRONGLY WORDED LETTER

shit. well look. if I just stop right here and don’t finish the chapter then it can’t hurt me. but on the other hand, if I quit BnHA right now and delete my tumblr then I’ll never find out Kacchan’s hero name. so anyway this is a really big dilemma for me as you can see guys, but I guess I’m just gonna have to suck it up and read on anyway because I apparently hate myself

ohhhhh shit

who’s he talking to?? that doesn’t sound like Dabi. and Tomura doesn’t know that Hawks exists. I’m thinking this must be Ujiko, then

lol he’s apparently out in public while taking this call, and his adoring fans are all “OMG WHO’S HE TALKING TO IS IT HIS GIRLFRIEND.” first of all, I think we all know Hawks doesn’t swing that way. and second of all, haha nope

anyway so now he’s flying off to go get some fucking privacy

okay now I’m absolutely positive this isn’t Dabi lol

because if that is Dabi being all “SPICY!!!” then I must say I’ve really failed to get the correct read on Dabi’s character up to this point. like, I could not have gotten that more wrong if I tried

wow Hawks is really going all in on his whole “secretly disgruntled traitor” act. if I didn’t know better I sure would be convinced

I love the juxtaposition between what he’s saying and what he’s actually thinking here. he’s so fucking smart, it’s ridiculous. constantly playing this dangerous game of chess in his head and judging what to say and how to act to best gain their trust

wow who is this?? maybe it really is Dabi

either that or someone new?? is the plot thickening?? jesus christ I was not prepared for any of this, I thought it was just gonna be a chapter of Gigantomachia fucking shit up. not all of this Intrigue

yep it is Dabi. wow Dabi. I’m gonna call you Spicy from now on you little freak

-- HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE

BACK THE FUCK UP. IS THIS IMPLYING THAT FUCKING HAWKS IS RESPONSIBLE FOR KIDNAPPING OR FUCKING MURDERING MOTHERFUCKING ULTIMATE FINEST JEANIST, BECAUSE I’M ABOUT TO LOSE MY SHIT OVER HERE WHAT THE FUCK

AND NOW WE’RE CUTTING TO ANOTHER BUILDING SOMEWHERE, STILL IN FLASHBACK MODE, AND IMMA KEEP THE CAPSLOCK ON JUST IN CASE BECAUSE I HAVE A FEELING THAT WE MAY JUST BE IN NEED OF IT

I CAN’T BELIEVE HORIKOSHI WENT FROM “HAHA LOOK AT ALL THESE TWICES” TO “HAWKS FUCKING MURDERS BEST JEANIST!!!” IN THE SPAN OF A SINGLE CHAPTER OH GOD

OH GOD!!!

BUT CAN YOU LIVE WITHOUT TWO LUNGS, BEST DEAD MAN WALKING???

FUCKKKKKKKKKKKFLSDKJ

MAYBE I DON’T REALLY NEED TO KNOW KACCHAN’S HERO NAME AFTER ALL SOB IT’S BEEN A GREAT MANGA EVERYONE, WONDERFUL GETTING TO KNOW YOU ALL BUT I CAN’T

... [CLICKS TO NEXT PAGE WHILE SOBBING!!!]

HEY WHAT THE FUCK WHAT IS THIS! WHERE DID THE FLASHBACK GO!!

HEY GUYS. OKAY LISTEN. IF BEST JEANIST’S HEAD IS IN THAT BAG, I’M ABOUT TO RAGE QUIT THIS WHOLE SCENE THOUGH

aaaaaaand now we’re cutting back to King Joffrey* VS Choco Taco. great

*this is a reference to Game of Thrones you guys. “bring me his head!” it’s not the best joke because I immediately realized it would probably require an explanation, hence me explaining it right now. but I’m not gonna go back and delete it though because, well. if the shoe fits, Spicy Boi

maybe it’s not Best Jeanist’s head. maybe I’m having an extreme overreaction to this whole thing. maybe the bag is filled with flowers. or letters to Santa that he’s delivering. or something else really good and wholesome and not-terrible

maybe they found someone with a cloning quirk like Twice’s, and they made a fake Jeanist and decapitated him? Hawks isn’t a fucking murderer though, like surely he wouldn’t go that far to gain the League’s trust even if it would save a lot of lives in the long run. right?? someone please reassure me here I feel like I’m on a boat slowly drifting out to sea with no way back sob help

oh hey look who finally decided to show up again!

