#once again i think there is a definite answer but yall may surprise me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jamaiskookie · 4 years ago

Text

meet me in your memories (knj)

✂︎ pairing: memory traveller namjoon x gender neutral reader

✂︎ wc: 11.8k

✂︎ TW// car crash, mentions of death, crying, mental health, mental breakdowns, spoilers for frozen 1?? um, vomiting, mentions of PTSD, three seconds of family drama, memory loss

✂︎ notes: a little gift from me for being away so long <3 luv yall also ignore how short and shitty this is!!! ignore it!!!!!

✂︎ synopsis: namjoon is a memory traveller - he is thrusted back and forth into his world and the world of his memories, forced to re-enact his past experiences. but he doesn’t recognise you, who keeps showing up in his memories. why doesn’t he remember you? why can’t he recall any of these scenes if they’re supposed to be his memories? and why does it always feel like he’s forgetting something?

he comes to find out that he would choose you over and over again, in whatever lifetime or world he’s in. because he always returns to you.

✂︎ fic tunes: "eight"- iu (prod. & feat. suga) but you're at your favorite secret spot after a long day by neptjoon

masterlist asks

The road is slippery and Namjoon cranes his head out to look at the window. Rain splattering everywhere, he notes worriedly. He hopes that nobody crashes. The bus driver sitting about three meters in front of him is humming a melody to a song he doesn’t know nor recognise. While listening to the poor man hum the off beat tune, Namjoon sits in silence, wondering how sad it must be to drive a bus with no passengers but himself.

Suddenly, his stomach drops and his head spins, and this time Namjoon is certain it’s not from the rain or the driver’s subpar driving. He lurches forward, watching as the rain knocks against the window and falls in thick ribbons.

Click.

In an instant, Namjoon’s world collapses around him and he is thrown into his mind.

Seoul is sweltering hot - hot like he’s never felt before. Namjoon reaches up to clutch his head, which is still spinning, and finds himself standing in a pair of light washed baggy jeans and a sleeveless tee shirt, unlike the padding coat and thick boots he had on just a moment ago.

“Namjoon!” Someone squeals behind him and his heart jumps. He jumps around, facing you and the view of hot street food stalls and tall buildings behind you. Suddenly, his hand is reaching out to grab onto yours and you smile softly.

He hears his own voice ring out, clear as day: “Don’t run. I was looking for you.”

“Psh.” You wave off his concern, handing him a shiny golden hotteok. You hold an identical one in your fist, so he accepts it and murmurs his thanks, tearing apart the pancake and stuffing it into his mouth. Sweet, hot honey and small pieces of walnut flood into his mouth, and Namjoon is momentarily surprised. Science states that you cannot taste or physically feel anything in your dreams.

But Namjoon already proved that wrong long ago.

He takes you by hand and drags you over to a shelter, for some rest, apparently uninterested in your cries of wanting more tteokbokki or some Chinese food. He flings you over to his side and places his hand over your shoulder, while you both silently devour your hotteoks.

“This was a nice date.” You mumble tentatively, and oh. That’s what this is? A date? He wants to turn around and ask you for your name. Where are you from? Why am I here again? He wants to scream it out until his lungs hurt and he gets an answer that makes sense, but no matter how much he tries, his throat will not allow those words to tumble out of his lips.

Why don’t I remember you?

Instead, he replies: “Yeah, it was. This was fun.” He tilts his head down to smile at you and Namjoon finds himself nervous. Nervous enough that his hands are shaking against his will, but he tells himself that the sweat and the nervousness are all side effects of the swampy heat this summer.

You beam at him and Namjoon thinks you’re an angel. You lean up onto his chest to place a soft kiss onto his lips and Namjoon thinks about when he’s going to be thrown back out of his head.

“Wanna go home?” He asks, nudging at the sky, which is already filled up with first streaks of the sunset. Purple hues and pinks and blues that all blend together nicely. You watch the sky for a moment.

“Never.” You offer no explanation after that and Namjoon doesn’t pry. He feels like he understands you, which is scarier than any other encounter he’s faced, in real life and in here. You stare up at him more intensely, and a shudder of fear runs down Namjoon’s back. “I just want to stay here forever,” You enunciate, like you want him to remember this. “Just Y/N and Namjoon.”

Something tugs in his chest and Namjoon screams in his head, no. Longer. Not now. He slips away, gone, disappeared from the world before he can even tell you how pretty your name is. And he awakens back at the bus, where the driver is shaking him and yelling at him to get out.

Namjoon walks home in the rain, yelling out your name in happiness until his neighbours come over politely asking him to shut the fuck up.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N… Y/N?” He keeps repeating the name over and over again, enough to make Seokjin annoyed, who has moved away from Namjoon’s desk to the sofa in his office just to escape the random spiel that Namjoon is hurriedly rushing through.

“I can’t find a single Y/N in here!” Namjoon cries frustratingly, and the corners of Seokjin’s eyes soften in something that is either pity or empathy. He discards his non-fiction novel about drag queens and wigs to come over and clap a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder.

“My friend, my crazy, idiotic, slightly insane friend.” Seokjin bends down. “You’ve checked all your yearbooks, social media, archives, newspapers… Have you perhaps considered that this person wasn’t that important? Just a passing stranger?”

“No.” Namjoon shoots down stubbornly. “They appear far too often for them not to be important.” So Seokjin shrugs, leaving Namjoon to, once again, search through the Facebook friends of a friend of a friend of a friend.

But no Y/N’s pop up, and he’s wondering if Y/N was just a nickname. Was it even your real name? With a sigh and one single (rather impressive) agitated brow wave, he lets go and spills. He tells Seokjin about how he finally learned your name, about the places you’ve been together and how much you adore street food.

He appreciates Seokjin for being a good friend, for sitting there and not interrupting to call him a crazy person, even if he is most certainly thinking about it in his head. Because Seokjin, at least, knows about a miniscule part of Namjoon’s tragic life. He doesn’t understand, but he gets it, and that’s all Namjoon needs in a friend.

He doesn’t tell Seokjin about how soft and pillowy your lips feel against his, he doesn’t tell you how much he longs to do unspeakable things to you when you show up in those blue short shorts. He definitely doesn’t tell him how much he loves your name.

Seokjin suggests a number of things. That perhaps you are a character from long ago, or maybe a passing stranger Namjoon once had a summer fling with. You may be someone long forgotten like a mutual friend in high school or college. He also suggests a psychiatric hospital to screw his head back on (as a joke, Namjoon’s pretty sure.)

But none of those seem right. Namjoon does his best to explain, he really does. For an award winning journalist and aspiring writer, he does just about a terrible job of trying to string his words together. Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose and falls back onto the sofa, already spacing out. Namjoon weakly cries out that he knows you. He really does - he just doesn’t remember how, or why.

Like a puzzle with a few missing pieces.

He wonders when and if the missing pieces will ever make their way over to him.

Namjoon gives up and flops down onto the sofa next to Jin, who squeaks out various protests about how heavy he is and how stupidly huge his arms have gotten after he started working out, along the lines of comparing him to Jungkook and calling him a gym rat.

As usual, Namjoon doesn’t listen.

It’s difficult to explain the feeling of falling to someone who hasn’t experienced it. The cursed Click echoes out and suddenly, the world spins around, the axis breaks and he’s physically thrown into another time, another place… another memory that he can’t seem to recall. His stomach lurches, his head hurts and there’s a small breeze flowing in.

For a short moment, the loops of space and time are completely open to him. He can’t see it, but he can feel it. It flips his mind completely upside down and boom. He’s in a specific, random time and place. His body feels light, and every step he takes, he can physically feel it: He doesn’t belong here. He isn’t supposed to be here. Everything feels different. Even the air is more smoky, because something in this world is suddenly wrong, and it’s him.

The next time he meets you, he is in just about the worst place to fall. Sitting in a press conference, his stomach drops and he’s dreading the fall. Namjoon can already hear his boss screaming at him, and he desperately tries to root himself to his seat, typing whatever the assemblyman is yapping on and on about. About farming and agriculture and tax cuts…

Click.

He can distantly hear the assemblyman candidate talk about corrupt government workers as he’s thrusted out of his world and into another.

The memory he has the pleasure to be in this time is something not too unfamiliar. For a second, he thinks if this is just a normal day of him in his cramped, tiny city apartment. Until he turns around and realises you’re lying right next to him, sound asleep and nuzzling into the side of his neck.

The air is crisp. It’s spring, not winter anymore, and he can hear the flower petals outside his apartment complex falling lightly on the ground. This, Namjoon thinks, may just be the best memory he’s been in. The press conference and his life and his boss slips his mind and he cradles you in his chest, holding you closer and closing his eyes shut.

“Mm?” You mumble, half asleep. “You’re suffocating me.” You hoarsely call out, and Namjoon releases you with an insincere apology. He brushes the hair out of your hair and grins, framing you in his head. He reaches to his alarm clock, which is right next to his bed as it always is to check the time.

April 1st, 2017.

Oh god, Namjoon winces. This means he still has that god awful haircut right now. He reaches up to feel his head, and sure enough, the horrible slicked back bleached hair is still there, an unfortunate result of his friend Hoseok daring him to drunk dye his hair.

“You’re awake?” He asks you, and you nod slowly.

He wonders if this memory precedes or follows the one he had with you last time, and he desperately hopes things are going in chronological order. He wants to know you just as much as you know him. Namjoon naively prays to whatever deity that controls his dreamworld: Please follow things step by step, follow the clock.

You roll around, saying something he can’t really catch. He asks you what you said and for the first time today, you peel open your eyes directly facing him. Namjoon’s heart almost falls out of his ass, seeing your eyes bore into his own.

“Where’s my morning kiss?” You ask cutely, nudging his nose with your own button nose.

“Right here.” He finds himself saying, leaning in to close the inches in between your two faces. You taste like hotteok, even early in the morning. You taste like a spring day and a never ending forever. As your lips capture his and his everything is consumed by thoughts of you, Namjoon begs himself to kiss you harder.

His past self declines politely, and Namjoon thinks about whether this counts as himself being controlled if he himself is still controlling what he says and does.

In that moment, listening to your slow breathing and someone across the street playing simple, melodic piano chords, Namjoon tells himself: Do not ever forget April 1st, 2017. You rise from the bed and some form of protest bubbles up from Namjoon’s mouth, to which you just laugh and drag him out of bed with the excuse of wanting breakfast.

You push him into the bathroom, where he expects to meet his sad single grey towel and foggy mirror. You push him in front, and he cringes at the sight of his hair in the mirror. You sigh.

“Calm down. The blonde looks sexy. You can dye it back black later.” He laughs, because it’s clearly not very sexy. For once, his past self is doing exactly what the current Namjoon is pleading him to do. Does it count as reliving your memories if someone else was living through them originally? But, he reminds himself while you hand him a green toothbrush and squeeze a dollop of toothpaste on both your toothbrushes, this is him. He lived through this once and he is just taking a trip down memory lane.

The person who lived through this before was him.

He has to remind himself many more times before it sinks in.

You brush your teeth next to him, fluffing your hair and squinting in the mirror to wake yourself up. Without a second of hesitation, Namjoon brings the toothbrush up and starts to brush his teeth. Nothing has ever felt more domestic or right than this, despite the tentative steps and heavy lead feeling in his throat telling him he still isn’t supposed to be here.

You spit out toothpaste in the sink to gargle your mouth and Namjoon mimics you exactly. Somehow, you find yourselves in the kitchen, giggling while making some sort of french toast with an abundance of cinnamon floating through the air. Which makes Namjoon cough and makes you laugh even harder.

“This is a perfect morning.” You say, peering out the window to watch the city life slowly bustling to life. People scrambling out their doors, ushering their children or pets with them. People you don’t recognise going on walks or runs. Mailmen and delivery people dropping off packages and people yelling into their phones as they hurriedly walk along the sidewalk.

And you and Namjoon, calmly staying in your pajamas while frying toast on the pan.

“Is something burning?” You ask, sniffing the air, and Namjoon’s blood runs cold.

“Oh, shit!”

You smile and shake your head while Namjoon attempts to save the blackened piece of bread to no avail. He catches sight of the corners of your mouth lifting, even as you chastise him about watching the stove and ranting on about how you’re never going to trust him in the kitchen again. Namjoon watches your pink lips, stained with a brown mudge of cinnamon french toast mixture, which lifts up and your head falls back, hair flowing around your head like a halo.

Your laugh plays out in front of him in slow motion, and absentmindedly, he thanks that deity he prayed to for slowing this moment down. Because if there’s anything he yearns most to remember, it’s the way you laugh. A chuckle makes its way out of his own throat as well, and he’s not sure who’s in control at the moment.

Himself or himself in the past?

Either way, they both did the right thing. Namjoon forgets. He forgets the life he has back home, he forgets Seokjin’s warnings, he forgets that he has at least a hundred articles waiting for him at work to be written. He forgets that this world is nothing but a chance for him to follow the footsteps of what he once did, with no control to say or do anything he wishes to do himself.

But, oh, he really can’t bring himself to care.

Those piano chords from before blend together beautifully, and you scrape the black toast into the garbage can, still teasing him relentlessly, and oh. Oh, this is what it means to have a home. You made this junk of a house into a home, and he feels like he has to return here. This is where he’s meant to return to, everyday. Each time.

You turn around after discarding the toast and with a bright smile, you ask him to kiss you again. Namjoon thinks that he doesn’t ever have the capability to deny you when you smile like that, so he complies and crashes his lips onto yours.

The lead, heavy feeling in his throat is still weighing him down. Except Namjoon isn’t sure whether it’s weighing him down to this world or the real world.

The cursed deity pulls him back, pulling him through the time and space back to his own responsibilities and life. His heart is wrenched out and he reaches out, trying to grasp your hand for the last time. He falls back to his own world in a hospital bed and an IV attached to his arm with half a piece of french toast dangling in his mouth and another promise he makes with himself to meet you again with a smile on his face.

Memories… memories that he’s lived through but can’t remember. Memories he slips into to live momentarily through the actions and words of his old self.

Somewhere along the line of diving back and forth his own life and this past one, he has forgotten which is which.

“Most likely due to exhaustion. Lack of sleep, lack of rest. It’s quite common with working young adults, workaholics. I’m putting him on medical leave for the rest of the week. He needs a rest - He needed it yesterday. Don’t worry too much, Mrs. Kim. A long nap and a meal or two will fix him right back up.” Namjoon groggily registers the white walls and beeping noises, the chatter of doctors and nurses rushing around.

He’s in a hospital, and a rush of fear runs straight through his blood. He sits up to eye his mother, sitting next to him and holding his hand. She shushes him, laying him back down on the bed, but all he can do is panic.

“No, not here. Not here again.” He mumbles incoherently. His mother puts a hand over his eyes, shushing him again and telling him softly to go back to sleep. He doesn’t want to go to sleep, he wants to get out of here. But his eyelids are already feeling heavy and he weakly fights against his body, but before he can even process it, his eyes are shut and he is asleep.

Seeing her son close his eyes and drift off to sleep, Mrs. Kim turns back to the doctor.

“I’m not surprised,” She starts. “He’s always worked himself to the bone. But that’s not what I’m worried about. I’m worried about his brain.” The doctor cocks his head and looks through the papers which are clipped to a clipboard in his arms.

“Ah, yes. I see he was in a car accident a few years ago.” Doctors are some of the most heartless people, and you can always tell how experienced a doctor is by how much sympathy they show. This doctor shows none at all, which must mean he’s been working for a long time.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Kim.” The doctor continues, peering over Namjoon’s sleeping body. “I see he suffered light effects after the accident. Selective amnesia, no external damages to the skull. He didn’t suffer as much. In fact, I believe the doctor in charge believed that the amnesia was mostly due to the shock of the event. But he’s received treatment for PTSD since then, right?”

Mrs. Kim nods.

“Good. Doctor Park also noted at the time that his amnesia actually didn’t affect much of his memory. He couldn’t remember distant relatives or kindergarten friends, but that seemed to be the extent of his amnesia. Oh,” The doctor slipped through the clipboard. “He also couldn’t remember certain knowledge about philosophers such as Freud, which he was, quote, ‘devastated over’ un-quote.”

Mrs. Kim stays silent.

“So, you don’t have to worry too much. Best thing your son could do for his well being is rest. And a therapist if he has a relapse or shows some symptoms such as sleep difficulties or nightmares, or physical signs like fatigue and nausea.”

Mrs. Kim nods. “Thank you, doctor.”

That’s it, and she turns back to her son, with her hand in his. She stays there, unmoving until he opens his eyes, mumbling incoherent questions and asking his mother why he is in the hospital again, demanding to be discharged immediately. Her heart breaks a little, small cracks form for her beloved son and she kisses him on the forehead, telling him he’d be out of here in no time.

“What did you see?” She asks quietly, and Namjoon is surprised. She never asks him about his memory walks. It’s taboo to mention it in his household. Not even his sister is comfortable talking about it. “Anything? At all? You passed out at a rather unfortunate time, I heard.” She continues.

“Nothing much.” Namjoon replies, lying through his teeth and trying to justify it with the sight of your laugh. He leans back and closes his eyes once more, bringing up his memories of you and your bedhead. He tries to fill the gap inside of him with thoughts of you, as if that can make up for the empty feeling that he’s forgetting something.

In the hospital, staring at a white ceiling and glaring lights, Namjoon is left to think about what’s happening to his head. During the end of his rather short stay, he comes up with a terrifying conclusion. One that scares him more than he could imagine, but it’s the only one that makes sense. He’s falling in love with you.

He voices out this concern to Seokjin when he visits after his mother leaves. Seokjin stays silent, mumbling out an apology that feels like the wrong thing to say. The elder boy can only look at his friend with sadness in his eyes, telling him that someone as great as Namjoon shouldn’t be suffering so much pain. Namjoon jokes that a witch must have cursed him when he was born.

None of the two friends laugh.

This routine continues on and on, without Namjoon dwelling too much on it. Which is so much unlike Namjoon, whose main personality trait is overthinking about the smallest things. He lets the flow of time and space take him wherever they wish to plop him down. He lets the evil deity toy with his heart and wrench him away whenever you smile the largest.

It hurts right after he is torn away from you, but he’s filled with so much joy in the moment that he can’t bring himself to do anything else about it. Even if he wanted to do something without it, he has no idea where on earth he might start.

Sometimes he questions the validity of his memories. What is real, what is fake? He still can’t answer, and this is what he spends most of his time wondering about. The memories he has with you don’t make sense. Those are large gaps in his life that he seems to have no recollection of.

He goes everywhere with you.

One day he showed up on November 5th, 2015.

The next day he jumped to August 23rd, 2017.

Another time, he was thrown into March 15th, 2016.

None of it makes sense. Are they not memories? He thinks. There’s no possible way he’s spent this much of his life with you and can’t recall any of it. What is real - the world he spends with you, or the world where he always returns to by default?

And yet, nothing else can explain these short periods of blackouts. Ever since one day in some horrible hospital, he’s gone under and pulled and thrusted into some land where he has no control over his own hands. Everything else makes sense. This world, everything else is accurate from the settings to the props, with one anomaly in his memory.

A character who goes by the name of Y/N.

He could go the science-y logic route that he so often frequents, come up with theories that can somewhat explain these periods of time. Theories that include explanations such as hallucinations, or that Seokjin’s right and he’s finally gone crazy. You’re just a figment of his imagination, that this is all in his head and he’s out of his mind.

But he rejects all those theories when he’s clicked into another memory. Somehow, he just understands. These are memories. These are memories he’s had with you, whether that was in a past life or in some sort of messed up alternate timeline where he’s actually happy.

Is this a gift or another curse from this stupid deity?

He has too many questions.

He cannot explain these memories using science, logic, common sense, or even using his own words. But in the moment, while you’re in his arms, he can feel it. He can explain it by describing the way you smell, like pancakes and fresh mint. He can explain it by describing the way you feel, like a warm marshmallow filling up his insides and consuming him.

It’s cheesy, cringier than Seokjin’s dad jokes, but only he gets it.

Namjoon is in his living room, switching channels on the TV and thinking about this when his stomach sinks again. He braces himself, and disappears.

Click.

