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holylulusworld · 3 years

Text

Courting

Title: Courting

Square Filled for @spnabobingo (Round 6): Opposites attract

Ship: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester

Rating: Teen

Summary: When a tall and handsome alpha moves to town, you do something no one would expect from an omega.

Warnings: angst, pining, courting, shy reader, a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, sick reader, cuddling & snuggling, fluff

Word Count: 2,1 k

A/N: I found a cute headcanon about an omega courting for her chosen alpha on @omegaversethings and turned it into a fanfiction. Thank you again. <3

Divider by @firefly-graphics

You always were a ‘classic’ omega. Meek, silent and shy. You never dared to talk to a foreign alpha let alone introduce yourself to one.

But here you are, offering the new alpha in your neighborhood a homemade cherry pie. You hope Dean, that’s the name of the alpha giving you sleepless nights, will like it.

“Hi, uh-erm,” you stammer, eyes glued to the ground. “I know how it feels to be new in town and the neighborhood. I made a cherry pie. If you don’t like it, it’s okay.” Before the alpha can say anything you push the container with the pie in his hands to run off.

“What?” puzzled Dean watches you run toward your house. His eyes dart from the pie in his hand back to you struggling to unlock your door. “She just brought me pie…awesome.”

The alpha strolls back inside his house, grinning as you baked him his favorite pie. “Love me some pie.”

Over the next week, you spied on your neighbor. You tried to talk to him again, to give him more gifts but you’re not the only unmated omega in your neighborhood.

Last week Lisa offered her help with decorating his house.

Three days ago, Cassie parade along the street, wearing a skirt leaving little to nothing to your imagination, and right now, Bela tries to hit on Dean, purring for him.

You hate omegas like them as they always get the alphas you like. Being a shy omega, plain and meek, means a disadvantage when it comes to courting for an alpha.

“Not again, Bela-“ you growl low in your throat, rummaging in a paper bag. You bought random things for your chosen alpha to impress and court for him. “This one is mine…”

“Hi,” you whimper catching the tall alpha’s scent. You can feel his intense gaze on you and the heat creeps into your cheeks. “I-I,” for a second you look up at the alpha, give him a soft smile before you place a pair of socks in his hands.

“Hi,” he says but you are halfway on your way toward your house, whimpering as you can still smell his scent linger on your clothes.

“What?” Dean stands outside of his home, looks at the socks in his hands, puzzled.

“Do you want to finish the kitchen now or not?” Sam asks, poking his head out of the door. “Dean? Is something wrong?”

“Last week she brought me a cherry pie and ran off, today it’s socks, with pie on them,” Dean huffs. “What’s going on?”

Sam starts laughing, he even holds his stomach at his brother’s puzzled expression.

“Dean,” Sam rolls his eyes at his brother’s question. “Did you really not realize you are being courted?”

“I get the pie, but why socks, Sammy? And since when do omegas court for an alpha,” Dean sniffs at the socks, growling low in his throat when he catches your scent.

“Some omegas do court for an alpha. I just never thought Y/N would do so. She seemed to be shy and meek,” Sam smirks when Dean presses the socks to his chest. “Maybe you should talk to her?”

“Why? I got pie and socks,” Dean grins. “I will just wait for her to come back. Maybe she makes me food too.”

Watching Lisa talk to the alpha again you growl low in your throat. You waited patiently for Dean to come home and now that woman is chatting him up again.

“He’s mine,” you mutter. “Get your hands off my alpha. Can you just not be all over my alpha, all of you.” your hands ball into fists when Lisa giggles and her hands grip one of the tall alpha’s biceps.

“Hi,” you shuffle from one foot to the other, offering the container with food to the tall alpha. You still don’t meet his eyes, not even when he clears his throat.

“You know, you could just talk to me, Y/N,” chewing on your lower lip you lift your head to glance at the tall alpha. You don’t know why he knows your name, but your heart began to race when he said it. “Hi, I’m Dean and I liked your pie. What did you bring me today?”

“Uh-steak and green beans. Potatoes and sauce. I-I wanted to bring you pie too, but I can only carry one container,” nervously babbling you hand Dean the food, ready to run off again.

“Why don’t we share the food?” he offers, smiling softly. “You gave me all those nice things and I would like to-“ you dash toward your house, unbeknownst Dean just wanted to invite you.

Your heart races and your head starts to spin when you slam the door shut to sink to your knees.

“He-he talked to me,” you whine, sniffing at your hand. Dean brushed his fingers over your skin, and you can still scent him.

Another day passes when you sneak toward Dean’s house. Right, when you try to knock he opens the door, offering a soft smile again.

“Hi, Y/N,” he says, and you whimper when he says your name. “The food was delicious but I would’ve liked to share it with you. Why don’t you come inside?”

“I-I got a pie for you,” looking at the container with another pie and another pair of socks on top you bite your lower lip. “I hope you’ll like it.”

You try to hand it to Dean to run away once again but he steps outside, cups your face with two fingers to force you to look up at him. “Omega, come inside,” he says, and your heart does somersaults. “I want to share the pie with you. And,” he dips his head to catch your scent, “I cooked. Thought I should invite you over.”

“Y-you cooked,” you squeak when Dean moves his hand to your neck to brush your scenting gland. “I-I don’t know if I should-“

“Come inside, omega,” he says, voice deeper now, more commanding. You immediately drop your gaze and nod silently, knowing he just used his alpha voice. “I want to get to know you better, sweetheart.”

“O-kay…”

After you had dinner with Dean, you decided to think about better gifts. You assume he tried to be friendly and pay you back for your food, but you want him to know you courted for him.

“What can I bring him next?” pinching the bridge of your nose you sigh deeply. “Maybe new socks – no, I already did twice. Underwear – too obvious. Oh, maybe a hairbrush.”

A knock brings you out of your thoughts. You slowly get up, wondering who knocks at your door on a Sunday evening.

Sighing deeply, you make your way to the door, opening it to find Dean on your doorstep.

“Hi,” you gasp when Dean offers you a book and a chocolate box. “I wanted to come over and thank you for the delicious pie and food, and I’m wearing your socks.” He points at his feet.

“A-are you-“ biting your tongue you look at the gifts in Dean’s hands. “Are you courting for me, alpha?”

“Thought you’ll never ask,” Dean grins, stepping closer to catch your scent. “Can we go out? I’d like to invite you for dinner, Y/N.”

“You are courting for me,” your heart flutters when Dean hands you the gifts. “Yes, uh-please. I’d like to go out with you, Dean.”

“How about Saturday?” he asks, demanding an answer. The alpha makes his interest known when he looks at your mating gland. “Omega?”

“Yes, I got time,” you nod eagerly, gifts pressed tightly to your chest now.

“Awesome. I’ll pick you up at six,” he says, giving you a once over before he nods to himself. “I’ll be seeing you, Y/N.”

When he turns to leave you must stop your heart from racing. You watch him waltz toward his house, giving you a little show when he purposely stops at his mailbox to raise to his full height and rolls his shoulders.

“Damn,” you bite your lower lip, squealing when he turns around to give you a wink. “He’s so tall and handsome…and cocky. Oh-God-where-did-I-get-myself-into?” you babble, walking back inside your house.

“Omega, Y/N? Did you change your mind?” Dean mutters, knocking at your door. “It’s quarter past six.”

“Hi,” you cough, barely finding the strength to hold the door open. “’m sorry but I don’t feel good.” you whine, hating you must turn Dean down. “I got a terrible cold and I’m freezing and I’m hot all the time.”

“Jesus,” Dean immediately scoops you into his arms to carry you toward your couch. He looks you all over, presses one large palm to your forehead. “You’re burning up, sweetheart. I’m gonna help you out of your sweaty clothes. You’ll have a hot bath while I get you something, okay.”

“Uh-“ you sigh, eyes fluttering close, “you can’t see me naked, Sir…” you drift into sleep, mumbling something about pancakes when you suddenly feel like you are floating on air. “Wait!”

“It’s okay, Y/N. I will prepare the bath and you can undress. I’ll just go back to my house and get something for you. ‘K?”

Humming you rest your head against Dean’s shoulder, let him carry you upstairs to look for your bedroom.

“Where’s your bedroom?”

“Second room to the left,” you whine, nuzzling your face in Dean’s shoulder. “I can’t scent you.”

“You’re sick, sweetheart. Lemme just get you comfortable, Y/N,” he ushers inside your bedroom, carefully places you onto the bed before he looks for your bathroom, cursing as you almost roll off the bed. “Careful, omega. Hmm…guess I must stick around…”

Dean came back when you finally made it out of your bathtub.

You barely had the time to walk out of your bathroom when he stormed into your bedroom, blankets, pillows, and a few of his clothes tugged under one arm while he balanced a bowl of chicken soup with his other hand.

“I changed the sheets and tried to get you my clothes, blankets, and anything fluffy I could find at my place. It’s not much, though,” you purr when Dean puts everything on your bed to create a safe nest smelling like him. “Lie on the bed and I’ll help you get comfortable. I brought you chicken soup.”

“Soup? You made me soup?”

“Uh-I asked my mom how to make it,” Dean shrugs, explaining his mother always made chicken soup for him when he was a boy. “Now let me help you, Y/N.”

“You don’t have to, Dean,” you sigh, snuggling into one of his soft plaids. “Smells like you, I like it.”

“Yeah, everything smells like me,” he purrs, watching you relax on the nest he made for you. “You’ll smell like me too.” Dean hides he feels his heart swell when you rub his scent into your skin.

The primal part, his alpha purrs in delight, loves that you are covered with his clothes and scent.

“I’m so tired…”

“You need to eat something first, sweetheart,” Dean insists. He helps you sit while you claw at one of his shirts. You press the fabric to your nose, inhale his scent deeply, finally purring when he sits next to you to feed you with the soup.

“I wanna sleep, Dean,” you protest but Dean pushes the spoon carefully past your lips, smirking when you swallow the warm soup.

“Good, isn’t it?”

“Good,” you cough. “And tasty…”

“I got my stuff for the next few days. Food. Clothes. Toiletries and my phone and laptop. I can work from home and take care of you,” Dean explains, while he covers you with a warm blanket.

You are wearing one of his plaids, and he can’t help the smile creep onto his face when you snatch another from the nest to cradle it in your arms.

“I called in sick,” you whisper, closing your eyes.

“Good,” Dean crawls under the covers, not missing your breath hitches in your throat when he lies behind you to bring you in his arms. “I’m gonna take care of my omega.”

“Your omega?”

“Mine,” he kisses your mating gland, purring when you tilt your head to grant him more access. “When you are healthy again, I’m gonna take you out, or make you dinner, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t think I got a chance,” you mumble. “I’m shy and meek, you are so—”

“I like you are shy and sweet,” he noses his way along your neck, breathing you in. “You smell so good, like – home.”

“Home,” you whisper happily. “You smell like safety and adventure at the same time. Musky and like a warm apple pie.”

“Did I tell you I loved your pie?” Dean licks his lips, “I love me some pie. My omega bakes the best pies in the world.”

“Your omega,” you hum, liking the sound of it…

Tags in reblog.

#Courting #spnabobingo #dean winchester #alpha!dean #alpha!dean winchester #opposite attracts #dean winchester x you #dean winchester SPN #fluff #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics

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redrobin-detective · 3 years

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The 101 Deaths of Danny Phantom

AO3 link

One of the first things people learned about dealing with ghosts, other than not to try and date them, is to never asks about their death or obsessions. That doesn’t mean the citizens of Amity Park aren’t curious though, especially about their resident ghostly hero and the confusing and concerning comments he sometimes makes.

“Are you okay?” Phantom asked Maisie as she shook and tried to hold back tears after that car had almost slammed into her. She sometimes joked about getting hit crossing the street of her college campus to pay her obnoxious loans but it was another thing entirely to almost experience it herself. Maisie was nearly twenty, she shouldn’t be comforted by someone younger than her little step sister but here she was, shaking like a lead and leaning into Phantom’s comforting, chilly touch.

“Sorry,” she stuttered, “thank you, I’m sorry I’m just-”

“Hey, it’s okay to be upset that was very scary. The thought of dying is very scary.” Through her adrenaline and her tears, she took in the ghost’s unnatural glow, his faded, barely visible appearance and the fact that he was floating a foot off the ground. Maisie knows this ghost, this boy, knows more than she ever could about death.

“And getting run over by a car sure is a bad way to go,” the ghost kid chuckled awkwardly, taking his cold hand off her shoulder to scratch at the back of his neck. “You should see how my dad drives or my mom or my sister if she’s running late enough,” Phantom paused in thought. “No one in my family should have a license now that I think about it. Anyway,” he dismissed with a wave.

“My sister and I were getting ready to head out to school and my dad was backing out of driveway too fast and didn’t see us and uh, luckily I got my sister out of the way in time haha,” Phantom trailed off awkwardly. Was it because of the uncomfortable conversation or because he noticed her dawning horror.

Her best friend ran the community college’s Phan club so Maisie was a member by default. Phantom’s death was sometimes talked about late at night, everything from wrongful murder to a freak accident. She never in her worst nightmares imagined being him being runover in front of his own house by parental ignorance. It was so normal, a quick mistake and a life lost.

“Oh my god,” he said with an adorable little green blush. “Why am I babbling about that? You almost got hit by a car, I’m probably retraumatizing you or something. I should probably go get the jerk who almost hit you,” he said before disappearing into thin air.

“Tia is not going to believe this,” she whispered to no one. All she knew is that for the rest of her damned life she was going to look both ways when crossing the street. She’d seen first hand what a single moment of reckless driving could cause.

XxX

Matthew, not Matt or Matty or Hughie, Matthew shivered from the cold. He was only in his boxers with little Pacman on them. It had been fine when he’d gone to bed considering it was mid-August but Phantom and this stupid flaming mecha ghost had tussled outside the summer camp he was working at. He could see some of the kids snickering at his state of undress though he was just extremely glad they were alive enough to disrespect him like this.

“Oh man, I’m sorry,” the ghost kid said with big, sad eyes that looked so human despite the fact that they were literally glowing. He looked around at all the snow and ice left over from his fight. “Jeez you guys must be freezing, I wish I could warm you all up but all I can do is make things colder.”

“S’okay,” Matthew said through his chattering teeth. “Teaching the kids how to start a fire was supposed to be next week but we can get a jump on it.” That got a smile out of the ghost and within a half hour, the other counselors were distributing blankets and hot beverages to the kids clustered around multiple fires. They didn’t seem particularly upset by the potentially fatal attack, Matthew will breakdown about that at a later time when he was alone. For now, he just smiled as the children chattered happily with the ghost while he cleaned up as much of the damage as possible.

“So you spend all day fighting ghosts?” Zoe asked with stars in her eyes.

“A lot of the nights too,” Phantom nodded, “I do other stuff but yeah it seems ghost fighting takes up most of my time.”

“Where’d you learn those cool powers?” Zuri asked, miming a punch.

“Comes with being a ghost,” Phantom shrugged, “my ice powers came in later though so I still struggle a bit with them but I’m getting better every day.”

“Why ice though?” Morris said with his cocked curiously to the side. “I see some ghosts use fire or shadows, why do you have ice?”

“Ah that’s a little personal,” Phantom chuckled but his posture was easy despite the invasive question. “Specialty powers like my ice require special circumstances and a certain uh connection to the ghost. Someone like me couldn’t use fire or electricity or plants, ice is in my soul, it’s who I am.”

Matthew paused in drinking his lukewarm coffee as a horrible thought came to mind. He’s been an outdoorsman all his life, practically from the time he could walk. He’d been a deep woods camping guide for a decade before switching to working at summer camps. But the years working in the relative comfort of a stable camp didn’t erase his knowledge of how unforgiving and deadly the woods in the winter could be. A grown man, much less a young teen, would freeze to death in 20 minutes if it was cold enough.

It made sense for ghosts to develop powers related to their deaths. Had Phantom been one of the dozens of unfortunate kids he read about every year who ran away in the middle of winter only to found later as a frozen corpse. He eyed the boy’s snow white hair and frigid aura he exuded with mournful trepidation. God, what a horrible way to die.

“I’d get chilly with ice powers,” Tabby said with a shudder, she held out her cup of cocoa. “You want some of my cocoa to warm you up?”

“No thanks,” Phantom said with a soft smile that was warm despite everything. “The cold hasn’t bothered me for a while.”

XxX

Ghost attacks may be the norm but, if there was one good thing that came out of whole mess it was the fact that violent human crimes went down drastically. So when the rare murder did happen, the shock and fear rippled through the whole town.

Stanford Newton had only been sheriff of Amity Park for eight months after the last guy had gone gray overnight and moved to Florida the next day. It was a daunting position but one he bore proudly. This wouldn’t be his first murder investigation having initially cut his teeth as a beat cop in Chicago but it would be the first in Amity. And it certainly was the first in which the dead served in an active capacity.

“Amanda Chastain, 27. Officially she was a waitress down at Spengler’s Diner but she’s been picked up for prostitution twice in the last year,” Stan said calmly, ignoring the cold, angry presence over his shoulder. “History of polysubstance abuse as well, not that either of those things mean she deserved this.” Used, beaten to death and then dumped in the trash like yesterday’s paper.

He wondered if she’d come back a ghost or if she’d finally get some peace this world hadn’t offered her. “We don’t have many leads right now, I’m afraid. Acting illegally as they are, there’s not a lot of resources these poor girls have to turn to.”

“I’ll find them,” The Phantom said with blazing conviction, his voice thick and sharp as ice. “I’ll find and bring them to justice and make sure no one else is hurt again.”

“I believe you,” Stan nodded, shutting his notebook as he finally turned to face the teenage superhero haunting his town. He can’t say he liked what he saw. The Phantom looked even less human than usual, his aura flaring and flickering like the foggy mist before a heavy snowstorm. His unnatural green eyes glowered, painting his too young face in a terrifying light.

The kid looked furious, clearly taking this death to heart. He’d read the Fenton’s memos about obsessions and such but this seemed beyond that. “But don’t hurt anyone to do it, or yourself while you’re at it.”

“I won’t, I’ll make sure they’ll face human justice and don’t worry,” Phantom gave a snarling smile. “No mortal can hurt me, not like this,” he growled causing the hairs on Stan’s arms and neck to stand on end. He flew off after that, presumably to track down Amanda’s killer.

“Not like this,” Stan mumbled to him, pulling out his handkerchief and wiping his brow where a cold sweat had broken out. “Jesus Christ that poor kid.” Stan had seen plenty of murdered and mutilated bodies in his lifetime, some of them even kids. He just never got to talk to them after they’d had their life forcibly snatched away. It would explain the ghost’s near fanatical determination to save others, why he took a stranger’s murder so personally.

“I hope your own murderer is behind bars,” Stan said as he tucked his handkerchief back into his coat pocket. “Or even six feet under, for killing a good kid like you.” Stan made his way back to his squad car so he could head back to the station and move forward with the official investigation. But he’d eat his hat if there wasn’t a stammering lowlife there by tomorrow ready to turn themselves in.

Maybe after all this was settled down, he’d delve into some of the cold cases stacked in the cellar. Maybe in there he’ll find a picture of a smiling, carefree teen who’d disappeared and returned with the power now to ensure no one else suffered as he had.

XxX

“Yes, I know about the Phantom,” Luis Oliveira will say to anyone who so much as brings up the ghost kid. Locals know better by now but the tourists eat it up every time. He twists his finely combed mustache and gestures to the floor where his audience is standing. “He died right there oh ten or eleven years ago.”

Luis has worked his way all across the the United States since he emigrated from Brazil in the 70s. He finally settled in Amity Park about twelve years ago. He’d never intended to stay in the small Midwest town but the fatal shooting of a young customer kept his little corner market open.

“He was a nice kid, always said hi to me and paid in exact change. Was big fan of the snacks I made, would stop by after school and take half my inventory. He had big brown eyes and a crooked nose,” Luis would smile at the memory before closing his eyes and frowning sadly. “One day, he came late. His teacher made him stay after to go over a failed test, I remember he complained. He was pulling out his money when robber burst in, demanding my money. I fumbled for the register key, dropped it. I bent down to grab it and I hear shots going off. Two over my head, another right into the boy’s throat.”

Luis will hear the sound of that sweet boy’s guttural choking sounds as he drowned in his own blood until the day he himself died. The robber left after the shot, Luis called the police and held the young man’s hand as he died. The would be thief were never found and Luis never did learn anything about the boy who’d died on his floor for getting hungry after school.

“As soon as I saw Phantom on the TV,” Luis would say, perking up after his moment of somber grief, “I knew it was that boy come back. Those kind eyes, I’d recognize them anywhere. He’s never come here but one day he will and I will be able to pass on my regret on not being able to save his life that day.”

XxX

“I think he killed himself,” Mikey whispered to Lester during lunch period, angling his voice low. “The jocks may love Phantom for his powers but I just know he was one of us, an unwanted nerd. I’ve seen him chatting up a ghost I’m pretty sure is Poindexter, Casper’s suicide kid. They’re probably bonding over their similar deaths and the circumstances that led to it.”

“That’s pretty dark,” Lester whispered back. “I also get unpopular vibes from him but I don’t think he’s the time do uh do that to himself; he’s too stubborn and protective. But I bet he was the victim of a prank gone wrong. Dash locked Fenton in the Janitor’s closet last Wednesday, he got out okay somehow but maybe something like that happened to Phantom. He always looks kind of annoyed at the A-listers, maybe they remind him of old bullies.”