and Spinner too! somehow I straight up forgot about him. maybe he’ll finally show us his quirk and we can forget all this Sopranos bullshit

wow, despite being completely fucking tanked from sleep deprivation Tomura is actually having a very reasonable conversation with Spinner and I’m fucking impressed actually

it’s really starting to seem that the lack of sleep is actually making him saner, which is extremely intriguing. it’s like whatever brainwashing/mental manipulation that Ujiko and AFO did is slowly losing its effect because of how tired he is. first the flashbacks, then the power upgrade, and now this uncanny single-minded focus that he’s developed. idk, just my theory, but I think we’re seeing a bit of his real personality starting to shine through here

anyway so I guess all these fuckers are about to die

place your bets everyone. will it be Tomura continuing on his rampage? Spinner finally revealing his quirk? Machia making his grand entrance? or a surprise entrance from Hawks wondering why his boyfriend didn’t show in Osaka like they agreed to retrieve his head in a bag sobbbbb

and maybe I should take back what I previously said about Tomura becoming saner, though. ...

though I mean, even if he’s saner in general he is still kooky from the no-sleep though

also it looks like the Twices have finally arrived! I didn’t even include them as an option to bet on. I’m really losing my touch here. it’s almost as if I’m distracted by something!!

okay, and now Twice is tackling Tomura to the ground for some reason while screaming “HIYAAAAH!” not how I was expecting you to deal with the situation Jin but okay

okay but not only is Tomura accepting this with more grace than some football quarterbacks, but he’s genuinely starting to remind me of Deku now holy shit. I take back my take-back. jesus christ when did he get so mellow?!

“I have no idea why you just fucking shoved me into the pavement for no reason but wow, you’ve really gotten stronger bro!” okay, things I was not expecting to happen in this chapter: Hawks going Full Evil while Tomura inches ever closer toward being a straight up nice dude

Twice is all “yeah!!” and says he hopes he can finally be useful to Tomura now. aww

meanwhile the Army of Dipshits is charging in again since they all want to die, apparently. I keep waiting for a few of them to have an epiphany in the background and be all “you know what, maybe I should get the fuck out of here and to hell with Re-Destro though.” but nope, they’re all idiots. it’s really something

Tomura is so fucking nice. his niceness is the balm I needed to soothe my anxiety over Best Deadest Jeanist

... [headpats]

he remembers from before that RD and Giran are supposedly up in the tower, and he’s more than ready to kill the former. quote unquote, “kill him reeeealll good.” that’s what I like to hear, Tomura

oh my god

motherfucking League of Softies right here. well except for Todoroki “Queen of Hearts” Touya. there, I worked in a more accessible chopped-off-heads reference for you guys. anyways he has issues, but the rest of the League of Angels is very sweet though

so Twice is shouting “just leave it to mes! hang on Giran, I’m coming for ya!” and I suddenly got scared all over again for Giran oh my god. please don’t hurt him, I was prepared for it before but now Best Jeanist is dead probably and I’m a fragile, vulnerable mess who’s trying to cope with humor and failing sob please

oh my GOD

SHIGARAKI TOMURA I KEEP JOKING ABOUT HOW NICE YOU ARE AND YOU KEEP ESCALATING YOUR LEVEL OF NICENESS TO MATCH MY FUCKING EXAGGERATIONS THOUGH, WHAT THE FUCK. “I WON’T FORGIVE YOU FOR TOYING WITH PEOPLE’S HEARTS LIKE THAT.” FOR REAL?!?! WHO EVEN ARE YOU

oh it’s this guy again

so did I honestly

you deserve to die a quick and brutal “Indiana Jones shooting the guy with the big sword” death, buddy. my fingers are crossed for Gigantomachia to just plow right through you as soon as I click to the next page. Horikoshi owes me, so

goddammit

wow this is almost verbatim Syndrome’s speech from the first Incredibles

also these guys just keep on getting more horrible. good job assholes

so Spinner’s thinking to himself that every time Hanabata gives a speech his lackeys get more fired up. and he’s wondering what to do because ‘I can’t let Shigaraki get any more exhausted!’

the love these guys have for each other though, I swear. like it genuinely is the sweetest thing. honestly the only real problem I have with this arc so far is that my disbelief is going to be crazy suspended if and when they go back to kidnapping kids and shit after this arc. there’s just no way I’ll be able to reconcile that in my head with the current League of Darlings here. I feel like it would be more consistent for their next scheme to be them angrily raising money for a charity or something

now what’s happening up in the tower

oh shit

that was fast Jin

and he continues to be hot. now he’s even doing it while still wearing the Deadpool mask! this is outrageous

gotta love that trash talk. “so you’re the asshole that kidnapped our broker and chopped off his hand and beat up my girlfriend! well guess what! YOU’RE BALD YOU BIG JERK”