Seoul is freezing cold. The air is light and he is sitting on a bench on his college campus, rubbing his hands together and zipping up his huge jacket over his sweater. Namjoon shudders, his body not yet used to the bite of the cold compared to the warm breeze he was just enjoying.

He sniffles, nose slightly red like some knockoff Rudolph and wanders around. His body pulls him to go to the right, despite the warm coffee shop being on the left. He shudders again and tries to protest, but his body won’t listen, standing up and walking over to the right with no particular destination in mind. Students are rushing around, complaining about the cold and talking about their next party or study session.

Namjoon pulls himself forwards, and thank god this version of himself still has terrible tolerance for the cold, because he reaches up and pulls his beanie down over his ears, still wandering around aimlessly. Where are you going? Namjoon wants to scream out frustratingly.

His brain doesn’t reply and Namjoon sulks.

Eventually, he is pulled over to another bench, outside in the cold, and he sits down, deeply resenting himself and wondering why on earth he just stood up from one bench to walk to another one. If anything, it’s colder here. He watches the students that pass by for a minute or two, thinking that this is the most boring memory he’s ever been in.

There is no snow falling, but almost everything on campus is lined with a sheet of ice or cold steam. Namjoon nuzzles deeper into his own clothes, cursing himself for not being able to go buy another sweater or something to fight the extreme cold.

Suddenly, you appear in front of him and Namjoon perks up. There you are. He thinks. Finally. You come over and sit down, holding something in your hands. He smiles, waiting for you to speak up and greet him with a kiss that will surely warm him up, but you silently sit next to him, ignoring him. Namjoon urges himself to say something, but instead, he continues to watch the students bustling through campus grounds without looking at you.

Are we fighting? Is Y/N mad at me?

This is excruciatingly frustrating, Namjoon bites his tongue and thinks. Why can’t he just say something? Abruptly, something lands on his jacket with a splat and he straightens up, snapping his neck towards you, who is looking at the yogurt splat on his jacket with a look of terror.

“Oh my gosh!” You squeak out, quickly setting your yogurt aside and reaching for some tissues in your purse. “Oh, god, oh god, I’m so sorry. Please, let me-” Namjoon frowns, taking his hands out of his pockets to thumb at his jacket, debating whether he wants to take it off or not.

You lean over, pawing at his jacket and wiping the yogurt off of his jacket. “I’m so sorry!”

“No, don’t worry.” Namjoon says, chuckling. He reaches for another tissue, helping you get the yogurt off of him. “It’s no big deal.” The yogurt is mostly wiped off and you side eye him with the unmistakable look of guilt filling your eyes. Namjoon laughs again.

“It’s fine, really! No, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m literally so sorry. Do you want me to pay for dry cleaning? Laundry? I can, um, wash it for you! I’m not the best at laundry, but it’s the least I could do?”

Namjoon briefly wonders why you’re being so polite.

“No, it’s fine.” The words tumble out his mouth again before he can process it. “Really, this jacket is old, anyway.” Not really, Namjoon thinks. It feels really new. “But who the hell eats cold yogurt in this kind of weather?” He jokes. “You sure you’re not a demon?”

You freeze, terrified before realising he was cracking a joke. “Oh. Hah! Yeah, no, I guess I just really like yogurt.” You offer lamely, and you break out into a small giggle. “Yeah, I guess I kind of am a psycho for eating it right now. It’s freezing today.”

“God, tell me about it.” Namjoon says, stuffing his hands back into his pockets.

“Thanks for not going bonkers on me. This jacket looks insanely expensive.”

“Not really.”

“I’m Y/N.” You greet, holding a hand out for him to shake. I know, Namjoon thinks with a secret smile, but everything makes sense now. You don’t know him yet. To you in this moment in time, he’s just a random stranger who didn’t blow up on you after spraying some yogurt onto you. To him, you’re… you’re…

“Oh, um, I’m Namjoon.” He says, hurriedly taking a hand out of his pocket to shake your outstretched hand. Your fingers meet and Namjoon swears a small zap just went through his hand.

“Namjoon. Nice to meet you, Namjoon.” You say with a small smile, yogurt already long forgotten on the bench beside you two.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” He says in return, even though he doesn’t mean it. He already knows you, he knows you better than everyone. He knows your favourite food is Korean street food, and you always wake him up with kisses and your favourite colour is periwinkle and you absolutely hate abalone with more passion than he’s ever seen in his entire life.

But this is your first time seeing him, ever, he reminds himself. This is your meet cute. This single moment set off the events in the next god knows how many years. This is the first time he ever had your name grace his tongue. This is the first time you’ve seen him.

Another moment to treasure. You let go of his hand, after realising you two have been shaking hands for much longer than the socially acceptable rate of hand shaking. Blushing, either from the cold or humiliation, you sit, turn back around, grabbing a hold of your yogurt once more.

Suddenly, Namjoon finds himself blurting out: “Hey, you wanna go get some coffee?” You look over curiously, pointing to yourself like you can’t believe he’s asking you out, because you don’t know that you’re all he ever thinks about at any given moment in any given day. “You’ll probably freeze your ass off if you keep eating that yogurt.” He jokes, pretending like this is all because he’s caring about how cold you are and not how cute or incredible or kind you are.

“Sure.” You say, nodding shyly. He stands up, leading you to walk over to the left where the campus coffee shop is. Along the way, you throw the yogurt cup in the trash.

“You can’t bring food brought from outside into a shop, right?” You ask.

Namjoon smiles. “Yeah.” He stays there until night takes over the sky and one single twinkling star in the sky is signalling that it’s time to go home. Possibly the longest time he’s ever spent in a memory. He keeps glancing at the clock, praying that he gets one more minute with you, one more second, one more moment.

At any time, he could be pulled out of this world, and he needs to make the most of it. You tell him about your childhood bedroom and your major. You tell him about the love you have for pancakes, and how much you want a puppy even though it’s prohibited in the on campus dorms. He nods, pretending like this is all new information even though it’s not, and he’s known all of this for the longest time. He knows you better than you know yourself, which he keeps to himself.

In return, he tells you about his own childhood bedroom, which was adorned with posters of western hip hop rappers. He tells you about his passions for writing and music, that if he didn’t major in journalism, he’d be studying music production in school. He tells you that he’s obsessed with philosophy, and in all honesty, is a bit of a nerd.

Instead of laughing or pulling a face, you nod and smile, saying that you think he should tell you more about philosophy on a second date.

You leave the coffee shop with a small goodbye, and even though he desperately wants to, Namjoon can’t kiss you.

He gets pulled back after you disappear pass the corner of the street, and the world morphes into a huge motion blur. When he gets pulled back into his living room, the TV is playing late night TV shows already. Namjoon checks the time. He was pulled in for five hours, the longest he’s ever been in that world.

After that, no matter how much more he prays and begs, he never stays any longer than that.

Three days later, Namjoon suddenly pops into Hong Kong, which is hotter than anything he’s ever felt. The streets are heavy with people, squabbling in cantonese while selling raw meats in a wet market. The sun is glaringly bright, and Namjoon starts to sweat almost instantaneously. Taxis and huge buses drive past, Namjoon jumps to a side only to find a vast ocean. He’s at the harbour front.

The smell of food, of egg tarts and pineapple buns and meat dumplings along with other Hong Kong delicacies waft through the air, combined with the salty air of the sea. It makes for a strange combination that confuses his senses but works nonetheless.

He thought he knew a city like Seoul, but this is a true city. This is busy and fast paced like he’s never even seen before. People shove each other aside to catch the bus, dogs are yapping everywhere and he soaks it all in before the thought enters his head.

What the hell is he doing in Hong Kong?

It’s like every time he wonders aloud, you pop up. “I’ve been looking for you.” You say, echoing the words he said to you that day in the streets of Seoul.

“I was exploring!“ He says defensively, and you roll your eyes.

“Come on.” You say, walking along the harbour front.

“You’re not still mad at me, are you?” Namjoon asks, the words spilling out and surprising himself. Are you mad at him? You’ve never been mad at him before, not in the memories he’s seen. He hasn’t ever seen you fight with him, and immediately, he wants to apologise, fix things before he’s pulled back out and he has to live with the guilt and overthinking of whether you’re still mad at him for the next week.

“Can’t believe you’re mad at me during our vacation.” Namjoon says, and that’s why he’s in Hong Kong, he realises. He’s on vacation. How strange. Namjoon thinks back to when the last time he took a break from work and the only thing he can think of is when that doctor put him on medical leave not too long ago. Oh no, you’re mad at him on holiday?

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” You retort back, and Namjoon has never heard your voice this curt. “Just sit around pretending like everything's okay?”

“What do you want me to do?” Namjoon replies. “You act like this is my fault!”

“It is your fault!” You cry out indignantly, and Namjoon knows that, but why? What did he do? What did you do? “Is this even a vacation?”

“Yes!” Namjoon cries out again in response, and you shake your head.

“You promised, Namjoon.” You say like it’s a warning.

“Yes, I know,” Namjoon says, even though he doesn’t and really, what on earth did he do? “But this is out of my hands! I can’t just say no, you’re not looking at this from my point of view.”

“You’re not looking at this from my point of view!” You argue back, and Namjoon looks around, realising that this squabble is attracting a small crowd of chinese people, gathering around to watch the free entertainment along the sidewalk of Victoria harbour. He awkwardly laughs, raising his hand and bows, a universal sign of apology, grabbing your hand and walking to the other direction.

“Come on, I’d rather not have the whole city witness our fight.”

“Oh, so this is a fight now?”

“What? Yes!” Namjoon says exasperatedly. “How else would you classify this argument?”

Once he makes it to somewhere with at least a sliver of privacy, he turns around with his brows furrowed and a glare etched on his features. Why do you look so angry? Namjoon chastises himself. Just relax, relax, relax. As usual, his body doesn’t listen.

“Why are you so mad at this?” Namjoon asks, and feels a flow of relief go down his spine. Finally.

“It’s not just this instance, Joon. I know work is important, but sometimes it feels like you put literally anything else above me! Like last time? You bailed on our date, like, at least twice. You keep saying you can’t say no, but you can. You have that right, Namjoon.”

Namjoon’s heart softens a little bit. His workaholic tendencies ended up biting him in the ass after all. Sighing he rubs the back of his neck, eyes glued to the floor. “I’m not prioritising work over you, baby.” He tries to explain, and tries to ignore how his heart sinks when your eyes turn stony at the sound of the pet name he often uses to address you.

“It’s just important to me as well, okay? It’s not my fault my boss heard I was going to Hong Kong and insisted I come to interview some investors about Hong Kong’s economy.” He explains slowly. “It couldn’t take more than a single day to get everything organised and tidied up.”

“But-!” You huff angrily, spitting out your words. “You don’t understand! You keep doing this, Namjoon. You keep working, working, working. It’s been this way since college. It’s like you’ll die if you just take a break to come talk to me. I even went over to your office to have lunch with you last week and they told me you were in a meeting.”

“It was important!” Namjoon insists and he can feel things sinking and getting worse and worse with every word he says. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? You can’t expect me to put you in front of all of my responsibilities. I’m sure you have things you can’t give up for me too.”

Hearing that felt like a slap to the face to both you and Namjoon, and he’s screaming at himself internally, why would you say something so, so, stupid?

“Excuse me?” Your broken voice rings out and Namjoon’s accusatory finger falls.

“Wait.” He mumbles, fumbling with his hands. “Wait, I didn’t mean that. Wait, I-”

“Fine!” You yell angrily. “You think nothing’s more important than work? You think I haven’t given up anything for you, Kim Namjoon? Because I’d quit and give up anything for you, you asshole.” You bite out, tears desperately trying not to fall. “You fucking asshole.” You say, before turning back around to weave through the crowd.

“No, wait, baby!” He calls out, and even he knows that he’s messed up. Messed up big time. That was more hurtful than any cuss word or insult he could’ve ever said. “Kim fucking Namjoon, you idiot.” He mumbles to himself. Seeing you cry is more painful than anything else in the world, Namjoon thinks. He’s not ever going to see that sight again if he can help it.

He walks forward, trying to find you. Maybe you went back to the hotel, or went to look at the sea to clear your head. He thinks he sees the back of your head for a second, and he reaches forward, clutching at air. He’s about to cry, and Namjoon has never seen himself be more pathetic.

“Oh no, where are you?” He murmurs to himself like a crazed man. What if you were hurt somewhere? He needs to know you’re safe, he needs to know you’re okay, he needs to make everything better. With each step, the lead feeling in his throat grows heavier and heavier until he feels like it’s sunk to his chest. He wants to kneel down, he wants it to stop hurting, but he can’t.

He must aimlessly follow his shell to do whatever he is doing now.

The lead feeling continues to grow, and Namjoon feels like he’s suffocating. He’s not supposed to be here, he reminds himself. But he has to find you first, then he can leave. Then he can go, but where are you? He wants to cry, he wants to breathe.

Namjoon tells himself to gasp for air, but he cannot. He tells himself if this is the last time he ever sees you, he needs to see you smile. He needs to see you laugh.

Like the pattern in the rest of his meaningless life, an evil deity always pulls him away from the ones he loves when he needs them most. He feels the lead feeling being lifted and pure panic races to Namjoon’s head. He tries to croak out no. He tries to resist, he shoves people aside and calls out your name. But no one answers him, and the cruel deity laughs at his demise.

He is too weak, too weak to control himself.

Namjoon is plucked out of the world and transported back to his bedroom with the threads of time slowly ravelling and tangling themselves around his neck, all while he reaches forward, only to grasp at air and pretend in his head that everything’s alright.

When he reaches his bedroom and wakes up, he stumbles into the bathroom and vomits, all while longing for the warmth of your lips.

Walking around dazedly, Namjoon somehow manages to make his way to Seokjin and Jimin’s apartment, knocking and hoarsely asking them to open, open up please. Because he’s not sure he can hold on to another night alone. Jimin opens the door instantly and catches Namjoon in his arms, frantically calling for Seokjin to come fast.

They lay him on the couch, hearts slowly breaking and trying to convince themselves their friend will be fine as they watch Namjoon whimper in his sleep.

Namjoon wakes to the smell of breakfast, of bacon on the stove and Jimin chattering around while watering his plants. He gets up, headache pounding and throat sore. Seokjin wordlessly hands him a few pills and a glass of water, while Jimin plates up breakfast, placing the sausage, eggs and toast separately on the plate because Namjoon can’t stand it when food on his plate touches.

Silently, the three friends eat. Nobody speaks until Namjoon clears his throat and looks up.

“Thank you.“ He whispers.

“What are friends for?” Jimin says.

Namjoon wonders why he’s got such amazing friends. Jin replies that he was born perfect and God created him like this, so Namjoon shouldn’t dwell too much on it. Jimin and Namjoon both throw a spoon of scrambled eggs in his direction simultaneously, high fiving without missing a beat when Jin lets out a protest of unjust behaviour.

As the three friends sit quietly, Namjoon says: “I think I’m going mad.”

“I’m glad you’ve realised.” Seokjin replies offhandedly.

“I don’t think I can keep going between these worlds. I think it’s making me lose my mind.”

Jimin stills. Seokjin stops washing the dishes and turns off the faucet.

“Do… do you know how to stop it?” Jimin asks hesitantly. Namjoon shakes his head, and Seokjin sighs, in deep thought, which is a strange and rare sight to see itself.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to figure this out together.” Seokjin says casually. Jimin agrees and the faucet comes back on, Seokjin going straight back to washing the pan he used to fry up the scrambled eggs. Jimin unplugs the toaster and Namjoon sits, smiling at his beloved friends.

“You can borrow some of my shirts.” Jimin calls from the bathroom. “You know, if you want to stay over a couple more nights. Feel free.”

“Make yourself at home and shit.” Seokjin mutters, waving his hand around sarcastically. Namjoon almost bursts out into tears of happiness, but he decides to hold it in until Seokjin doesn’t have access to his phone and won’t put Namjoon’s breakdown on instagram live.

The next day, the entire gang comes over, all with varying degrees of understanding what the hell is going on with Namjoon. For example, Yoongi pretty much knows as much as Seokjin does, who still doesn’t really understand what’s going on. Taehyung was just told Namjoon’s been feeling down because God knows that boy has a big mouth and definitely can’t keep a secret to save his life.

Seokjin supplies homemade snacks and burgers fresh off the grill, Yoongi brings over his unlimited Netflix and HBO account passwords he probably stole off of some innocent family member to watch Disney movies, Taehyung comes over with Yeontan clutched to his side because that’s the group's emotional support dog. Jungkook and Hoseok offer up their extensive alcohol collection and bring over some quality wines. Jimin, after a long three hours of consideration, gives up his lucky plushies and fluffy blankets to build a fort.

For one night, the seven boys crowds around the television, watching everything from The Lorax to Tangled to Frozen and bawling their eyes out when Anna turned to ice (spoiler alert!!!) For one night, the fully grown men all turn back into their 8 year old selves, playing video games and staying up as late as they wanted even though they all had responsibilities to tend to the next day.

When they all awake from their mega-sleepover the next morning, the remaining six friends all insist they just felt like watching Disney movies and drinking wine suddenly. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that Namjoon’s been feeling a little off in the past few days.

Absolutely not.

Namjoon’s eyes brim with tears and he tackles all the boys to the ground in one incredibly coordinated group hug, ignoring Yoongi’s complaints of being anti-social and that his love language is not physical touch.

“Thanks, guys.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jungkook mutters. “Now could you please get the fuck off?”

“Never.” Namjoon says, muffled because he says it while his head is buried in Hoseok’s chest.

“Love you.”

“... Love you too.”

The next time he falls, Namjoon thinks he’s prepared. Ready, not to get attached, ready to make clear of what belongs in his world and what doesn’t, after lots of pep talks and therapy sessions with Seokjin and Jimin and Yoongi, who is surprisingly helpful with shooting down ideals of toxic masculinity and talking about mental health.

He’s wrong- he’s not ready, but he doesn’t know that yet.

Click.

He’s come to resent that stupid sound. In an instant, he’s dropped into a car, which is strangely familiar. You are next to him, driving, and thank goodness, because everyone knows Namjoon cannot drive. If he were dropped in the driver’s seat, things may have taken a turn for the worse.

“You want to play some music?” You ask, and Namjoon nods.

“Yeah sure, turn up the radio.” You reach over to flip a switch and a pretty tune fills the car, echoing and bouncing off the walls of the small vessel. You bring your hand down and interlace it with Namjoon’s, who is suddenly hyper aware of his surroundings.

“You’re driving, baby.” He says, and a great sense of relief floods back into his system when he sees you smile at the pet name. He hopes this moment is after the Hong Kong trip. He hopes he did the right thing and made up with you afterwards.

“We always do this. When there’s not many cars around, anyway.” You hum along with the music. “Nobody’s on the road tonight.” Sure enough, there are no cars in sight and Namjoon sighs, curling his hand tight against yours. He looks out the window.

“No stars tonight, either.”

You snort. “There are never any stars around the city, babe.”

“Ahh.” He huffs playfully. “Fuck global warming.”

“Fuck capatalism.” You add on, and he nods, wholeheartedly agreeing.

“I love you.” He murmurs.

“I love you too.” You reply with a sweet smile and Namjoon just realises that no, he’s not ready to let go of you, because his heart still flips like crazy when he hears you say that. He’s so unbearably, horribly, absolutely in love with you. Not in a creepy or obsessive way like he was probably in love with you a few months ago, but so in love with you.

He wonders why on earth he’s so drawn to you, but as usual, there’s no definite answers to his questions. Namjoon thinks about how he likes the way you cook pancakes, and how he likes the way you always reach down to pet a puppy no matter where you are or where you need to be. He loves the way you’d give up anything to defend the people you love. He admires your bravery and your courage. He admires the way you present yourself to the world.

He loves you simply because you are who you are, unapologetically and unashamed, which is something he never had the guts to do. But he gets pretty damn near to being fully and truly himself when he’s around you, so maybe that’s why he’s so in love with you.

Namjoon feels bad for a moment because he realises his love isn’t selfless or humble like the ones he sees on dramas and TV. His love for you is shamefully selfish, because he needs you more than anything else. He voices this out to you in a long speech while you keep your eyes on the road.

“I need you more than you think I do, Joon.” You say, while laughing, and Namjoon doesn’t know whether to feel offended or relieved.

“You think your love for me can trump my love for you?” He asks with his eyebrows raised.