“Nuh-uh,” Clara said, pushing up her glasses with her middle finger. “The ghost kid totally got electrocuted or something. He was fighting that weather ghost and he sent lightning bolts his way and Phantom flinched. He fought the Ghost King and yet a little electricity scares him? It might not’ve even been a lightning strike but something manmade like a machine backfiring or something.”

“Get real,” Mikey scoffed, sipping his milk with an eyeroll. “I’m sure we’d have heard about some poor kid getting zapped to death; this town isn’t that big.”

“We’d have heard about a suicide too,” Lester noted with a wry grin.

“Shut up Mr. I base my theories around Fenton who’s a known weirdo”.

XxX

“I’m telling you, the ghost kid died of some debilitating illness,” Abbie McMillian, retired school teacher and three year reigning champ at the Tristate area’s Daylily Competition. She sipped her tea and spoke with as much confidence as she had back in the day wrangling Amity’s impressionable youths. “The superhero thing is clear wish childhood fulfillment, a chance to live and be free like he never got to in life. You see how happy and carefree that young man looks while flying? Clearly he spent his formative years sick and weak.”

“No way,” Greta von Martin frowned as she aggressively stirred her own tea to show her displeasure. “I worked in a hospital for close to 30 years and I know what chronically sick kids look like and Phantom doesn’t fit the bill. I will agree he’s carefree when he’s not battling spooks but he acts like a stupid teen. I’m telling you, the boy got into his parent’s liquor cabinet or took a few too many of whatever pill was going around his school. Tragic but something that happens every day.”

“Greta, dearie,” Abbie said with a pinched frown. “We’ve been friends since grade school and I love you like a sister but you are wrong and until you admit it, I won’t share anymore of my recipes.”

“You’re just being stubborn because you can’t see what’s right in front of you even after working with kids half of your life, Abbie, love,” Greta sniffed. “And you can kiss my grandson’s help weeding you garden goodbye until you relent.”

XxX

Perhaps one of the most human traits is curiosity, especially about what comes after death. Now the good people of Amity Park know a great deal about the dead so the lives before is what attracts their attention and none so more than the ghost boy. Maybe it’s because he’s their hero or maybe it’s because he’s so young. Or perhaps it’s because Phantom is such a mess of contradictions that it’s very hard to guess how the unfortunate boy met his end. But everyone has their own theories, from the mundane to the fantastic, some with evidence backing them up and others pure poppycock.

But for all their curiosity, as much as it burns them to know, they’ll never ask. They don’t want to risk the powerful ghost’s wrath but, moreover, it seemed in poor taste. The boy risked his afterlife to keep them safe, they couldn’t ask what traumatic and miserable circumstances had led to this point.

And besides, it was so much more fun to look up at ghostly figure as he sped through the skies and wonder.

#danny phantom #my writing #i made a headcanon post and immeaditly said 'i have to write this'#and then I did #tw: suicide mention #there is a non described background death of an OC #opinions are like assholes #everyone has one #and *everyone* has an opinion on how phantom died #some are reasonably close and some are waaaay far off #but they wonder and gossip and argue when the kid cant hear #its human nature

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timextoxhajima · 3 years

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hi dana.. if it’s possible can i request some angsty wangsty based on niki la la lost you with eric🥺 and ughh i really love your writing like crazyyyyy

♥ title: la la lost you in april [also part of @sunlightwoo ‘s 12 Months I Loved You collaboration project]

♥ member: tbz eric

♥ genre: f2l, ex! eric x fem! reader, model! eric [SFW!]

♥ warnings: swearing, some mentions of sex [like, once i think]

♥ wc: 3.4k

♥ a/n: sis when i first heard the song I absolutely loved how you used 'angsty wangsty' so I hope this one does it for you the way you imagined it <3 [fyi i wrote it in like, a camcorder recording audio format which is something i’m trying out so please hmu on whether it’s difficult to read/understand!]

[REC: APRIL 2, 2019 - 6:39PM] SOLO LOG #1

Are you seeing this? This is the most beautiful sunset I’ve seen. I gotta get a shot of this-

Hey! Hey! I could help you take a picture with the sunset if you want to!

Oh! Would- Would you? That’d be great!

Of course!

...

Here. Is it alright?

Yeah, yeah, it’s cool! Thank you so much!

Are you recording something? Is it a- Are you vlogging? Are you a vlogger?

Yeah, no... I’m actually on a solo trip for a bit.

Oh, where are you from?

Just the next state.

Ah! You’re taking a break off... life then? I assume? Sorry if that came out weird.

No! No no! It’s alright! Yeah, I just needed a short break from... y’know, school and everything. My semester ended pretty early on so I took the chance to come out here and... see some new sights, meet some new people.

I get that. Well, for a start, what’s your name?

Oh, I’m y/n. Nice to meet you! And you?

I’m Eric.

[REC: APRIL 4, 2019 - 10:34PM] SOLO LOG #2

It is the 4th of April, 2019. I know, I know, I’m meant to do a daily vlog for all the 50 days I’m here but... it’s been... wow. Um... so I met Eric, the first day I touched down. The beach is just, about a 10 minute walk down and the sunsets are absolutely gorgeous. But uh... call me a fool and say that I’m living in the clouds but- what are the chances?

He’s funny, he’s such a great person to be around with y’know? Never a moment of like, awkwardness or stress and my God, look at me talking about a boy like that, though I met him 2 days ago.

...

Um, he’s a freelance model. For those freelance shoots by UNIQLO or Target or something and he complains about the pay sometimes, but he looks good infront of a camera, so he’s... actually the one who won at life, really.

I’m not seeing him soon because he’s got a shoot out of town and he’ll be back next week. But I did get his number and he’s been texting me since.

...

Wouldn’t it be funny if we end up together and then I have this whackass of a reel to show him? Jesus... I need to stop getting ahead of myself here. Freakin’ living in the clouds, aren’t I?

...

Anyway, I’m gonna go and see if I can get my weird projector shit up and working. See you.

[REC: APRIL 7, 2019 - 5:14AM] SOLO LOG #3

It is... 5am... uh, April 7th- and I was just binging FRIENDS through the night, waiting for the sunrise before I get some shut eye and then... Eric just asked me out. Oh my God! Um, he’s coming back this Thursday and I’ll go see him at the airport before we go get dinner.

It was really funny ‘cause he had to wake up early for a shoot today and so his day has just begun but mine’s coming to an end and I just- I’m rambling so much, it’s kinda- it’s kinda sad, isn’t it?

I think I’m too happy to sleep right now so I’m just gonna text him some more before the sun rises- oh! He replied!

...

Anyway, I’m gonna go and finish up this last episode before sleeping. Hopeful I can sleep. Bye!

[REC: APRIL 11, 2019 - 4:28PM] SOLO LOG #4

I am on my way out right now to go meet Eric at the airport, and I’m... it’d be an understatement to say that I’m excited. I know I’ve only known him for like, 2 days before he left but... I miss him. Is that possible? Missing someone despite knowing them for 2 days?

Anyway, I gotta go. Don’t wanna be late to see him.

[REC: APRIL 13, 2019 - 10:23AM] SOLO LOG #5

Oh! Is that what you had-

Yeah! It’s the same camera!

What are you vlogging for, actually? Like-

Nothing, really. It’s just for my own usage-

Wait, you didn’t like set that up last night while we-

Oh, God, no! Who do you think I am?

I don’t know, I mean, we’ve known each other for... is it two weeks-

Just under two weeks-

Jeez-

I know, I know, oh my God.

...

I don’t regret it though. Yeah, like- I don’t really go down to the beach that often in the first place and it just- it just so happened that you were there that day and I saw you struggling with this old thing-

I was not struggling!

Yeah you were!

I wasn’t-

I’m kidding! Gosh, you’re so cute.

...

Are you gonna have the camera recording while this carries on?

I forgot it was on-

One day we’re gonna accidentally make a sex tape-

Eric!

[REC: APRIL 17, 2019 - 1:15AM] SOLO LOG #6

-ould you pass me the hot water?

Mm? What?

The kettle over on the counter. Careful, it’s hot. Yeah, thanks.

Do you need help with-

It’s just instant noodles, sweet. Doubt I need a diploma for this. You’re recording again?

Yeah, does it bother you?

No, no, ‘course not. Though that means I can’t really do whatever I want to now.

What does that mea-

...

I can... still taste that bit of milk tea you had just now-

Could you tell it’s zero sugar?

I don’t think that matters, it’s still sweet and not great for your health to have that so much.

Aw, and yet you’re the one who suggested noodles at this timing, yeah?

You were hungry too!

...

Here, it’s done. Help me get the bowls?

Did you even wash these?

Yeah, I did. If you don’t trust me, you can run them under the water for a bit.

Mhm. Here.

If it’s not enough, we can call for Macs.

Y’know, I’ve never had Macs past midnight back at home.

What? Really? Well, when you get back in May, would you try?

Yeah, why not? Maybe I’ll do that when I’m back in school.

...

What date is it today?

April... hold on, um, 17. Careful, that’s hot.

...

When are you leaving again?

May 22.

Are you planning on coming back anytime soon after?

I don’t know. I have school to worry about and the only other time I can come back’s probably during winter break in November.

...

I won’t be around in November.

Mm? Why not?

I’m moving.

To where?

I’m not sure yet, but I need to move depending on whether I get it and where the shoot’s at.

Shoot? It’s a big project, huh?

Yeah, it’s- it’s a pretty big deal.

...

I’ll- Let me just go and...

[REC: APRIL 20, 2019 - 7:49PM] SOLO LOG #7

-idn’t have to!

No, c’mon! It’s such a great time to get this on camera! Come on, tell us what just happened!

Well, I just scored a huge model contract with Calvin Klein - in Manhattan.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I’m so fucking proud of you, oh my God! Can you believe it-

No, fuck off, I can’t either!

Oh! Calvin Klein!

...

I swear, you’re an angel sent to me-

Fuck off!

I’m serious! it’s so timely- I just can’t- I’m just so happy to have met you.

...

Well, you heard it first here, ladies and gentlemen. Eric Sohn is a new model for Calvin Klein - Manhattan.

[REC: APRIL 21, 2019 - 12:40PM] SOLO LOG #8

It is 12.40pm... April 21st, 2019. I’m finally back in my apartment after crashing at Eric’s for the last... 10 days? I think it was 10 days. My clothes were running out and I didn’t want to hike up his water bills so I just came back and- y’know did my own laundry.

...

Well, it’s- it’s been an absolute dream. The last thing I expected to... have, or meet? Here, is Eric. Um, but I know I’m probably going to regret this. Especially when May 22 comes. Uh... this is... it’s real bad. I mean, we’re great, y’know? But... it’s bad, because I know it’ll hurt. Like a bitch. When my time here is up, and I gotta go back to my reality, and Eric’s gotta stick to his.

We haven’t really talked about it. May. I don’t think he wants to, and I don’t think I want to either. 50 days is too short. Either that, or I shouldn’t have come here in the first place. I shouldn’t have gone to the beach that day, in that hour.

...

I just wish we had more time. I wish 24 hours were... maybe about 100 seconds more per minute. Does that make sense? 160 seconds per minute. Then again, I don’t think that’d solve my problem. I’ll still be on a ticking... time bomb.

...

I know I shouldn’t say this. I know I can’t. I know I can’t afford to. But... I... I love him. I love Eric. With every... bit of me. It’s so... disgustingly cliché, but I feel so... comfortable with him. There’s really nothing we’d fight about, and even if we disagreed on something, we’d play it off like a debate, then forget about it the next day.

...

I love him. I do. And I’m going to regret this later. Without a doubt.

...

[REC: APRIL 27, 2019 - 2:02AM] SOLO LOG #9

-ou can see the stars?

I don’t know, that’s why I’m trying, sweet.

...

Can you see them?

Yeah, maybe if I just turn this ISO- Oh! I can kinda see the North Star-

Oh! Yeah, you can! It’s really feint though.

Right.

It’s okay, we can just lay it down here-

On the grass? Will your camera be fine?

Yeah, yeah, or else you can just put in on top of my bag- here.

...

Here, can you see me? Am I in frame?

Yeah, you’re in frame.

Okay, great. Now get over here!

...

I can taste the smoothie you had just now.

Too sweet?

A little.

...

Oh my God! Put me down! Oh- not there! It’s ticklish- AHHHHH!

...

y/n, I have something to tell you.

Mm? What is it?

...

Hello? Earth to Eric?

I... I love you. So much... and I can’t bear to see you go in May.

Oh, Eric...

No, I- I don’t want you to stay- or even think about it, ‘cause, you have your priorities and I have mine y’know...

Mhm.

I just... I just wished we had more time.

I do too. I really do.

...

Eric?

Hm?

I love you too.

...

[REC: MAY 1, 2019 - 4:23AM] SOLO LOG #10

1st May. 4...30? Am? I believe. Um, Eric’s sound asleep in his bed and I couldn’t sleep so I decided to do a log.

...

I have... 3 weeks left. 4 weeks have gone past just like that, and I don’t know what to think about it. I came for a 50-day retreat. No stress, just myself and peace and quiet and tranquility and yet-

...

I- I don’t know if I can do this.

...

[REC: MAY 7, 2019 - 3:58PM] SOLO LOG #11

So, Eric’s in shoot right now and I’m on the way into the studio with some donuts and coffee to surprise him. I called his manager and asked if it was okay so- I’m pretty psyched to see his workspace.

...

Hi, I’m y/n, I’m here to visit Eric?

Ah, okay! Hold on, let me just get you signed in with the pass-

Count me in!

You sure? This Saturday at the prep-party?

Yeah- Oh!

Eric!

y/n! What are you doing here?

I wanted to surprise you. Am I... interrupting anything?

Oh, not at all!

You must be y/n! Eric’s told me so much about you!

Did he? And you are...?

I’m Chelsea! I’ve been attached to the same Calvin Klein contract he recently got, so you could say we’re colleagues!

Well, nice to meet you! Oh, right, these donuts and coffee are meant for you guys actually!

Oh! You’re too kind! Eric, you’re such a lucky man.

I know, she’s just... everything.

Anyway, thank you so much for these. I’ll bring them back down to the studio for the crew to share. But Eric’s pretty much done for the day actually, so you guys can leave if you want to!

Are you sure? Don’t you need help downstairs with the equipment?

No, no! It’s fine, there’re more than enough people downstairs. Go have your date, and maybe you can bring her along with you for the prep-party this weekend!

What’s the prep-party... preparing for?

Oh, you’re so adorable! It’s a prep-party for the end-of-May shoot we’re gonna have. it’s a collab with DAZED so it’s a pretty big project.

You never told me you were involved in a collab with DAZED.

I was gonna tell you today.

He has been pretty busy recently, maybe slipped his mind. Anyway, thank you so much for the donuts and I’ll hope to see you at the pier this Saturday, mm?

Yeah, sure. Thanks Chels.

No problem! It was so nice to meet you, y/n, I’ll see you Saturday!

Okay, bye!

Bye, Chelsea! It was nice to meet you!

Bye!

...

Sweet, why didn’t you tell me you were coming?

I wanted it to be a surprise. I thought you said you’d end pretty late?

The filming was cut short because the shots were better than expected so we ended early.

Oh, I wanted to film you while you were at work.

You have that on?

Yeah- why?

No, just wondering.

Are you uncomfortable?

No, no, it’s just... I really didn’t expect you to come to the studio.

...

[REC: MAY 11, 2019 - 11:12PM] SOLO LOG #12

It’s 11:12pm, 11th May, 2019. 11 days to departure.

...

I... saw... Chelsea and Eric... um, out by the garage-

...

Well, I guess... it looked like they were just... having a really good talk. Or something.

...

I left. I couldn’t watch it. So, I left without telling Eric. I did tell his boss that I wasn’t feeling well and I had to leave first.

...

I guess this is the part where I regret it, isn’t it? Um... I don’t know... how... I’m gonna explain this to him when I see him again. Which is supposed to be- um- the rest of the night. I was supposed to go back to his place with him and I’ll stay for the weekend before I come back to pack my things, so-

...

y/n, are you home?

...

shit.

y/n, I know you’re home. I heard you talking. Open the door, I need to talk to you.

...

[REC: MAY 12, 2019 - 2:00AM] SOLO LOG #13

...

I look like shit, don’t I? God, my eyes hurt like a bitch.

...

I don’t think I need to say what just happened for you to guess what just happened, right? This... says it all.

...

Fuck.

...

I shouldn’t have come here. How did- How did my retreat turn out- turn out like this?

...

This is- This is too much. Too much in too short... of a time.

...

I don’t think... I don’t think I can do it. Not anymore.

...

[REC: MAY 19, 2019 - 9:59AM] SOLO LOG #14

It’s May 19th, 2019, almost 10am. I just came back from a morning walk by the beach just to... reminisce a little before I leave on Wednesday.

...

I... haven’t seen Eric since the prep-party. I blocked him and I told him not to come over, though I think he has, like, a few times. I thought I heard someone come up to my door, but he never knocked.

...

So, this is how it ends, huh? A 50-day romance cut short like that. Into about, 40?

...

It’s crazy to think that I had... the experience of a whole relationship in 40 days. I definitely did not sign up for that when I booked this 50-day retreat.

...

It was fun while it lasted, though. It was. I don’t think I’d find anybody else like Eric, and I guess it just sucks that it had to end like that. Things happen, right? That aren’t... in our control.

...

[REC: MAY 21, 2019 - 8:07PM] SOLO LOG #15

May 21st. About 8pm. I leave in about 15 hours.

...

All my stuff’s packed. Definitely more things to bring home than I brought here. Half of these things were bought by Eric and given to me. I’m... actually not sure if I should bring them back.

...

I don’t- I just don’t think I’d have the heart to throw them away.

...

Nor look at them when I’m home.

...

Should I even bring this camera home? Maybe I should wipe your memory before I bring you home, hmm?

...

It feels like a dream, doesn’t it? Everything that’s happened. It feels like a fever dream. Maybe when I’m finally home, I’d wake up and it’d be the day I come here.

...

Maybe.

...

[REC: MAY 22, 2019 - 10:03AM] SOLO LOG #16

-ny more luggage?

Nope.

Alright then, I think you’re all set. You still have about an hour’s time before the gates are open so you can get a cup of coffee or something, yeah?

Okay, thank you!

Have a nice flight ma’am.

Thanks.

...

Good evening ma’am, can I check your boarding pass?

Yeah, sure.

...

Okay, you’re good to go. Have a safe flight.

Thank you!

...

[REC: MAY 22, 2019 - 11:34AM] SOLO LOG #17

It is about 11.30am and I’m on the flight, and here’s the view outside. Sky’s pretty clear and this thing says that the weather’s great so, it should be a smooth flight without turbulence.

...

This is it. This is really it.

...

Um-

Hi, ma’am, I’m gonna need you to keep your camcorder.

Oh! Yeah, sure, sure, sorry!

[REC: APRIL 2, 2020 - 12:48AM] ERIC LOG #1

Wow, this is... weird. How did you do this last year?

...

Um, hi. y/n. If you’re watching this then I’ve somehow managed to get this synced into your camera by some weird... bluetooth, iCloud shit that Felix helped me figure out.

...

It’s been a year. And... I just thought you should... see this, or hear me out, at least. I know we didn’t end on the best terms... and I’m sorry. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have yelled at you for being unreasonable for something that was... suspicious. I should’ve understood.

...

I should’ve been there. To see you off. And I’m sorry I didn’t. I... was scared, that I wouldn’t be able to let you go if I went to send you off. I was a coward. I still am.

...

But I do want you to know that... those 50 days were the best days of my life. Albeit it ended horribly, but nothing could... nothing- nothing will ever replace what happened last April.

...

I said I love you and... I still do. Every day I think about you and your smile and your voice and- and I cry to sleep... worrying that I’d forget how you sound like, or how you laugh and how... how you smell like. My bed smelt like you even after you left.

...

I just- I love you. And I miss you. And I’d do anything to go back to what we had. I’d do anything to get- to get you back.

...

I’m sorry.

...

the clip comes to an automatic stop. the white triangle slapped onto the screen, begging you to play it again. you look up from the screen, watching the famous calvin klein ad that hasn’t stopped playing in the last month.

he hasn’t changed one bit. not his hair, not his smile, not his voice.

it’s a bittersweet pot of memory stashed in the back of your head when the memories flood back. looking back down at the camera, you count back the days - it was synced just last night.

the pile of tissues by your thighs are carelessly huddled into the bin next to your feet, mentally berating yourself for going through the memory instead of formatting it.

you stand, fingers shutting the screen back onto its body with a soft click. the tv blacks out when you press the red button on its remote.

you’re halfway into your kitchen when there’s a knock at your door, and you immediately gasp, blinking rapidly.

“oh, it’s my fucking projector!”

rushing to the door, you don’t hesitate to get the door open.

and yet, like the heavens were providing you with all the light to stop you from doubting yourself, your lungs empty themselves like vacuums.

your heart stops.

your breathing stops.

“eric... what are you doing here?”