Giran hotness status: still hot. this one basically goes without saying but it’s still worth a mention

bold fucking move bringing up your dead mouse secretary, Re-Jerko. sob. please don’t kill Giran or Twice. is that the real Twice?? -- no, because the real Twice is still sitting in that backyard with his arms broken, that’s right. but still, I’d prefer if you didn’t kill this one either though but whatever

where is Skeptic. you’d figure he’d have run into him on his way to the top of the tower. that’s unsettling, him still being out there somewhere

lastly, so long as Schrödinger’s Jeanist’s status remains unconfirmed I will go ahead and assume those really are letters to Santa in Hawks’s bag. that’s so sweet of you Hawks. you’ll fit right in with the League of Saints and I’m sure they’ll be pleased to welcome you

what a sweet and wholesome chapter where nothing bad happened and Best Jeanist is probably just off in Tahiti somewhere enjoying life with his one remaining lung well good night everyone

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jq37 · 5 years ago

Note

May we have a recap, please? :)

**spoilers for panic at the art show and home for the holidays**

OK people. I actually don’t have a ton of commentary on these two so I’m gonna try and keep it (relatively) short and sweet [Edit from Future Me: Failed Step 1].

Also, iirc, this is the week Dropout starts streaming new Fantasy High eps on Wednesdays which is very dope and I am very excited for. I probably won’t do full on recaps like I do for normal eps because, lbr, I don’t strictly have the time to be recapping these eps at all and it’s pure stubbornness that keeps me from making wiser time management decisions. But, rest assured, if I have an Opinion, you will hear it whether you want to or not.

Anyway, on with the show.

Last recap, I mentioned that this ep was giving me Aelwen house party vibes and now it reminds me of that ep in another way: Everyone rolled like TRASH almost the entire ep. It was so frustrating! They barely got any hits in until like halfway through the ep.

(Aw man, I just realized I’m gonna have to remember which spelling of Aelwen is correct again now that FH is coming back.)

I love how Murph is immediately like, “I need to make sure my wife doesn’t die during this fight avenging her fictional husband.”

Isabella also has Aelwen’s trick of poofing around the battlefield which is annoying as hell (ha) for the group.

Siobhan hilariously casts fear on Priya just to be spiteful. I thought she was doing it to help the evac process but no. It was a purely spiteful action. Bless.

When Kug turns into an ape he, of course, turns into *the* NY ape, King Kong.

“I roll a nat 20 on an epic shit.”

When Brennan was describing Kingston’s spectral New Yorker Guardians I was already thinking about that one part of Spiderman 2 (the OG Toby Mac version) and then he straight up said, “You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us,” and I lost it.

“Deny the stairs the pleasure of my feet.” Emily is a poet.

I want to know what makes a pigeon spicy more than anything.

The fact that Brennan killed Ox AGAIN and then immediately looked into the camera and let the audience know the dog was fine because he clearly Oracle stared into the future between eps and saw the entire internet sharpening their pitchforks was so funny.

About midway through the ep, Pete tries and fails to send Isabella back to hell and Isabella starts monologing about her plans and connection with Robert Moses (she stole the list from Santa and is/was gonna marry Moses apparently). I wonder if Brennan was like, “These players are for sure gonna murder her without getting any useful info out of her unless she goes full Bond Villain right now.”

And, proving my point, Emily immediately does 56 points of damage, royally f-ing Isabella up.

This is a really civilian heavy fight which feels weird in a way the FH fights never did. Like, these aren’t even civilians who live in an adventuring town in a fantasy world. These are just normal ass civilians in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Pete fails a wild magic roll after failing to teleport into the building and then gets a choice of getting really strong (which prob would have let him bust down the door) or to teleport in (which is what he does and exactly what he wanted). Very clutch when the dice rolls play into the story like that.

Kingston lightning bolts Isabella’s hair off which is just malicious but also totally called for.

On her next turn, Sophie gets hurt on purpose to get low enough to activate her ring, lets her hair burn for long enough to shorten it to a cute bob, insults Isabella, then knocks her tf out.