“One hundred percent.” You drawl out, and this time, Namjoon’s offended.

“Excuse me? Who the fuck?” He asks, sitting up. You laugh bashfully, enamoured but mostly just entertained by your needy boyfriend who is very willing to prove how much more he loves you right now. “I love you way more than you love me!”

You laugh, your eyes still fixed on the road. “Oh no, please, we’re not arguing about this.”

“Yes we are!” Namjoon demands with a huge smile on his face. “How could you possibly think you love me more than I love you?” Your laugh only grows louder.

“I don’t even know if you’re being serious or just joking around anymore.” You say through bit back laughter.

“I’m being dead serious.” Namjoon softens for a bit, laying a hand on your thigh. “You’re my everything. You’re my future, you’re my present, you’re my past.” A part of you wants to tell him he’s being cheesy again, but the romantic in you who doesn’t want to hurt your boyfriend immediately shuts the realist in you up.

“That was sweet.”

“I try my best.”

You turn your head back to the road and he keeps his eyes on you. On the hoodie you’re wearing, which definitely doesn’t belong to you and he now has a certain inkling of where his missing hoodie went. He likes how it swallows you up. He likes that you have something of his on you.

Not as a weird mark of possession, but he likes that you’re comfortable with wearing something that essentially brands you as his. But you are his as much as he is yours and wow, Namjoon thinks in his head, is this the real Namjoon or the past Namjoon speaking? And his brain replies that it’s both.

“I love you.” He repeats, because as much as he seems to say it, he can’t seem to express how much he loves you (hint: it’s a large amount).

“I love you too.” You say right back.

He wants to say it more. He wants to say it better. He wants to repeat it until you get annoyed and tell him to shut up, he wants to let you know how much he loves you. But his lips are sealed, and he can’t say another word. Instead of what he wants to say, the words that come out his mouth are, admittedly, just as true.

“You’re pretty.”

You giggle. “Did you just realise?”

Namjoon shakes his head. “You’ve always been pretty. You were pretty on the day we met. You were pretty the day we fought in Hong Kong. You were pretty the first time you stayed over. You’re pretty when you cry, you’re pretty when you… I wanted to think of something that rhymes with cry, but it slipped my mind and now everything’s ruined.”

You laugh, a real, huge one this time. He can always tell when your laugh is real or not.

“Thank you.” You say. “For the record, you’ve always been pretty too.”

Namjoon leans back into his seat. “Damn straight.”

“When d’you think you first fell in love with me?” You ask, genuinely curious, and Namjoon thinks for a moment. He thinks about what the Namjoon in this moment would say, and he thinks about what the present Namjoon would say.

If he had verbal control, what would he say? That he fell in love with you during the very first memory he was thrusted in? But that wouldn’t be true, and that wouldn’t be honest. He fell in love with you during the memory of when you met? But that wouldn’t be true either. He fell in love with you in between memories, when all he could think about was the next time you could be in his arms, or how much he longed for your touch.

He tries to say that, he really does.

Instead, what comes out of his mouth is:

“I don’t know. I don’t know if there’s a specific moment. Maybe it was that time we went to the movies and watched Coco while crying over popcorn, or maybe it was that time we went to Disneyland.” Namjoon’s heart slouches, because he doesn’t know any of those moments. He hasn’t been in any of those memories.

“But I don’t think falling in love is a one moment, time stops kinda thing. I was always falling in love with you. From the time you spilled yogurt on my jacket to right now, where you’re asking me when I fell in love with you. I’m going to be falling in love with you tomorrow and the day after that, until the day where we shrivel up and die from old age.”

Oh, good answer, Namjoon thinks.

“Good answer.” You say. “I think I’d say the same thing.”

“Great minds think alike.” Namjoon sighs out.

Something strikes Namjoon’s heart. It’s not the lead feeling or the heavy weight he’s grown used to. It’s strange, like a wave of deja vu. And suddenly, Namjoon stops thinking. He glances over to the control board to look at the time, which proudly reads: December 3rd, 2018.

So that’s why he’s always had the feeling that these were memories. Why he was so adamant to believe these things really had happened to him. Even more strangely, what feelings strike him then is not panic, nor fear. It’s a strange flow of calmness that rushes through his veins. He looks over at you again, driving now with both hands on the steering wheel.

He wonders why the deity would make him witness something as cruel and horrible as this, and he gets the weird feeling that this will be one of his last memories to enter. Namjoon looks at the dark blanket covering the sky and sadly thinks that the deity could have at least placed a few stars in the sky on this night. As consolation, or perhaps an apology.

Something is ticking in the background, and Namjoon has no idea if it’s coming from the car or if he’s imagining it. Flashing memories go through his mind, so fast he can barely register them as images or moving pictures before they are gone again. Your smile, your laugh, your first date, your second date. The day he asked you to move in, the day you told him ‘I love you’ for the first time and he literally fainted.

The day he came to pick you up from work for the first time, the night where he first laid his hands on you and kissed all your worries away.

It comes fast and hurtles towards the two of you, but Namjoon doesn’t even see it coming because all he is looking at is you. Your face, your lips, your eyes, trying to engrave it all in his memory. You yelp out something to him, which he doesn’t hear. Floating images spin around both your heads and a high pitched screech rings out, a spark of orange lighting up like a stack of fireworks. The dark van shoots forward and collides into the driver’s seat.

The world collapses. It goes sideways, rotates then flips completely upside down, and the dark fog starts to eat up Namjoon’s eyesight. Oddly, nothing hurts. Perhaps because of the shock, or panic, but nothing on Namjoon’s body is in pain. Everything crashes, Namjoon’s head hits the window with force. Something breaks, glass cracks, people scream and he cannot tell which is which. Red and white flashes are all he can see before everything fades to grey and he can only reach around in the darkness, to find your hand.

He clutches onto your unmoving, still hand desperately, trying to calm his jumping heartbeat. Are those sirens in the background he hears or is that his imagination? Is that your voice he hears or is that a hallucination?

In the end, his final thought before leaving the world once again is a wish. A wish that he prays the deity will grant him. He hopes that in your final moments, you were not scared.

He falls.

When Namjoon arrives home, his entire body is numb. He doesn’t know where he is, nor what he was doing before he was clicked in. He opens his mouth and screams for a full minute without stopping.

It feels good in a fucked up way.

Namjoon has never been one for confrontation. Just ask his middle school bullies, who tormented him all they wanted because he wouldn’t do anything but put up with it. Just ask Mingyu from work, who keeps piling his unwanted projects and articles onto Namjoon because he never protests or complains to the higher-ups.

But while walking towards his childhood home with the birds chirping and his hands placed casually in his pockets, confrontation is all he can think about. He lets himself in the door; his mother never locks it and walks in calmly.

His mother is sitting on the couch, stitching up a sock which has a hole in it.

“Mom. I’m home.” He says softly, and his mother greets him normally. Namjoon leans on the wall and his mother stares at him strangely, calling him over to sit and have some fruit. He declines, telling her he won’t be staying very long. “That car crash that happened two years ago.”

The needle in his mother’s hand stills.

“They said I had selective amnesia, right?”

The needle picks up speed, stitching faster and faster, his mother’s hand moving faster than light.

“What did I forget again?”

“What did you remember?” His mother asks, never one to beat around the bush.

“Mom.” He says, firmly this time. “What did you do to me.”

The sock is torn apart in his mother’s hands. “Namjoon,” She starts and Namjoon already has a growing urge to shake the truth out of her. “When you got into that crash two years ago, you came out of it with very little injuries. We were all so relieved. When you woke up, you didn’t remember Y/N.” All that fills the air for another moment or two is the spongy sound of silence.

The gap in this family became clearer than ever to Namjoon. He thinks about how everyone must have been in on the secret, even his sister. And he was left to suffer, wondering why his life seemed so empty after forgetting something he couldn’t clutch onto.

“And what?” He demands, screaming and throwing his hands out of his pockets. “Do you think you can just keep something like that from me? The love of my life, and you just decide to erase them from my memory?” His mother stills and looks up at her son.

“You didn’t remember Y/N. You lost contact with all your college friends, and then when I asked the doctor how selective amnesia worked,” His mother cleared her throat. “Sufferers often forget some parts of their memory. Relationships, talents, skills, certain areas or certain people.” His mother looks up directly in his eyes. “Sometimes, especially after going through a traumatic event, people forget certain parts of their memory as a coping mechanism. To erase bits of pain and regret.”

“I thought,” Her voice breaks and her face twists in regret and bad memories. “I thought maybe by forgetting her, I’d be saving you from more pain and hurt. I just wanted you to stop hurting”

Namjoon held eye contact with his mother for three full seconds before collapsing and gasping for air, lying with his head on her lap. All words of scolding, anger. All the confrontational tactics and all the accusations he’d thought of shooting towards her had gone.

“Hurts.” He let out through large gasps of breaths. “Hurts, mom.” He lied there, with tears threatening to spill out his eyes for the rest of the night, with his mother caressing his hair and apologising to him with tears in her eyes.

“Miss Y/N. I miss Y/N.” He hiccups out, and his mother wipes away his tears, but it feels different from when you used to do it.

“I know, I know.” The woman looking down at her son wonders why she put him in so much pain. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” The night carries on like that, with the lights eventually dimming and the night covers up the light in the sky. The mother son pair repeat their grievances and apologies to each other until the sun comes back up, peeking through the curtains and extending out their warm embrace as if it wants to comfort the hurting humans.

It doesn’t take long for Seokjin and co to come knocking on his door, sent by his mother who must have filled him in on everything, judging from the looks on their faces. It only takes one single glance at his friends, tilting their heads and all asking to come in for him to burst into tears. Ugly crying, with snot coming out of his nose and eyes bloodshot red from the nightmares.

Jimin is the first to reach forwards and bring Namjoon into a hug. Soon after that, the six friends surrounded Namjoon, comforting him with the warmth of their arms and soft spoken words of encouragement.

“You did well.” Someone mumbles into his hair.

“We’re all proud of you.” Someone else says.

Namjoon’s sweater sleeves are sopping wet with tears when he asks the boys to help him get into therapy.

Things went on like that for another while.

Therapy isn’t as bad as Namjoon had thought it might’ve been. He wasn’t forced to be vulnerable or open up or confront his worst fears. He certainly didn’t want to tell the truth about the world he’s thrusted in, for fear of getting thrown out of the building and into a mental institution.

Even his mother didn’t believe him the first time he told her about it. She urged him to visit a doctor. How could a therapist who doesn’t even know him believe the nonsense he spouts? Even he himself wouldn’t believe himself if he hadn’t experienced it firsthand. Slowly, but surely, he began to open up, and to his surprise, there was no calling of hospitals or kicking him out. His therapist sat there and listened like everything he was saying was valid.

He started eating again, mostly because of Seokjin, stuffing his creations down everyone’s throats every two seconds, claiming he needs opinions on his new recipes even though Namjoon’s fairly certain that the past three dishes of spaghetti were the exact same recipe.

Namjoon started to workout again with Jungkook, much to the younger boy’s surprise and happiness. They talked about their own struggles while panting on the treadmill and spinner. Jungkook eventually tells him that he also has a secret he keeps from the rest of the guys, which is his high school sweetheart who broke his heart so horribly that he still feels hurt from it.

Jungkook told him to cheer up though, because most of the pain fades away with time. It’s still there, ever as present, but other things will become more important to you and cover up a scar or a wound with blooming flowers.

“Like us,” He said cheekily. “Your friends.”

He talked to Yoongi most days of the week about nothing in particular. He enjoys the time with Yoongi because he’s the only one who never walks on eggshells around him. He still pelts him with pillows and roasts the outfits on Rupaul’s Drag Race with him. Taehyung and Jimin even helped him adopt a dog, an furry white Eskimo named Rap Mon which is literally now Namjoon’s entire life.

Would likely kill all of his friends if one of them hurt his precious baby.

Life is good, Namjoon learns. He gets better at his job. He never forgets you, but things seem to hurt less. But he gets relapses sometimes. Some days he wakes up screaming about the stupid lead filling up his throat. Sometimes he gets nightmares so intense he has to take medicine.

Therapy isn’t as bad as he painted it out to be, but recovery is ten times harder than he thought it would be. Some days all he can do is lie in bed or do nothing, thinking of you.

His therapist tells him that his life is more than his past memories. Both Yoongi and Hoseok agree, when he pulled up a random conversation about it late at night. Hoseok says that there’s never going to be a time where he won’t think of you, or still love you. Perhaps not as much as he once did, but he’ll never forget about you. Yoongi tells him he’s healing, and that they’re all proud of him.

Namjoon meets his friends, for the first time in the two years he’s known them. Taehyung has an extraordinary and (slightly strange) obsession over art museums. He’s been to almost every single one in Korea, and he dragged Namjoon over to one an hour away in Gangnam in the summer. Jimin is an amazing dancer, which Namjoon never knew.

Until Jimin brought it up casually, looking through old footage of his dance competitions. “Nothing big,” He said. “I used to dabble.” Namjoon’s eyes bulged out of his head and he told Jimin if that was ‘dabbling’, then he was wasting away his talent. He asked Jimin why he never made a career out of dance, and Jimin replied casually:

“I feel like if I start to make money off of it, and I’ll lose my love for it. Now that I haven’t really has time for it... I dunno. I feel like I’ve lost the talent a little bit.“

Namjoon told his friend that talent is nothing but a bunch of practice and time dedicated to a certain skill. Nobody loses talent, people just get a little unfamiliar with it. Jimin turned around in deep thought and told him he may just have a point.

Still, some days, he can do nothing but sulk around, feeling like a waste of space. Take today for an example. He walks down the street and out of the corner of his eye, he thinks, and he might be wrong, he thinks he sees you. The back of your head, anyways, but you’re wearing a red sweater with headphones over your ears and you turn around the corner.

Namjoon panics. He drops his coffee, which splashes all over his leather shoes and runs. He runs past the corner and he doesn’t know what on earth he’s doing but all he can do is run, and the wind dries his tears faster and faster, and he forgets all over again, that you aren’t here, that there’s no way he can go back and see you unless it’s in his memories, which he doesn’t even know how to control.

Somewhere deep in the depths of his mind, he knows something about this doesn’t seem right. That it couldn’t possibly be you, because he watched you go right in front of his eyes. He knows that in order to heal, he can’t chase after you or center his world around you. He knows all of that. But in that moment, he forgets that he still doesn’t remember everything about you.

He forgets that you’re dead.

And one day he’ll be free from this constant spinning. One day he won’t ever have to think twice when he cooks pancakes but that day and all that work he’s put in is the last thing on Namjoon’s mind and all he can think about is if that’s really you.

He sprints faster and reaches out, misses your wrist by an inch and ends up clutching at nothing but air. He heaves a huge breath, about to clap his hand over your shoulder-

Click.

tags; @jksbbyfacebunny @extremeobsessions101 @dwcljh @bishuthot @s0seo @stonyiscanon @cecedrake2217

140 notes · View notes

i-like-writing-stuff · 4 years ago

Text

four months; part 2 [five hargreeves x reader]

a/n: thank you all so so much for your support and feedback! i literally could not believe that the first part has over 200 notes and yall want a continuation like omagash??? im soft, thank you guys <3

here is the long awaited part two, but before we dive into that, i felt the need to ask yall if you want five to be aged up?? in most x reader i’ve read on this site, five is aged up, but I felt like, in my case, i didn’t really needed to mention that because i am only like two months older than the actor, and its not like im gonna write smut with him- gross. point is, idk. should i age him up tho??? idk what to do, so here are both aidan and timothee to soothe ur heart for this second part!! <3

(the gifs do not belong to me, lemme know if u know who made them so i can give credits- they’re real cute mah gawsh!!!)

alsoo if you want more five imagines or literally any other hargreeves sibling or fictional character ousside tua, feel free to leave a request in my inbox! kisses <3

summary: after a long family meeting and more booze, you decide to make a bold move and profess your buried feelings.

part 1

“Men are stupid shitheads.” You concluded, setting your flask on the counter, looking at the new bangs Allison had just cut for you.

Even in her drunken state, they seemed to be very nicely done. You were quite surprised by the way they turned out, but pleased nonetheless. It was a spontaneous decision, getting bangs. You had been sitting in the hair salon she was working at with her, Klaus and Vanya after a not so great family meeting.

Hugs were shared, true, but then arguments started and before you even knew it, Luther stormed out, Diego followed him, Five went missing for whatever business he had, and Klaus claimed that Ben was not even there- apparently, ghosts can’t time travel.

So, it was just the four of you, drunk in a hair salon, with too much alcohol and way too many scissors around you, complaining about how shitty your love lives could be.

“Amen.” Klaus raised his drink in the air, “I’ll drink to that.”

“Right?” Allison nodded, combing her second client, Klaus, “The nerve of Ray! I mean, one thing goes wrong and he’s on a warpath!” She vented, holding the bottle of liquor in her free hand, “I mean, doesn’t know who I am?! No, no! No, Ray- you know exactly who I am, you just can’t handle it!”

You watched with a raised brow as Vanya was out of zone, pretending to be shooting the long line of empty bottles gathered in front of her, as Allison kept on continuing her rant. Her husband had just seen her use her powers on the night they started the protest, and was now having a real hard time comprehending what was going on. You didn’t see him at home either, so you figured he may have been upset with you as well for maybe hiding the secret. Or maybe he thought you were like her, who knows?

“Hey, wouldn’t it be weird if Five grew up all hot?” Klaus suddenly asked, taking a drag out of his cigarette, as he got up from his seat to walk around the hair salon, “Wouldn’t that be weird?”

“Why would you even think of your brother like that?” You asked riddled, narrowing your eyes at the man as his sisters almost gagged at the thought.

“Oh, please, you’ve been thinking that, haven’t you?” Klaus asked, pointing at you as you took another swig from your nearly empty flask.

“I... I mean- he’s... Five... uh... no comment!” You suddenly declared, at loss of words, as you got up from your seat, trying to maintain your balance as you made your way towards the bottle of liquor to fill your flask again.

“When are you two gonna confess your feelings?” Allison asked with a groan, letting her head fall backwards as she sat on the chair, “It’s getting really tiring!”

“We have an apocalypse going on!” You argued, “There’s no time for feelings!”

“This is the perfect time for feelings!” Klaus chimed in, taking another drag out of his cigarette, “These might be your last six days on Earth! Do you want to die regretting that you never told Five how you felt about him?”

“I’m not having this conversation anymore.” You declared, out of arguments, as you poured liquor in your flask, “Why don’t we talk about Allison’s crush on Luther instead?”

“We have never even kissed!” Allison defended herself, causing Vanya to spin on her chair confused, looking between the three of you.

“Yeah, but you guys were making little sick moon-dog eyes at each other all through puberty and breakfasts and... all that.” Klaus waved her off, sipping from his own flask.

“Aren’t we all brothers and sisters, or...?” Vanya wondered confused, as you and Klaus snorted amused at her innocence.

“Well... technically...” Allison tried to find an excuse or explanation, but she was having a hard time putting her thoughts in place.

“Technically?” Klaus raised a brow, “If you....” He stammered, trying to regain his train of thought, “If you have to use the word technically, you’re already in trouble.”

“Okay, can we go back to Five and Y/N?” Allison tried to change the subject, “Or maybe at least help me save my marriage?”

“That’s like...” Klaus stumbled on his own feet, filling his flask again, as you leaned against Vanya’s chair curiously, “That’s like asking a nun how to hump someone’s leg! I mean, who in this room knows shit about relationships? This one?” He asked, pointing at Vanya, “In secret love with some farm Frau!”

“Her name’s Sissy.” Vanya informed him.

“Which is an improvement on her previous love interest.” He said, looking at you and Allison, as you shook your heads to slightly tell him to shut up, “...the serial killer.”

“What?!” Vanya yelled, looking between you and Allison for an explanation, but you just softly waved her off, promising to remind her later.

“And look at this one!” Klaus ignored the three of you, pointing at... well, you, “A fifty year old assassin, who got the chance to be a teen again, but she is too afraid to admit her feelings for the... wait, is Five a boy or a man?”

“Both?” You raised a brow, unsure of the answer.

“Meanwhile, I’m carrying a torch for a soldier I haven’t technically met yet, and Luther is in love with his sister.” Klaus waved you off, trying to keep his balance again on his feet.