223 notes · View notes

sukifans · 3 years

Note

aahhh I’m so excited I love your writing!!! your sokka “help me” fic is one of my favs ever I seriously think about it at least twice a week. in a similar vein, would you be able to combine prompts 10 & 12 for sokka x fem!reader? thank you!!! :)

SOKKA + “can i try that new chapstick? i wanna have a taste” + “i hadn’t noticed but my sweet, funny, goofy best friend is kind of hot, especially since they’ve been on this fitness kick”

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

“nastiest skank bitches” Group Message

loml: ladies, i need a girls night

loml: desperately

babygorl: god i’m down, this semester blows

fugly slut <3: i’m in!! always here for a girls night 🥰

loml: y/n??

you: gals. pals. as much as i would love to...

fugly slut <3: ughhhhhhhhh

babygorl: you better not be blowing us off for sokka again istg

you: 😅

loml: TRAITOR BITCH

fugly slut <3: HOES BEFORE BROS

babygorl: WHORE

you: bruh.mp3

you: he’s coming by after the gym to help me with my physics homework!!! I NEED THE HELP PLS I PROMISE ILL BE THERE NEXT TIME

babygorl: lying is a sin y/n

babygorl: sinner

loml: if sokka’s gonna b there maybe she’ll be sinning in........ other ways...... ahaha

loml: fuckboy_emoji.jpg

fugly slut <3: when you gonna tap that fr

you: NEVER LITERALLY NO EW

you: HE’S MY BEST FRIEND

you: UNLIKE YOU RATS

fugly slut <3: he do b kinda yummy tho liiiike 👀

you: STOP

loml: yeah he’s hot sorry queen

you: HE’S NOT HOT

babygorl: i almost hate to admit it but...

babygorl: his biceps 🥴

fugly slut <3 emphasized “his biceps 🥴”

loml loved “his biceps 🥴”

you: hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!

fugly slut <3 disliked “hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!”

babygorl disliked “hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!”

loml disliked “hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!”

babygorl: uh huh yeah sure

loml: yall hear sumn?

NEW MESSAGE from sokka :^)

“hey i’m omw up!”

you: whatever you guys suck

you: i gtg

fugly slut <3: AND YOU SWALLOW

babygorl: bye girly!! get that bestie dick!!

loml: save a car, ride an engineering major >:)

you: desgostang.jpg

You dropped your phone onto the bed next to you with a groan. Your friends really and truly could be such freaks about your relationship with Sokka—or lack thereof. They’d been especially adament ever since he started some stupid bet with Zuko about who could get the most “gains” by graduation, incited by Aang making the mistake of commenting on Zuko’s more pronounced muscle mass.

Idiots.

That’s what Sokka was. Your idiotic best friend, who was funny, and sweet, and intelligent. You loved him, of course, but not like that. And he was not hot.

Definitely not.

The pounding on your dorm door interrupted your musings before Sokka let himself in, dropping his gym bag on the floor and kicking off his slides. His hair was loose and still damp from his post-workout shower and he wore slim joggers with a loose muscle tee.

“Hey!” He smiled brightly when he spotted you sitting in your bed. “What’s up?”

“The usual.” You moved your legs out of the way so he could flop down onto your mattress. “How was the gym?”

Sokka groaned. “Cardio. I’m already sore.” He stretched his arms up to fold behind his head, pulling his muscles taut.

Hm. He does kind of have nice biceps...

You shook yourself internally. Thoughts like these had been creeping out of your subconscious for weeks now, no thanks to your rabid friends.

“My leg’s been killing me, though,” he continued, rubbing his opposite foot across the skin that covered that metal pins and plates holding his bones together after a nasty break in high school. The leg often still gave him problems, ranging from the dull ache he could ignore on the day-to-day, to throbbing pain that left him limping.

You frowned, looking away from his arms to meet his eyes. “You should probably rest up before you hurt yourself,” you said.

“I’ll be fine.” He shrugged and propped himself up on his elbows. “Gotta catch up to Zuko, y’know.”

“Why? You’re already taller than him.”

“So? I wanna be more yolked, too.”

You rolled your eyes. “Buncha dumbasses.”

Sokka quirked an eyebrow. “You want this dumbass to help with your physics homework or not?”

“Haha,” you chuckled nervously, “just kidding, buddy! I meant Zuko and Aang. You—definitely not a dumbass. Nope.”

“That’s what I thought.” He shot you a smug look as he pushed up to sit cross-legged across from you on the bed. He held his hand out with a dramatic, world-weary sigh. “Alright, give it here.”

You opened your laptop to pull up the website that hosted your homework practice problems. “You know I love you, right?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, grabbing a notebook and pen from your desk to work out the math as you handed over the computer. He paused before standing to retrieve his bag, plopping it on your desk chair so he could root through it and pull out his glasses case. You felt your cheeks warm a little when he set the frames on the bridge of his nose.

Fine—he was kinda cute. You could concede that without having to dig too deep into your somewhat jumbled feelings for your best friend.

But you would certainly not “tap that.”

Well...

No. You would not.

You watched his eyes flick over the screen as he tapped the pen against his chin, catching the cap between his teeth while he thought about the formulas he’d learned in a past semester. He nodded to himself and started scribbling out a diagram and the math to go with it. You found yourself a little mesmerized by the way he simply just knew what to do, confidently scratching away at the paper as easily as one might write the alphabet. Your eyes trailed from his long fingers and calloused hand sweeping over the page, up his toned arm (lingering on his bicep a little longer), and to his face. He chewed at the inside of his cheek in concentration, sometimes parting his lips to murmur the logic to himself.

For someone who often said a lot of stupid shit, he sure had a pretty mouth.

You considered what he might do if you snatched a fistful of his shirt and yanked him into a kiss. Would he shove you away and leave? Awkwardly but kindly reject you? Or, would he kiss you back—throw the work out of the way and grab your face to coax you in deeper? Maybe push you back onto the bed and—

“Okay, so basically—”

Jesus Christ, get a fucking grip.

“—from the problem and draw it out like this to apply the formula, yeah?”

Sokka looked to you expectantly and you blinked at him as your face burned. “Sorry, I zoned out. What did you say?”

“C’mon, I know you hate physics but you gotta at least pay attention to me if you wanna pass,” he teased, shifting close enough that the sides of your bodies pressed together. Was it getting warmer in your room, or was it just your best friend?

He launched into the explanation again and you nodded along while internally willing the blood to leave your cheeks. Even as your thoughts ricocheted around inside your skull he managed to break it down in a way that somewhat made sense. He sat back and watched as you slowly worked through the next problem. You glanced up when you heard a soft pop to see him applying chapstick.

“Is that a new flavor?” you asked.

“Yeah, chocolate orange or something.” He held the tube out to you. “Wanna try?”

Fuck it.

Before your rationality could catch up you pressed a hand to his cheek to turn his head and pulled him in for a kiss. Your lips only slotted together for a brief moment before you pulled back to stare wide-eyed at each other. You could feel the fire creeping from your cheeks down your neck, mirrored in the reddening of his tanned skin.

He blinked. You blinked.

The chapstick slipped from between his fingers. Rationality arrived late.

You bolted.

“Uh, see ya later!” you shouted as you threw the door open and rushed out of the room.

“Wait, (Y/N)—“

You didn’t stick around to hear the end of his desperate call. Even thought it was your dorm and you were barefoot you still raced down the hall, wincing at the sound of a door slamming behind you.

“(Y/N)!”

Damn that lanky bastard. You were booking it and he was already hot on your heels. You barreled into the door leading to the stairwell and almost made it down the first step when he grabbed you around the waist and yanked you back. Despite your struggles, the arm hooked across your middle was unyielding until he pushed you into the corner and crowded you against the wall, hands caging you in from either side. Your heart was racing and you weren’t sure if it was because of your escape attempt or that he was close enough you could smell his body wash and deodorant. It was almost enough to make your head spin.

“Sokka, I-I don’t know why—I’m sorry, please, I shouldn’t’ve—“

“(Y/N),” he said firmly and your mouth snapped shut. “Why did you run away?”

“Uh, I—well, um...” You shrunk down against the wall and swallowed hard. “I-I don’t know.”

“You didn’t even give me a chance to respond.”

“Look—“ You paused and stared at him once you processed what he said. “What?”

He laughed, dropping one of his hands to brush against your cheek before threading into your hair to cup the base of your skull. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

With that he surged forwards and kissed you enthusiastically, making you gasp into his mouth. You balled your hands into the front of his shirt to keep yourself steady as you melted into him. His free hand pressed into your lower back to bring you in closer. His tongue slipped out to tease at your bottom lip and he chuckled when you had to quickly grab his shoulders as your knees almost buckled.

“Get that,” he murmured against your lips, pressing his forehead to yours as the two of you gasped for air.

“Oh,” you breathed, “that.” You hummed happily when he kissed you again, his stubble scratching against your chin and under your palms when you cupped his face.

You both looked up when a stairwell door somewhere above you slammed open, followed by a group of jostling male voices. Sokka grinned when you glanced at him with wide eyes and shiny, swollen lips. You tried to hide behind him as the clamor bounded closer and closer. The group of guys rounded the next flight and gave shouts of recognition upon seeing you two standing against the wall.

“Sokka!”

“Hey, man!”

“Hey, guys,” Sokka said, holding his hand up in greeting.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, is that (Y/N)?”

“Nice, dude!”

“Ah, yeah...” He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and you raised an eyebrow at his turned head. They all cheered and congratulated him, slapping his back as they passed and disappeared down the next set of stairs. When Sokka met your eyes again you cocked your head.

“Who were they?” you asked.

“Honestly, I’m not sure.”

“Sokka.”

“My reputation precedes me, what can I say?”

“Mine doesn’t.”

“Well—“ he suddenly became very interested in the underside of the stairs above you “—my reputation may or may not involve talking about you. A lot, apparently.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t do it on purpose!” he interjected quickly, taking your hands in his. “It’s just—I dunno, I guess I think about you a lot, so...”

“Oh.”

“Fuck, okay, that sounded weird.” You laughed a little at his embarrassed floundering. “I just mean, like, things that remind me of you or, y’know, stories that involve you...” he trailed off, flushing at your amused smile. “Stop it!”

“Stop what?”

“Making fun of me!”

“I didn’t say anything,” you giggled, hooking your arms around his neck.

“You’re still laughing at me,” he whined, lips turning into a frown. His hands slipped back down to your waist.

“You’re cute.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Without preamble, he ducked down and hoisted you over his shoulder as you shrieked in protest. “Sokka! Put me down!”

“No can do, baby; we have unfinished business to attend to.” He said as he marched you back in the direction of your room.

“You’re gonna finish my physics homework?”

“Nope.”

Oh.

A/N: 2k words bc, again, i have no self control. thank you for the request!

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi @blazedbakugou @protect-remus @akiris @sunflowerazula @wooscottoncandyhair @chewymoustachio @ohno-caroline @sunflowerr-mami @1vitamin @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @u-4iia @nymeria-targaryen @tommy-braccoli @dizzy-miss-lizzieeeeee @a-sloppy-bitch @nomin-rights @siriuslyslyslytherin @starryncn

SOKKA TAGS: @fiantomartell @avatarayeaye @zvkta @sher-lockedmarvel @grandmascottlang @captainshazamerica @yuesallura

#sokka x reader #sokka x you #sokka x y/n #x sokka #sokka fluff #sokka imagine #sokka fic #atla sokka #atla x reader #sokka #mine #requests #atla fic #avatar the last airbender

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after-witch · 4 years

Text

Yandere Ransom Imagine

“That's some heavy-duty conjecture.”

Word Count: 2700ish

notes: unhealthy relationships, emotional and physical abuse, financial abuse, yandere

Imagine being a struggling adult working a full time job plus freelancing gigs just to get by in your one-bedroom apartment where the ceiling always leaks when it rains and you have to perform a complicated maneuver to make sure the door doesn’t jam up on you and you’re constantly worried about your landlord raising the rent.

Maybe a well-meaning friend gets you a gift card to an upscale bookstore because they know you haven’t had a new book on your shelves in years, or maybe you find $20 on the street like a veritable Charlie Bucket but instead of buying a Wonka Bar you head into a this fantastic artisan coffee shop on the rich side of town, a place that everyone always raves about on Instagram, just so you can try an expensive latte with hand-ground beans and flavors you’ve never heard of before--because don’t you deserve a treat, for once?

Whatever it is, wherever it is, Hugh Ransom Drysdale is waiting inside and sees you there.

And oh my God is it obvious that you’re out of place right off the bat. I mean, what the hell is someone like you doing in this part of town?

With your worn out clothes that are worn from necessity and not from being fashionably thrifted and your ratty purse stuffed with papers and candy wrappers that spill out when you dig in for your card or cash and your winter boots that you’ve probably worn 5 years in a row, ripped in the hell and patched with black tape that you hope people don’t notice.

It becomes even more obvious that you’re out of your element when something goes wrong. The gift card isn’t activated. The $20? A fake, probably a movie prop that blew in the wind. Whatever goes wrong, it means that you’re suddenly at the register, impatient people with real money tapping their expensive shoes behind you, unable to pay. You’re left standing there like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to do or say.

Normally he might just roll his eyes and remind himself that people like you ought to stick to your own shops, your own place. But something about the way your eyes go all downcast and you seem to shrink down in embarrassment makes him take pity on you. Like a stray cat in the alley hoping someone will toss it some scraps.

So he strides up and flicks out a card and hands it to the cashier, dropping a friendly greeting to them because he spends like crazy and they probably know him by name at this place, and he’s the one who hands you your coffee or your bag and your hands touch ever so briefly during the exchange.

He leads you away from the register--don’t want to piss off the spoiled debutantes and assistants on lunchtime coffee runs--and you stammer out a thank-you-thank-you and you promise you’ll pay him back as soon as you can and Jesus Christ, isn’t that just adorable? Someone like you, some lost kicked puppy who can’t even afford new boots, promising to pay him back?

He doesn’t care if you pay him back, but he finds that he would like something out of this exchange, so he says that instead of paying him back you can do him the honor of going to lunch with him. His treat.

He insists. And you can’t really say no, can you? You are hungry and he did just pay for your things and it’s the least you can do to oblige his request.

He’s not stupid. He doesn’t take you to some razzle dazzle fancy restaurant where you’ll feel embarrassed and out of place. Instead he takes you to a quiet diner, classy not greasy, where you can have an easy conversation and tell him all about yourself.

It’s funny. Normally he brings up his family name, his grandfather’s books, to women he picks up, to get them impressed and hooked and pliable. Something about you, though. Something about you is making him want to turn this into more than a lunch date and pressure for a quickie in the car to repay him.

So he holds back to see what he can do with you on his own. No quickie in the car, but instead before he drops you off--at a bus station, you insisted--he brushes his hand over yours. Can he get your number? He swears he can feel the heat coming off your cheeks as you fumble for your phone and let him put his number in your contacts.

He waits a day, then asks you out again. Dinner, this time. He asks you if you know any good places and you recommend a dive bar that you can go to after work (because 1) schedule and 2) cheap) and shit, he’s all for it. There will be time in the future to impress you with restaurants that have dress codes instead of sticky floors. You sit close on the stools and you buy him a drink (real cute, real real cute) and just for you he keeps the baggie in his pocket there all night instead of heading to the bathroom to liven things up.

Your relationship develops with an almost shocking speed. He knows just how to reel you in. I mean--look at you. Working your ass off at some dead end job, living in an apartment so shitty it takes you almost a month before you reluctantly agree to let him see it.

He can understand, though. Because you’re not that stupid and you know he’s wealthy, even before he casually brings up his family in a “it’s no big deal but I don’t want to keep things from you because we’re getting serious” sort of way.

You pretend to be casual about it all, but he can tell you’re suddenly wondering: why the hell would someone from this wealthy family want anything to do with me?

It’s a question Ransom asks himself a lot. He asks himself this when he’s snorting coke off another woman’s stomach (hey, you’re dating, but he’s got needs and they aren’t met with hand-holding) or when he’s eating another greasy burger at a shitty bar because you refuse to let him buy you a nice dress to wear so he can take you out somewhere fancy.

You’re not the type of person he normally goes for, not at all. He has strings of girlfriends and flings, but they all tend to fit that same cookie cutter mold: wealthy do-nothings with their parent’s credit card who want someone else to spoil them for a while, without caring who it is or what they’re like. They’re easy pickings that Ransom can burn through and then toss aside when he’s bored of them. Some of them cry but a few days later he’ll see them on someone else’s arm, it’s the circle of life.

With you, though, there’s more. You don’t expect him to pay for dates or anything at all (even when he wants to spoil you a bit) and you have actual conversations and you seem to actually give a shit about what he says and does. You argue with him, too, when he wants you to do something (just let him take you shopping, for Christ’s sake!) or he asks you to move in (again) and you say no (again). I mean, you really fight with him, spitting words and all.

And unlike his previous girlfriends, you don’t come crawling back a few hours later because you want to buy a new purse with his shiny credit card. Instead, you make him apologize first. Fuck, that’s hot. It’s also something he tucks away in the back of his mind to work on later--but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t admit that he sometimes has the overwhelming urge to push you against the wall and fuck you for the first time right after a good argument.

But he knows that would destroy your image of him entirely, so he holds back. He’s good at crafting a version of himself that appeals to others when he has to, and you’re maybe the first person that’s been worth all the effort he’s put into you so far.

But you need a push, a push that makes it so you can’t go running back to your shithole apartment when you fight or when you question whether or no you two have a future. You do, you’re just too naive--too inexperienced with money, to say it charitably--to realize it.

So he tips off the fire marshal about your apartment building’s shoddy fire escapes and well, damn, in the process of the investigation all the little corners that your landlord has cut come crashing down. At least they were discovered before it was the building that came crashing down.

But the evacuation of the building leaves you--and countless others--high and dry. You don’t have any family in the area, and your only half ass-decent friend in the city lives in the same building but her parent’s aren’t going to let a stranger move in.

When you finally realize you have no options and call him, voice tentative and embarrassed, he knows just what to say to get you to pack your meager belongings and wait for him to pick you up. He’s no-nonsense about it.

He knows how to avoid deflating your pride, how to keep you from deciding you’d rather stay in a shelter than take his charity. You’ll pay him back, he says, you’ll figure out a rental plan or whatever. He even teases--he’s not the best landlord, but he won’t take 2 weeks to change the toilet if you submit a maintenance request. It makes you crack a smile and bam, just like that, he knows he’s gotten in.

That night, after takeout and wine and a Netflix movie neither of you paid attention to, you fuck for the first time on his expensive sheets on his expensive bed and afterwards, when you’re both sweating and cuddling and reveling in the afterglow, he makes a note to buy you some new lingerie.

It’s all very homey, for a while. He could do without you leaving for work and working your ass off, with your freelance shit, sometimes staying on the computer until two, three in the morning. But it’s nice to have you close all the time, available to him whenever (almost whenever) he wants. He brings home takeout and you snuggle on the couch and he finally even convinces you to go out with him to a nice restaurant wearing something he’s bought and hot damn, do you look good, head-to-toe in the clothing he’s chosen for you. Especially, later that night, in private, in the lingerie.

Does he love you? The word hasn’t left his lips yet, hasn’t crossed yours either, but he can feel it underneath the surface. No. It’s more than love. He wants you. He wants to have you. And not just for the afternoon or the summer, but forever.

He spins daydreams about how he’ll clean you up nice and introduce you to the family. Probably to Harlan, first, because everyone knows that’s whose opinion really matters. Harlan will like you--he would probably like you without any primping or fixing, actually, which is more than he could say for his parents or anyone else in the family. Then once you’re in, you’re in--you’ll come to family dinners and vacation retreats where people always end up in ridiculous arguments, and you two can exchange snarky comments about the family on the ride home.

And yeah, sure. You fight sometimes.

He throws out your old clothes and buys you a wardrobe befitting someone he wants to integrate into his family. You fight about that.

He makes comments about you how you should quit your job or at least try to get a degree--he’ll pay, as long as you agree to go to a university within driving distance--to work somewhere more respectable than a chain restaurant. You fight about that.

He gets pissed when you want to meet some “friends” at a bar without him, because why would you need to go anywhere without your loving boyfriend in tow, unless you were trying to flirt with someone else? You definitely fight about that.

And, okay. Maybe he’s hypocritical.

Maybe he goes out late at night when you’re stuck doing your “freelancing work” and he’s in a rotten mood about it, and he ends up on the floor of a swanky club with drugs in his system and lipstick on his neck. He doesn’t come home until the next morning and you’re pissed and red-eyed and arguing with him, accusing him even, but you have no shitty apartment to stomp back to anymore so you’re stuck.

Until you’re not stuck. Until he casually snoops through your phone and sees that you’re looking up cheap-ass apartments and hey, you’ve already booked a few interviews already. The thought of you slipping through his fingers makes him more sober than he’s been in a while. He’s got to do something. Not to himself, of course. But to you. To keep you with him.

It’s easy enough to get you fired. He’s a ‘Thrombey’ after all, and some nice crisp bills anonymously sent to the right hands is all it takes for you to come home one night, cheap mascara (he notes: buy you some better quality makeup soon) running down your cheeks. Your freelancing isn’t nearly enough to get you into an apartment.

He assumes that you’ll give up on the idea after losing your job, but you’re nothing if not stubborn (one of the reasons why he likes you) so you start the job hunt the next morning, fresh mascara in place.