I love that Emily took one of her teeth (a seemingly crazy move) and when called out by Lou was like, “It’s a link to Robert Moses” (a completely reasonable answer). That’s the Axford one-two punch.

I didn’t mention it before but, Willie the golem is here, first immobile but then brought back by Misty. Post fight, he says he was somehow brought here by one of the evil factions of the city and says they’ll talk about it later. Also, Misty makes out with him (DON’T KINKSHAME HER).

With a high insight roll, Kingston is able to deduce that the group was ambushed (though not by Priya) and that their victory was a really important one for the fate of the city.

(Sidenote: The amount that Pete is Over Priya in this ep is so funny.)

Back at Wally’s (which is where Kug is now staying) Wally has gotten Kug a dog bed to sleep in and fancy charcuterie cheese because he and Ricky are the only pure-hearted people in NYC.

At the same time, Pete and Kingston have a very sweet heart to heart and then settle down at Kingston’s place to chill and listen to jazz. Idk how else we expected this to resolve, considering this is a Brennan Lee Mulligan DM’d show where the sacred pillars are Teamwork, Friendship, Communication, and Making up an NPC on the Fly Because One of Your PC’s Decided to do an Insane Thing.

Next up is the Christmas ep and Brennan, Emily, and Zac are in sweaters for the occasion.

Well,actually it’s the 21st and Emily immediately clocks that that’s the solstice.

Are cookies the good carb?/Absolutely not. But have fun with your life. (I love Ricky’s soft jock energy.)

“I run deliveries,” Pete says to Kingston’s parents, not technically lying but also not being completely truthful. Misty would be proud.

Going over to Misty, it seems pretty clear at this point (and it’s confirmed in the promo for next ep) that Misty’s fairy business is some kind of de-aging/reincarnation for herself. I wonder how many of these she’s done so far. She said she’s been around for, what? 200, 300 years? Assuming she’s been doing then reincarnations at about 65-70 years old and she reincarnates to around 25? Maybe 6 times? Idk. Just spitballing.

Saucer of milk to keep the faeries from stealing her (non-existing) children. Faerie lore is wild y'all.

Did you take another level of warlock?/Yeah bitch.

The fact that since Sophie has joined a monastery, she’s only taken Warlock levels and no Monk levels is very funny from a story perspective. It’s like, she finally comes to this sacred place to be trained to her full potential and she’s just spending what should be her sparring time playing with her cat in exchange for spells. Wild.

Emily’s cat-like, self-satisfied grin when Brennan is like, “So you just jerry-rigged yourself clairvoyance powers, huh?” is so good.

And she did it on the fly because Emily Axford is winning D&D. There are no points but she’s winning.

So, uh, Emily does, two things, very in character right after the other:

Thing number one: She send her unseen servant to spy on her family. Her dad seems hardline, “F, Dale. Whatever. Family first. She needs to get over it.” On the other side of the spectrum is her mom who is very upset about the whole affair with her siblings falling in the middle.

The second thing she does, very casually I might add, is have her unseen servant BURN DOWN HER HOUSE SO SHE CAN COMMIT INSURANCE FRAUD.

EMILY

Everyone loses their minds and rightfully so. What a wild-ass swing that no one could have seen coming. I love it.

“I look in my backpack which is now my home[…]"

I almost forgot that Ricky was a fire fighter who would not abide that nonsense until Brennan decided to cut to him.

Ricky just dolphin swims across the Hudson in 2.5 mins to go put out the fire that Sophie set. Amazing.

Ally mocking Emily/Sophie: Truthfully, I don’t know what happened.

"I love John McClane, because he loves his wife.” WALLY

Wally: Oh we’re gonna tell a lie on Christmas.

“This is what winning looks like.”

I would really like to know what trace stuff what on the drugs Pete got from 7 but Ally rolled too low to figure it out.

“I disassociate fully."

Well it took him a long ass time but glad to have Pete on the selling drugs to kids is bad train. Choo-choo, dude.

7 saying you can hack in real life in reference to his AK-47 has the same energy as Hardison using the word hack in literally any semi-weird episode of Leverage.

SOCIAL MEDIA IS VOLUNTARY PANOPTICON

So Kug goes with Wally to David’s house disguised as a dog and, despite that, blurts out that he’s his dad immediately. Well, he tries to. The Umbral Arcana stops him, unfortunately.

"I lick my son’s face.” KUUUUG.

Sophie showing up with a raw goose and hellish rebuking it is so metal and it’s a shame no one got to appreciate it.