“Okay, again- we are not biological!” Allison tried to defend herself once more, but Klaus simply ignored her.

“Face it, the healthiest long-term relationship in this family was when Five was banging that mannequin.” He said, making all of you nod in agreement, as you couldn’t help but confess, taking another chug out of your flask;

“I can’t believe I got to the point where I was jealous of Dolores.”

Okay, maybe ‘banging’ and ‘jealous’ were strong words, but you had to admit you were not that pleased when one of the first things that Five did when he got back to 2019, was go to some store to get back his plastic girlfriend who kept him company in the four decades he spent all by himself in the apocalypse.

You understood his mind, though. You would have gone insane as well if you had to be all alone after the end of the world, without another soul on the planet. Nonetheless, you still were maybe a tad too happy when he decided to return her to the store.

Leaving you the only woman he had eyes for, unbeknownst to you.

“I’m gonna tell Sissy that I love her.” Vanya suddenly declared, straightening her position confidently.

“You go, girl!” You cheered, clapping for your friend.

“I don’t want any secrets.” She said, making you and the other two nod in agreement, contemplating about your own lives.

“Yeah!” Allison said, getting up with the bottle of alcohol tightly clutched in her hand, “Yeah, yeah- you’re right! Yes, ‘cause, you know- if this all goes tits-up, the least I can do is be honest with my husband!

“Oh, does that mean I have to face my cult?” Klaus sighed, “I just hate group break-ups, it’s why I stopped dating twins!”

You pondered about it for a moment, in your state that was definitely not the most sober. You had a lot of alcohol coursing through your veins, but you felt like maybe it was better. You could think with your heart more than you could think with your brain, and your heart was telling you that your friends were right.

They all are getting themselves ready to take big risks in their lives, why shouldn’t you? They had a valid point; the world was gonna end in six days if you guys couldn’t find a way to solve this. Last time you didn’t have the brightest plan, so why should this time be a success? Reality hit you; there was a real big chance that you might die.

So why not just be honest with Five? What was the worst that could happen? You manage to save the world and Five rejects you? Big deal!

Well, it actually was a big deal.

“What if he rejects me?” You asked all of a sudden, causing the three siblings to turn to you, “What if I tell Five how I feel about him and he rejects me? I know maybe at my age I shouldn’t be this anxious about a man, but... it’s not like I’m going anywhere, I’m glued to the Hargreeves clan.”

And it was true. After the events of the 2019 apocalypse, right before you and the others got separated, you shared an adorable moment in which you confessed to each other how happy you were to have met and be taken into their family as one of their own.

“Normally, I’d say to not ponder on that for too... long.” Klaus slurred, “But given that it’s Five, you don’t even have to worry about that.”

“He’s right.” Allison shrugged, “That won’t be a problem.

“I have no memory of any of you, but from the hug I’ve seen you two share earlier- you’re not just friends.” Vanya spoke up, making you stare into nothingness for a moment.

I mean, it’s Five we are talking about. If he were to have any feelings, it’s not like he’d be honest with them or act, right? It would be up to you to make the first move.

You let out a long sigh, rubbing your hands on your upper arms, reminding yourself of the hug. It may have been the first time you and Five actually hugged, in all the years you’ve known each other. The way he held you close and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, taking in your scent, feeling you in his arms, even if for him it had been only four days. You had to live with the thought that he may be dead for months.

And you hated that, you knew you wanted him alongside you. You wanted that little rude, at times obnoxious dipshit, with a soft heart- as much as he hated to admit it. You loved how much he cared about his family, about saving the world. Five is a great person; he is caring and has a big heart, as much as he tried to hide it behind his trashmouth.

“Fine!” You groaned, letting your head fall backwards, “I’ll tell Five I fucking love him and his dipshit face!”

“Yes!” Klaus clapped, as Allison and Vanya cheered proudly, “Come here!”

You and Vanya walked towards him, as Allison wrapped an arm around his waist, waiting for the two of you to skip towards them, pulling you into a group hug, as “Twistin’ the night away” by Sam Cooke blasted on the radio, causing the four of you to start a small dance party, letting for the first time in a long while your problems just go away.

For the sake of the song.

After a couple more hours of drinking, gossiping and dancing, the four of you decided to finally part ways and attend your promised business. Klaus went to deal with his cult, as Allison decided to be completely honest with her husband at home and Vanya was going to confess to Sissy.

As for you?

You were going to tell Five Hargreeves you were in love with him.

“Hey, dipshit!” You confidently yelled, running up the stairs of the store, trying to find Five.

“Y/N?” Five frowned, walking out of the kitchen with a coffee mug in his hands and a confused look on his face, “Are you... even more drunk? And did you get bangs- what the...?”

“Shut up.” You waved him off, walking towards him to grab the mug out of his hand to sober yourself up, “Why in the hell are you even drinking coffee at this hour?”

“I’m... trying to calm myself...” He frowned, watching as you chugged his freshly poured coffee.

“Normally I’d ask.” You said, setting the mug on the counter, shaking your head, “But right now what I have to say is more important.”

“Is that so?” Five raised a brow curiously, as you slowly slapped your cheeks, trying to get the room to stop moving, “Why don’t you go to bed?” He asked, gently pushing you towards the couch, “And we talk in the morning? I don’t really have time for this.”

“No!” You yelled, stopping in your tracks to poke his chest, “We don’t have to talk! I talk and you- you listen!” You said, poking his chest again, “You never have time for anything, all you can think of is your stupid apocalypse!”

“Oh yes, isn’t that a trivial thing to be thinking of?” He asked with a sarcastic smile, crossing his arms.

“I don’t need your sarcasm!” You yelled, poking his chest a third time, feeling him get more tense.

“I swear to God, Y/N, if you do that one more time-...” Five took in a deep breath, as he could feel as he was slowly losing his patience.

“Shut up!” You groaned, watching as his brows knitted in confusion, “I’m trying to confess my feelings for you, you moron!”

“W...What?” He asked, as his face suddenly softened, unfolding his arms.

“I’m in love with you!” You sighed, rubbing your face, “Okay? I-I am in love with you and I am trying to sober myself up, but I think I may have had too much to drink.”

“You think?” Five scoffed, slowly leading you towards the couch, “Are you sure you’re not saying this just because you have a ton of alcohol coursing through you?”

“Well... kinda, ‘cause if I were sober there was no way in hell I would have confessed.” You puffed, complying, as you let yourself guided by him, “Allison, Klaus and Vanya all convinced me that I should tell you, that we only have six days left on Earth and in case we don’t save it... I shouldn’t be going down with regrets.”

Five listened to your every word carefully, as you continuing venting about how his siblings spent the whole day trying to convince you to tell him about your feelings, as he slowly held your hands, as you took a seat on the couch. He nodded at your words to let you know that he was listening, as he took two pillows off the armchairs beside, placing them at one end, softly pushing you down.

“...and then Klaus said that he hates group breakups.” You said, not even noticing what was going on, feeling your lids get heavier once your head met the pillow.

“Not a surprise there...” Five muttered, grabbing the blanket that was rested on top of the couch, placing it over you.

“Are you trying to dismiss me?” You wondered, but still making yourself more comfortable, as you sat on your side, with your head facing Five, who knelt in front of you tired.

He bit back a smile, watching as you slowly closed your eyes. He knew you were extremely drunk, he could see that in the way exhaust took over you. Not only you had a lot of alcohol in your system, but you’ve also had some long couple of days, and some longer ones were ahead of you until you knew for a fact the world was safe once more.

“I don’t know how it is, that you’re the one person who actually makes me feel... soft.” He confessed, watching your lips curve into a smile at his words, “You... drunken idiot.”

“I regret nothing.” You said proudly, as Five couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, softly stroking your hair to help you fall asleep sooner.

“We’ll see about that in the morning.” He smirked amused, watching as you pouted.

“You never gave me an answer, you know.” You pointed out, letting his soft touch calm you down, as you felt sleep slowly take over you.

“You never gave me a question.” He retorted, knowing for sure that if your eyes were opened, you would roll them at him.

“I think you like to hear me say that I am in love with you, it’s the third time I have to say it.” You said, slowly placing your hands under your pillow, making yourself more comfortable.

“I am happy to see that you still know how to count.” Five said, placing some wild strands of hair behind your ear.

“Screw you.” You said, making him grin, as he went back to stroking your hair.

“In this whole... shitty situation I managed to get myself into, you, Y/N, might as well be the only thing keeping me sane... surprisingly.” Five frowned at the last bit, watching as you opened your eyes, shifting your head to watch him, “I love you too, moron.”

“I never said I love you.” You smirked, teasing him as he rolled his eyes.

“You little chipmunk...” Five sighed, shaking his head in disbelief amused, as you leaned into his touch more, closing your eyes, pleased with yourself.

“Yeah, but you still love me.” You said, not once dropping that smirk on your lips.

“You’re impossible, did you know that?” He wondered, resting his forearm on the couch beside you, as he knelt on the floor, trying to make himself more comfortable, noticing the way you were enjoying the scalp massage... for free.

“A little bit.” You slowly shrugged, wrapping your arms around his, once you felt it beside you.

Five watched with a soft smile as you pulled his arms closer to your face, nuzzling into it with a satisfied smile, happy that you listened to your friends.

And deep down, so was Five thanking his siblings.

#tua #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy imagines #number five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves imagines

761 notes · View notes

taechaos · 3 years ago

Note

That scenario was really good😱 Yeonjun’s last line made me GASP lolol

can you do another scenario where Yeonjun gifts OC roses and a teddy bear through a delivery service so she is shocked when she receives them, how would Jungkook react? 😱

I love jealous/pissed/possessive Jungkook 🥵

YALL JUST REALLY LOVE THE DRAMA 💀💀 making my man suffer like this,,, you'll be hearing from my lawyers

im gonna be including this bit in the scenario so 😎

"Is this for you or me?" you ask Soyeon who can barely keep her eyes open after waking her upon seeing a bunch of gifts when you opened the door of your dorm room to attend your morning lecture. It's a teddy bear holding a bouqet of roses in its fluffy paw, sitting on the hall floor to provide you with today's first surprise.

You know Soyeon is single, and you know Jungkook like the back of your hand: his romance doesn't extend to these cheesy gestures. It may seem rude to not even think of the possibility that it might be your boyfriend's doing, and despite being such a hopeless romantic, you're certain it's not from him.

Soyeon grumbles drowsily as she stretches before rubbing her eyes with her fists. "What?" she yawns tiredly.

"That," you point past the open door and she follows the direction of your finger with puffy eyes.

"Definitely not," she answers with a sleep strained voice. "Look for a card." She doesn't leave room for a response before turning on her side to face away from you and fall back asleep.

You listen to her advice and crouch before the toy to search for anything that would reveal the identity of the delivery person. It's with close inspection that you find a white card stuffed between the roses.

In your hand it reads: Good morning, beautiful. Can't wait to see you in Human Anatomy.

There's your clarity, and you can't doubt it's Yeonjun when Soyeon doesn't even take this course. It's pathetic, you think, to try and court someone who's already in a stable relationship. This isn't him going after you, but beckoning you to go to him just like he said you would before calling your boyfriend a cliché. It more or less sounds like a mind game, and you're stuck between ignoring his advances completely or confronting him about it.

Yeonjun seemed like an understanding guy; he did say he wouldn't go around you asking for a date, and for two days, he hasn't. If he takes orders so well, it wouldn't hurt to tell him to leave you alone once and for all.

That's your reasoning to march down the hall and find Yeonjun after crumbling the note and leaving the gift on someone else's doorstep. Front rows are your go-to spot to not miss a single detail in your lecture, and it's no shocker seeing Yeonjun sitting on a front row bench.

You clench your fists and scowl to intimidate the creep before stomping over to him. Dismissing your demands is out of the question when your stance nothing short of angry. He needs to know you're not playing around, that he can't manipulate your naivety like he's attempting to.

His eyes twinkle the moment they land on you and he stops spinning his pencil to give you his utmost attention. Good, he's listening. You don't trespass the barrier in the form of a stretched out table between you two as you glower over him.

"I'm gonna make this short," you glare with slit eyes, "I don't want anything that has your fingerprints on it nor do I want to hear you speak to me ever again. Leave me alone or I will report you for harrassment. Say yes if you understand."

The light in his gaze dims momentarily as his awed smile falters. "Y-Yes." He appears afraid and innocent, but your gut denies it. "But may I ask why?"

"Oh, you know why," you scoff in a hushed voice, "I don't want your stupid cards and your stupid gifts, and most of all, I don't want you. Get that through your thick skull."

He never knew you could be this mean, and it almost throws off the sweet impression he has of you until he remembers that you're just loyal. He loves that you're so faithful, and he wants you to be faithful to him only. He craves it so deeply, but he says nothing of the sort and instead stammers, "I-I understand. I-I'm sorry, I'll leave you alone if that's what you wa–"

The slam of the lecture room's doors echo in the spacious hall, and you hurriedly take a seat on the edge of the bench to distance yourself from Yeonjun as much as possible. He has to bite his lip to stop a smile from growing on his face from having you sit next to him.

But just as you requested, he doesn't interact with you throughout the lecture except for a few glances to drink in the sight of you being so close to him. Instances like these are the only time he can feel intimate with you, but it'll only get better on from here.

Because the professor assigns a pair project before you're dismissed.

"Before you leave, by the end of the term, you will have a report submitted in pairs regarding senses that affect the human system in a topic of your choice. More information on the college website, along with the assigned pairs. You can go."

"I already checked," Yeonjun whispers to you, making you immediately wear a distasteful expression, "I'm your partner."

"Nuh-uh," you deny childishly before taking out your phone as you stand from the bench to leave after packing your stationaries. You log onto the site just as you receive a notification from Jungkook.

the love of my life ♡: no good morning text? sus

You have to swipe it away out of worry that you'll actually be forced to spend time with Jungkook's new nemesis. The site loads. You scroll past the details of the task and finally land on the pairs.

And there it is—your name next to Yeonjun's on the screen.

"No," you exhale to yourself and rush out to the hall to avoid Yeonjun. "No, no, no."

Below the names explicitly states: No changes in the assigned pairs. It's too big of a coincidence for you to think it's just your bad luck—you're certain bribery is involved, and how lovely that you can't do anything about it.

You take pride in your intelligence, but you can't outsmart him in this situation, especially when your grades are being held over your head to force yourself to be around Yeonjun. Jungkook would get arrested for murder if you involved him in it, and he surely wouldn't leave you alone if you told him about it.

But then again, you promised—no more secrets.

You: good morning kookie!! i was a little busy so i couldn't text you :< did you sleep well?? <3

"Fuck, fuck," you shriek to yourself as you keep walking, not paying attention to where your feet are leading you. Just as long as you're safe from Yeonjun so Jungkook wouldn't find you with him. You need to tell him when the guy isn't around, so you need to wait until his lecture's over–

Yeonjun calls for your name softly while running past the roaming students, and you stop on your tracks with the desire to spit out every insult you have in mind to his face.

"You asshole!" you grit the moment he faces you while breathing heavily. "You planned this, didn't you? I said–"

"I-I'm sorry, but I had nothing to do with it," he pleads with that innocent expression of his. "I promise I-I won't act like before! I'll respect your relationship and stop being weird!"

"Good," you jab a finger at his chest as you seethe, "I don't want to spend any more time with you than I have to."

He frowns with a jutting bottom lip, looking like a kicked puppy as his eyes turn glossy. You are so mean, and he hates it, but his only leverage is that he can be meaner—not to you, never you, but to Jungkook. He's a step ahead of you, and you can shower him with all the bad words you can think of until you heart is content, but he sees it as just a step in the process of owning you.

You think he's submissive and persistent, but no, he's just manipulative.

—

"Don't get mad," you warily caution while lying down on the grass next to your boyfriend, basking in the sun to last the peaceful atmosphere a little longer. His arm is under your back and his hand on your chest as you hold it.

He has his eyes closed as he says, "no promises."

"We promised to tell each other everything, and there's nothing you can do about this one so please don't get mad at me." He quirks a brow when he opens his eyes to see your timid face. "Remember Yeonjun?"

"You have to be fucking kidding me," he groans angrily as he sits up, prompting you to do the same. "You talked to him, didn't you? I specifically fucking said–"

"Can you just listen?" you sigh. "We have a project together." His brows scrunch intimidatingly, making it harder to say what's on your mind. "And this is unrelated but... he brought a gift to my doorstep."

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds. "Is there anything more I should listen to? Are you done?"

"H-he said he'd stop acting weird and respect our relation–"

"Fucking bullshit. What, did he also say he just wants to be friends? That he's not interested in you anymore?"

"He didn't say that–"

"And you didn't tell the professor you wanted a different partner? Did you keep the gift too?" he sneers mockingly.

"Jungkook, I can't switch, and no I didn't keep the freaking gift," you defend, feeling offended. He can be so provocative when he's mad. It isn't even your fault! "I'm telling you, there's nothing I can do except to convince him to work together online. Isn't that better?"

He grabs your jaw and pulls you a little closer. His grip is bordering on painful and you hold back a wince. "Are you fucking hearing yourself? You can't even be around him and yet you're not allowed to switch? Listen to me. You go to that fucking professor, tell him this guy is harrassing you and that you can't work with him, and if they don't listen, you go the headmaster. You hear me?" he slightly jolts you to command an answer.

"Y-Yes, but–"

"Don't make any fucking excuses," he hisses and lets go of your face. "If you don't do something about it while I'm giving you the chance, then I will."

You hold onto your chin as you meekly question, "what will you do?"

"Things don't need to escalate," he shrugs as he lies back down. "I'll threaten him with my pocket knife and one wrong word from him, I'll use it."

"Like kill him?" you exclaim in shock.

He rolls his eyes. You take him too seriously sometimes. "No. Just send a message. Now go run off to your professor before I ask Yoongi to be my alibi."

#yall wanna know how jk would do it? 😩#my mans would beat up the poor guy and then hang out w his friends so he can have an alibi in case yeonjun reports him #WEEWOOOWEEEEWOOOOO #textbook love

34 notes · View notes

joontier · 4 years ago

Text

mercedes midnight runs | drabble

synopsis: ur thirsting over jk driving you around in a mercedes

pairings: jungkook x reader

rating: R

genre: smut, angst | warnings: pwp basically (the thirst is real and unquenchable) with lidol angst ; swearing ; degradation ; car sex (pls dont do this while driving fjlaksas)

word count: 2.1k

g/n: this is the first installment for my ‘between the lines’ collection! ackkk ive been wanting to do this for so long because ive always thirsted over the boys driving and imagining jk driving his mercedes around seoul is just,,,,, eye ---- btw, this is heavily unedited nhnghgnhgn i just had to share the thirst with yall real quick

between the lines navi. | navi. | m.list

You’ve already planned out a quiet night to yourself tonight to rest and get your mind off of things, but all of a sudden, just as you were about to settle in bed, Jungkook sends you a text, telling you to get ready in half an hour because he’s going to pick you up and take you out somewhere.

It isn't new news anymore that he’s texting you at this hour because he’s only permitted to go out after his schedules, which usually also end late at night. Superstar problems, can’t relate.

Well, that and because your relationship with him warrants these types of late night meet-ups. It’s that type of arrangement you’d never thought you’d agree to, but eventually, learned to cope with. Your phone pings - a new message.

[🕺] 12:45AM

im out front

When you exit your apartment, you see an unfamiliar silver car parked in front of the building, you back up the stairs, wary of who might be inside the mysterious vehicle. The window rolls down halfway, and you see Jungkook takes a peek through the small space.

Going back down the steps, you quickly climb inside the vehicle. “New car?”

“Yeah, you like it?”

You hum in agreement, tracing a hand along the sleek design of the dashboard. “It’s very...you,” you remark, in awe at how this new Benz fits Jungkook so well. “C’mere,” Jungkook tugs at your elbow, closing the distance between the two of you. “Fuck, you don’t know how much I missed you.” He presses his lightly chapped lips against yours, nipping gently at your bottom lip. Abruptly, you pull away, worried.

“Kook...what if someone sees?”

“I got the windows tinted. I got this car for us.” His words resonate throughout the car, and you're afraid he might hear your heart thudding strongly in your chest. You choose to ignore the implications of his words, focusing on his presence and not your treacherous thoughts.