Damn, do you keep him busy. Anonymous calls. Cash in nice white envelopes. Rejection after rejection. You get so sad, so depressed. You don’t even want to go out to restaurants, so he orders in and you snuggle in his lap while he feeds you bites of orange chicken and rubs your back. It almost brings you two closer again, starts to mend the rifts that began when you refused to get over his occasional late night out.

But then you break the uneasy mending by snooping and woah, you don’t like what you find on his phone.

You fight.

Damn, do you fight. This time there’s no pretense of potential forgiveness as you begin wildly throwing your clothes into your ratty duffel bag from the back of the closet, telling him to fuck off fuck off fuck off, telling him he’s crazy, telling him that what he’s doing is fucking illegal and--

It’s the shock that hurts you the most.

The shock you feel when he grips your wrist hard and pushes back on your shoulder when you try to yank away, pushing you against the wall with a hard thud. It’s like having a rug pulled out from underneath your feet when you feel a slight ache in your back, on your shoulders, when you tell him to Let go, goddamn it and he only pushes back harder to keep you in place. It’s Ransom. It’s Ransom who’s doing this.

His voice feels unrecognizably cold when he leans in and hisses in your ear.

“You think you can just leave me? After all I’ve done for you? Let me tell you something--you won’t get another job within one hundred miles of here, within one thousand miles of here, unless I say you can. So just put your clothes back in the closet, chill the fuck out, and stop being such an ungrateful bitch.”

It’s the shock that makes you numbly hang your clothes back up in the closet, fold them again with shaking hands, and sit on the bed until the dam breaks and you cry.

And oh fuck, he’s sorry. Really. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and then he’s the one who’s crying and confessing that he didn’t want you leave him because yeah, he knows he’s a fuck up, he knows he’s got a drug problem, but he loves you.

It’s the first time he’s ever said it out loud. He loves you. “I love you,” he says, again and again, half-laughing. And he tells you you’re the only person he’s ever dated that made him want to be a better person but he doesn’t know how.

You don’t know what to say because maybe you do love him--but he hurt you and got you fired, but the tears on his face seem so genuine and he tells you he’ll never, ever hurt you like that again and fuck, he says, if you want to go get a job he’ll drive you to the interview right now just-let-him-blow-his-nose-first-please.

You make him sit down and then you’re the one apologizing and the rest of the afternoon is a shaky truce between you two as you drink hot chocolate and order in takeout and watch a movie together.

It’s not until you’re both under the sheets, satisfied and then showered, that you think about what he did to you in a clearer light. The thoughts weigh heavy on your mind, pulling and tugging. You think you might love him. He hurt you. He took care of you when no one else would. He cheated on you.

I love you, he tells you, when your mind is starting to tug itself into sleep.

He hit you. He said he was sorry.

He hit you.

#ransom drysdale #ransom x reader #yandere x reader #afterwitch headcanons #afterwitch writes #I'm not sure what to callt this because it's not a normal fic but it's not headcanons either #just #word vomit about ransom after i watched this movie every day for a week straight

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zevlors-tail · 4 years

Note

Hi I feel really bad for sending in an emergency request but bakugou, deku, or kaminari comforting and helping a reader who is going through a major depressive episode with suicidal thoughts. I’m so sorry I feel really bad for asking

A/N: I could not have gotten this at a more convenient time. I just want to say thank you for requesting this, and please don’t be sorry for asking about this. If you want to talk my dms are open, but I hope this helps! This was extremely cathartic for me to write. I only did Bakugou for the moment, but I fully plan on coming back at some point to at least add Denki (and also Deku eventually). Bakugou as a secret comfort character for me? It’s more likely than you think.

TW: Suicidal ideation, suicidal thoughts, suicidal reader, depression. PLEASE DO NOT READ if these things trigger you. It’s extremely descriptive and emotional!

Bakugou Katsuki

“Hey...are you okay?”

You barely snapped out of your foggy trance as you slowly blinked, your coworker’s face coming into focus eventually as you gathered your surroundings you had long since forgotten about. Your response was immediate, familiar words strung together with little effort after saying them over and over again. No longer did they drag you down and taste like lies in your mouth; now they were just the ghost of a feeling you struggled to remember, an empty shell with hollowed out meaning.

“Oh, yeah...just tired,” you drawled. And you were.

There weren’t too many days anymore that you didn’t feel drained, didn’t feel like the weight of the world was sitting on your shoulders. You felt heavy- both mentally and physically, like there were weights tethered to your arms and legs. It made you feel utterly exhausted at the end of every day and stole your motivation to get up in the morning. Your bed never seemed more comfortable, and your sheets never seemed so warm. If you had the choice, you would allow yourself to lie there forever, to skip work in favor of sleeping through the whole day, because what good was there in being awake, anyway? Lately it just seemed like everything was a waste.

“Are you sure? You just seem...down.” Your coworker gave you a concerned look, and you thought it ironic that the day you felt you might snap was the day everyone chose to finally ask if you were alright. Maybe she could see it on your face, or maybe you finally looked how you felt inside. Whatever the case, you didn’t care. In fact, you hardly cared about anything; it was hard to care about your life when you felt there was no value to it.

“I’m fine! Just really tired,” you repeated without hesitation.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” She seemed to take the explanation without any further question, shrugging and turning around to get back to what she had been doing before. “Just make sure management doesn’t catch you staring off like that; I think they’re in a bad mood today.”

Logically, you knew you were dealing with depression. Depression was not something new to you; this had happened before, and you had managed to dig yourself out of your own hole each time, but this time was...different. Logic didn’t stop the thoughts rampaging through your mind, didn’t quiet the voices that told you others would be better off without you. You felt like a burden to everyone, a walking problem that caused trouble everywhere you went. Just this morning at work you had dropped something accidentally, and it had spilled all over the floor and under the tables, the mess reaching into the cracks and crevices of the tiles where it would be harder to get to. You had done the best you could to clean it up, but in the end, the janitor had to step in and clean up the mess that you made. Maybe it was just an accident, and maybe you didn’t mean to spill your food, but you couldn’t see past the fact that you were always like this. Always spilling things, always causing problems for others, always inconveniencing everyone you came into contact with. Maybe...it would be better if you had stayed in bed all day instead of coming to work.

Maybe it would be better if you had never woke up in the first place.

...No!

You shook the thought from your head, doing your best to ignore it and focus on something else. Come on, you told yourself, focus on your job. But your mind remained hazy as you continued on with work, and it only served to cause more problems for you. By the end of the day, you had accidentally dropped a couple more items, slipped on some water and fell face first to the ground, and towards the end of your shift, just as you were clocking out, you bumped into an unruly customer who was clearly having none of it today. Hands reached out to shove you away and you stumbled, tripping over your own feet as you tried to get a grip and regain your balance.

“Watch where you’re going, god! Are you blind or something!? Jesus!”

For any other person, it might have just made them upset or angry, but it would have been passed off as a bad day, a bad moment in the grand scheme of things that would go away with time. But for you? For you it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Whatever motivation and will to live you had left, it was gone within the instant, replaced with a numb, empty feeling. What was the point in all of this? If this was life, if you were constantly going to cause problems and get in people’s way, what was your purpose here?

If nothing was enjoyable anymore...you just wanted it to end. It was too late for you anyways; you felt too far gone to be saved. And honestly...what was even left to save? You felt like a shell of your former self.

And that was how you left the store, feet dragging against the ground as you numbly walked to your car to go home. It took you a while to collect yourself, so you sat there for a few minutes in the parking lot, keys stuck in the ignition and hands resting loosely on the steering wheel. Finally, you worked up the will to actually start the car, and then you were on your way home. Home...where you would probably just lie through your teeth again and go lay in bed for the rest of the night.

Bakugou was in the kitchen making dinner when you padded through the foyer and announced your arrival, the smell of spices overwhelming rather than inviting or enticing. But then again, you didn’t have much of an appetite lately, and you found the thought of sleep to be more appealing than the thought of food anyways.

“I’m home.” Your voice was quieter than usual, your tone flat and monotonous. Bakugou didn’t respond for a minute, and you wondered if he had even heard you over the sound of something sizzling in a pan.

“Y/N, that you?” A head poked out from around the corner, red eyes meeting E/C. “How was work?”

“It was work.” You blinked and kicked your shoes off haphazardly, your body already caving in on itself as you made your way to the bedroom. If Bakugou noticed the change from your usual demeanor, he said nothing about it, only going back to what he was doing in the kitchen when you retreated to your sanctuary for the night.

Finally alone with your thoughts, you crawled under the soft sheets with your work clothes still on and curled up, eyes already shutting even before your head hit the pillow. At some point you must have managed to fall asleep, because the next thing you knew you were being shaken awake by Katsuki, a sweet and savory smell drifting through the air. Your stomach rumbled, and though it felt empty, you still didn’t feel like eating emotionally. The only thing you seemed to feel now was a heaviness settling on your soul.

“Y/N, come eat.” Either you were imagining things or Bakugou’s normally gruff voice was more gentle and relaxed as he woke you from your slumber.

You protested with a whine, your face scrunching up in annoyance from being woken up. “Tired...” you mumbled.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But you haven’t had anything since you came home from work, babe.”

“That was only an hour ago...” you started, your voice still thick from sleep. But as you looked towards your alarm clock on the nightstand next to the bed, you were surprised to find that the little digital numbers read 11:58 pm. You’d slept for a little over five hours since you had arrived home. “Shit-!”

That seemed to do the trick, and you were scrambling up and out of bed in no time, panic and confusion washing over you from your prolonged nap. Had you really slept so long? You hadn’t meant to, but it did feel nice to have a small break from everything you felt when you were awake. And again, you caught yourself wondering if maybe the world would be better off if you never woke up. Eventually the haziness of your dream state faded, leaving you with the same reality you had been facing earlier in the day. You wanted nothing more than to go back to bed and curl up in your state of melancholy, but you were up now, and Katsuki would worry if you didn’t eat anything.

The two of you made your way to the dinning room table where a plate of reheated leftovers sat along with some silver cutlery, a cute little holiday napkin leftover from Halloween resting next to it. You stared at the pumpkin covered paper for a while before picking up your fork and stabbing at whatever dish Bakugou had decided on for dinner. Lately he seemed to be on a vegetable kick, though a healthy dose of fruits and meats were also thrown into the mix for balance. You mindlessly chewed, not really paying attention to the flavor if there was any at all. In fact, it felt like you were chewing cardboard. You didn’t enjoy the taste or feel; you only ate purely out of habit and need to.

“Do you not like it?” Bakugou pulled you from your reverie of thoughts, your head snapping up in his direction when he spoke.

“Huh?”

“The food. You’ve barely touched it in the last ten minutes.”

Ten minutes? Since when had that much time passed? Looking down at your plate, you realized he was correct. Over half of your food remained untouched, bits and pieces of it spread around from your fork and pushed to the side as if it was your least favorite meal. You hadn’t even noticed you were playing with it, and you wondered how long you had been just sitting there scooting food around with a blank look on your face.

“No, it was good.” Liar. You’d hardly been able to taste it. But it wasn’t just food that had lost it’s merit to you, if you really thought about it. The world just didn’t seem as lively; colors seemed washed out and faded, food held no taste, and music just didn’t sound the same. Nothing was enjoyable for you anymore.

“Y/N. You know you can tell me if there’s something going on, right?” Bakugou’s eyes bored into you while you just stared at the brightly colored napkin.

“Yeah, I know!” you chirped back, eyes briefly flickering up to meet his gaze before returning to orange pumpkins.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?” It sounded like a question, but really it was an invite. He knew there was something going on with you. Asking you was his way of giving you room to explain yourself before he decided to pry. Usually he was mindful of any boundaries you might have had, but Katsuki was never a fool, and you tended not to open up easily. Sometimes a little pushing and prodding on his part was necessary.

“Not really? Just work, but it was the usual. I’m just tired.” Even as you tried to pass your unusual behaviors off as a bad day at work and exhaustion, you couldn’t hide the sour note that slipped into your voice along with the visible scowl you made. But the emotions were short lived, and you were back to feeling defeated and down within mere seconds.

“Hey...” You felt compelled to look up at him when he softened his voice even more, but everything in you told you to hold back and keep staring at those damn balls of orange on the napkin. Why, you weren’t sure- maybe it was to keep from crying, or maybe it was to suppress the feelings that were slowly surfacing within you, or maybe it was just because you no longer cared. “Are you alright?”

You visibly winced when he asked. Suddenly everything hurt; everything was a mess, it was all wrong, all of it, and you just wanted it to stop. The pain, the numbness, the thoughts- everything. It felt like you hadn’t been able to catch a break since the day you were born. Day in and day out you lived like that, and no one would ever ask if you were okay. No one took the time to check on you properly; no one seemed to notice when you felt like you were at your worst. Well...no one except Bakugou. He’d been your rock for a long time now, but lately everything had gotten much worse, and you had kept certain things from him so as not to burden him with your troubles. In your eyes, he had enough of his own problems; hero work was already rough on him as it was, so you kept things to yourself so he wouldn’t feel overwhelmed.

“Why does everyone always ask that when it’s already too late?”

The words tumbled uncontrollably from your mouth as your brows furrowed, a pained look clouding your dull eyes. Bakugou took a moment to process what you said before responding, eyes still locked onto you.

“What does that mean?” He already knew. You could hear it through the apprehensiveness in his voice, see it in the way he gritted his teeth anxiously. “Y/N, what does that mean?”

You glared at the blurry orange shape below you (were you crying...?), refusing to look Katsuki in the eyes. You were afraid of what might happen if you did. “I’m just...a waste of space.” There was a strange conviction to your voice, as if you’d made up your mind about something. Bakugou did not miss this. You, however, did miss the flash of fear in his ruby eyes as you spoke. “I cause problems for everyone I meet. I’m just a giant inconvenience to the world, and everyone would be better off without me. I don’t matter.”

“Y/N.”

“Would anybody even care if I was gone? I mean really, what difference am I making here?”

“Y/N, look at me.”

“It would be better that way. People wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore, and I don’t have to deal with all of...this.” You made some sort of gesture with your hands, your voice cracking as you held back hot tears. “Life. It’s just...it’s so exhausting. I’m so, so tired of having to wake up every day and drag myself out of bed and live. Nothing is fun anymore, and it’s hard just to breathe. I mean, seriously!? Come on, ya know? I didn’t ask for this, I don’t want to live like thi-!” You choked up, silent sobs wracking your shoulders as you buried your faced in your hands.

Across the table, Bakugou slid from his chair and made his way to you, feet thudding against the floor as he quickly closed the distance and kneeled down to your level. “I knew something was wrong, but...” He gently cupped your face in his hands, palms warm against your tear stained cheeks. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

You struggled to remember when this all started. Minutes turned to hours, hours to days, and days to weeks that blurred into months eventually. Time blended together, and you couldn’t recall the last time you felt able to get up in the morning without feeling like it was a chore. “I don’t know...” you answered honestly.

Bakugou rubbed his thumbs against your face carefully, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he brought you into an embrace against his chest. You didn’t fight it, instead leaning into his touch while crying, and the two of you stayed there for quite some time before Katsuki spoke up about how he was feeling.

“You may think that you don’t make much of a difference here on this earth, but that’s just utter bullshit, Y/N. You make a hell of a big difference to me and everyone else around you, and you would be sorely missed and grieved over. Don’t you dare for one second think that you’re not important or loved, because you are; you are so, so loved.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” you cried.

“I know, babe. It’s hard to see it right now, I know. Your mind is telling you the opposite. But believe me when I say you are the most loving and caring person I know. You’re always reaching out to others, maybe even a little too much, and you’re always checking on them. You’ve made a world of difference to everyone. Your friends need you, your family needs you, and I need you here. And I would be devastated if anything were to happen to you.” It was hard to believe anything he said. You wanted to, you wanted to so desperately. But you weren’t sure of anything anymore, and the most you could do was cling to him like a koala and hope that what he said was true. “Let me in. Let me be there for you. Trust me, please.” You’d never heard those words from Katsuki before. They sounded odd coming from his mouth, like they didn’t really belong on his tongue. But you listened because it was Bakugou, and you wanted to trust him. You wanted to be able to feel okay, and he’d always been there no matter how much you’d tried to push him away.

“Okay,” you murmured against his chest, your tired eyes drooping shut in exhaustion. Your shoulders followed suit as they slumped downwards, and you gave in and crumbled into his arms.

“You’re not a waste of space. You’re extremely important to me, and I don’t tell you that enough. Every day when you leave for work, I miss you. I love when you come home and greet me, and I’m a better person because of you. Y/N, you’ve gotten me through shit I didn’t think I was going to make it out of. And you know what? We can do this. We can do it together, and it’s going to take a lot of work, but we will do it. You’re not getting rid of me that easy.” You couldn’t help but to smile at that. “And I know you feel like a burden, but you’re not. Your problems are never a bother. People are here for you, they want to help support you and listen to you. I want to support you. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Everything’s gonna be okay. I love you.”

You couldn’t stop the fresh tears from falling, quiet hiccups taking over you as you cried into his shirt. “I love you too,” you managed somehow.

Bakugou rubbed a hand over your back, his chin coming to rest on your head as he sighed. “I’m not going to let you give up on yourself, no matter what.”

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #katsuki #bnha #mha #tw suicidal thoughts #tw suicidal ideation #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: suicidal ideation #tw: depression #tw depression

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anothers-trash-my-treasure · 3 years

Text

Take It Out On Me

Happy Smutty Saturday! I seem to like writing things revolving around the pandemic lmaoo I'm sorry, I don't want to make that a habit. This is escapism, after all. Anyways, request from god knows how long ago about angry fucking with our fav gremlin boi

Pairing: Merriell Shelton / Reader (Female)

Warnings: 18+. There's some angst, some words exchanged in anger but nothing too crazy. Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls don't be dumb) Rough sex, dirty talking, hints of BDSM if you squint, praise kink if you squint.

Word Count: 3K

Tag List: @edteche2 @xmxisxforxmaybe @diasimar @txmel @gloriousdarkangelsworld @paradoxicaltornado @404-not-found-xix

Enjoy!

When the pandemic started, things weren’t so bad. Your job allowed you to simply work from your laptop, you had turned the second bedroom/storage room into a makeshift office and it worked just fine. Merriell, on the other hand, was not so lucky. He had been laid off, and, at first, was incredibly stressed about it. Thankfully though, you made enough money to cover the rent and the government came through with some financial aid that helped Mer pay for the bills. You’d be okay.

In fact, once the financial stresses were taken care of, it was actually kind of nice. You two hadn’t lived together long, but long enough that you had noticed your schedule differences and long enough to know you had missed each other. Gone were the late nights at the shop that left you lonely and missing his touch. Quite the contrary, during the first few months, you had fucked like rabbits. He had taken you in every room of the house like you were christening the damn thing all over again. The kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, hell, he even had you in your ‘office’ at one point. It was fun, being together all the time.

Until it wasn’t.

Eventually, being cooped up in the same goddamn space all the damn time got to both of you. And you loved him dearly but god he was so fucking annoying sometimes. Usually, you could avoid creating tension either by slinking away to your office for a bit or politely asking him to take a walk. But the office door had been a lost cause ever since he fucked you up against it so hard it came right off its hinges and it was raining outside, so he couldn’t leave. You were stuck.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad, but the little things that usually didn’t matter had gone unchecked and undiscussed and were beginning to bite at your skin in a way you couldn’t ignore. For you, it had started when you went to the bathroom in the morning, only to discover he had left the toilet seat up and you fell right through. For him it had started when you unconsciously kicked him awake at 6 in the morning on a Saturday. And from there it spiraled. By the time you were ready for coffee, he had drunk the whole pot.

“Thanks for leaving me some.” you had grumbled, and maybe you meant it in good fun, but your sleepy attitude struck a chord, and you knew that because it was met with silence.

So maybe that’s why you didn’t ask him if he wanted some of the eggs you were making for breakfast. And maybe that’s why he decided the be extra loud when he finally made his own breakfast. Pots and pans clanging as he threw them in the sinks, cupboard doors slamming shut and using his fork just a little too violently in a way that set your whole being on edge.

By the end of the day, you had snapped at each other a few times and the tension was so thick that you could barely stand just being next to him. You hated that you were feeling this way, that these stupid lockdowns were driving you away from each other when all you wanted was the opposite. But you couldn’t let go of your anger and annoyance, and it bled through your veins, poisoning any conflict resolution that threatened to act as an antidote to your frustrations.

The last straw came at dinner. He had asked you what you wanted to eat and just the question had you gritting your teeth. So you had replied, telling him that he could make whatever he wanted. That, apparently, was the wrong answer.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he snarled, slamming his hand down onto the kitchen island, “Can you please jus' tell me what the fuck you want?!”

You had done nothing more than glance his way and roll your eyes, not getting a chance to respond before he was launching into a tangent.

“Seriously, what the fuck do ya think I am? Some kinda mind reader?” He asks, one hand gesturing wildly while the other keeps the counter in a white-knuckled grip, “Ya been in this fuckin’ mood all goddamn day and Darlin, I gotta say, ‘m fuckin’ sick of it.”

You bark out a sharp, bitter laugh, “Oh, you’re sick of it?” You stand up from the couch, walking behind it so you can get closer to him, “Like you haven’t been intentionally pissing me off all fucking day.”