Me when Sophie’s Mom changes into black top in solidarity for Sophie’s mourning: F EVERY OTHER NON-SOPHIE BICICLETA. I RESPECT YOU.

Kingston is hustling very hard to get his man Pete a job which is a very Kingston move. That’s how guys like that show affection.

Didn’t mention it before but Kingston’s parents and Mom specifically adopting Pete is very cute.

Sidenote: Idk what 7 was talking about Pete trying to stay low profile. He wears a cowboy hat (now a ZEBRA STRIPED one, courtesy of Kingston). I think the subtlety train has sailed my guy.

Esther shows up at the firehouse, carrying presents for her mom and grandma and looking for Ricky. The says that she’s kinda dealing with something and it feels good to be around him (beat) magically speaking. Sure. I’m gonna keep my Hercules soundtrack on hand just in case anyway.

I think Ricky is the only person who, with no pretense, could give his crush a sexy calendar featuring him.

Anyway, turns out Esther’s mom and grandma are the furies of Tompkins Square and she’s fated to join them or something.

Esther causally: I defy you, I defy the prophecy.

The fury thing would explain why Esther’s mom would have cursed Kug. They are famously magical punishers.

Ricky is a magically certified Good Boy but we been knew.

Zac’s restraint to respect Esther’s personal boundaries in lieu of getting a lore drop to stay true to Ricky’s character is amazing. Mad props.

So we slide over to Misty’s Christmas party which Stephen Sondhein is attending and him having a character card kinda killed me.

There’s a post on tumblr somewhere about playing faerie incapability for impoliteness against a vampires need to be invited in and that’s what I thought about when Moses and his vamp friends showed up at Misty’s house.

Robert tries to talk Misty into striking a deal with him for protection from Titania. She’s very much not having it.

“You know Robert, I love a comedy and I love a farce. I’d like to remind you of who it is that started this and it’s not me and it’s not my friends but I can assure you Robert Moses that we will be the ones to end it if you do not. Do you understand me?” Damn. That’s a mic drop from Misty.

[As I’m editing this, I’m realizing I somehow lost a BIG chunk of text. I’m not gonna write it all up again but the Cliffnotes are as follows:

Between the Solstice and Christmas, the gang goes Grand Central Station to see the clockwork gnomes that live there because trouble is apparently afoot. Some size changing nonsense happens and Pete shoots a dog (with mini bullets, the dog is fine). Lou is enchanted even though Kingston is not (a common theme with him). Ally and Emily are on the same nonsense wavelength (as usual).

There are dope magical dragon trains under Grand Central Station that go to the shadow realm which is a place I’d like to know about. Kingston has never seen these trains before even though you’d really think he would have.

Murph says Gnome Rights which is wild if you know what Naddpod is like.

Anyway, the high priestess of the gnomes passed out the other day and they figure out it was due to pixie magic which is suspicious. They also know they pixies have access to a “time stone” which leads me to believe that it’s Brennan and not Aguefort who thinks that Chronomancy is the most powerful magic of all.

Sophie and Jackson go to Dale’s grave on Christmas. Jackson explains that the Order of the Concrete Fist is basically a literal school of hard knocks. A counterbalance to all the reach for the stars dreaminess that comes with NYC.

Dale was their chosen one who was supposed to stop the monastery from falling when some unspecified badness crossed over to this side, but when he went to the place where he was supposed to get guidance, there was no one there (clearly tying in to what Dale said to Sophie last time they talked. I wonder what she needs to get to the top of? Empire State maybe?).

Watching Murph watching Emily, his real life spouse, play at grief for her fictional husband and do some truly insane things is so funny because you can clearly see him thinking, “I am married to this woman,” which, in fairness, is probably the main thing he’s thinking when he’s playing D&D with Emily.

I’m probably missing something but that’s all I remember. Back to post-Christmas!]

So it’s opening night at Misty’s show and, somehow, Ricky’s first show ever.

I love that Don Confetti is there because of Siobhan’s offhanded comment for a handful of eps ago about him being a supporter of the arts.

Anyway, everything is going great until the second act when Titania busts in through the mirror which is *not* is storage as Misty requested but on stage. It’s a theater fight, y'all! And not the West Side Story kind although if that doesn’t come up I will be very surprised.

“Let’s kill Titania!” –Misty in the promo

Just going straight to 11, huh Misty?

See y'all then!

#dimension 20 #the unsleeping city #d20 #asks #kickmuncher3

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