You give him a chaste kiss on his cheek in reply, sending a smile in his direction. You hope he doesn't see your real emotions swimming in your eyes. “Where are we escaping off to tonight?” Internally cringing at your careless choice of words, you take off your hoodie and place it at the backseat, along with your purse, all the while giving him a generous display of your cleavage as a distraction.

Jungkook’s tongue darts out to moisten his lips. “I’m having second thoughts now, if we should really leave or not,” he says, unabashedly staring at your chest, eyeing your nipples, pert against the fabric of your low-cut top. “No bra?”

“You told me you’d be here in twenty minutes, so I had to hurry….”

“Wearing a bra takes you twenty minutes now?” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head at your lame excuse.

“Yup, especially when all I could think about is having you take them off. So be grateful, because I’m doing you a favor.” You give him a wink, giggling when he huffs and starts the car. You’ve outwitted him once more. Silently, deep within the recesses of your brain, you wish you had the same amount of control you had over your words with your heart, especially when you’re around Jungkook.

Connecting your phone to the car’s music player via bluetooth, you scroll through your recents and pick on your favorite playlist when you’re with Jungkook. ‘Sexy Can I’ by Ray J and Yung Berg comes first on shuffle.

“That sounds like a very promising playlist.”

Your conversation slowly lulls into silence, the two of you seated there quietly as you feel the enhanced bass reverberate throughout the new car. Leaning against the headrest, you glimpse at the man beside you, studying his features.

Sometimes you find it funny how never in a million years did you even dream of being this close to the Euphoria crooner. If it wasn’t for your cousin Eunkyung - an idol who debuted the same year as Jungkook did, who’s likewise a very good friend of the latter, then you don't think you would even come close to breathing the same air as the global sensation beside you.

Judging by the movement of Jungkook’s lips, you reckon he’s been speaking to you for the last five minutes, but you definitely have not processed a single word from him, for all you care. You couldn't blame yourself though, and Jungkook is certainly the one who is to take responsibility for your momentary preoccupation.

“You okay babe?”

“Mhmmhm”

If you were going to be completely honest, you were far from okay. Besides the many thoughts swirling inside your head, your trusty menstrual cycle tracker app is telling you that you’re bound to welcome your monthly visitor in a week - which means you’re PMSing - which further means you’re only in one certain state of mind - you’re insatiably horny.

Unfortunately for you, Jungkook is absolutely no help at all. Not when he constantly looks like sex personified - muscular thighs, veiny arms, the whole package. Plus, there’s something about Jungkook behind the wheel that’s ultimately driving you crazy.

A major part of it is your hormones for sure, but then again, even your hormones are thirsting over Jungkook driving, veiny forearms on display as he grips the wheel, or the way he backs up with only one hand on the steering wheel, or the way he sometimes keep a hand on your thigh as he drives. The formula is clear: Jeon Jungkook will be the cause of your insanity.

Jungkook pulls up the sleeves of his Carhartt sweater, revealing his nearing full-sleeve-tattooed right arm. The sight instantly makes you water, or wetter. Whichever the case may be.

You hadn’t seen him in a week, busy working on his mixtape, amongst other stuff. And you miss him terribly, sex with him included. As desperate and slutty that sounds, Jungkook is that type of person that leaves you wanting, yearning for more.

“What’s going on then?”

“If this is about Eunkyung…you know we already talked about that…”

“I don’t wanna talk about that, Jungkook.”

“What’s wrong then?”

You don’t answer, just silently watching the muscles on his forearm ripple as he pulls on the hand brake when you get to an intersection. You gulp, looking away as you push your thighs together, hoping that somehow the friction will help the desire pooling between your legs. The action doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook, whose eyes instantly darken, now all too aware of your state.

“Tell me what’s wrong baby girl.”

Your resolve nearly breaks at the pet name, looking out the window to avoid his gaze. The light turns green again, and as he continues to drive, he rests a hand on your exposed thigh, strategically placing it just in the middle, the action gentle, yet enough to add fuel to your frustration.

His tattooed fingers gingerly trace patterns on your bare thigh. Fuck Jungkook and his thing for skirts. You weren't one to complain about his sexual fantasies though, not when wearing the skirts he buys for you gets you a good fucking afterwards.

You stay quiet in your seat, not giving the satisfaction that Jungkook gets knowing that he’s getting you all riled up. Two can play at this game.

Gingerly, you place a hand on top of his, gently guiding his hand north towards your core. The man driving beside you lets out a cough, sitting up straighter. Keeping his hand sliding up until he’s fully cupping your core, Jungkook chokes on thin air as he realizes you’re not wearing panties either.

“Let me guess, wearing underwear is too mainstream?”

Shrugging, you spread your legs wider, guiding his fingers to slide against your already glistening folds. A shot of electricity runs through your spine. “Fuck, baby girl, you’ll be the death of me,” Jungkook growls, taking a sharp intake of breath as he teases you, shallowly dipping a digit through your wet cunt.

“You’re fucking soaked. You seem to enjoy the thought, princess. Christening my car seats like the slut that you are?” He drawls, this time fully pushing a finger in as you get to another stoplight.

“Jungkook, don’t tease me like that baby.” Biting your lip to stop the moan that’s threatening to spill, your own hand reaches out to grab at Jungkook crotch. He hisses at the sensation. You smirk to yourself. Seems like you’re not the only one who’s greatly affected.

Encouraged by Jungkook’s reaction, you slip a hand through the waistband of his sweats, taking hold of his already hard cock. “And you’re surprised I don’t wear underwear? Bit rich coming from you now isn’t it?”

“Better watch your mouth and stop teasing me, baby girl. You might just get punished for that.”

“And what if I want to get punished?”

Jungkook huffs, pulling out his finger as the light turns orange. He brings his slick-covered finger to your lips, “Suck,” he orders. You oblige, sucking on his slender digit and swirling a tongue around it.

“You’re in for a fucking treat, naughty girl.”

It’s green again. With a sigh, Jungkook gets back to driving, this time religiously looking for a discreet place to stop over so he can fuck you properly. He finally finds a filling station, now driving with newly found urgency.

He parks in one secluded corner of the station, with just a singular parking space separating you from a parked truck, the driver snoring away happily.

The tension is thick in the air, inevitably making you feel hot even with the air conditioning on full blast. With no words needed to get the message across, you both unbuckle your seatbelts hastily, finding each other in a heated kiss shortly after.

Making another grab at Jungkook’s dick - outlining against the confines of his Puma sweats, you urge him to pull them down to his thighs so you can have a taste of your alleged ‘treat’. Likewise, he orders you to lift your skirt up, giving him easier access to have you writing on his fingers alone.

Scooting closer, you bend over the center console, taking Jungkook’s length in your hands. You place a tentative kiss on the tip before diving in, taking his cock inside your mouth. Jungkook lets out a guttural groan at the sensation, taking your hair into his hands, forming a makeshift ponytail on your head.

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that right?” His head throws back as you take him to the hilt, the tip hitting the back of your throat. At his compliment, you swallow and as you watch Jungkook visibly shudder, you give yourself a mental pat on the back.

As you continue to bob up and down Jungkook’s length, your hand travels between your legs, fingers easily finding your nether bud. With Jungkook starting to buck his hips upwards, helping you with your task, you quicken the pace of the fingers toying with your clit. You’re so close, but you’re doubtful you’ll even get to orgasm, considering your perched precariously over the console - definitely an uncomfortable position for you to orgasm in.

Jungkook senses your discomfort and tells you to sit down, and you’ll both do this together. As soon as you get seated, you scoot closer to the middle, when Jungkook’s hand extends to return its attention to your dripping cunt. You give Jungkook’s erection stands tall, likewise calling for attention. Heeding to its silent call, you wrap your fingers around his shaft, stroking his length languidly.

For a full minute, you both stay like that, trying to get each other to orgasm. Jungkook’s breathing gets labored by the second - the tell-tale signs he’s getting close. As your hand momentarily leaves his dick to massage his balls, his phone blares, startling you both out of your wits.

Letting out an annoyed huff, he grabs the phone and switches mute button down then thrusting the device somewhere on the dashboard. Pretending as if nothing happened, you continue your handjob until Jungkook can’t take it any longer, pulling you up from your seat and telling you to come and sit on his lap.

As soon as Jungkook pushes his seat back, you crawl over to his side, unceremoniously sitting on his lap, gyrating your hips as you slide your wet folds against the muscular expanse of his thigh. You’re almost there, Jungkook taking your breasts in his hands for more stimulation - that is until his phone vibrates loudly against the surface of the dashboard.

“You should probably get that,” you pull away, retreating to your seat: cockblocked for the second time. You check the dashboard for his phone, and get a glimpse of the caller’s ID on his screen. Eunkyung.

You place the device into Jungkook’s hands yourself.

“It’s your girlfriend calling.”

#bts smut #bangtanhq #btsguild #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #btsgoldnet #btsghostie #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts drabbles

450 notes · View notes

tobesobri · 5 years ago

Photo

ℐ would definitely say this chapter is a turning point in the story and you learn a bit more about both Harry (and especially) Y/N! As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts, I am always open to discussing this story with yall :)

WARNING: mention of past sexual assault (in the first half of the chapter)

huge massive thank you to the incredible @youresogolden-h for editing ❤️

CHAPTER FIVE: DENY THE WAY THAT YOU FEEL (4.3K)

Harry and Y/N are friends…. with benefits, but not the kinds you’re thinking of.

🥥MASTERLIST 🌃INSPO TAG 🌻ASK TAG 💃PLAYLIST 🛌

There was no light seeping in under her door when she woke up, no sounds coming from the kitchen, and hardly any oxygen getting to her lungs.

The second her eyes shot open, she was pushing herself out of Harry’s grasp, forcing him awake too as she tried desperately to get away from him. It wasn’t until he placed his hands on her shoulders that she realized where she was and what was going on. And then her nightmare came flooding back into view.

“Y/N, hey,” his voice was groggy but calm, even though he was more freaked out than she was, “you’re okay, what’s going on?”

He knew it was early. His alarm hadn’t gone off yet, which is what he expected to wake him up, not Y/N jolting awake from a nightmare and ready to punch him in the face.

She stared into his eyes as she caught her breath, finding some kind of solace in them even if his green irises were barely visible. It just reminded her that this was real and whatever had been going on before was not. After blinking a few times, she mumbled an apology.

“You had a nightmare?” He asked.

She hesitated before nodding. There was no way she could get away with lying to him. He’d seen it with his own eyes, and no one reacts like that when waking up unless they had a bad dream.

“You want to talk about it?”

Quickly, she shook her head no. He didn’t really expect any less, but he wanted to give her the option anyways. Instead, she buried her face back into his chest and let him hold onto her again. Neither of them were hesitant this time about touching the other. It happened naturally as he brought one hand to the top of her head, petting her hair down all the way to the base of her neck while the other one planted itself in the center of her back to keep her close.

He knew she had nightmares, that’d been the first thing they really ever discussed at the beginning of all this, even though she was being funny about it at the time. He knew it was something more than monsters or walking into work naked on Monday morning. Just from the way she couldn’t breathe and the way she’d looked at him told him all he needed to know.

As the next full week passed, things continued to get easier. It became a routine where she came to his place straight after work. The man at the front gates to his neighborhood learned her name and no longer asked for any identification at all. He was already opening the gates for her the second he saw her car pull up. Her things found a semi-permanent spot on his bathroom counter and she brought a few more things with her to get ready at his house instead. She took her showering needs with her and her makeup and hair tools. By the end of the week, it looked almost as if she’d practically moved in. And he didn’t give one single fuck about it. He’d let his entire bathroom be filled with her.

By Wednesday, he’d even found some of her clothes mixed in with his own when he did the laundry. A shirt he remembered her wearing to bed on Monday and her usual pajama bottoms that had some of their own self-inflicted holes in them. He’d made sure to take way better care of her things than his own, neatly folding the spare pieces into an empty drawer in his closet that would slowly become exclusively hers.

And by Thursday, they’d gotten it down to a tee. Sometimes they stayed up later, but she really didn’t make it too long before falling asleep against him. Even if he was up longer, staring out at his view of the city or up at the ceiling until he felt tired enough to join her. But either way, they didn’t get into bed and worry anymore. Not when he was well aware of how often she wiggled around through the night if he wasn’t holding her down, and not when she realized how much he snored if he wasn’t comfortable.

So by Friday when they laid opposite ways on the bed, with Y/N’s head on his pillows and Harry’s next to her feet at the end of the bed, it felt like two best friends who’d known each other their entire lives hanging out at a sleepover more than it did anything else.

It was still too early for either of them, even after a dinner full of Chick-fil-A. So, instead, they laid like that, staring up at the ceiling as they talked about anything that came to mind. From what their favorite albums were--both having agreeable opinions on The Fame Monster--to asking each other questions about the other’s family.

She’d learned a lot about his sister and how much he clearly loved her and about the loss he was still dealing with. However, he’d learned not to ask her too much about her family, but, she did seem to respond well when he had asked her about where she wanted to travel to someday. He’d made a mental note to find a way to take her to all the places he loved in Europe as she listed off numerous countries he’d already been to; Paris, Florence, and Amsterdam.

And then finally, somehow, they landed on the current topic.

“I find it really hard to believe you’ve never been in a relationship before.” It wasn’t all that hard for him to believe, given the twenty foot walls she had built up around herself and how she felt about the way she looked. But it still surprised him just a little bit to learn the truth.

“It’s true whether you believe it or not.”

At some point in the night, he’d started giving her an impromptu foot massage over her socks and it felt too good on her sore feet for her to object to it. So, when he paused his motions to ask what was naturally coming next, she grew terrified.

“So does that mean you’ve never…”

He listened as she sighed and then as the silence took over the space immediately above them. Maybe it was a question he wasn’t supposed to ask. One that was way too far out of her comfort zone.

“What about you? I find it hard to believe you haven’t just found another girlfriend yet.”

It broke his heart a little listening to her dodge his question. It was mostly because she didn’t sound like she was trying to hide the fact that she might’ve never had sex before. It sounded more complicated than that. There was a lot more involved than just a black or white answer and it made his heart heavy.

“You seem to have forgotten how shit my last girlfriend was. If it was easy trusting someone again, I would’ve done it already.”

He felt her hand on his ankle again, where she rested it from time to time while they’d been talking. This time, she picked at the soft fabric of his joggers, tearing off the pilling as she got lost in her own thoughts. She couldn’t get how he talked about trust off her mind. He had to trust her to some degree, right? Or he would have never let her anywhere near him to begin with. And what was the difference between trusting her and trusting someone in an actual romantic relationship? Her lines were so incredibly blurred.

“There was this guy when I was a junior in high school…” she started; testing it out to begin with to see his reactions and gauge whether or not she trusted him enough to lay everything out there like she was about to do. She wanted to know for sure that she wouldn’t regret it in the morning. That she wouldn’t wish she’d kept all her secrets to herself. And, for whatever reason, maybe just because he was Harry, she felt like she wouldn’t. Like no matter what she told him, he wouldn’t ever make her feel like that.

He had already froze up, however. He knew she had a hard time being touched and he knew she didn’t trust easily like him, he just never knew why. So just the mention of a guy she knew in high school and the tone of her voice gave it all away. It wasn’t going to be a story he would enjoy hearing.

“He, um… took advantage of me.” She paused to let the words linger in the space around them, because they were words she’d never said aloud before, on purpose anyways. She had no idea what they’d sound like in her voice but she’d always imagined it turning out horribly. When it didn’t feel that way, when she instead felt a bit of… relief, she went on. “I was young and really stupid. He just wanted to tell his friends he slept with me even if it meant forcing me to do so.”

It seemed like more words he’d heard out of her all at once than ever before. And every single word hurt him more and more until he found himself balling his hands into fists and practically burning holes into his ceiling with the way he glared at it.

She continued when he remained quiet. “So, um, I get it when you talk about not being able to trust anyone. I never let anyone else get close… and nobody ever really tried to either.” Besides you, she wanted to add on, but thought better of it. He already knew that part of her story. He was already piecing it together. That he may have been the only person to lay his hands on her without evil intentions. Without trying to hurt her or force her to do something she didn’t want to. Was he the only person she trusted enough to tell that story to and to try and be more open with? He thought back to a week ago, when she’d had that nightmare. When she forced herself to be physically closer to him than she ever had. He wondered if it was something she’d thought about doing beforehand. And he wondered again what that dream had been about.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you.” He was genuine and she knew it. He didn’t know what else to say when he was gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw so hard just to keep in his anger, but she really didn’t want him to say anything else anyways.

She didn’t want him to tell her that not every guy was like that. Or that if she just let them in she’d find people who weren’t going to hurt her. And none of those were even thoughts that were crossing his mind anyways. The only thing on his mind was red, fuming anger.

He’d had enough of hearing from his female friends what the men in their life had done to them. He’d had enough of hearing about the harassment and mistreatment. And hearing it from Y/N now, it frankly made his fucking blood boil. He wanted to somehow go back in time and protect her from that ever happening.

But right now, all he could do was show her that he was someone she could trust.

“I’m sorry someone felt they could hurt you like that.” He added.

She was quiet for a moment. Only one other person in the world knew what happened to her, and if it had been up to her, they wouldn’t know about it at all. But voluntarily telling someone about what happened to her? She never thought that day would come.

“I could say the same to you.” She said bluntly. Although the psychological damage done to them varied drastically, someone still felt the need to hurt Harry too in ways he never deserved.

“S’not the same, Y/N.”

“No but you didn’t deserve to get hurt either.”

He’d never really thought of it that way. The blame was always placed on himself, that if he didn’t trust so easily, people wouldn’t do what they did to him. In his mind, it was always his fault for not being a little more observant or a little more aware of people’s intentions. He never really saw it the other way around. That people took his kindness and used it against him. He never considered that he didn’t deserve what he got until he heard it coming out of her mouth. He knew for a fact she didn’t deserve one bit of what happened to her so he’d be a hypocrite to say he deserved his own misfortunes.

It was a comfortable quiet between them again until Harry’s mind cleared.

“Is that the real reason you don’t let people in?”

“It’s one of the reasons,” she sighed, almost in relief. He knew them all now. He knew her insecurities. He knew why she had her trust issues. He knew why she was alone.

“You never even tried a relationship at all since then?” He hoped he didn’t sound insensitive or like he was prying into her past, he was just genuinely curious.

“I don’t really think I want to be in a relationship.”

He scrunched his face up at that one and he wasn’t quite sure why he took it to be personally offensive. Maybe it was because he did want that and he was under the impression they were more alike than not, so finding out something about her that didn’t quite add up felt weird to him. “But we started doing all this because we’re both alone and you’ve never even tried to change that?”

“No. It’s not easy for me to open up to people, Harry, and that’s all you do in a relationship.”

“You opened up to me.”

His words caught her off guard. He was right and he actually had the balls to say it. “That’s different.”

He felt defeated, like she really only saw what they were doing as straightforward as possible. All the nights he’d spent wondering how they might end up one day felt stupid to him now. She didn’t want that. She just wanted someone to make her feel less alone, someone to be with at the end of the day. And he had no issues with that at all, that’s all he had wanted to begin with too. But now, he just wished she wanted the same things he did.

He couldn’t blame her though. What he’d been through that made him the way he was paled in comparison to what she’d been through that made her the way she was. And he’d pushed everyone away for over a year because of it.

Maybe it was how fast they’d gone straight to being so physically close that had his mind confused about his feelings for her. They’d gone from friends of friends to her practically living at his house within the same month. Maybe it could have been anyone in her shoes and he would have still fallen way too easily. All because she held onto him just right and listened like no one ever really had. Maybe it was just her giving him the intimacy he’d been craving.

So to make it hurt a little less, he blamed whatever he was feeling for her on that.

He didn’t want to, but he thought about her in the shower the next morning. He tried thinking about his usual existential stuff, like the purpose of life or when it might end. Neither topic stuck like she did. He scrubbed shampoo through his hair roughly just to get her out of his head, to stop thinking about how she was still in his bed just on the other side of the wall, and to stop thinking about everything they shared last night.