His jaw pushes out in annoyance, both hands now gripping the countertop, “I promise you,” and you gotta give the guy credit for trying to regain some composure, “whateva’ I did to make you this goddamn bitchy was not intentional.”

“Oh, so I’m a bitch now?” You counter, folding your arms over your chest.

His eyes close and his chin tucks into his chest, recognizing his mistake but unwilling to apologize for it, “That’s not what I meant.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Tell me.” you insist, stepping closer to him, “Tell me what a bitch I’ve been. Blame all your problems on me. Because that’s just easier, isn’t it?”

It’s not true. You know. He knows it. But right now, all you can focus on is the anger that’s been boiling in the pit of your stomach.

“Y’know what? Maybe this-” he cuts himself off, but his quick gesture between the two of you finishes the rest of his sentence for him. Silence fills the kitchen and now there’s salt added to the wound. Hurt swirls with your anger and you can’t stop yourself from talking even if you tried.

“No, say it.” you encourage bitterly, crossing the line into the kitchen, “Tell me how moving in together was a mistake. Tell me how you can’t fucking stand living with me. Tell me how I’m so bitchy and how sick you are of my shit. Tell me-”

Before you can finish antagonizing him, he’s got you pushed up against the wall, his hands braced on either side of your head. He’s so close to you, you can feel his breath, angry and panting on your skin. You look into his eyes, seeing them hard and cold with his anger but something else lying behind them.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, and before you can even begin to be angry about it his lips are on yours and you can’t breathe.

His anger is very apparent, even as he kisses you. It’s rough, bruising, but it’s an outlet for all the negative feelings you’ve been experiencing so you kiss him back just as hard. You reach for him, unsure if you’re working to pull him closer and push him away. It doesn’t really matter though because he doesn’t let you touch him for long. Within seconds both your wrists are taken in one hand and pinned above your head. You fight against his hold, despite knowing it’s futile. In retaliation you bite down hard on his lip, feeling only a little satisfied when he pulls away in shock, his free hand coming up to check for blood. There's not.

You meet his eyes with a defiant smirk. He wants to play dirty? Fine. You can play that way too.

He steps away and for a second you think he’s actually going to walk away. But then-

“Get your ass to the bedroom.”

You almost laugh. If he thinks you’re, in any way, going to be compliant tonight, he’s sadly mistaken. Instead, you cross your arms, falling back to lean against the wall, your eyes never leaving his. He chuckles, an angry smirk crossing his features. He looks away, shaking his head, tongue poking against the side of his cheek in complete disbelief. Before you can think of your next move he’s got you thrown over his shoulder, marching the both of you down the hallway to your shared bedroom. You squirm, trying to push yourself to an angle that would let you fight his grip but it’s no use. By the time you work his hold free, he’s already dropping you on the bed. Although dropping may not be the right word, he all but slams you down, leaving you momentarily breathless.

Even then, he moves quickly. His hands move to his belt, quickly working the clasp back and off so he can slide his jeans off. Despite your anger, you feel heat pool between your legs when the fabric drops to reveal bare skin. It’s nothing new for Merriell, but it never fails to do something to you. He knows it too, a cocky smile gracing his face as he sheds his shirt too. He only lets you look for a second before he’s quickly flipping you onto your stomach. He forces you up onto your knees, hand finding the back of your neck to keep you where he wants you as he climbs onto the mattress behind you.

You put up a bit of a fight, although you’re becoming less and less focused on your anger and frustration and more focused on the feeling on his cock pressing against the back of your jean-clad thigh.

“Always seem to forget how fucking stubborn you are.” He growls into your ear, pressing himself against the line of you body while his free hand starts to unbutton and work off your pants, “Hard headed and difficult.” he continues, biting roughly on your earlobe just to here your intake of breathe and to feel you struggle against his hold, “A fucking brat.” He punctuates the last words by tugging both your jeans and panties down around your thighs roughly. You hiss at the forcefulness of the action, feeling the burn of the fabric against your skin contrasting with cool air against your bare pussy.

You’re completely at his mercy.

His presence is dominating, even though you can’t see him, his hands, one pressing on your neck to keep you still and the other caressing the swell of your ass, let you know exactly who's in charge. You don’t struggle, both of you knowing how much you want him, but you still hold an air of defiance. Your face is turned so you can breathe, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him. He tries to draw you out, teasing you by dragging his cock against your wetness. He alternates between taking the tip and rubbing it between your folds and fucking the space between your thighs. He knows what it does to you, can see the way you fight the urge to beg by pressing your lips together.

But you don’t fold.

“C’mon baby,” he taunts, venom laced in his words, “I know you want it.” As he talks the hand on your neck slides up into your hair, “Know you want that attitude fucked outta ya,” He tugs your hair roughly, pulling a gasp from your lips and forcing you to look back at him, “All ya gotta do is ask.”

You breathe heavily for a second, eyes locked with his, “Go fuck yourself.”

He growls, shoving your head back down into the mattress and thrusting into you roughly. Your back arches, eyes rolling back in your head as he begins to fuck you, not allowing you even a second to catch your breath. The second he sees bliss cross your features, he’s insufferable.

He laughs against a moan, “Feisty,” he comments, “but the second my dick’s in ya, you’re putty in my hands.”

You’re desperate to prove him wrong. You force your eyes open, locking them with his and pushing back against his thrusts, the headboard already banging against the wall with the force of both your movements.

“Feel’s good doesn’t it?” He asks, free hand coming down on your ass with a sharp smack.

“I’ve had better.” Your voice bounces with each thrust, but you’re determined to keep your composure, despite the pleasure that makes your toes curl.

Another growl rumbles through his chest and he lays another harsh smack to your rear, just to see your body react, “Liar,” he hisses, fingers digging into your skin.

His angle changes ever so slightly so that his cock now drags against your sweet spot with every movement and you can’t force your moan back. His eyes light up, laughing delightedly at the sound, “Had betta’ my ass.” he comments, leaning down to bite roughly on your shoulder, effectively leaving marks all across them, “Ya jus’ can’t help ya’self. You love it. Love the feeling of my cock in you.”

“Who says I’m thinking of you?” You shoot back.

You know it’s not true. Merriell was unlike any lover you had before, you were hopelessly and utterly ruined for anyone else. But that didn’t matter. The comment, however untruthful, hits his possessive streak just like you knew it would. He pulls out of you, flipping you onto your back and nearly ripping the remaining fabric off your body before resuming his brutal pace, this time using your wrists on either side of your head to hold you down. In this position he can ensure that you’re looking at him, leaving no doubt in either of your minds that it’s him that makes you feel like this. Only him.

“Such a fucking brat,” he growls, leaving bite marks all along your skin. By the time you’re done, there won’t be a part of your body that’s not marked by him.

He stops talking for a second, focusing instead on giving you the fucking of your life. He’d never fucked you like this. He’d been possessive, sweet, caring, loving, jealous. But never angry. Not like this. Every ounce of frustration and anger he’d felt was redirected to his hips, the air tense with the hurtful words you’d both said earlier.

“C’mon,” you taunt when he slows for a second, lips turned up in a sneer even as you pant, breathless, “That all you got?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarls, hoisting your legs up onto his shoulders, releasing your hands so he can move one to your throat, pressing you into the bed that way instead. It’s hard for you to breathe that way, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it. And if you thought he was fucking you hard before, it’s nothing compared to the way he’s fucking you now.

The new angle allows him to trust deeper into you and your stubborn resolve begins to fade a little. Your hands scramble to latch onto his forearm that holds you down, not trying to push him away but just searching for purchase, for support somewhere you’ve always found it. He’s not faring much better, head rolling back onto his shoulders with a groan as he fucks you. You’re both quickly abandoning your anger in favor of the pleasure that you provide each other.

“Merriell,” you mewl, a peace offering without even realizing it.

His head snaps back to look down at you, eyes sparkling at the sound of your name on his lips for the first time tonight, “There she is,” he pants, leaning down to kiss you, open-mouthed and filthy. It’s still harsh, but the anger behind his motions is nearly gone, “My good girl, huh?”

You don’t even need to nod, to voice your confirmation. It’s not even really a question. You both know you’d come to an unspoken agreement.

“Fuck, baby girl.” he moans against your mouth, slowing his trusts just enough so he can really make you feel the drag of his cock inside you, “Oh, you feel so good.”

You love it when he gets like this. When all he can do is fuck into you and voice his pleasure. It’s a sure sign of surrender.

“Yes,” you gasp, back arching up against his as you feel your pleasure begin to reach its peak, “Merriell, I’m close.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, nodding in agreement, “C’mon, baby I gotcha. Let go for me.”

Your eyes lock with his the second you feel yourself slip over the edge. You see the way his eyes watch you, full of love that he had hidden behind his anger earlier. Your nails dig into his arm and your eyes roll back, unable to help yourself as pleasure courses through your whole body. You think that maybe you're shaking, but you’re completely detached from your conscious, knowing only the bliss he’s brought you.

Your senses come back to you just in time to feel him finish inside of you. His head buries into your neck, muffling his moans against your skin. The hand that had previously held you down now cups the back of your neck, the other gripping the back of your thigh with a grip so tight, you’re sure you’ll wear his fingerprints for a week.

He collapses against you, staying buried in your heat but pulling back enough so he can kiss you passionately. You kiss him back, hands tangling in his hair as your emotions begin to rise. When he pulls back your eyes are wet with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, rubbing your noses together.

He nods, rubbing your noses together affectionately, “Me too,” he says, just as quiet, “Don’t leave.”

It’s a rare moment of sheer vulnerability, much needed after the heightened tensions throughout the past few days. You both knew, on some levels that the words shared earlier were spoken only out of frustration. But there was always that glimmer of doubt that you both felt. For him, it was always that you could find someone better. And for you, it was always the possibility of him growing sick of you.

You shake your head, kissing his softly, lovingly, “Never.”

After a few more moments of holding each other, he pulls out of you but doesn't move much further. He pulls you tight against his chest, kissing the top of your forehead. You bask in the silence for a handful of moments, just listening to each other breathe, finally feeling the tension between the two of you dissipate.

“Next time, can you just please put the seat down?” You murmur against his chest, a teasing tone to your voice.

He barks out a laugh and you grin against his skin at the sound.

Everything was going to be okay.

#merriell shelton #merriell shelton x reader #merriell shelton / reader #snafu #snafu shelton #snafu x reader #rami malek #rami malek smut #rami malek x reader #smut #angst

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danniburgh · 3 years

Text

Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 21

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +4.9k

Chapter warnings: uhm, this chapter is Javier’s perspective ehehe, so, beware fo feelings

A/N: This chapter is set in season three, episode ten. // again, i am really fucking sorry, but we are ALMOST DONE OMG, also i wanna say thanks to my official cheerleaders @queenofthefaceless and @maharani-radha-writes that helped me a lot and @alliterative-albatross that made me feel sure of some of the ideas i had for this chapter, i love you lots, guys. While proof reading this chapter for the first time i understood why it was the hardest to write, it was because i had just to strip myself naked and understand more of Javier Peña as i had built him... i just... im not quite pleased with the second half of this, but i know its needed.

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist // fic playlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 let me know if you wanna be tagged

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gif: @javier-pena (thank you so much for making this when i needed it the most, ily)

The air weighed on his chest; he felt his lungs struggling to find air; as he drove home, he felt his heart pounding hard and fast, as if it wanted to rip out of his chest and run and hide and die.

As if his heart wanted the same he did.

Javier couldn’t sleep that night. He didn’t even try to close his eyes after climbing into bed.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you.

Jesus Christ.

His mind was reeling, he couldn’t stop replaying every single thing you told him in his mind.

“My name is not Florencia Martín”

“A precarious situation”

“Another Los Pepes scenario”

“You do care, you care a lot”

He wanted to crawl into a deep hole and bury himself to stop his body from feeling.

Javier cringed deeply when he remembered he had told you he had fallen in love with you without even thinking about it.

That certainly wasn’t the way you were supposed to find out.

He guessed, while tossing around on his bed, on the same sheets that still smelled like you, that he had it coming. He probably deserved it. But that didn’t make him feel any better, it stung.

It burned.

Javier had stripped himself naked for you, more than just his body, he had let you see him; he had let you touch him; he had let you read him; he had let you know him.

He had let himself feel and… he had let himself think he deserved something good.

He felt like such an idiot, stupid and embarrassed because there you had been… Standing in front of him, in a place he thought it would become something close to his fortress, breaking him. And he let you.

God. He had known you for less than six months, and yet he let you have power over him. All that power to make him whatever you wanted. He had handed you a sledgehammer and his heart and soul on a porcelain platter for you to shatter.

And he just took it.

Javier huffed at his own thoughts while his eyes were glued to the ceiling.

He was an idiot, wasn’t he? Having let himself feel all those things he had been so beware of for a woman he never really knew.

What else was fake about you?

He felt that sting, known and oh so foreign clench in his throat and he fought it. He fought it hard. Why was he feeling like that?

“A precarious situation”

“You do care, you care a lot”

He sat up and brought his knees to his chest, clenching his jaw so tight his face started trembling.

He had to unclench it so he could open his mouth and gasp for air because his lungs were tightening in his chest and he knew he just had to let go. He shook his head to nothing and fought it again. He would not break. He couldn’t.

But then he remembered he was all alone. Just him and his mind and... he stopped fighting for the first time in years and allowed his feelings to pour down from his eyes.

Javier clenched his jaw again as he felt the thick, years old tears pouring and pouring, clouding his sight, flooding his face.

“Fuck,” he muttered to nothing, resting his face on his hand and his arm on his knee, his chest struggling with the silent sobs he was drowning in.

Javier cried for around an hour.

He allowed himself to cry, to cry for you, because if he had allowed himself to fall in love with you and he had allowed you to wield power over him, he deserved a chance to fall apart as well.

He had earned it.

His tears of grief and pain became tears of anger and pain.

He was so angry; at himself, because, thinking again about everything you had told him, you had said something right; he had dragged you into having whatever the hell you two had. He had kissed you and practically turned your wrist into starting something with him only, and just only because he felt lonely. Because he felt like maybe, for the first time in decades, he could have something good. Because he felt like maybe it was time for him to love and be loved again when, in reality, he didn’t deserve to be loved by anyone.

He had let himself believe you could be something else, less complicated. But how wrong he was… Him? Loved? As if. Him? In Colombia? Laughable.

That country… It became more than clear how much he had lost by going down there.

He huffed again in between tears at how it took a massive hit to the heart for him to realize how much he had lost in the years he had been there.

He was so angry; at the system. The fucking system that forced you and him into taking assignments you didn’t deserve to take. There wasn’t another moment he hated more right then, than the moment he had said yes to returning to Colombia. His dad was right, he didn’t like what he found. And it truly changed him before he could change it. How he wanted to have listened to him, how he wanted to not be the stubborn ass he was and just… said no.

And you? You had taken an assignment that promised unreachable things, one that forced you into turning into a liar, one that didn’t let you be yourself.

Fuck, was he really trying to find justifications for what you did even though you had broken him in pieces?

He was so angry; at you. For lying to him and from dropping the facade, for taking off the mask that he had rushed to love, for thinking he deserved the truth instead of you leaving once everything was over. He thought it would have hurt less if you had just… disappeared.

He wouldn’t be crying at three in the morning on his bed if you had just vanished into thin air.

Javier remembered seeing the hope in your eyes when you were telling him the truth, who you really were, he saw it and he wanted to tell you he forgave you. But neither of you deserved something that good.

He was sure it all was some kind of karma. A penance for all his sins, a way too high price he had to pay for all the shit he had done.

He realized then, while sitting on his bed in the middle of the night, the same one he had shared with you for nights that felt burned into his memory, that you and him weren’t so different.

That you two had more in common than he had first thought. That you, as he had said to you before, when you were still wrapped around his arms on that same bed, were a person who was willing to do anything for a greater cause. That you as well were capable of doing anything if you thought it did good, that you also were capable of sacrifice, of losing everything as long as you were doing what you thought was the right thing.

And you had told him, as you cried your eyes out in front of him, facing him and facing and taking all the repercussions of your actions, that you really thought it was the right thing to do.

The realization was truly bittersweet. He didn’t like that even when you had broken his heart and stepped on the pieces as you walked out, he still understood why you did it.

After that despaired, miserable night, he decided he was done bringing you to the front of his mind, so he shoved all the memories of you and tried to repress them in the back of his head along with countless others he didn’t rather to address.

The next day he stepped into the office with less than half an hour of sleep he had seemed to catch while condemning himself in the solitude of his room and avoided looking at your still cluttered desk. Full of you.

He ignored Stoddard when he asked him where you were as he stepped out of the office to head to Cali an hour later and while the elevator brought him down to the lobby he tried to drown the way the mention of your fake name made him feel.

That morning you walked directly to the CIA office, every step you gave into the embassy hurt in your body, mind and soul as if each one had a dagger embedded deeply and an invisible hand was twisting each dagger deeper. You felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. You entered, unannounced, into Stechner’s office, not even trying to hide the enormous amount of pain you were going through. You were tired of hiding things.

“Ah, my favorite DEA agent,” Stechner said when he saw you walk in “well, not anymore, I guess.” he smirked and you felt his gaze linger on your body, shamelessly.

“Let’s just get this over with.” you muttered, crossing your arms on your chest.

“Oh, this is more than over, alright?” the man leaned back on his chair and reached a manila folder that rested on top of others on his desk and raised it so you could see it “resignation, what a word,” he said, putting the folder back on the desk, opening the folder and taking the sole sheet of paper on his hand “really? after you failed almost epically?” Stechner smiled humorlessly and took your resignation letter in both hands and… ripped it in half.

You drowned a gasp.

“You have a flight to Washington today at noon.” he let out softly, feigning a comprehensive tone.

“Of course I do.” you mumbled, dropping your arms to the sides, feeling your eyes flood with tears as you saw him tossing the parts of your resignation letter in the trash can.

You blinked the tears away and quietly took a deep breath, halfway achieving a fake sense of stability you had fed yourself since the night before.

What were you thinking, after everything you did they would have let you get off easy? Of course not you silly girl.

“Oh, honey, you need a hug?” Stechner asked with a teasing gaze and a fake tone of worry “I bet breaking up with Peña really did something on you, you look like a mess”

You tightened your jaw and rolled your hands into fists, Stechner noticed, and his mocking face dropped.

“Anything else?” you asked him, voice hardened, with your eyes staring right into his, admonishing him, warning him. He knew what you were capable of, you knew he did.

He shook his head twice, and you lifted your chin up.

“I really wish you the best, sweetie.” he mumbled, dropping his gaze to his desk and trying to ignore the way your face turned into a scowl at the endearment.

“No, you don’t, you fucker,” you all but growled wanting nothing more than to erase that seemingly permanent smirk off his face that grew after he raised his head to look at you “you’re happy that I’m getting out of here like this,” you chuckled bitterly “you wanted this to happen, I hope you’re satisfied.” you let out all the venom you had been keeping inside you for that man in the last sentence you spat to him.

“You’re right, but I won’t say it,” he tutted and shook his head slowly “you really cost us a lot, sweetheart,” he mumbled and you were sure you were about to spit foam from the rage inside you “I hope you know that.”

You sighed and smiled bitterly at the man. Ever so fucking disgusting. For the first time in your life, you wanted something bad to happen to someone. And you didn’t regret it.

“I won’t ever forget it.” you spat at him in a soft voice that made him glare at you with a serious face.

You turned around and walked out of his office, leaving the door open, feeling his stare on your back.

Feeling, then more than ever, the insides of your mind finishing crashing down. Finally broken. Fully broken.

You walked towards the elevator and pushed the lobby button, hoping to dissolve in the way, hoping the elevator floor would just break and the void swallowed you and your body crashed against the concrete floor of the second basement.

But instead, the doors opened on the DEA floor and Stoddard stepped inside, shooting you a concerned smile as the doors closed.

“Hi, Florencia,” he looked at you and you tried to give him a smile, knowing you failed “you okay?” he asked, you blinked a few times before looking at him. He pushed his glasses up.

“Yeah!” you let out in a squeal “just peachy.” you drifted your eyes away and sighed again.

“I… thought you were in Cali.” Stoddard let out after a few seconds, you turned to see him with your brow furrowed.

“Cali?”

“Well… yeah,” he shrugged “the boss and the guys went back to Cali this morning.”

You let out a sigh, of both relief and worry.

“Oh,” you said under your breath “no, I…” you shook your head and tried to smile at him again and failed, this time he noticed “I needed to take care of something else.”

“I see,” he mumbled, the elevator doors opened and you stepped out “you sure you’re okay?” he asked, looking at you, you nodded several times.

“Yeah, Stod,” you assured him, trying to make him believe it, not quite sure if you believed yourself “I’m fine.”

Stoddard nodded at you as the elevator doors closed and you waved him once goodbye. Knowing it would be the last time. You walked out of the embassy in complete and utter shame, and some part inside you screamed that you deserved it.

Javier rescued another witness that day, because he still wanted to do something right even though he didn’t feel right himself.

But then, after sending Guillermo Pallomari to Miami, he had to return to his office. That place he had thought was his fortress, and then it was turned into… a dungeon.

He didn’t ignore your cluttered desk this time; he was alone in the office, there was no one that could say anything of him if he just… looked around.