He thought about every little word she said and how he ended up in a pit of emotions by the time they fell asleep. But this morning, all his mind kept wrapping around was the fact that she’d been the most vulnerable he’d ever seen her and he wasn’t being completely honest himself.

Sighing, he rinsed his hair under the warm water, closed his eyes and pushed everything off to the side for later. He let himself hum while he covered his body in soap, getting back into his normal routine by the time he was singing with a lot less weight on his shoulders.

He sang softly, still far too aware of her presence in his room, but sometimes he got a little carried away. Even if she did hear him trying to master the chorus melody of Linger over and over again, so be it. It was the first song to come to his head and get stuck there just like she had, and he couldn’t help but romanticize how things used to be before he knew she’d never like him the way he wanted her to. Back when he thought he had a chance.

The problem with that was that he was even more of a fool for her last night when she handed over her secrets in a glass case and trusted him enough not to break it. He wouldn’t go back to being his ignorant lovesick self before last night even if his life depended on it. There was a whole new level of connection between them, that just the thought of her name made him want to give her everything he had to offer.

If he hadn’t gotten lost in his daydreams, he definitely would not have walked out into his bedroom with only a towel wrapped around his lower half. He was far too used to walking around his house in not enough clothes. But, for some reason, he assumed she was still asleep, which was most definitely not the case when he invaded her area with his dripping wet abs and general nakedness.

He immediately froze and so did she as she stared blankly at him from the middle of his bed. She was sitting up on his pillows, her phone in her hands having been abandoned for the unexpected sight in front of her.

“Oh,” he blinked, “I didn’t think you were awake.” His attempts at covering his body by wrapping his arms around his chest didn’t really help too much.

She forced herself to look away and pretend like all the blood wasn’t rushing to the surface of her skin, “It’s okay.”

He couldn’t help the stupid smirk on his face when he felt her staring at him again as he walked across the room to his closet. Even more so when he turned to shut the door behind him and caught the shortest little glimpse of her eyes flickering away.

Once he was fully dressed, he joined her on the bed again, forcing her to scoot back to her side as he got back under the blanket. He clicked a button on his remote to open the curtains and let the view in while she put her phone away.

He glanced up at her as she became almost instantly memorized by the overcast hovering above the city. How the tallest buildings disappeared into fog and how the sun fought to be seen through it all.

“Can I tell you something?” Harry asked quietly after letting her exist peacefully beside him by herself for a little while.

She just nodded, glancing down at him with slight concern about what he could possibly need to say.

“I wasn’t completely honest when I told you why I’m alone.” He began, watching her while she watched the city, almost obsessing over the profile of her face long enough to forget what he was trying to say.

“Think I’m more scared of hurting people than I am of letting them in.”

“What do you mean?” She gave him her full attention now even though he’d flipped to staring out the windows.

“Letting people into my life like that, knowing they’ll be torn apart in the media and be made a joke on Instagram because they’re with me… I don’t want that to happen ever again.” His voice cracked and when she looked down at his eyes, they sparkled. His shift in emotion became clearer when he sniffled and went on, “So I’m alone to protect people from having to be with me.”

She carefully calculated how to respond. While she still didn’t fully understand his life, having known Harry for him and not his fame, she didn’t want to say something insensitive like she had before. She knew better now. He had it all, but at the end of the day, he still felt empty.

“And uh…” he wavered, “No one deserves to go through that. I’ve tried being more private, but eventually something gets out and it happens all over again. So it’s easier not having anyone than to watch as they slowly deteriorate because of me.”

When he finally glanced at her, not even sure she’d still been listening to him, the look on her face made up for her initial lack of response. She was genuine, like she felt every one of his emotions for herself. It made him feel safe, like he’d finally given his secrets to the right person.

“I’m so sorry, Harry.” She didn’t really know what to say besides that, but it didn’t matter. He trusted her like she’d trusted him. She could say nothing and it would be enough.

She was more sorry than she could even express. Sorry she’d ever made her judgements about him. Sorry that she thought he could have anyone he wanted without any problems. Sorry that she thought he could never feel the same things she did when she’d never even attempted to walk in his shoes.

It was just that… she didn’t really know how to. It scared her being as open as they were, as he was. It scared her how she’d agreed to their arrangement so thoughtlessly, how he managed to pull things out of her she’d buried long ago. All because he was Harry and he didn’t mind calling on a whim or carelessly singing in the shower.

And it scared her to think Harry was anywhere near as broken as her.

“What happened to the song we were working on last week?” Will asked, resting his face in his palms. He glared across the table at Harry upon hearing the news that the singer had decided to scratch all the progress they had made, especially since they were currently wasting precious studio time.

“I don’t like it anymore.”

“Why not?”

Harry sighed, flipping through his journal with his hand dug into the tangles of his hair. He wanted to say that the song was about Y/N and that so much had changed in the last week. He couldn’t stop himself from feeling the way he did about her, but he couldn’t finish a song when he no longer connected with it. He was no longer blindly falling for her. He had her secrets in his pockets and his were safely in hers. He was head first, eyes wide open, falling.

“Please don’t tell me I’m wasting another afternoon on you trying to figure your shit out.” Will complained, rightfully.

Harry huffed and kept his eyes on the pages before him instead of Will, not sure how what he was about to say would come out if he had to look at his best friend and stretch the truth a little. “There’s this… girl. Things changed and… I don’t think she’ll ever like me the way I like her.”

“You wrote that song about her, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.” Harry admitted begrudgingly.

“Who fucking cares, H?” Will reasoned and Harry looked up at him with nothing but confusion on his scrunched face. “Who cares if she doesn’t like you? Write all the songs you want about her if you have to. Just fucking… write something.”

Harry blinked a couple times once the initial shock of Will’s outburst wore off. Then he was flipping through the pages of his journal again, “Well… I wrote something else too…” Carefully, Harry flipped his book around and pushed it across the table towards Will.

Watching Harry carefully, it took him a moment before he read the scribbled words across two full pages. And realization struck once he’d gotten about halfway through Harry’s jumbled mess of potential lyrics.

“How did you go from some weird shit about coconuts to… this?”

Harry shrugged, keeping his eyes glued to the journal pages.

“I didn’t even know you were seeing someone let alone in love with them.”

Harry scoffed, folding his arms over his chest, “I’m not in love, Will, stop being fucking dramatic.”

“I get so lost inside your eyes?” Will read off a lyric and then Harry watched as he scanned the page for another one, “I’d walk through fire for you?”

Harry just sat there as if holding his ground. Will didn’t know the whole situation. He didn’t even know the half of it.

“Deny it all you want, but you’re in love.” Will slid the book back across the table.

Harry slouched forward reading over his words again before mumbling out, softly, a confession he wished wasn’t true, “She doesn’t love me back.”

“Who is she, anyways?”

That was one question Harry wouldn’t answer in a million years. He couldn’t even fathom a believable answer in his head about who she was. She’s your roommate, the one that barely talks to me but we’ve been secret cuddle buddies the past month. That was just… not an explanation he ever saw happening.

“No one…” Harry fell back against his chair, defeated, “it’s complicated.”

“Hopefully it’s complicated enough to finish this album.”

Taglist: @afterstylesmadeit @and-im-not-okay-with-it @whydontharry @harryinsweatersandbandanas @idkthisisjustforfanfic @teddysoldbird @shawnsblue @thurhomish @theasstour @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @staceystoleyourheart @granolagrannie @defineharry @iambabyharry @1142590m @ashtondene @smokeinherperfume @cherryyharryy @mellamolayla @chrryblsms @cassiopeiaskies @sunflowerjens @detroitkiwis @brwnskin-bunnyteeth @cock-a-doodely-doo @strawberrycaramelmocha @meetmeinfleetwood @harriesgolden @rachkon @caritocp @sspidermanss if you’d like to be added, go here :)

#onlyhuman #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing

424 notes · View notes

burnedbyshoto · 5 years ago

Text

anon: The artist @franeridart answers all of their asks in one mass post with a read more link so maybe you could try that as well. That way you could answer everyones ask but not spam anyones dash with all of your replys

you genius anon, and you genius artist! I just feel like as of late I have been getting a lot more things in my askbox, and I dont want to overwhelm anyone with spam. so, I will be creating these! unless it’s for y’all thirsty hoes asking for extra parts or whatever from very recent posts, expect this to happen every so often! the rest will be below cut. also first time using photoshop? how’d I do yall??? and also like.... let me know if you like this idea??? if not i’ll just resort to spam :)

@your-parental-figure : IK BUT DETECTIVE GUY CONSIDERED BOTH TOKOYAMI AND KIRI TO BE ALL MIGJTS SUCCESSOR DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THAT MENT??? THAT MOMENT WATERED MY CROPS, CLEARED MY SKIN AND SOLVED WORLD HUNGER

oh season four episode one, you may have been a filler, but you made me so happy to watch. honestly ngl, I was pretty surprised when he said kiri, not because he has no potential, but because it seemed like the top 4 from the sports festival, bUT FUCK YEAH KIRI AND TOKOYAMI!!!!! IN A DIFFERENT WORLD IT COULDVE BEEN THEM!!!!!

anon: Makeup smut for villain Deku should be good. 100% tender, no chicken

honestly, my favorite thing at this point is seeing you all crumble in fear if i’ll even give you a happy ending, and tbh idk if it will be for villain!deku >:)

@ohmycolie: So it’s Saturday night and I’m just sitting at home 🤦🏼‍♀️ could you maybe do a scenario where Bakubaby and Kiri decide to bring Kami into their sexcapades and after their little adventure Kiri is like “can we keep him?” 🤤💕

hi bby, while I can imagine something of this sort I am only a “x reader” blog :( so while its good thirst, I won’t be writing anything about it, sorry :( ily tho!

@michealsheep: Honestly is shiggy ended me after an intense nut like that I’d just thank him

honestly, I want shiggy just to end me??? whatta way to go. death by fucking nut.

bigdickkiri: I don’t get ship wars. Why do people wanna be so mean? It’s so easy to not be a part of any a that.if everyone appropriately tagged their posts, blacklisted rags they don’t like and didn’t act bitchy then they wouldn’t be an issue. - bigdickkiri

neither do I honestly. they’re just people looking for drama at this point, and it’s like... come on... you’re 25... stop

bigdickkiri: What a fantastic evening to tell my favourite writers that I adore them and that they're amazing! Look after yourself and have a gorgeous day! ❤️💙❤️💙 - bigdickkiri

I’m literally the worst. but um, I adore you so much, and I think you’re amazing!!!!! its 2am rn, but I can’t sleep anyways

🍒💥anon: Girl, your blog is having a glo up!!! I love it!! So pretty 👌 How are you doing today? Are you taking care of yourself? *sending good vibes and virtual hugs your way* -🍒💥

teehee, thank you for noticing!!!!!! i’m not 100% happy with it rn, but I haven’t had the time to get it perfect!!! wait a few more weeks and when I have actual down time, im fixing it >:) also, I am doing well, a lot of caretaking today! I never take care of myseld! *accepts the good vibes and virtual hugs because I am touch starved*

anon: I'm part of the protect uraraka squad!!! ♡

me too boo! you wanna fight me on my mochi loving girl meet me on the corner of my fists and in your faCE!!!!! (is this considered cyberbullying?)

anon: WTF @ THAT ANGST I M SAD NOW

this was in regard to my fic “because of you” which I posted because I was in a crying mood. HAHAHAHAHA YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO FEEL SAD I WINNNNNNNN

@joyfullydawn: I just wanted to say you're heccin' amazing??? The fact you named that roommate one "And they were roommates" I just--yes. This is more than ok. This is excellent. Please keep being awesome aaaa

and they were roommates was the first series I had, and the thing I did in celebration for 100 followers.... jesus that feels so long ago and not in fact less than two months ago!!!!!!!!!!! maybe I should reblog my old works so you newer lovely followers can read them!!!!!

anon: would u ever do a part 2 to under the mistletoe with aizawa? its so sad and i just want them to be HAPPY

I am planning on doing it!!!!! it’s in my requests, so no worriesssss ;)

hermana anon: hermana that todo angst 🥺🥺you’re literally the best angst writer jdjdbd

okay but for real do I write actually good angst??? asking for a friend..... and HGAIGHJIAORGHUOG THAKN YOU FOR THAT COMPLIMENT!!!! PLEASE RECOMMEND ME ANGST FICS BECAUSE I LOVE CRYINGGGG

🍒✨ anon: this has literally nothing to do with anything that’s on your account right now but do you think that dabi sends shoto happy birthday messages? i like to think he does because even if he’s a villain, he still lowkey care about his siblings - 🍒✨

this was from a very long ass time ago, and im sorry I never responded to you sparkle cherry anon, but I definitely do believe that he sends birthday cards. with his baby bro’s increase in his fangirl club, he now is unafraid to send shouto a card. its always the only one that catches shouto’s attention when he goes through them because they’re weirdly personal. shouto, being a smart yet dense idiot, believes its someone in the class pranking him.

~ I won’t be posting these messages, but they were from awhile ago when I was hitting a rough patch with my insecurity as a writer and my ability to give my all to you. there are many of you, 19 messages in total, where you told me why you loved my writing. I never responded to them because they make me cry even now looking back at them. to each and every anon, I thank you for saying those kind words. to @saladsharkz, @thecryingsombra, @olivenight17, @shutupwylow, @expressyourstarstruckrebel, and @awkward-theaterkid thank you as well. there is another non anon, but they asked not to be revealed. thank you so sososo much.

~ I will not be posting these as well, because again, drama from awhile ago. but this was in regard to the anon who did not like the kinklist I had created for kinktober. while now I think I am doing a pretty damn good job, and no one has said otherwise, to the 2 anons, @connors-my-boy, and bigdickkiri, thank you for fighting an anon that was never your responsibility to take <3

@w0w-s0-3dgy: u make me uwu so much🥺❤️ I LOVE YOUR PAGE BABE I HOPE YOU’RE DOING WELL!

BBY I LOVE YOU AND I AM DOING WELL NOW!!!!! THANK YOU FOR LOVING MY PAGE LITERALLY WHERE WOULD I BE WITHOUT YOU?!?!??!!

anon: You followed me and idk if it was just to be nice or if you want to be friends or what hdhakanskenebdhsiq

im starting to follow back people that make me happy. it’s been awhile since ive been on a followspree, but I follow you back when i see kind messages from you, when I see that you’ve liked so many of my horrible posts, when you reblog my things with the most amazing tags. I follow you because I want to be your friend, you’re always welcomed to be my friend!!! hell you can literally be like “bitch listen to this” and never once having spoken to me I will respond with “give me the fucking chisme my queen”

anon: *gives u an encouraging and comforting yeehaw*

now.... now I can conquer the world, thank you

anon: Hi! I love the way you're writing things for kinktober, and I'd personally love if you could reblog what you're writing multiple times because I'm at uni most of the day so I miss out on a lot. Pd. I absolutely adore your writing! Please keep up ❤

I AM TRYING TO REBLOG MY STORIES NOW BUT OMGNGSOUHFIPA YOU LIKE HOW I WRITE?!?!?!??!?!?!

heathers anon: Its the anon who sent the Dabi heather au. I send it because i know your popular and a lot of popular blogs check your blogs. And I honestly struggle with other blogs because they ignored most of my asks.

teehee, I appreciate you thinking im a popular blog and that other popular blogs check mine, but thats not true!!! sorry for never responding back, but i’m sure they’re not meaning to ignore you on purpose. there’s just so much happening things get buried!

@sinnaminsvga : we're both alyssa so it's really interesting to see the nicknames u use bc i see you use lyssa and i got the nickname ari and i think that's pretty neat how we both have the same name but wildly different nicknames

it don’t matter, we be alyssa twinsies!!!!!!!!!!

anon: I was just going through your master list, cause I’m in a stunning mood and why not make a good mood better? and I saw bakugous “sickness and that word I can’t spell” got hella happy for a sec CAUSE YES THAT WAS SO ADORABLE AND I LOVED IT. Then I remembered the heart shattering angst that came with Todos side. So like. Ily but you a meanie.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHHA WE LOVE SUFFERING!!!!!! I just... really have a thing for angst it seems... don’t tell my followers though, im in denial over it...

#ask lyssa anything #lyssa doesnt shut up #anonymous #hermana anon #big dick kiri anon #heathers anon #dabi headcanons #thank you all so much I do love and appreciate every single one of you out there :)

30 notes · View notes

thecardsimagine · 5 years ago

Text

The Tale of the Fog Village

Summary: Venturing out of your foggy village, all you wanted was to save everyone from the looming threat that cowered in the forest. No one could have known what you would encounter in your quest to achieve that, how much you’d gain, and what you would lose. Not you. Not him.

Pairing: Lucio x Reader (Nonbinary) Rating: Mature because of swearing and suggestive content Warning: Blood, Death Genre: Romance, Drama, Fantasy, Action, Alternate Universe

Back to the Prologue / [Read on Ao3] / Next Chapter

____________________________

a/n: So, here we go! Some conversation finally, yay! I hope yall like the chapter, let me know what you thought! :D ____________________________

Chapter 3 - Friend or Foe

“Right! - No wait, left! Or was it right?”

With a soft thud, you felt your shoulder ram into the bork of a tree, a painful sting hitting you. Whining softly, you held your arm in place, finally coming to a halt while you rubbed over it tentatively. Sweat was dripping from your forehead and the side of your face, and you felt more frustrated than ever, following a stupid voice’s orders which definitely weren’t entirely clear.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself down. In the end, you had to admit that though it was more than strange, it did help you to escape the burning building and the strange guards that appeared, even if it wasn’t the most decisive creature in your opinion. There was, however, something direr than the thing speaking in your mind, though its existence maybe should have alarmed you more than it did at that moment.

You were exhausted.

From your very core, you felt like collapsing on the spot. It must have been well over twenty hours now that you had spent awake and on your feet, something you had never done before. Together with these ominous feelings all day long and the now vanishing adrenaline that had kept you up for the longest time, you were at your limits. While it felt like a second person was doing its thought process in your head, you slowly sank to your knees, sitting upright while your head hung low.

“Hey! What are you doing?” it immediately chimed up in the back of your mind, feeling like a push on the shoulder, but you couldn’t follow it. “You need to move forward, come on!”

“I-” you spoke up, shaking your head slowly. The exhaustion crept up on you, together with the fear and confusion that had been residing in you for a while now. “I can’t. I am at my strength’s end. I can’t do another step…” you admitted, arming yourself for the backlash of the strange voice.

“So… you’re just going to sit there? In the middle of the forest?”

You couldn’t help but feel attacked by the way it said that. For the whole day, you had overcome your boundaries and worked hard to get to where you were now, but it seemed to be not enough for the annoying voice in your head. Would you ever be free of nagging voices, you wondered. Even if you weren’t in the village, they seemed to stick to you like moths to a flame.

“But I don’t know where to go! I don’t even know how to get back!” you complained, more angry at yourself than anything. For a while, silence fell over you, and you felt painfully aware of your surroundings. Of the far-away chirping of birds, the explosion still drumming in your ears and the aching sore spots on your body that seemed to have given up already, pulsating and hurting. “What am I doing,” you muttered, leaning forward and resting your head on your crossed arms that shielded you from the ground.

“I went into the forbidden forest. I set a building in flames. I hear voices. Am I going mad?” you asked yourself, voice breaking from the strain on your body. “What have I done…” Finally, all the things you sorted under the sins of your life found their space in the currently empty state of mind. Aside from feeling terrible from being completely exhausted, you just found it so hard to swallow the things you had done. The exhausted part of your mind too had long decided that the voice was your own consciousness talking to you, even if you probably knew better than that from all the years of learning about strange occurrences.

“Is that really the time to have a breakdown?” the voice asked, a hint of annoyance in its tone.

“Oh, shut up, as if you’d know!” you hissed back at it, angry about its tactless words. Though quite immediately, you also felt a little bad for lashing out.

“Well… You want to destroy the factories, right?”

Sniffling, you leaned back up again, an odd feeling striking you as you listened to its words. “What do you mean ‘factories’? What are those? D-Does that mean there are there more than that building?” If you weren’t in such a bad mental state already, you’d actually feel more surprise about that fact coming up, but by now you barely felt the desperation in your voice as you asked the question.

“Yeah, two more. Ugly ones, if I might add.”