A steel cup filled with different colored pens and only red markers, a pile of unsigned DEA reports, in one of the drawers a block of sticky notes running low, the same ones you made notes on and stuck on files when you reviewed them and that Javier hated to see because they were just so fucking bright, your red coffee cup you used when you didn’t have time to grab some at his house because he just kept kissing you until you both were late, which didn't happen at your place because Javier always woke up before you and started the coffee machine, a gun holster you hated to use because it just never clutched the way you wanted to your jeans and a small, brown journal he had never seen before and that he took because there wasn’t anyone that could say anything of him if he just… looked around.

He hesitated for a moment to open the journal, unsure of himself or of what he would find. The first page had your initials, your real initials written on the far left corner and just a list of names he didn’t recognize, next a few scribbles and a phone number. Javier skimmed through the pages and around the middle he found his name. Written in your pretty handwriting, with a few numbers underneath that looked dangerously close to file codes.

He snapped the journal closed and left it where he found it. He shouldn’t have looked.

In his office he found all the documents you had risked so much to gather and all the intel you just handed to him, pretty much as he had handed you his heart.

Javier let out a sigh and grabbed the folders, sitting behind the desk and opening the first one.

He re-read every single piece of information until his eyes stung from the exhaustion, or the cigarette smoke, or maybe more unshed tears he was once again fighting so hard to keep inside him.

Tears of sadness, it was a given. But also anger, and frustration and pain, and, as a bucket of freezing cold water, years of regrets fell on him.

Javier had tried, had tried hard to bury all that shit in some far, deep corner of his mind, as he had tried to bury you and all his memories of the last four? five? months. He really did. But at that moment, sheltered inside an office that didn’t feel like his anymore, past midnight, alone and so damn vulnerable, it all rose to the surface and he found himself drowning inside a sea of his own mistakes and past sins.

It was unbearable to stay there. So he grabbed the files that felt like burning in his hands and took off.

And so, Javier went back to an empty apartment that even though had been his for a long time, felt emptier than it had ever felt without you and reminded him only of you.

Why had he allowed his house to become a fucking shrine to the time you had spent there?

Everytime he looked at everything, from the fucking lamp at the corner of the end table to the damn waterbottle you left the last morning you were there on his kitchen counter, an image of you invaded his mind. Like a suffocating wildfire, spreading with the simplest blow of the wind. Covering him, trapping him, burning him and turning him into ashes.

That night he drank almost all the alcohol he had left in his house and even then, with his body full of booze, his intoxicated mind all the time returned to you. To your face, to your eyes and that color that was so common yet somehow looked so unique, to your voice and how you called his name either on a whisper or on a scold, to your smile and how apparently you had one only for him, to your hands and how you used them one night to touch him and the next morning to grip a gun, to how you drove him crazy from the very beginning. Fuck, he loved you. And he hated you all the same.

You gave him your resignation letter, you had left a job you claimed you loved so much that you had taken on something that did you so much wrong. You quit because of what they made you do, and probably, just probably, he had to do the same. Because of what they did to him.

Was it worth it? Everything he did… Was it worth something? Anything?

He thought again of everything he had done in the past decade and felt sick at what his brain was showing him. It really wasn’t.

The idea of doing something good, doing something that could give him a little peace invaded his mind and he spent half the night thinking of something he could do to finally, finally feel like he was helping.

The next morning he found himself sitting in the conference room with Crosby hovering around him. He huffed at himself, sitting there as if there was nothing wrong going around, with the ambassador looking at him with his ever so present judgemental smirk, as if he wasn't just pieces of a man that put himself together with the weakest glue when he got dressed that morning with less than two hours of sleep after being trapped inside his house that smelled like you with nothing but alcohol and time to think. His pop was right, they did something to him in that country. He just didn’t know what.

“Y’know how many times I’ve gotten a call from the Department of Justice and State the same morning?” Crosby rhetored, Javier looked at him, already tired of the lecture he was about to get “count ‘em on one finger, guess we have you to thank for that.”

Javier dropped his eyes to the oak table in front of him and absentmindedly tried to draw a pattern with the tip of his finger while half listening to Crosby telling him about his meeting with the Colombian president to demand that the gentlemen of Cali stayed in jail. He looked back at his boss and after half a second of pondering he told him he had a draft indictment of the president’s ties with the cartel, omitting the part of the story where he had drafted it half drunk the night before. And of course Crosby laughed at it.

Javier huffed again at himself when Crosby suggested he kept the draft to himself and he felt his blood starting to boil. He sighed and fought the urge to stand up and leave. What was he thinking? That a man like Crosby would back up a man like him? Just like that? What a naïve thought.

“The DOJ’s not gonna topple a government, Agent Peña,” the ambassador told him, obviating the statement, Javier felt his chest turn “you can’t tell me you’re surprised by that.”

“Some part of me was holding out hope, I guess.” he muttered to Crosby, who walked around the table and stood next to him, Javier didn’t even bother to hide his face from him, god how tired he was of hiding.

“Well, you should tell that part to grow the fuck up,” Crosby spat and Javier drowned a bitter chuckle “no, I mean it, Agent Peña, you should be happy,” the ambassador said and Javier frowned at the man “you played the system like a goddamn fiddle, you won.”

Javier opened his mouth to rebut the statement but Crosby just walked behind his chair and left the room, leaving him with the word in his mouth.

He felt his stomach toss in disgust, at his boss, at his job, at himself. Fuck that.

“Yes, sir.” he mumbled under his breath.

Did he really win something? The job that helped him escape from everything, the one at some point of his life felt like a dream, had become a nightmare. The woman he grew to love, after years and years of not feeling that, barely got out of there alive and the name he had whispered in extasis wasn’t even hers. Everything he had once believed in was melting away like wax on a candle and being washed away by a sea of regret, desolation and anger.

Did he really win something when he had lost everything? He had even lost himself in the process of what he and everyone around him had called a once in a lifetime opportunity to end a War that was so familiar to him it almost sat at the table on Thanksgiving with him and his dad.

And when he got out of the conference room, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, the idea of following your steps and quit became a lot more attractive to him.

So he went back to his empty home filled with your memories, resigned that he wouldn’t sleep much that night either, and stood in the middle of the living room, not knowing why he felt like a visitor in his own house, chain smoking, thinking about everything just because he wanted to stop thinking about you.

Javier walked to his window and dwindled himself to watch the cars down the street pass, the city was so unaware of everything. The country was so unaware of how it was being torn apart by the same people that were elected to take care of it. And he was so fucking angry, at everything and everyone, at himself. And so tired. Exhausted.

The phone rang behind him and he didn’t even flinch at the sound, even when practically no one called his house phone. He just let the machine get it.

“Hi, Javi, uhm…” he stiffened in place when he heard your voice and turned his head to eye the cradle “I know you probably don’t wanna listen to me right now but…” you sounded small, your voice sounded thin, Javier turned around and walked towards the phone “uhm, I wanted to apologize again and…” he felt like he couldn’t think, his mind was filled with your voice as if it were a fog that clouded his vision, he wanted to pick the phone up, he wanted to ask you where you were and tell you to come home to him, but his brain wasn’t letting him “I–I’m in Washington and I tho–thought…” his eyes closed on themselves when he heard you sigh and choke down a sob “forget it, uhm, I just… fuck…”

Javier looked at the phone, the sound of static still there, he pondered if he should just swallow his anger and his newfound pride and just pick up.

“I think someone will contact you about this and I just wanted to let you know I–I didn’t tell them anything about... us…” he heard you chuckle softly and he just stood there, rolling his hands into fists, waiting for you to say something else, “I’m sorry, Javi, uhm… I really think I did the right thing by telling you, I’m just sorry it had to be like this…” you sniffed on the phone and Javier sighed, “I guess I also wanted, uhm, to hear your voice… shit.” he closed his eyes and grabbed the phone.

“Hello?” he said and gripped the receiver when the sound of the cut line replied to him.

Javier threw the receiver on the floor and sat on the couch, cursing at himself for his weakness and his hesitation altogether.

He rested his head on his hands while thinking on the few things you had said, if you were in Washington talking to the directives that meant they didn’t let you resign, that meant they were firing you. And you called him to let him know his involvement was minimal, because still after everything you were trying to divert the backlash from him.

God how he was tired.

That’s when he decided, he was going to do it. Not only for what you had made him feel, but because he just needed to leave back all the baggage he had been carrying with him for almost a decade. He needed to let go. He knew it, he needed to free himself of something that turned him entirely into a different person that wasn't even close to what he had been before, because no one else would do it for him.

And he had nothing else to lose. Absolutely nothing.

Once that thought occupied his mind, he finally could lay down on the couch and sleep.

The next morning Javier just re-dressed and called his journalist contact, he had decided, in his pre-sleep haze, that he was just gonna tell the truth. To everyone.

Just as you did with him, he was going to use all the information you had given to him to redeem yourself of your own baggage to get rid of some of his.

Even when he didn’t want to think of you, you were still helping him.

And the truth went out as he told it, and he let himself out of the whole situation by following your steps.

Until the ambassador called him into his office later that day and that time… Javier felt like he could tell the man absolutely anything.

He had nothing else to lose.

When he walked into the office Crosby was watching the news about his little interview. Javier walked and sat in across from him, feeling something that looked like freedom. But his mind was still reeling with guilt and loss.

“You didn’t really call the country that we’re guests in a narco democracy.” Crosby asked without asking, Javier looked at the man and shook his head once.

“Are you sayin’ that it isn’t?” he replied, looking at the ambassador tightening his jaw.

“The state department’s livid.”

Javier nodded a few times.

“Good, they’re responsible,” he let out and shrugged slightly “we all are.”

“Samper is not going anywhere.” Crosby let him know, quite exasperated. Javier dropped his eyes to the man’s desk.

“Well, at least people know the truth.” he said, including himself in the sentence. No more lies.

Javier saw Crosby shake his head and study the four walls that surrounded them, and he caught himself wanting to read him like you would be able to.

“I want you gone, Peña,” the ambassador told him, Javier guessed so “so do the colombians.”

“I understand, sir.” Javier replied and Crosby said nothing else. He looked at the ambassador for a few seconds and saw also a shell of a man. He guesses that it wasn’t so much the job that took a person’s humanity, but the context in which they do it.

He stood up and walked towards the door.

“You know…” Crosby called, Javier turned around “any aspirations you had for your career just got dragged behind the barn and shot.”

Javier licked his lower lip and allowed himself to look intently at the ambassador, the man looked at him with something he thought was pity.

“I resigned from the DEA this morning.”

Crosby stood up straighter when he heard it, Javier said it almost solemnly, and saying it out loud not only made it more real, but it really made him feel light as a feather for the first time since he was a teenager when he walked out of the ambassador’s office for the last time in his life.

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shortyisweird9 · 4 years

Text

'Lonely ghost serie'

An interesting night- part II

Tw⚠️: swearing

Corpse stretched as he set up his work station, Pewds was starting another live stream and invited him on and since sleep won't show up anytime soon, he hopped on without much thinking.

He smiled when his friends started to greet each other and him.

"Guys, you saw the video I send you ,right?" Lily asked.

"Yeah but I couldn't get in touch with ghost ,her friend was kind to let me know she might not feel comfortable doing a livestream with complete strangers. "Jack said as the others puffed in disappointment.

"That sucks. I wanted to see if she could have kill us all." Grease spoke as he opens a can of soda.

"You wanted to be killed by her?!"

They laughed as Grease quickly defended himself.

"Hey-Hey, to be killed by someone with that skill is a privilege."

"Simp." Jason concluded.

Their laughter ran wilde as Grease again began to shout.

"Hey,Lily?"

"Yes, Rae?"

"You been quiet. Something's wrong?"

"Whenever you are ready." She simply said, confusing them.

"W-What? Lily are you okay-"

"Hello,gents!"

It was her.

"GHOST?"

"Oh my god..."

"HOW but Jack said-"

"Guys ,guys ,please don't overwhelm." Lily again said, calming the both parties.

"Right ,sorry. Anyway, top of morning to yah ,ghost."

He could hear her swallowing her nerves before she cleared her voice, tingles ran down his back when the Reaper like tune hit his headphones.

"Hello!...This is awkward. Sorry."

They giggled with her as she moved in her chair.

"Ghost? "

"Yeah?"

"Your friend said you will not feel comfortable enough to join us today."

"Well, it's raining so that puts me at ease and your friend, Lily, was very convincing on bring me here."

"*giggle* I just showed you picture of my friends' pets."

"...As I said before, very convincing."

They always laughed especially when the stranger proved to be funny enough to bring that chuckle out of them.

"So ready to rock?"

"Let's roll."

————————————————————

The match was entertaining with couple of close calls, too close for your liking. Corpse was on you the entire time so to pay him for his diligence, you killed him first as he struggled to swipe that damn key card.

Then Jason, then Jack, Rae proved to be a bit harder to kill but you got her in O2, Lily was easy, Sykkuno was all confuse as he watched the crewmates die with him doing nothing, Pewds and Mark were a game of venting and killing swiftly. Speed was the key of your success of killing them all.

You could see they have their microphones on but no one said a thing.

The mischievous smirk that was plastered on your face grew when sounds of confusion came from Jack. Always the loud ones reveal the most.

"Whaaaat?"

"What the fuck?"

"I literally didn't have time to even kill any of you. Ghost came in like: slash ,slash, kill,kill."

You finally cracked at the ridiculous sounds Sykkuno made, a poor imitation of the sabers from Star wars.

"Hahaha"

He heard your laugh, he like the sound of it , the easiness and the innocence it held even though you killed all of them without mercy. What he didn't know if he liked was the stirring in his stomach cause by it. The tightness in his breath, the long smile and the bouncing of his legs as a result of hearing it.

He just shook his curls before paying attention to the group again, you were being put in the spotlight, something he cringed at as he recalled the painful experiences he had while being put under light.

"So, ghost?"

"Yes ,Jason?"

A whine came from the man known now as a simp for deep voices. You giggled, shaking your head and screaming when the black pair of headphones fell down your lap. Luckily you had the mic muted. That will be embarrassing...

You fixed your long hair, putting it behind your ears careful to not tug on your fresh piercings , your headphones back on the top ,you dived right back.

"Can you tell us about yourself?"

"Hmm..what do you want to know?"

You heard him sucking in a breath and to be honest you couldn't blame him, the voice was hot.

"Um ...anything. "

You giggled half embarrassed, half amusement by the pitch his voice turned to ,excited to hear whatever you may answer.

"Oh,okay. Um...My piercings hurt. My right leg is bouncing like crazy and um...I crave jelly candy."

"Piercings?"

"Yeah, my pal just did on my right three helix piercings: forward, mid and low. Plus the industrial on my left ear iches a bit."

"Oh, I am sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about, Jas. Thanks for asking by the way."

"Oh, don't worry. Do you have any others?"

"Um..yeah. On the right ear ,I have..um. helix , flat, rook and upper. Left ahh..industrial,helix and orbital."

"Wow, th-that's a lot."

"Hah, I just told you about my ears."

A choke cane from him ,probably he was drinking something. It had ice though, you could hear the ice hitting the metal of the glass.

The man started to choke and cough ,making you and the others who listened patiently on your convo worried.

"Easy there ,mate."

"Jay, you good?"

"Easy there ,buddy."

"I-I'm *cough* I am fine. You have MORE?!"

"Yeah ,three on the upper part of my right eyebrow and a ring on the left one."

"Jesus. " He said, calming himself at last.

"Yeah,*giggle*. I also plan to slit my tongue in two."

"Oh, yeah cool.WHAT?!"

————————————————————

The next game you were imposter again but this time Corpse was your sidekick. Or were you his?

Anyway, you decided to let him do more of the killing,believe it or not , you weren't the blood thirsty monster the chat thought of you, all in a joking manner of course. Sabotage and let Corpse do his Kiss of death. Seeing couple of his streams ,you hoped he wasn't too nervous.

"Alright guys, ghost is imposter with us so this time I have to be more careful. They will probably suspect her to be imposter again . Sorry I can't see your message, I need to concentrate on this."

Proving his theory , ghost just sabotaged as she did fake tasks, being a guardian of Lily as he killed so far Mark and Toast.

"W-Where was the body?" His voice came of a bit more nervous then usual.

"In the nav." Dave answered.

"You good ,Corpse?"

He heard you ask ,you were more observant than the others who either lost themselves in the safety feeling of the match or the euphoria of the game, you always pointed suspicious behaviours of the others when they accused him of being imposter. He liked that, gave him time to calm his raging heart.

"Y-Yeah..*cough* I mean yeah, I am good. H-How about you?"

Fuck...

He didn't even want to catch a glimpse of the chat ,having a hunch of what they may be inferring.

"You seem shaky, Corpse. Something happened?"

He didn't needed to see Sean's face to know it will matched a lenny one. Finding an excuse so he is spared of the teasing and/or the allegations he is imposter, is a must.

"Yeah, I am just...ah...freezing. It's cold here. Brr. Brr."

They laughed at his poor attempt to sound like a freezing popsicle, your laugh put him more at ease. He knew however that his attempt of shifting the suspension failed, too bad he wanted to play more with you. I guess the roles are switching.

"He sound sus ,guys. Should we vote him out?"

"Wow, Lily. Thanks."

The girl giggling only stopped when you started speaking.

"He's not sus, guys. He's just a dork ,a stick with crippling anxiety and honestly same."

God, he wished he could fist bump you right now.

"More like a branch but who we voting then?" Sean asked.

" SPEEDRUN!"

Felix sealed his faith however. Your work only left him flustered and with a derpy smile , his honour lost in the vacuum space.

...............CORPSE was ejected.............

"Well shit. Anyway ,guys. Let me see what you been talking about? And I better not see any 'SIMP' comments. "

————————————————————

"How?! How the fuck?! You tricked me!" Lily screamed at you for your betrayal.

"Wow, so now I have big trust issues with ghost." Grease announced.

"Deep mommy, no." Jason said ,bringing a laugh out of you for the thousand of time.

You started to like this guy, he and Corpse will be spared next time you are imposter.

"Sorry ,guys-"

"Who told you,you are allowed to do that?" Pewds shouted at you in a heated but not menacing tone.

"You didn't let me finish."

You took a sip out of your ice tea.

"RIP to ya'll but I am different. Not my fault the only guy I take advices from is Doomguy. And as the legend would say: Rip and tear."

"OH MY FUCK-"

You lowered your mic as they screamed in disbelief ,Corpse didn't said anything however. You were curious as to why?

"Corpse?"

"Yeah ,baby?"

Woah. That caught you out of guard. Like the warmth in your olive cheeks and the deliciously painful and frightening feeling of twisting in your stomach.

"Um..."

You blinked, no words head's empty.

"Oh, shit. Sorry, ghost. I didn't meant to make you feel weird."

"No,no. I am good. Ey, Jas?"

"Yes ,hun?"

"Do you take applications for your Corpse fan club?"

Jesus, what is this night even?

————————————————————

Hey, guys!💖

Hope you enjoyed the second part of the serie.

Anyway have a nice day/night!🌙🌌

Tagged 💖💖: @moolujk

#corpse husband x reader #fanfic #babies #hopefully not cringy #thank you for the support #lonely ghost serie

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justallmyfavstorys · 4 years

Text

Toni Shalifoe x Reader Christmas Oneshot

~Light hearted fluff, confession~

~no tw/cw~

(Maybe part one?)

"Hey Toni! Long time no see" y/n smiled as she skipped over to her.

She couldn't help but smile as she saw her, Toni would never admit it, but that little ray of sunshine was the highlight of her day. Who would have thought that the little incident they shared a few months back would make them grow as close as they did.

...

y/n came down from the bleachers with a few people she had met on her first day at the new school, talking to them and not paying attention as to where she was walking. Toni was the one backing into her actually, as she yelled something over to her teammates, not looking where she was going. The basketball player was mad at first, having someone interrupt her practice. She looked up so she could see who the rude interrupter was, stopping herself from throwing curses at the other person as she saw her though; lips glanced with an apologetic, warm smile, eyes flickering with worry as she held out a hand to help Toni up.

...

"Hey sunshine, how was english class? Also, we saw each other on Friday? You really can't go without seeing me for two day? Wow." Toni laughed putting her arm around y/n's shoulder, pulling her in closer as they walked out of the gym.

"Really good. Miss Jones let us watch a Christmas movie.",

"So," y/n started again, fidgeting with her hands, "what do you have planned for Christmas?"

Toni smiled at her awkwardness, "nothing much, I'll probably just sit on the back of the truck, hoping it doesn't snow, looking at the stars."

"Well, as romantic as that sounds, i asked my parents if i could invite you over for a few days and they said you can stay as long as you want." Y/n said, looking up, eyes glistening with hope.

Toni's heart skipped a beat, the thought of getting to spend Christmas break with her new favourite person made her a little more excited than she would ever admit.

"I think i could make that work" She said, smirking, trying to act tough.

"Don't act all cool on me Toni! I know you're a softy deep down." Y/n laughed, poking her friend in the ribs.

"Shit, i have a reputation, don't say that out loud, sweetheart." Toni laughed looking the other way, thus not seeing how y/n's face went red.

"Anyways, are you going to come over? Please, Toni. I already have a present for you. Don't leave me hanging."

"Of course I will, we can't have you missing me for the entirety of Christmas break, can we?" She smirked again, stopping at her locker and getting all her books out.