Another moment of silence followed and hung over the two of you like the fog did back at your village. You felt the blood draw from your face as you were very close to passing out. All of this was way too much on you. Just now you had destroyed what you thought was the thing threatening your village and in just a few words time, your victory shattered in more pieces than the glass you had thrown against the brick wall. “But- But-” you stammered, voice shaking from the disappointment over the whole situation. But before you could build a coherent sentence, you were harshly interrupted by the voice picking up again.

“Hey, hey, wait! Before you get all sentimental, how about we go and destroy the other two, too?”

Sniffing, you took a deep breath, roughly bringing your hands up to wipe your face off. You felt grimy and dirty from your expedition, which only weighed down more on your mood. Biting your lip, you felt the frustration rise more and more, even stronger than all the other feelings that were waging war inside of you. It wasn’t very surprising that your next words were packed in a tone of voice that was less friendly as you would have liked it to be.

“What do you mean ‘we’?! What are you even? I don’t understand any of this, there shouldn’t have been more! No one told me about more!”

You heard a groan vibrate in the back of your mind, sounding like a vague mixture of annoyance and disappointment. It almost felt like it was rolling its eyes at you, only making you angrier than you already were.

“Stop that, I could really need some answers!”

There was a disapproving click of a tongue before the voice spoke up again, spouting its words at you. “As if your little, primitive village had all the answers. You came here to find out what was going on, right? Let’s do that then, stop being such a sissy.” Needless to say, you had a hard time to overlook the insult on you. After all, you’ve been through, you did not like being called a ‘sissy’. You gave yourself the time to think for a while, coming to the conclusion that it had a point. You did come here to find out about this threat, and even though you more or less succeeded in that, you should have expected that maybe there was more to this than just a building that needed to be destroyed.

It was hard for you to admit that it was right, barely able to think at this point, but you nodded slowly, letting out some held back breath that got stuck in your lungs while you thought. “Yeah… I think I should,” you confessed. “But what if there are more guards? I- I can’t really do anything, and I don’t want to hurt anyone…” you admitted, feeling torn on having to face more of the heavily armored people.

“We’ll find a way. You shouldn’t concern yourself with thinking about that yet.”

“So you’ll help me?” you asked shyly, feeling your curiosity pick up again under the heaviness of your exhaustion.

“Of course! I will not pass up on the chance to make these men run back to where they came from! And you have proven yourself to be quite efficient in helping with achieving that, so get up and get a move on.”

Chuckling nervously, you raised a brow at that. It made you feel better, knowing you weren’t all alone, even if you weren’t sure about what that voice really was. It was good having someone to talk to, plus its determination somehow managed to lift your spirits too. “Do you know them?” you asked, picking the conversation up again.

“No, why would I? They are way below me.”

“Ah, yes…” you mumbled, heaving a heavy sigh. “What did you say you were again?”

For a second, it got uncomfortably silent in your head, wind rustling through the leaves and plants on the ground, while you rubbed your thighs in an attempt to wake them up. You wanted them, no, just for a little while more, you needed them to function. “I am…” it started up, stocking in the middle of its own sentence to find the right words.

“-someone like-minded.”

You laughed up softly at that, finding it to be a terrible description for oneself. Especially since it was a voice, in your head. You caught yourself reminding you that it may be just another part of your conscience telling you what to do. That would explain why it was so confusing, for sure, because that was mostly what you felt at that moment, too.

“Like a friend?” you teased weakly, testing some boundaries.

“I beg to differ. We are not friends, we only share the same goal. Once this is over, I don’t believe we’ll be talking to each other ever again.”

“Well, you are not an enemy for sure,” you stated, carefully trying to push yourself up with your arms as to support your weak legs.

“How do you know?”

“Enemies don’t help each other escape,” you noted nonchalantly, managing to get up a few inches before losing the strength again right away and falling back to the ground. Even though you enjoyed the breaks it took from talking - giving you some rest from the whole ordeal - as it wasn’t going to speak up again, you wondered if you had taken it too far. “I-I guess it’s like ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’?” you muttered, trying to sooth it.

“Exactly. Let’s get going.”

“I… can’t,” you admitted, finally feeling like it was the time to tell the voice about how weak you felt. Even though you found it embarrassing, you couldn’t really blame yourself after all the walking and running you had done that day. But your body had decided it would not move another inch and so you were almost ready to give yourself to your destiny of staying in that filthy spot if you must.

“Oh, no. You can.”

Suddenly, a harsh gust of wind hit all around you, outright blowing you out of your kneeling position. Before you could even take another breath, you found yourself standing, though it was on very shaky and unsteady legs. “Come, Child. There’s a bit of a hideout nearby. Wouldn’t want anyone to find your pretty face in such a vulnerable state, don’t we?”

You could feel the tips of your ears burning up as you listened to the words, but you didn’t have the time to linger on them as you felt the wind picking up again, ushering you into a direction. And you took the hint, following it without complains like you had trusted them before. Who’d you even complain to in the first place?

With the wind in your back, it felt almost easy to walk again. You were still heavily aware of how much your legs must despise you in that moment, but they worked. There was probably no way to ever tell them how grateful you were to them, but you promised them in silence that you’d give them a nice, warm bath if you ever made it back.

No matter if it was the voice in your head or the wind pushing you forward, you followed it. It was too dark to even confide in your own abilities to navigate, so you were thankful for the small pushes and curt warning they both offered to you. If it really was your own consciousness telling you where to go, you had to admit you were pretty good. Not once did you run into another tree or got stuck on a root on the ground. You probably wouldn’t have been able to get up if you had fallen once again, and in that case, you could have stayed back where you had seen yourself sleeping that night before.

“Is it still far?” you asked after a while in silence.

“Uh,” was the answer from the voice. “Uh?” you pressed on. “‘Uh’ is not really a unit to measure.”

There was a long, unnerved sigh. “No, it’s not far, it’s behind those trees.”

“Those?” You pointed at a random tree next to you, absolutely ready to take this joke as far as the voice wanted to challenge you to it. “Or this? Or this one? Maybe that one?”

“FINE!” it bellowed. It sounded like it took a deep breath and let it out. “It’s… hard to describe for me. But I know it’s there, just keep going, you are very close.”

“Let me guess,” you joked. “You can’t actually see further than what’s around me.”

Silence.

“Oh,” you noted. “Well, that’s fine… I think. Or?” There was a chuckle, but it didn’t sound conceded like you had might expected it would. If anything, you thought it actually sounded flustered and like it was overplaying something. “Afraid I might lead you into your doom?” the voice asked, giving back some of the teasings you had been doing.

“I mean-” you spluttered. “Who knows?”

Another chuckle, though this one was amused if anything.

“Keep being so skeptical, that makes you cute.”

Bringing your hands up to your ears, you pinched them, hoping it would stop them from growing hotter and hotter from the unusual compliment. You just weren’t used to such attention, being more or less the loner of your age class in your village. “Eh… sure…” you muttered under your breath, going a little faster and hoping to reach whatever place you two were aiming for, fast. It wasn’t like the voice could have seen you turn red or anything, but you still felt embarrassed by how easy it was to throw you off.

Pushing away a bush that seemingly went out of path already but got stuck on your fingers, you focused your gaze forward. The wind slowly drifted out, leaving you to stand on your legs fully again, and almost immediately, they began to shake in response. Before you, a clearing opened up. You were greeted by the rushing of water, a sound you hadn’t heard before but which came unmissable from the waterfall reaching upwards in front of you. It was probably thanks to the voice that you hadn’t taken notice of the water, and the waterfall wasn’t all that high either and flowed calmly.

“Wow,” you muttered, gazing for the first time in your life at a waterfall and its pond. The clearing was surrounded by rocks, leading to a higher level in the forest, and with advances that seemed fitting for you to camp out under. “You like it?” the voice asked - sounding rather proudly.

The moon gave some shimmer to the water, and there were small plants with flower heads drifting on the surface. It almost seemed magically in a way that you couldn’t quite describe, but you were glad that you were able to see it. “Yeah, it’s beautiful,” you admitted freely, and the voice gave an approving hum to your words, a small, windy push making you take a step forward.

Though you found yourself to be hesitant after what all you had already experienced on clearance, you tried to be courageous again. You kept the thought of being able to sleep soon in the back of your mind, and it alone was the source of strength for moving on. Driving your hands along the rock wall close to you, you followed it until you were covered by the edge of the cliff over your head. There you let yourself slowly and as gracefully as possible sink down, being grateful for having your cloak which would keep you warm, even on the hard, cold, rocky ground.

“Are you happy now?” the voice asked, and you nodded subconsciously, a tired smile on your face.“That’s much better, thank you.”

You had already closed your eyes, all of your muscles letting go of the tension in them, melting into your makeshift bed. Your body at least was ready to sleep, but you kept yourself awake for a second more, something urgent on your mind before you could allow yourself to knock yourself out.

“Will you be there still when I wake up?” you asked the voice, not sure how you’d feel about losing the company you had made over the last hours. Admittedly, it had been quite rough between you two. An up and down on emotions and understanding. But it was still a little weird to wake up and just having to believe you imagined everything it told you.

“I am always there. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Chuckling, you took note of that, feeling like you really would not be able to get it off your conscience anytime soon. But you felt like it gave you the relief that you needed for your rest, and you let out a long, deep breath. “Good,” you noted. Eventually, you managed to fall asleep, a troubled night ahead of you.

#lucio #The Arcana #The Arcana game #The Arcana Imagines #The Arcana Headcanons #The Arcana Scenarios #The Arcana fanfictions #lucio the arcana #the arcana lucio #count lucio #Montag Morgasson #AU #Fantasy!AU #AU!The Arcana #OW

25 notes · View notes

feanor-the-dragon · 5 years ago

Note

lol you really responded to ‘Military Kids walk funny’ with “I could shoot you” Y I K E S how’s it feel to be a laughing stalk and an example of unnecessary violence. You wanna shoot me too pussy??? Will that make you feel better about the micropenis you obviously have???

Ooookay. Hoo boy, there’s a lot to unpack here, so let’s just dive right in!

Firstly, it’s “laughing stock” which I believe may be a reference to the stockade, or stocks, where criminals were once bound in a public square for days to be laughed at by the public... and also had things thrown at them, which often maimed or killed them. The stockade was pretty horrible, actually. It was a form of capital punishment that looked less severe on paper than execution did, but in the end was often tantamount to a death sentence but with even more humiliation. Anyway, it’s “stock,” not “stalk.”

Second, no one threatened anyone. I said, in a fit of wild self-parody, that I could nail someone from over the horizon with a BB gun... an obvious hyperbole, as that is clearly an utterly ridiculous claim. Even if a BB gun could shoot that far, the spherical ammunition would be far too unstable at the velocity necessary to achieve such a range for the weapon to be accurate at all. It could and would go miles off-target. This was, in fact, a reference to another stereotype often assigned to me by college friends who assumed that military kids all have, like, spec ops training or someshit. I’m a crack shot, but I’m no sniper, and I would never seriously claim to be. That involves, like, keeping track of wind speed and direction, and the Coriolis effect an shit, and that’s a bit much for me to deal with, tbh.

Thirdly, I find it interesting that because I made a single joke which you immediately took as a serious statement despite the obviously intentional absurdity of the claims, you think I’m the one to jump to violence? When, you know, you were the one who started telling me to kill myself? I actually rather dislike real fights, and, with the exception of knocking down a few dickheads who walked out on campus with KKK hoods on, I’ve managed to avoid getting into physical altercations for the most part. I probably couldn’t shoot a person if I had to, and I don’t like my odds in a shootout because of it. I own exactly one firearm, a .22 Henry rifle, which stays locked safely unloaded in its case except for when I take it out to plink targets at the city shooting range every few months. Violence has it’s place, but, seriously, the ability to hurt and kill should carry incredible weight and never be used flippantly. You know... like a certain anon tried to do by telling me to kill myself some time ago. Do you tell other people to kill themselves? Have you considered how horrible it is to rob someone of their will to live to the point where they take their own life? Is that not tantamount to pulling the trigger?

Fourth, playing into a joke about a stereotype does not mean that I actually fit the stereotype. In fact, that’s a pretty widely used form of humor, sort of like the court jester going “yes, that’s definitely how it works, oh king,” except I was joking and not even being biting with my satire.

Fifth, I would like to address that military kids do not actually walk like that, since apparently you were being completely unironic and serious with that post. We walk like normal fucking people. What you’re thinking of is the ROTC peeps, who do march, because they’re having it drilled into them and they’re proud of it. Again, this was a stereotype which I found amusing because people who met me in college were surprised to learn I was a military kid, as I walked without marching and didn’t look like a bodybuilder.

And finally, my dude, if you have to insult a guy’s manhood in a completely unrelated conversation, it makes it pretty obvious that that’s where your own insecurities lie. It’s okay. I’m certain you are more than adequate in that department. It’s really all about how you use it, after all. But, believe it or not, not everyone’s self-worth is tied to the size of their genitals and how often they use them. Some people have other measurements of self-worth and other sources of self-esteem. I recommend you find one, like, I dunno, a hobby weaving baskets or doing pottery or something.

If you would like to respond to me, you can do it on anon, that’s fine. Just like, put the number 2 somewhere in the message so I know you aren’t just spewing knee-jerk responses and recycling old material.

To the rest of yall, you know... I accept and answer non-hostile asks too, and I would absolutely love to answer some asks that aren’t from people who have convinced themselves that my ADHD, left-leaning, capitalism disliking, want’s to eat the rich, nazi-hating ass is a fascist. Like, seriously, ask me anything.

#asks #anon #boot boi #the saga continues #tw: suicide mention #I probably shouldn't be responding to them #but it's oddly cathartic

5 notes · View notes

thirst-refinery · 7 years ago

Text

Happy New Year {Triplet Ben x Reader} Pt. One

A/N~ As the title says Happy New Year everyone! In this last year alone this blog has come so far and it’s all thanks to you guys and I cant thank yall enough. I love each one of you! This is just part one of what I’m calling a Cinderella-esque au. I worked hard on this and would have quit after the first three paragraphs it wasn’t for Fae, so I gotta thank her for putting up with me and being the true MVP. I hope you guys enjoy this and once again, happy new year!

You didn’t want to be here in the first place and now; tucked away in a nook between the fireplace and nearest corner with a folding chair, you REALLY didn’t want to be here.

“I’ll stay with you all night,” Poe had promised. “We'll drink and eat our weight in expensive cheese, it’ll be fun!”

But five minutes through the door and Poe may as well have been the name of your imaginary friend.

Party goers draped themselves over couches and armchairs, positioned towards the flat screen mounted on the wall. Some you knew, most you didn’t. Half full champagne flutes and plastic plates adorned with cracker crumbs and nibbled cheese litter the coffee table, that someone’s child had conveniently fallen asleep under. The sheer volume of people contained in one house made the air uncomfortably hot and stuffy, the only provision of relief is the opening of the front door, allowing cold air to escape through, and the Pumpkin Spice candle glowing on the mantelpiece you could catch a whiff of every now and then.

Who even has time, or the money for that matter, to throw a party like this?

As if in response you find three portraits of identical boys, hanging over the sofa. Except for one maybe, the far left portrait shows a boy with blonde hair and glasses, but his face looks all the same as the others. Each one is perfectly posed and picturesque, looking like deities up there watching over their domain.

Yes, the Solo’s; they’re the only ones capable of pulling off a new year party for the entire city.

Digging the toe of your shoe into the living room's pristine white carpet, you listen to the background bustle of the party. The TV broadcasts Time’s Square, a girl’s shrill birdlike laugh, conversations about weather and new years resolutions, a glass breaks somewhere in the kitchen. Each sound piles on top of one another until a buzz becomes a suffocating roar in your ears. Maybe you should just leave.

“Well don’t you look like you’re having so much fun.”

A woman’s voice catches your attention. She’s short, greying hair tied up in an elegant braid that curls into a bun at the back of her head. She’s covered head to toe in party glitter and holds a glass between her slender wrinkled hands.

“I was actually just leaving,” you say standing from your seat.

A frown appears on the women's thin lips, “And leave all this?” she opens her arms to the party behind her, but you only shrug.

“Parties have never really been my thing. Besides, I don’t really know anyone here.”

“You sound like my son,” she pauses, tucking a stray hair behind her ear and looking past you in thought. “How about I introduce you to someone?” she finally says. “MATT, HONEY!”

The woman turns away, shouting over the noise before you could even protest. Curious eyes all over the room train on you and you found yourself suddenly wishing the floor would open and swallow you whole.

A young man appears from the kitchen with blonde curly hair and sporting glasses you’d expect to find in your grandfather’s drawer.

“My boy Matty will take good care of you, he’s a sweetheart.”

As Matt approaches his face becomes familiar and you can feel the watchful stares of the three smiling portraits.

Shit--

You’d come face to face with the party hostess herself and you hadn’t even known it. Not only that but she’d probably caught you digging your feet into her nice carpet; the upkeep for that cant be cheap. A quick glance down and you thank God you hadn’t left a mark on the white fibers.

“Matt, this is--” Leia trails off, you take it as your que.

“Y/N.”

Holding out his hand, Matt offers you a warm smile as you take it. “I’m Matt,” he says squeezing your hand hand gently rather than shaking it like you’d expected. “Nice to meet you.”

You nod, nearly forgetting your manners before stuttering out, “N-nice to meet you too.”

“Okay then,” Leia says retreating back through the living room towards the kitchen, her glass now empty. “You two have fun now!”

If you’d thought the portraits were intimidating, it was nothing in comparison to actually being in the presence of one of them. Solo is a name on everyone’s lips; with Leia Organa~Solo in congress and her husband as a renowned racing coach, who didn’t know of the Solo’s?

“So--nice party.”

Matt nods happily, sunny curls bouncing with the action. “Mom throws a party for every occasion! Oh, do you mind?” he holds up a camera hanging around his neck, “taking pictures is my job for the night.”

“Um,” you fluff out your hair, angling your best side forward. “I-uh. I guess.”

He smiles again at your display, finding you in the camera lense and adjusting it to focus.

Click

Matt looks at the digital screen and turns it around so you can see too, “Perfect.” he smiles again, something he seemed unable to stop doing. Had you not felt so intimidated you may have found Matt to be rather charming.

You’re suddenly interrupted by someone of similar stature and appearance, save for his dark hair that was barely long enough to hang in his eyes, and curled around his ears.

“Who’s this Matty?” his tone is almost teasing as he ruffles Matt’s perfectly groomed hair.

Another Solo, surely.

Matt doges out of his brother’s reach, patting his hair back down before responding. “This is Y/N.”

“Y/N?” he gives you a once over. “I’m Ben.”

Ben.

“Hi.”

Whereas Matt exude a gentle, meek kind of aura, Ben radiated confidence; like he was hot shit, and he knew it. His smile was like that of a movie star, flashing his teeth accompanied with a look that says he only smiles like that for you. Of course you knew that to be bullshit, he had to be giving everyone that same treatment; it’s part of his charm. This did nothing for your nerves.

Ben hadn’t taken his eyes off you nor had he said anything more; staring you down as if he expected you to do something, like a trick monkey.

“Do you want a drink?” he asks, tearing his gaze away from you to look around the living room.

Half of you wanted Matt to intervene in some way but he’d disappeared, probably to fix his hair.

“Okay.”

“Follow me, kid.” he says, sauntering through the maze of bodies and furniture like he owned the place, granted he did.

After fetching you a drink from the kitchen in his mother’s finest champagne glass, Ben lead you from group to group coagulating around his home. Gina, Debbie, Laura, Jessica, and something that started with a L; all from a sorority a few blocks away. Dan, Myra, and someone that was definitely a sasquatch; Family members of his mother’s colleagues. Group after group, Ben introduced you to people whose names you'd probably wouldn’t remember, and each time he filled your glass with more of that bubbling, silvery liquid you became a little more sure of that.

As it got later and Ben ran out of people to dangle you in front of, you found yourself on the Solo’s balcony overlooking their backyard. Below you the pool was covered for the winter season, a lonely looking set of chairs surrounding a table with a light blanket of snow over each one. Dead shrubs line the fence surrounding their yard and you can't help but to imagine what kind of parties they host down there when the weather is warm.

“You know, I’m never going to remember all those people.” you say, kicking back the remnants of your last drink, your head spinning as you set the glass down on a table behind you.

Ben shrugs as he leans over the railing, resting his forearms on the deck’s wood fencing. “Yeah, me either.”

“I don’t even like parties,” you started, “they’re so loud, and busy, and- and I wouldn’t have even come if it wasn’t for my dumb friend, but he ditched me and then your mom found me, and somehow I ended up with you.”

Ben tilted his head looking at you from the corner of his eyes as you rambled on and on, but he didn’t seem to mind; he was a little tipsy himself.

“And then we met all those people,and-um- I don't really remember what happened after that, but now i'm here but you know something Ben?” you didn’t give him time to answer, “I had a really good time.”

He turns to you now, still leaning on the rail; more for support than anything else, his words lazily spilling from his lips. “You know what, kid? I did too.”

His statement made you warm inside, or was that just the liquor? You couldn’t tell anymore, you couldn’t tell anything anymore.How long have you been here? Where did Poe go? How are you getting home?

Wait a minute.

You looked over at him, “Did you just call me kid?”

He laughs, rolling his shoulders with a shrug, “I've been calling you kid all night.”

“You have?”

He pauses, “I think so.”

Leaning back against the railing, you let the cool air attempt to clear your head. Now you remember, he’s definitely been calling you kid. Like right before he’d told you to hold his glass so he could invite his much more athletic cousin to a handstand challenge.

“Shit.” Ben hisses under his breath, pushing himself up to his full height and adjusting his cotton blue t shirt.

Your first instinct is to look over the balcony, thinking he’s dropped something. “What?”

“It’s almost midnight.”

“So?” It was just a time, and here he had your drunken mind panicking.

“So,” he says looking back to the house in urgency. “I haven’t found anyone to kiss. You know, New Years and shit?”

“Oh,” your shoulders fell, relaxing back onto the rail. “Can’t relate.”

He looks surprised, perking at your words. “You’ve never kissed anyone on New Years?”

“No, why would I?”

“Because it’s- it’s tradition, like good luck or something,” he waves his hands around, grasping for the true meaning but comes up empty. “I’ve been doing it for years, find a girl, kiss her and never talk to her again.”

The thought is appalling. Why kiss someone you’ll never talk to again, it sounds almost sad and as he says it, his typically cheery self loses its luster; a certain kind of sadness is hidden behind his brown eyes.

“Well,” You check the time, 11:58; it was running out. “You can kiss me.”

Ben turns on you, maybe a little to fast because his tall frame sways twice before stabling out. “What?”

“You can kiss me,” You say again. “You won't find someone in time, especially as drunk as you are.”

You take his hand as he starts to sway again, and he doesn’t pull away. Instead he looks down at your joined hands, linking your fingers together before making up his mind. “Okay.”

From deep in the house you faintly hear the cheers of people as the ball drop began on tv. Ben stepped closer, hearing it too.

His free hand found the side of your face, cupping your cheek as you shuddered against touch.

Your eyes looked up to his when you felt his thumb brush your cheekbone. His eyes held admiration as they traveled your face, but maybe you were just being hopeful.

Taking this moment to memorize him, you noted each little freckle and mole decorating his skin, the way his haircut handsomely framed his face; that was probably intentional by design.

“Are you ready?” he says quietly, breath smelling sweet like the champagne you’d been drinking all night.

He licked his lips, you nodded doing the same.

That’s it. Ben presses his lips to yours, and you expect him to pull away just as quickly but he doesn’t, and suddenly it's not a simple New Years kiss anymore it’s something more. You can feel it. Fingers thread into his hair as he pulls you in closer, you whimper into the softness of his mouth. The dizzy feeling you'd had earlier was nothing like the spinning your head was doing now as you dived deeper and deeper into each other.

A firework explodes in the distance and Ben pulls away, you absentmindedly chase after him immediately missing the contact, but he’s too tall.

With cheeks tinted pink, and a little breathless, he speaks. “Happy New Year.”

#solo triplets #triplet au #triplet ben x reader #ben solo x reader #triplet ben one shot #ben solo one shot #triplet ben imagine #ben solo imagine #star wars au #star wars imgines

221 notes · View notes

richiestoziers · 7 years ago

Text

it’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from you

summary: it’s hard for eddie to find his soulmate when the only indicator is a song in your head (but richie finds a way)

warnings: kissing, excessive amount of the song africa by toto (fr only because all of yall love it so much and i wanna please yall), and a very cheesy ending!!

read on ao3 here

it has led to many controversy the claim that whenever a song is stuck in your head, it is because your soulmate is singing it. like religion, there are groups of people who believe it with their entire being, and others who think it’s a load of bullshit. even scientific studies have been used on it, those questioning if it’s true, and if it is your soulmate every time or just some of the time. no matter what no one could get a definite answer, though those who have found their supposed soulmates tend to be firm believers. they all have their sweet stories, always hearing the same song in their head and one day bumping into a person singing the same song, falling in love and just knowing they’re soulmates.

eddie kaspbrak is a believer of the soulmate song belief, because while he was cynical and pessimistic towards many things, deep down he was a romantic at heart. not to mention there had been plenty of times he got songs stuck in his head that he had never heard before. a lot of them were oldies, a lot of buddy holly (typically ‘rave on!), and sometimes even a song by the title of “kookie kookie lend me your bones” (later he would find out this was his soulmates best friends favorite song). eddie’s soulmate seemed to like rock and roll typically, amongst other things. the only song they seemed to have in common was africa by toto, and eddie was starting to think of that as ‘their’ song. he was also wondering if his soulmate liked his taste in music, or if he despised hearing “it’s raining men” and whitney houston (eddie’s favorite).

he wasn’t sure how his soulmate felt, or really anything about him besides his taste in music, because at the ripe age of nineteen eddie was still yet to meet the person he was meant to spend the rest of his life with. he was worried, everyone else in his life had met their soulmates, his best friend bill denbrough had just met his recently leaving eddie to be the last of his friends to be truly single.

of course he was happy for bill in finding stan, but he couldn’t help but be jealous whenever he went out with the two boys, or even just bill but had to see him smiling at his phone screen in that dopey way that made him just know he was talking to stan. it was infuriating, seeing someone else so damn happily in love while he wasn’t, and he may be selfish for thinking it but he can’t help it. he was crazy jealous, and there was nothing he could do about it.

of course he had no idea the amount of times he had almost met his soulmate, but something got in the way. like that one party he had gone to with stan and bill and they found out their friend was there, but eddie lost them in the crowd before he could meet this friend. then there was the time stan and richie were out for lunch and eddie was in just the store across the street, ended up walking right by the love of his life and not even giving a glance up and in that direction. he had heard of his soulmate though, not realizing it was his soulmate, and from the sound of it he already didn’t like this ‘richie tozier’.

from what he had heard was stan had a best friend named richie tozier who was immature, disgusting, annoying, a wannabe comedian, and the opposite of him. he didn’t know how stan was his friend either, since stan and this ‘richie’ seemed like polar opposites as well. stan says they’ve been best friends since they were babies and grew up together, their friendship never faltering, similar to bill and eddie’s friendship.

so that was how this all started, the beginning of the rest of his life.

bill and stan decided it was high time their best friends since childhood should meet up, maybe to make their group expand more? eddie didn’t know, what he did know was that he was on his way to stan and bill’s apartment to eat take out chinese food in their bowls and plates with a boy he already disliked.

knocking on the apartment door of his two best friends, eddie could hear chatter from inside and awaited for one of the three voices to acknowledge his light pounding on the door. it was stan who opened the door, always a good host, and welcomed him in to where bill was already sitting at the table and another boy reaching for a glass. eddie was in awe at this sight, this other being in the room, a tall god in an apartment. all he could see was the boys back, but he was still struck just by that. the boy was tall, maybe six feet or more, and didn’t even have to reach very high to get the glass. his hair was black and curly, almost like how eddie’s was in the rare times it grew out.

and when the boy turned around eddie felt lightheaded, seeing those dark brown eyes and plump pink lips had him weak in the knees, and eddie had to idea how to react rather than just stand still and stare. this got a chuckle out of the stranger, who eddie refused to put two and two together and realize was the infamous richie tozier.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer.” the dark haired beauty spoke, turning to bill with a sour look on his face before speaking again. “that’s too cliche to be funny or have a real impact, isn’t it? fuck, i’ve lost my chance at an amazing first impression.”

eddie had never been more embarrassed in his life, and was hoping he wasn’t blushing. “a picture is the last thing i want, i was just so shocked when i saw you and realized how ugly a person could be.” it wasn’t very good, but it was better than nothing.

richie’s jaw dropped, but quickly turned into a smile as he took one large step into eddie’s space. hand out and in his direction, he spoke once again. “richie tozier, at your service.” it was said in a fairly decent scottish accent that made eddie cringe.

“eddie kaspbrak, and never talk to me in a horrible imitation of an accent again.” he shook the larger boys hand, his much smaller. eddie was much smaller than richie in total, because while richie was possibly six foot eddie was barely five feet seven inches, making him feel impossibly small under richie’s stare.

richie laughed, turning to bill and stan who were back together at the table. “i don’t think he likes me very much, fellas.”

eddie walked to his seat at the table and began to take some food to eat, not looking back to richie and ignoring his last comment for the food in front of him.

he sensed richie going back to the table, sitting to his right, and eddie gave him a quick side glance (so as to not show he was staring) before going back to his food and listening to bill and stan’s conversation. all four would join in and speak, with eddie and richie stealing looks and wondering about who the person really was, and overall enjoying the night.

it reached the end of the night and it was time for stan and bill’s guests to depart, so eddie and richie hugged stan and bill goodbye and walked out the door together. outside together and alone in the hallway eddie had no idea what to do, and came to the conclusion just to leave. he began to walk away but was stopped by a laugh and words from richie. “hey, aren’t you gonna give me your number?”

eddie turned around, confused, not thinking him and richie had bonded much over the night to trade numbers. “why do you want it?”

richie rolled his eyes, catching up and making his way to where eddie had walked away. “so i can text you later for your moms number, bet she’s hot.” there was the immaturity eddie disliked. “kidding, i want it cuz we’re friends now.”

eddie scoffed, giving richie some of the attitude he gave out. “since when?”

“since tonight, obviously.” he rolled his eyes with this for dramatic affect, then pouted those pink lips to seem sad. “you really don’t like me, do you eds?”

“i hate that nickname, don’t call me that.” typical. “fine, give me your phone.”

richie handed him his phone, eddie typed in his number and returned it. “score.” richie mumbled under his breath, looking down at his phone and not seeing the red of eddie’s cheeks. “i’ll call you, we should hang out soon.”

“yeah, sure.” eddie spoke, looking down to hide his flushed face. “see you around.” he turned around from the tall man, making his way to the elevator with a smile he just can’t get rid of.

by the time he got to his car he had africa stuck in his head, reminding him of the person he was meant to be with. he felt guilty, but he sang along with the song in his head nonetheless.

the next day he got a text from the infamous richie tozier, inviting him to a party the following weekend. he told him it would be at his apartment, no real reason other than to have one, and stan and bill would be there. he also mentioned he could bring as many people as he wanted, but eddie came to the conclusion to only bring one. he assumed he would only know richie, stan, and bill at the party, and he wasn’t ready to hang out with richie again and he wasn’t in the mood to see a drunken stanley dry humping his best friend. he invited mike hanlon, a friend he had made that was his neighbor in their apartment building, and while they weren’t the best of friends they were good enough where eddie would know he would have a good time with the boy.

walking into the apartment he could hear the music playing from outside, and entered to it blasting in his ear. buddy holly by weezer was playing, a song he had heard played in his head before, and it made him momentarily swoon. he had been hearing songs all day, and he was happy to know somewhere out there his soulmate was happy.

eddie and mike walked around until they found stan and bill in the kitchen, getting a drink and leaning against the table. “hey guys.” eddie made his way to the happy couple, not needing to introduce mike as he had met them before.

“i’m surprised no neighbors have called the cops, the music is so loud. we could hear it from outside.” mike laughed as he spoke, not complaining in the slightest, rather enjoying it and hoping the cops didn’t come to break it up.

stan nodded in agreement, and bill spoke for the both of them. “i’m sure in a few hours this place will be emptied out because of the cops. i can’t think of a single party richie has thrown since i’ve known him where the cops weren’t called.”

“last one i went to before the cops were called was his tenth birthday party, but hitting double digits is what really triggered richie’s craziness. after that his birthday parties were rare, because he would always do something and either the cops, the fire department, or both were at his house to celebrate too.” stan added his comments, he was one person who can say had been to almost every one of richie tozier’s parties. “speak of the devil.”

before eddie could let that moment of confusion come out in words, he heard a voice that made him understand what stanley meant. “eddie spaghetti, you came!” came a screech, making eddie turn around to the glorious and gloriously annoying richie tozier.

eddie’s arms were crossed and his eyes rolled, a very typical movement for edward kaspbrak, as he responded. “don’t call me that either, it’s even worse than eds.” he already felt as if this banter was their thing.

“so you’d rather have me call you eds? okay, eds.” richie teased, leaning down to eddie to emphasize those words. he could smell the alcohol on richie’s breath, though he seemed sober enough, and he was using this to distract from the fact that richie’s plump pink lips were so close to his.

“no, i’d rather you call me eddie.” he said as confidently as he could with richie bent over and in his face, making eddie a flustered mess.

thankfully he was saved by mike. “hey, you hosting this party? i’m mike hanlon, eddie invited me if that’s okay.” he had his hand out ready to shake, and richie moved away from eddie and in the direction of mike.

“ello mike, nice to meet ye. i’m richie tozier, party host and impressions extraordinaire.” it came out a shitty mixture of an irish and scottish accent, or at least that’s what eddie could gather. richie shook mike’s hand and gave him a welcoming smile, and mike was glad to say he really did feel welcomed at this party. “you my little eddie spaghetti’s date?”

before mike could respond eddie cut in, quick as lightning. “no, we’re just friends. you said i could bring a friend so i did.” eddie didn’t know why he got so defensive, about this, he just wanted richie to know that friends was all he was with mike.

“i got my girl back home, well she’s out with her friends tonight, but you know what i mean.” mike gave his own commentary on the question directed at him, much more calm than eddie was. he had met his soulmate when he was seventeen, and he was extraordinarily in love with her.

richie smiled back and forth from eddie and mike, his curls moving as he turned and his plain white tee contrasting those dark eyes and curls. he was so beautiful, eddie was still struck by it. “good, then you won’t mind if i borrow eddie for a bit.” he said to mike, then going back to eddie in his back and forth between the two. “wanna dance?” it seemed like something out of a movie, and eddie was feeling like cinderella as richie asked that with his large hand out awaiting eddie’s.

of course rather than a ballroom in suits they were in his dirty apartment in jeans and tshirts.

“fine.” eddie gave in, pretending as if he was against the idea, but feeling hot as he grabbed richie’s open palm and was immediately dragged into the heart of the music.

david bowie was blasting through the stereo, heroes playing as loudly as possible, hurting eddie’s ears and making it nearly impossible to hear anyone else. if he wanted to communicate with richie he would have to scream directly into his ear, though it seemed richie would rather dance than talk in that moment.

richie was a sporadic dancer, seemingly scattered all over the place with the messiness of his dancing. it was jumping and flailing arms, it was him shaking his head and his curls flying around in different directions, and it looked more like he was seizing than dancing and eddie found it adorable.

eddie on the other hand wasn’t much of a dancer, rather slowly swaying to the beat than giving it his all like richie. he had no rhythm, two left feet, and was not a big fan of dancing in the first place. at least this is what he would tell most people when they asked why he wasn’t dancing or why he was dancing like that. perhaps he just needed the right teacher to help him.

richie finally looked at eddie while he jumped to the music, moving his curls out of his face to get a better look at the small boy swaying. still dancing he moved closer to eddie, putting his hand on the small of his back and leaning down to his ear. eddie stopped dancing immediately, feeling hot and shaky and everything his mother would classify as a sickness as richie touched him, and he closed his eyes unsure what he was waiting for.

“why aren’t you dancing?” was all he got instead, screamed into his ear and richie let go of his embrace and moved away once he was done posing the question. eddie’s eyes opened with a look of irritation and embarrassment for thinking something else might happen and wanting it.

eddie got on his tippy toes to reach richie’s ear, screaming his response back. “i was dancing, did you not see me?”

the two went back and forth with this, richie bending over, eddie on his tip toes. it was richie’s turn now. “that was not dancing, that was pathetic swaying that seemed disinterested and annoyed.”

“well it’s better than whatever you were doing.” back on his tippy toes.

“i’m actually a very good dancer when i want to be, just ask my friend bev, we’re dance partners.” eddie felt a pang of jealousy quickly ripple through him, and he mentally tried to shake it out of his head at the mention of this bev.

“i have to see that to believe it.” he didn’t think richie would actually take up his challenge, but when did richie ever say no to one?

so they continued to dance along with the next few songs until a slower one came on, and richie felt the need to show eddie just what he had learned when beverly forced him to accompany her to a few dance classes. one large step towards eddie and his hand was back on eddie’s back and waist. eddie, confused with what to do let’s richie lead, and feels embarrassed when he can feel the vibration of richie’s laugh against him. “you really don’t know how to dance, do you?” he spoke into eddie’s ear once more. “put your hands around my soulders.”

eddie did as he was told, never having slow danced or done any type of dancing before. his hands were on richie’s shoulders, a bit uncomfortable and eddie felt as if it was still wrong, but richie didn’t say anything as the two swayed.

“this isn’t really what i learned in class with bev, but it’s a much easier and much more high school version. it’s for beginners like you.” he winked at eddie as he said this, making eddie ‘accidentally’ step on richie’s foot in revenge. “ow.”

“whoops.” eddie responded, a cheeky smile plastered on his face.

“you’re not half bad, just need some practice, and i’ve been told i’m a great teacher.” richie winked, flirtatious as always and leaving eddie flustered as always.

“i think i’d rather get lessons from this ‘bev’ you speak of. anyone’s better than you.” he joked, knowing he had warmed up to richie when they first met.

“ouch. you really know how to bruise a man’s ego, eds.” richie jokingly feigned pain at his comment, sarcastic as always.

“don’t call me that, it’s just eddie.” he may have warmed up to him, but he was still tired of the nicknames.

richie shook his head with a laugh, letting the conversation die out, but it didn’t get awkward. they didn’t need to talk to be enjoying each others company, the silence enough for the both of them.

eddie eventually broke that silence though, with a “i have to go to the bathroom.”

richie nodded, letting go of eddie. “let me show you.” he began to walk ahead and sift through the crowd towards the bathroom, eddie following close behind like a shadow for the man. “here we are.”

eddie nodded his head in appreciation with a smile, going in as ‘everybody wants to rule the world began to play’.

he began to wash his head and blocked out the song actually playing at the party, singing ‘africa’ under his breath instead. soapy hands under water and he mumbled the lyrics of blessing rains in africa before he walked out the door.

still singing it as he walked out, he thought it would have been hard to hear over the music, but when he walked out richie immediately asked him “what are you listening to?”

eddie’s heart was beating and he was confused as to why, and answered him reluctantly. “africa...by toto.”

eddie watched as richie’s smile grew wider and wider until it seemed impossibly big, and he felt himself lifted off the ground as richie picked him up and twirled him around. “it’s you, isn’t it? isn’t it? i hope it is, because if not then this will be so embarrassing and i’ll never be able to face you again.” richie rambled on and on.

eddie, still struck by the severity of the situation and unsure how to feel about it didn’t know how to respond besides a “what?”

richie kept his hands on eddie’s waist as he was now on the ground, he was bent over and smiling in eddie’s face. “come on, singing africa, whitney houston? don’t you want to dance with somebody who loves you?” it was borderline mocking, but the fact that he had found his soulmate blocked eddie from seeing that.

“holy shit.” was all he could mumble before richie bent down to steal a kiss, and eddie finally got a taste of those pink lips he couldn’t stop staring at.

“it’s you.” richie spoke as he pulled away from the chaste and yet tender kiss.

“and it’s you.” was eddie’s response, eyes still closed after the kiss, and going in for another.

he finally got to kiss his soulmate.

#reddie #reddie imagine #reddie oneshot #reddie fanfiction #reddie fic #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #richie #eddie #my writing

1K notes · View notes