Y/n leaned against the wall,

"I hate you."

"No you don't." Toni said, slamming her looker shut, putting her arm back around Y/n's shoulder as they walked out of the school.

...

"Y/n, Toni is here, come downstairs." Y/n's mother yelled from the hallway.

"Coming!", she yelled, sprinting down the staircase, which was already decorated for christmas.

"Shit, y/n, that was fast, miss me that much?" Toni laughed, swinging her bag over her shoulder,

"miss y/l/n, thank you for letting me stay here again, I know I can be a lot sometimes."

"Oh don't worry Toni, we love having you here, feel free to stay as long as you want." Miss y/l/n said, wearing the same warm smile as y/n on her lips.

"Want to go upstairs? Your bag looks heavy."

"Don't worry, I'm a strong, independent woman, i can handle it." Toni laughed, yet struggling to keep the heavy bag up over her shoulder.

"Mum, we're going upstairs, call us if you need anything.", y/n smiled at her mother and pulled her friend upstairs, "Get ready to listen to my Christmas playlist~~!"

"Oh god." Toni rolled her eyes, smiling at the other's excitement.

...

"Let me give you a Christmas moment we'll fill with love and joy. So beautiful kissing under mistletoes, baby with youuuu" y/n was singing along with a christmas garland wrapped around her as she tried draping it around her mirror.

"Y/n, you look ridiculous." Toni laughed, rolling her eyes again.

"Oh please you're just mad that I'm not actually kissing you under a mistletoe." She teased, throwing a plastic ornament at the brunette who was laying on y/n's bett.

"Continue being such a brat and I will have no other choice than to actually do it." Toni said, smirking, locking her phone that she used to take pictures of the other in secret.

"Oh well, i can't help it, so i guess we have no other choice." y/n said, smiling as she walked over to Toni, crawling over to her on the bed.

Toni reached her hand out to cup y/n's cheek, sitting up a bit and placing her lips on the other's soft lips.

As they parted, y/n tried hiding her smile, tilting her head to the side but Toni still had her hand on her cheek, caressing it with her thumb and feeling her smile form.

"You're so cute, have i ever told you that?" She asked.

"Yes, on multiple occasions actually, Toni." Laughter filled the room as the two sat up.

"So, y/n, I've been thinking, this has been going on for a few weeks now, I've been trying to work up the courage. I don't want to say the wrong things, i don't want to hurt you. I've been working on myself, you know? Going to that lady to talk to. I want to be the right person for you, god, i really don't want to hurt you and-"

"Jesus, Toni, I guess I have to do it. Will you be my girlfriend?" Y/n interrupted, smiling with a slight blush on her face.

Toni looked at her, shock written on her face for a spit second, a warm, genuine smile replacing it immediately thought.

"Yes, of course." Y/n felt Toni's lips on hers just moments after.

...

Miss y/l/n walked in on the girls laying all over each other, showing the other funny posts they saw on their phones occasionally, not bothering to move as they heard a knock on the door.

"Girls, as much as i don't want to interrupt you, I'm kind of in a time crunch and I still have to go out get some stuff for tomorrow's Christmas Dinner. Could you maybe bake the cookies? You would help me out a lot."

"I would love to, but i'm a little helpless when it comes to baking miss y/l/n." Toni laughed, looking at y/n.

"No problem mum, I'll look after Toni so she doesn't burn down the kitchen." She nudged Toni in the rips ever so slightly as she got up, pulling her with her.

#Toni shalifoe #Toni shalifoe x reader #Toni shalifoe oneshot #Toni shalifoe imagine #The wilds #The wilds (amazon prime)#The wilds head canon #The wilds hc #Toni shalifoe head canon #The wilds toni

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oldmanatom · 4 years

Photo

A Locked Tomb Fanmix But It’s All Classic Country

this exists entirely because one night the thought “but what if i made a Locked Tomb fanmix with only classic country songs” popped into my head, unprompted, and i thought it was too hilarious to not do.

the art on the cover is done by @starfleetofficial, who this mix is also dedicated to. thank you for recommending me these books, continuously “yes, and”ing my semi-coherent TLT messages sent at 5 in the morning, and being so supportive about this idea. (also check out her version, A HtN fanmix but it’s all Fiona Apple!) the cover design is referencing the famous Marty Robbins album, Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs.

my one listening note: this will probably be more enjoyable if it’s approached with an open mind and an expectation that it’s taking itself about as seriously as the official fanmixes do.

see below the cut for a song list and some lyric excerpts.

this mix has implicit spoilers for both Gideon the Ninth and Harrow the Ninth.

Gideon the Ninth mix: youtube / spotify / full res cover Harrow the Ninth mix: youtube / spotify / full res cover full mix: youtube / spotify / full res cover

Gideon the Ninth:

1. Johnny Paycheck, “Take This Job And Shove It”

You better not try to stand in my way 'Cause I'm walkin' out the door Take this job and shove it I ain't working here no more

2. Dolly Parton, “When Someone Wants To Leave”

It's a sad situation I must say When someone wants to leave as bad as you want them to stay

3. Loretta Lynn, “I’m A Gettin’ Ready To Go”

I'm gonna praise my savior's name everyday that I'm livin' Glory hallelujah I'm not ashamed to let my salvation show This old world's just my dressin' room and I'm a gettin' ready to go

4. Waylon Jennings, “I Ain’t Living Long Like This”

I tried to run but I don't think I can You make one move and you're a dead man friend Ain't living long like this Can't live at all like this, can I baby?

5. Loretta Lynn, “This Haunted House”

This haunted house I'm livin' in is killing me And the ghost of your love won't set me free Each morning finds me crying and alone In this haunted house we used to call our home

6. Loretta Lynn and Conway Twitty, “After The Fire Is Gone”

We know it's wrong for us to meet But the fire's gone out at home And there's nothin' cold as ashes After the fire is gone

7. Loretta Lynn, “How Long Will It Take”

(How long will it take?) How long will it take to make you want me How much longer has this old heart gotta break (How long will it take?) How long will it take to make you need me I keep a waitin' and a wonderin' how long will it take

8. Stonewall Jackson, “Don’t Be Angry”

Maybe someday you're gonna hurt me I've been hurt in love before Only God can know And time alone will tell

9. Dick Curless, “A Tombstone Every Mile”

It's a stretch of road up north in Maine That's never ever ever seen a smile If they'd buried all them truckers lost in them woods There'd be a tombstone every mile

10. Johnny Paycheck, “(It Won’t Be Long) And I’ll Be Hating You”

Lately life with you has been unbearable All my faith in you has gone and I know it won't return I did everything to make you happy I could do Now you've gotten me hatin' things I used to love to do And it won't be long and I'll be hatin' you

11. Norma Jean, “Let’s Go All The Way”

All the way means happiness living side by side Halfway means a heartbreak if one of us should lie Just give me a clue that you love me too Hold me in your arms and say “Oh, let’s go all the way”

12. Loretta Lynn, “Everybody Wants To Go To Heaven”

Everybody wants to go to heaven but nobody wants to die Lord, I wanna go to heaven but I don't wanna die Though I long for the day when I'll have new birth Still I love the livin' here on earth Everybody wants to go to heaven but nobody wants to die

13. Homer & Jethro, “She Made Toothpicks Of The Timber Of My Heart”

She was seasoned, I was green Yes my darling lumber queen Wound me ‘round her finger like a clinging vine

14. Patsy Cline, “The Heart You Break May Be Your Own”

You'll look around and when you've found That you are all alone Then you'll get wise and realize The heart you break may be your own

15. Buck Owens, “I’ve Got A Tiger By The Tail”

Well every night you drag me where the bright lights are found There ain't no way to slow you down I’m as 'bout as helpless as a leaf in a gale And it looks like I've got a tiger by the tail

16. Charley Pride, “All I Have To Offer You (Is Me)”

Before you take another step, there's something you should know About the years ahead and how they'll be You'll be living in a world where roses hardly ever grow 'Cause all I have to offer you is me

17. Faron Young, “Live Fast, Love Hard, Die Young”

I wanna leave a lot of happy women A-thinkin’ pretty thoughts of me I wanna live fast, love hard, die young And leave a beautiful memory

18. Dolly Parton and Porter Wagoner, “The Last Thing On My Mind”

I've got reason a plenty for goin' This I know, this I know The weeds have been steadily growin' Please don't go, please don't go

Are you going away with no word of farewell Will there be not a trace left behind I could've loved you better, didn't mean to be unkind You know that was the last thing on my mind

19. Marty Robbins, “The Master’s Call”

I felt the end was near, that death would be the price When a mighty bolt of lightning showed the face of Jesus Christ And I cried “oh Lord forgive me, don't let it happen now I want to live for you alone, oh God these words I vow”

Bridge: Lefty Frizzell, “Long Black Veil”

She walks these hills in a long black veil She visits my grave when the night winds wail Nobody knows, nobody sees Nobody knows but me

Harrow the Ninth:

1. Hank Williams, “I’ll Never Get Out Of This World Alive”

Every thing's against me and it's got me down If I jumped in the river I would probably drown No matter how I struggle and strive I'll never get out of this world alive

2. Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt, and Emmylou Harris, “Those Memories Of You”

In dreams of you, my body trembles I wake up and call your name But you're not there, and I'm so lonesome Without your love, I'd go insane

3. Hank Snow, “I Don’t Hurt Anymore”

I don't hurt anymore, all my teardrops are dried No more walking the floor with that burning inside Just to think it could be time has opened the door And at last I am free I don't hurt anymore

4. Patsy Cline, “Stop The World And Let Me Off”

Oh, stop the world and let me off I'm tired of goin' round ‘n' round I played the game of love and lost So stop the world and let me off

5. Charley Pride, “Lie To Me”

Oh, lie to me, say you love me Tell me I mean the world to you It would mean so much, I'd be so happy And it's the least you can do

6. Hank Snow, “Ninety Miles An Hour (Down A Dead End Street)”

Warnin' signs are flashin' by us but we pay no heed Instead of slowin' down the pace we keep picking up the speed Disaster's gettin' closer every time we meet Doin' ninety miles an hour down a dead end street

7. Patsy Cline and the Anita Kerr Singers, “I Can’t Forget”

Where are you, darlin'? Are you with someone new I can't forget you I'll always be loving you

8. Lynn Anderson, “If I Kiss You (Will You Go Away)”

You're so much hurt I wish you wouldn't stay If I kiss you will you go away?

9. Connie Smith, “Once A Day”

Once a day all day long And once a night from dusk till dawn The only time I wish you weren't gone Is once a day, every day, all day long

10. Charley Pride, “Just Between You And Me”

But just between you and me I've got my doubts about it 'Cause just between you and me You're too much to forget

11. Buck Owens, “Hello Trouble”

A comin' up my sidewalk Just as plain as day A well a here come trouble that I never thought I'd see When you went away

12. Loretta Lynn, “Fist City”

You'll bite off more than you can chew If you get too cute or witty You better move your feet if you don't wanna eat A meal that's called Fist City

13. The Davis Sisters, “I Forgot More Than You’ll Ever Know”

You think you know the smile on his lips The thrill at the touch of his fingertips But I've forgotten more Than you'll ever know about him

14. Kitty Wells, “Pick Me Up On Your Way Down” (Charlie Walker’s version is on the Spotify playlist)

When you learn these things are true I'll be waiting here for you As you tumble to the ground Pick me up on your way down

15. Loretta Lynn and Conway Twitty, “You’re The Reason Our Kids Are Ugly”

And that's the reason that my good looks and my figure is gone And that's the reason I ain't got no hair to comb And you're the reason our kids are ugly, little darling

16. Loretta Lynn, “Who Says God Is Dead”

If I were you I'd kneel and pray 'Cause we're not promised one more day Remember blood was shed Who says God is dead?

17. Patsy Cline and The Jordanaires, “Imagine That”

Can you believe I'd swallow my pride (Well yes, yes, I guess you can) 'Cause you know you've always had my foolish heart Right in the palm of your hand, oh

18. Jody Miller and Johnny Paycheck, “Let’s All Go Down To The River”

Jesus is the man at the river And he's washing people's sins away He can save your soul if you give him control Oh be ready for that judgement day

19. Bobby Bare, “Dropkick Me, Jesus”

Make me, oh, make me, Lord, more than I am Make me a piece in Your master game plan Free from the earthly temptation below I've got the will, Lord, if You got the toe

20. Lynn Anderson, “Heaven’s Just A Sin Away”

Devil's got me now Oh, gone and got me now I can't fight him anyhow I think he's gonna win

Heaven’s just a sin away Oh, just a sin away Heaven help me when I say I think I’m givin’ in

21. Loretta Lynn, “Out Of My Head And Back In My Bed”

I'm gonna search everywhere that you might be When I find you I'm a bringin’ you home with me I want you out of my head And back in my bed Before the morning comes

22. Johnny Cash, “Big River”

Now, won't you batter down by Baton Rouge, River Queen, roll it on Take that woman on down to New Orleans, New Orleans Go on, I've had enough, dump my blues down in the gulf She loves you, Big River, more than me

Now I taught the weeping willow how to cry, cry, cry And I showed the clouds how to cover up a clear blue sky And the tears that I cried for that woman are gonna flood you, Big River And I'm gonna sit right here until I die

#the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #gideon nav #tlt #i am 100% expecting for this to entertain maybe five people (two of which have seen it already) and to otherwise go unnoticed #but that's okay because it's a labor of love and every time i either listen to the playlist or look at the damn cover i just start laughing #anyways if anyone has questions about anything on here my ask is open. it's large and somewhat...imaginative in what songs are on here + why #one flesh one end #listen to this

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winterscaptain · 4 years

Text

emergency.

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

a/n: credit for this awesome idea goes to snow (@agenthotchner original post linked here)!

warnings: there’s some description of a decent-sized cut across the palm of the hand and the treatment of said cut in an emergency room, as well as some swearing rating/word count: t / 2096

AO3 | Masterlist | Requests Open!

+++

“Really, I’m alright,” you assured your (very well-meaning) neighbor. She was dead-set on getting you checked in at the emergency room, even though you insisted you could stitch yourself up at home. You brought your medical packet with you – including all the intake forms, copies of your credentials, and your emergency contact information. Your go bag was at your side, packed and ready with three days’ worth of clothes.

Your neighbor stayed with you until she was sure you wouldn’t bolt, leaving you as soon as someone called you to the back.

Another Tuesday night, another kitchen accident. You’d sliced your hand open while cutting an avocado for a late-night snack. Fortunately, it was your non-dominant hand. Unfortunately, your neighbor caught you as you scuttled to your car for your first aid kit.

So here you were, sitting on the edge of a bed in one of the private emergency rooms while a nurse flushed the wound and prepared it for stitches.

+++

“Hotchner.” Aaron sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Am I speaking to Aaron Hotchner?”

“Yes. May I ask who’s calling?”

As he listened to the emergency room admin tell him about your incident, he threw on a pair of jeans and a black v-neck from the drawer. He called Jessica as soon as the nurse finished relaying the address to the ER closest to your home. Jess was in the neighborhood, coming from a girl’s night with friends, thank God.

With a kiss to his sister-in-law’s cheek and an earnest “Thank you,” he was in the car and on the way.

+++

There was some kind of commotion right outside your door, but you were busy watching the nurse as she applied local anesthetic to your hand and wrist. The bleeding had slowed enough for the nurse to maintain it with a few swipes every minute or so, and you could see the extent of the damage.

You’re a fucking moron, you know that?

You rolled your eyes at yourself and was only a little startled when the door flew open.

“Hotch?”

He checked in with the nurse, who smiled and nodded at him over your hand. Suddenly, he was sitting right next to you, looking over your intake paperwork. “They called me. I got here as fast as I could.”

Shit. “God, I’m so sorry. I forget you’re the first on my emergency contact list.” You bit your lip. “I really should make it Emily or Penelope or someone who doesn’t have kids.” You said it more to yourself than him.

To your surprise, he laughed. “No, it’s okay. Jess was in town, and Jack is still sleeping. I’m glad I can be here for you.”

+++

When they pulled out the suturing material, you paled and blindly reached for Hotch’s hand. Instead of just taking it, he tucked your head into his chest, holding you there with one hand while he rubbed soothing circles on the back of your free hand with his thumb.

You probably looked silly, tucked into your friend’s chest while your arm was fully extended to your side, under a blindingly bright light. You couldn’t feel the stitches, but it still squicked you out.

Hotch’s voice rumbled through you as he spoke close to your ear. “You’re okay. Breathe with me.”

“Hotch...” It came out as a bit of a panicked whine as you heard the doctor shuffle some tools around.

“Aaron.” He squeezed your hand. “Aaron’s just fine. It’ll be over soon. Just a little while longer.”

You took a few shaky breaths in time with his, but your hand was still a vice grip around his. He smelled really good. You knew that already, having sat next to him on the plane more than once, but it was different without the professional boundaries.

And without the suit.

“You’re doing great. Squeeze as hard as you can and keep breathing with me.” His voice was gentle and constant. It was sufficiently distracting.

Oh, right. He’s coached someone through literal childbirth before.

God, you’re such a baby.

“I’m sorry I’m such a baby.”

He laughed, taking care not to jostle you. “We’re all babies over something.”

“You’re not a baby over anything.” It came out as a grouchy gripe, your humor not strong enough to get past the tightness of your jaw.

After a moment, he shrugged around you. “Spiders. I hate them.”

You lifted your head, keeping your arm steady. The hand holding you to him dropped to your waist, where his protective grip kept you centered. “Really?”

Brown eyes smiled down at you. “Really. Jack takes after his mother and thinks it’s hilarious. ”

A shaky smile crossed your face, and you heard the telltale rasp of ripping gauze.

“All done,” the nurse said. “You’re good to go. Change the dressings daily and take care not to rip the stitches. They will dissolve on their own in about a week.”

+++

“Hotch, I can really manage on my own.”

“You have your go bag, and I know for a fact you’ll rip the stitches in your haste to grab something on your way out the door tomorrow morning.”

You couldn’t argue with him there. He pulled into his driveway and helped you out of the car.

When you were safely inside with Jessica headed home, you took your pain meds while Aaron locked his gun away.

“Oh shit,” you said, checking your bag. “I don’t have my gun. It’s in my safe at home.”

“You can use my second. I know you prefer the Glock 26, but my 17 is about the same weight in the trigger.” He handed you a mug of tea and plopped down on the couch. “I can have Anderson grab yours during the day tomorrow if we get called out on a case.”

“Thanks.” The gesture didn’t go unnoticed – offering his second gun was like offering his right arm. You settled down beside him, tucking your feet under you. “I can make up the couch, so you can head to bed. I’ve kept you up long enough.”

“You know where the linens are?” He asked, one eyebrow aloft.

“I have built many a fort with Jack, and I pay enough attention to get around.” At his dubious glance, you continued. “Second hall closet, third shelf. Blankets, sheets, and an extra pillow.” You smiled at him over your mug.

“You know...” he swallowed and seemed to struggle with his words. “You don’t have to make up the couch if you’d be more comfortable in my room.”

“Trying to get me in bed, Hotchner?”

He floundered for a moment, and you laughed softly.

“I’m kidding.” You set your mug on the coffee table and brushed his hair back with your good hand. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take you up on it.”

“I definitely don’t mind.” He leaned into your touch like a cat.

He’s adorable.

“Thank you for staying with me tonight.” Your hand fell to his jaw, where your thumb brushed back and forth on his cheekbone.

Careful, don’t want to cut your other hand on that.

His eyes closed as you took more of his weight into your hand. “Of course.” He turned his head and kissed your palm.

Your heart jumped into your throat. He gently picked up your injured hand in his and pressed a kiss to your gauze covered knuckles. That particular act didn’t do anything to lower your heart rate. He released your hands, soft and gentle, and led the way down the hallway toward his room.

Jack’s door was open, and you saw his little sleeping form by the glow of his nightlight, curled in a ball. You wondered if the Hotchner boys slept the same way.

You’ll find out soon enough, won’t you?

Jesus.

“You can borrow one of my shirts,” Hotch said, closing the door quietly behind you, “since yours is...” He gestured to your t-shirt, and you note the blood down the front of it.

“Damn. I liked this one.”

Hotch smiled with one side of his mouth. “I’ll soak it overnight. We’ll probably be able to save it.” He turned and shuffled through his drawer, pulling out what looked to be a worn-in FBI Academy shirt and some flannel pajama pants. “These should cinch enough for you.”

You took them from him with your good hand. “Thanks, Aaron.”

His hands lingered over yours under the soft fabric. “Bathroom’s through that door – take your time. There are extra toothbrushes in the cabinet to the left of the sink. Make yourself at home.”

You settled into the en suite bathroom as he padded down the hall. You changed quickly, brushed your teeth (twice), and draped your bloodied shirt and pants on the edge of the sink.

Hotch was pulling back the covers and checking his email when you walked back out. He looked up and smiled at you.

When he brushed past you to soak your clothes in the sink, your heart caught in your throat again.

You slipped into bed, your back to the bathroom door. You closed your eyes and tried in vain to fall asleep before he returned.

You failed.

The lights in the room went out, leaving the blue cast of moonlight in front of your eyelids. You felt the bed dip as Hotch tucked in beside you.

“You’re terrible at pretending to sleep,” he whispered.

You could tell he was close to you, but when you opened your eyes you saw how close. His face was peaceful in the dark, his mouth and brow relaxed (for once).

“I wasn’t pretending.”

“Mhmm. Sure.”

You rolled your eyes and shut them again, insistent this time. “I’m ignoring you, Hotch.”

“Oh, so it’s Hotch now?”

“It is when it's nearly two in the morning and we have to leave for work in six hours,” you grumbled.

He chuckled, and his minty breath fanned over your face. You could feel him sober, and you opened your eyes. His face was pensive, and you were caught off guard by how open and expressive he was at home. You could read everything on his face as if it was printed out and handed to you.

“I don’t-“ he stopped, and his mouth pressed into a thin line for a moment. “I know we’re both adults who can share a bed without anything going on.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, doing your best to hide your amusement.

“What I mean is, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or –“

You pressed a finger to his lips. “Aaron, shh.” You let your smile shine through for a moment. “I’m here because I want to be, and I’m next to you because I want to be, okay?”

He nodded, still watching you carefully. You removed your finger from his mouth, ignoring the thrill it sent through you.

Adults. Adults who can share a bed without anything going on.

You rolled over and got comfortable, smooshing the pillow underneath your head. With your good hand, you reached behind you and searched until you found Aaron’s shirt.

“C’mere.”

He huffed a laugh and curled up behind you, snug from shoulders to calves. His arm hovered over your waist for a moment. You squished it to you, lacing your fingers with his over your belly.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

He hummed and tucked his face into your shoulder. “Anytime.”

“If you want...” you trailed off, your bravery evaporating when you actually processed what was about to come out of your mouth.

“If I want...” he echoed. You could hear the smile.

“You could – You could kiss me if you wanted to.”

Well, there it was.

You felt lips press to the soft fabric over your shoulder, trailing up to the sensitive skin near the collar.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said, and you suddenly felt fully and pleasantly warm.

When you turned your head, he was waiting for you. Yes, the angle was awkward and it was dark, but maybe laughing into each other’s mouths wasn’t as embarrassing as it seemed.

He kissed you once, twice, three times. There was a sweetness, a chasteness about it. You’d both waited a long time, and it wasn’t like you didn’t want to jump his bones, but now was decidedly not the time.

You turned back around and pressed back against him as to not miss out on a single millimeter of contact.

Your sleep took you quickly, and you nearly forgot about the nine stitches in your palm.

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @happyhotchner @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @octothorpetopus @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #hotch #tali writes fanfiction

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captainsamwilsonbarnes · 3 years

Text

Coping Mechanism

I wasn’t originally planning on posting this here, but I’m pretty happy with how it turned out actually. So here’s a short ficlet of Sam and Bucky, doing what they do best. 😍

Sam x Bucky (1.5K)

(Rated T, and no applicable warnings apply other than for TFATWS spoilers, since this is directly connected to the second episode.)

Note: this is set right after they agree to go find Zemo together. It’s just a short idea that popped into my head, so I ran with it. :)

~*~

"Steve wasn't wrong about you," Bucky says after a few minutes of companionable silence. "I didn't mean that, and I'm sorry," he pauses as he reaches out to stop Sam from going any further. "I really am. I'm sorry, Sam." For added measure, he places a tentative hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezes it gently.

"Oh, are we rhyming now?" Sam smirks as he turns to face Bucky. "Do you like green eggs and ham? Do you eat them on a boat? Do you eat them with a goat? Well, yeah, you probably would, actually," he laughs.

"I should have known you'd be a jackass about this," Bucky mutters as he rolls his eyes and strides forward. "My mistake."

"We really need to work on your sense of humor," Sam says as he breaks into a light jog so he can catch up.

"Not everything is a goddamn joke, Sam," Bucky snaps while whipping around to face Sam and gesturing wildly around them. "Do you honestly find anything funny about all of this? Because I sure as hell don't."

"No," Sam agrees easily, "but I do like pushing your buttons," he admits as he digs his fingers into Bucky's side.

"Hey!" Bucky yelps as he quickly shoves Sam's hand away. "Can you not? Jesus Christ!"

"Oh my God," Sam stops dead in his tracks, delighted smile breaking out across his face. "Are you ticklish?"

"No," Bucky glares, "I just don't want your grubby hands all over me."

"Or," Sam murmurs as he steps closer and drags Bucky forward by the lapels of his jacket, "maybe that's exactly what you want."

"Oh, you think so?" Bucky counters as he glances down at Sam's hands which are still tightly gripping his jacket. "Maybe that's what you want, pal."

"Whatever," Sam says as he quickly lets go. They are on a public street after all, even though no one seems to be paying them any attention. "This is nice, by the way," he adds, while carefully smoothing out the creases he's made in Bucky's jacket. "It looks good on you."

"Thanks," Bucky mumbles as he stands there awkwardly, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans.

"So, we're off to find Zemo then?" Sam asks. There's an icy edge to his voice that rubs Bucky the wrong way as Sam turns his back on him and keeps walking.

Yeah, I guess so," Bucky agrees as he tries to work out what the hell just happened. Sam seems pissed off all of a sudden, which makes no sense since he wasn't the one who was just practically groped in public.

"Are we not gonna talk about whatever the hell that just was?" Bucky asks as they fall into step alongside each other.

"That was nothing," Sam says, punctuated by a dismissive wave of his hand. "Nothing at all."

Bucky stops walking again as he grips Sam by the elbow and spins him around.

"That was not nothing, Sam. You know what, I don't get you at all. First, I tried apologizing to you, which you turned into a joke of course," he sneers. "Then what? Was that some sort of twisted attempt at flirting?"

"You wish," Sam scoffs. "If I was flirting with you, you wouldn't have to ask. You'd know, pal."

"Why are you so pissed at me?" Bucky asks, looking sad and confused as he releases Sam's arm. "I'm sorry, okay? I don't have all the answers, but I'm hoping we can figure this shit out together. Everything fucking sucks right now, Sam," he chokes out, voice trembling.

"Hey," Sam says softly as he steers Bucky into an empty alley. They probably shouldn't be having this conversation right now, much less where practically anyone can hear them. "I'm not pissed at you, I promise."

"Then what the hell is going on? I'm trying here, Sam. I really am. And if you make another Dr. Seuss joke, I'm going to punch you in the face with my vibranium arm."

"Something you need to know about me," Sam explains, "is that I often resort to humor as a coping mechanism. I know you've never heard of it before," he adds, which actually causes Bucky to crack a smile, "but it really gets me through serious shit, sometimes. It doesn't mean that I think anything about what we're going through is funny, it just helps me deal, that's all."

"I get that," Bucky nods. "Once upon a time, I actually did have a sense of humor, believe it or not."

"Oh yeah? What happened to it?" Sam asks.

"HYDRA cut it off," Bucky fake-pouts. "Turns out, it was in my left arm all along."

"You're a damn fool," Sam laughs as he pitches forward and buries his face against Bucky's shoulder.

"See, I can be funny too," Bucky grins as he reaches out with gentle fingers and tilts Sam's face up.

"Yeah, funny looking," Sam teases as he surges forward and boldly presses his lips against Bucky's.

"Seriously?" Bucky says when Sam pulls back. "You kiss me and insult me at the same time?"

"What can I say, I'm a man of many talents," Sam winks. "Oh, and that was flirting, by the way."

"What you are, is a royal pain in my ass and I wish I didn't like you so much," Bucky admits as he hooks his thumbs into Sam's belt loops and drags him forward.

"Yeah, I wish I didn't like you either," Sam agrees. "Guess we're in the same boat, then."

"Guess we are," Bucky shrugs as he cups Sam's jaw and kisses him softly. Sam opens up for him this time, the kiss deepening quickly as Bucky's hands drop down to Sam's waist to hold him steady.

"So, um," Sam says when they break apart, "I might kinda like you a lot, actually. More than I ever expected to, that's for damn sure. I realized it a while ago, and I guess I've just been fighting it," he adds.

"Mood," Bucky nods. "Wait, did I use that right?"

"Sort of," Sam smirks and kisses him again. "Don't try to be cool, okay? Stop looking shit up on the internet, and just be yourself."

"I feel like there's an insult in there somewhere," Bucky pouts, for real this time as he wraps his arms around Sam's neck.

"There's not, I promise," Sam smiles. "And just for the record, Steve wasn't wrong about you either."

"I'm not so sure about that," Bucky frowns, "but I appreciate the sentiment."

"He wasn't," Sam insists. "None of what happened to you was your fault, Buck. Bad shit happens to good people every single day, we both know that. We live in a fucked up world, baby. That's just how it is, sometimes."

"Thank you," Bucky smiles as he reaches up and rubs Sam's cheek. "It's still a struggle for me, especially with all of the amends I've been making. It's like, just when I was trying to put it all behind me - "

"It comes right back to haunt you," Sam nods. "Yeah, I know exactly what that's like."

"Jesus, we're a pair, aren't we?" Bucky laughs. "I wish Steve could see us now."

"Me too," Sam agrees. "He'd probably never believe it."

"On the contrary," Bucky says, "I think he would. Remember how he used to bitch at us every time we argued with each other?"

"Yeah," Sam says fondly. "He said we fought just like an old married couple."

"We still do," Bucky points out. "So how about it, sweetheart? You wanna put a ring on it?" he asks, as he wiggles his vibranium fingers in front of Sam's face.

"There are lots of things I want to do with you," Sam leers as he reaches down and gives Bucky's hips a squeeze. "Although, we should at least go on an actual date first before we start planning our marriage."

"Probably," Bucky agrees. "I like sushi," he suggests as he sways forward and captures Sam's lips in another kiss.

"Raw fish? Of course you do," Sam sighs. "You couldn't like anything normal, right?"

"You're thinking of sashimi," Bucky corrects. "Not all sushi is raw, and in fact, a lot of it is cooked, actually."

"What I’m hearing is: blah blah, raw fish, you're a nerd, blah blah," Sam mocks. "If you want real seafood, you should come down to Louisiana with me, sometime. My sister Sarah makes a mean fish fry."

"Aw, you wanna bring me home to meet your family already?" Bucky winks.

"Yeah," Sam nods. "They'd love you. Especially my nephews, they'd be pretty fascinated by your robo arm."

"Let's do it then," Bucky grins. "After we sort out all of our current bullshit, of course. Do you think your sister would mind?"

"Nah," Sam shakes his head. "She'll put you to work, though. Unloading boats, scrubbing the docks, cleaning fish, falling for her brother, that sort of thing, so be prepared."

"Wait, what was that last part?" Bucky teases.

"Cleaning the fish," Sam wrinkles his nose. "It's a nasty job, but Sarah's fried catfish is totally worth it."

"Falling for her brother, huh?" Bucky interjects as he leans in close and nudges his nose against Sam's.

"Well," Sam pauses to steal a quick kiss, "if you get around to it. I know you'll be pretty busy and all."

"We can cross that one off the list, actually," Bucky smiles as he reaches for Sam's hand and laces their fingers together. "I'm already working on it."

~*~

#Sambucky #Winterfalcon #my writing #TFATWS #TFATWS spoilers #I have a few other WIPs that I might eventually post too #still working on those #but I couldn't get this random idea out of my head #so I had to write it #hopefully it's not terrible #I like how it turned out #even if I keep finding things I wish I had added #or changed

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4dtk · 4 years

Text

stuck with you

pairing: enemy!journalist!haechan x journalist!reader

genre: angst, fluff, humour, enemies to lovers (hope i did the trope justice tbh TT)

warnings: cursing, f words lmao, i mention stranger things a lot in this??? mainly bc i just finished watching it w a friend. i also only use ‘haechan’ when narrating the story so i don’t get confused! the timeline for this is Very Weird as well bc like i didn’t consider how long a pandemic would last…… so Uhm. pls just excuse the weird ass time sequence. also referenced yangyang’s bastard child behaviour from dream plan where he packs his things messily and kun had to mf intervene and yangyang had the audacity to go like “see, this is how u get ppl to pack for you, now i don’t have to do anything” 💀

word count: 8k (a headache to proofread...)

A/N: first time trying an e2l trope and im not sure if it was done ok??? i didn't want it to feel too rushed so i tried to spread out the days as much as i could!! i also included small snippets of their life w the other so it won’t seem like the fic is just focusing on the e2l concept! was inspired tons by the lyrics of stuck with u by ariana grande and jb, so that song is definitely something you can listen to if you read this! hope you enjoy ^^

[day 1]

"you're insufferable," you groan, reluctantly handing over the remote control for the hotel's television after some unsuccessful scrolling.

hotels never exactly had much range anyway.

you were very much already dreading the time ahead with the male, sadly having been stuck in quarantine not even half a day with haechan.

offering to go to a neighbouring country to report on the rising covid-19 situation, you didn't expect your rival to tag along, no doubt seeking to craft up a better story than you would.

and so, you were now nudging the remote control into his waiting palm with a roll of your eyes. you hoped it emphasised your annoyance with him even a little, standing up to prepare a cup of tea before bed.

"are you going to keep watching television while i sleep?" you ask a genuine question, peeking at him through the mirror of the vanity that sat outside the bathroom.

he just shrugs with a tired sigh, turning his attention back to the cartoon playing in front of him.

"okay, well, keep to your side of the bed and i'll stay in mine. we need to be social distancing, anyway."

there's a hint of "okay, loser" mumbled under his breath, but you pay it no thought as you finish your tea and brush your teeth before you skillfully set up a fortress made out of pillows.

"ow! what the hell?"

"your leg was in the way, jeez! move it, and i'll stop annoying you," you said, putting up the last of your requested pillows beside where haechan currently sat.

taking one last glance at haechan, you wondered when the lockdown in your country would last before they start letting people fly in. for now, you were trapped with the nightmare himself in a sad hotel room, with only a bed to share.

"goodnight," he tells you, but the sardonic way he says it irks you to the point where you settle for silence instead. the only thing that drones on are the voices of the cartoon, soon fading as you feel into a dreamless sleep.

[day 4]

"this virus thing is probably driving me insane by day, and you, lee haechan, are adding on to it!"

"no headlines, no idea what style to write in, minimal pictures-" the doorbell to the hotel room interrupts your current rant, prompting you to storm off to answer the call with an annoyed look.

"what now?" taken aback by your quick response, the housekeeping girl retracts with downturned eyebrows and a voice hesitant to speak. your roommate comes to the rescue almost immediately when he's heard the commotion.

you watch as he sends her a smile and a wink, deflating when he's let her in to clean up the room. you're not sure why you can't keep your eyes off the both of them as they converse, blaming it mostly on your hatred for the male.

with the last of her duties fulfilled, you offer to help her with the cleaning supplies as an apology, but she cuts you off almost immediately. there's a linger in her step, however, as she walks the short hallway to the door, evident in wanting haechan to send her off as he received her.

turning back to call him, he holds up a hand as he types down his opening lines to an article, prompting you to shoot the housekeeper girl another apologetic look.

"sorry again," you mumble, letting out a sigh at how this was all playing out. day four and you were already making enemies with the hotel crew.

"maybe day forty-one is where i fall in love with lee haechan," you scoffed, perhaps listing down all the unfortunate things that could happen while you were in quarantine.

one of them was catching feelings for your rival.

rolling your eyes, you settled on the bed to catch a few Zs as he continued to work on his article, though you weren't exactly sure about the weight your words held.

[day 9]

"haechan, what is this?" you ask with an eyebrow raised, his dirty boxers barely hanging off your finger.

haechan only groans at that, knowing you were relentless in the laundry. even in a pandemic, he was sure you'd prioritise your clothes first.

"jesus! don't go picking up my underwear just like that!" he snatches it from you, folding it neatly and placing it next to where his luggage sat. unfortunately, yours was right beside his.

"you think just because you're doing the laundry you're able to look through a man's prized possessions-!"

your jaw drops, "it was near the sink, haechan! i don't want to look at the checkered pattern on your boxers when i brush my teeth. i don't want it near my face either."

haechan groans yet again, running a hand through his hair in frustration before turning back to the computer, a blank document opened up in front of him.

despite gathering findings, interviewing healthcare workers and serving the public alongside frontline staff, he had deleted every attempt at writing.

there's a rumble from the bathroom, perhaps from your upset stomach or the choked pipe, but sometimes they sounded too similar he couldn't tell it apart. haechan stifles a laugh when there's a "fuck!" echoing behind the door, though unsure if he should help you or not.

when haechan hears another crash, he comes running without hesitation with a face morphed into furrowed eyebrows and a tilt of the head.

"don't just stand there, you moron!"

haechan snaps out of his daze to assist you off the floor, swiftly helping you even more off the floor as he carries you to the bed with a stiff one arm. you notice his other hand hanging awkwardly, probably not knowing what to do with it before you feel the soft sheets under your butt.

he gets to work within a minute, fishing for an ointment and some bandages his mother forced him to bring. he remembers it as he always has: a caring mother looking out for her son, maybe a little too much sometimes.

haechan is thankful for his mother, now, for the stray bandages laying around in his pouch.

you watch in silence as he cleans the cut with alcohol, wincing when his hand hadn't even touched your skin.

"my hand isn't even on your skin yet! jeez, calm down."

you shake your head, holding onto his bicep to halt his arm, "just use water, please."

exhaling in exasperation, you wonder if you've pissed him off tenfold when he leaves for the bathroom with a side-eyed glance, though not hostile.

"problematic," haechan whispers, dabbing a wet cloth over the wound carefully before applying the ointment and securing the bandages.

"your words contradict your actions so much, haechan. i never know what you're thinking." sighing, you pull your leg away from his hold after he's done with the bandages, making your way to the bathroom and leaving him in his thoughts.

"why do you want to know?"

haechan gets silence; the lock of the bathroom audibly turns to signal another wall put up between the two of you. with another frustrated groan, the boy plops down on the chair to work on his article with the right words forming in his mind.

even if he was the one who asked, he wasn't sure if he was ready to tell you.

[day 13]

"stranger things is freaking me the fuck out, man!" haechan whispered, ignoring your pleads and groans to continue writing.

"haechan! give me the damn laptop! i don't even know why you brought an HDMI cable when it doesn't work with the television system here!"

"well, we got one that matches it, didn't we?" he said, eyes peeled to the screen that showed the young boy, will, in the upside-down.

"you mean you did!" you shoved him, ready to disconnect the devices before haechan held you back, clearly entranced by the next sequence of eleven being able to see will in a pool of salt.

"ugh, god, i don't even know why people watch the show!" you spill with sourness, knowing the show was praised for its excellent acting and writing.

haechan raises an eyebrow, turning to you with a strangely slow speed.

"stranger things have received multiple awards, and you didn't give any other reason. are you scared?"

when you struggle to find words, haechan laughs at his revelation, hiding his pearly whites behind his hand as he continues to make fun of you.

"yeah yeah, i'm scared! so what?"

"'oh haechan! oh no~ i'm terrified, would you care to provide some comfort?' jeez, don't worry, man, i'll protect you." there's a cheeky glimmer in his eyes and a cocky smirk on his face which you very much want to wipe off with the disinfectant in the toilet.

"it's not all that bad, c'mon! give it a-" turning back to the tv, the sudden attack of the demogorgon lashing out at the camera has the male screaming, hiding behind your body in fear.

"you were saying, mr superman?" you deadpan, unlatching his arms around your waist as you sink deeper into the sheets with your phone in hand.

[day 17]

haechan thrashes in his sleep, almost knocking the wine glass you had in your hands when he crosses over the pillow barrier you made.

"what in the hell-" you winced, keeping an eye on the male should he have any more outbursts that would ruin both wine night and the stuff you were working on for the article.

with tipsy hands, your keyboard keys unconsciously write out a letter of disdain and confusion regarding haechan, the boy sleeping next to you with a cute drooling face and curly hair.

with beautiful tan skin like that, you wondered why he didn't model instead. with a voice as impressive as his, you wondered why he didn't sign a contract. with natural hosting capabilities, you wondered why didn't fucking get the place of a talk show host.

because man, he can get pretty bothersome sometimes.

[day 20]

the next few days pass by with a breeze.

despite not knowing how the current pandemic will turn out, you find haechan more bearable, his habits being dumped in the past with a wave of a hand.

petty arguments occur, of course, until one of you brushes off the matter like nothing.

today was one of the days you won't back down.

there's worry evident on your face, eyes scanning through every last document on the stupid laptop. fingers travel fast over the keyboard as the realisation slowly dawns on you.

with slumped shoulders, you take a deep breath before turning to the male.

"what do you mean you accidentally deleted my article? i know we're sharing the damn laptop, but we established that you stay on your files and i stay on mine."

the other waved his hand, "i did not touch any of your files, (y/n), i'm not sure what happened."

"how could you not know? what the hell? i had good content on it, but now i have to spend more hours reorganising the news and interview answers and everything else in my notes. thanks, lee haechan."

"maybe if you weren't so caught up in me trying to sabotage your place in the publication team, then you would've believed me." he shrugged, taking a seat on the one bed like nothing.

you scoffed, arms crossing across your body. "funny how you mention sabotage because a villain never reveals their motive. that's why you came with me, didn't you?"

haechan stuck his tongue out to the side of his mouth, eyes blinking and rolling like an 8-ball that it sickened you to the core.

"villain? i'm the villain?"

"was i not clear?" you hiss, stepping closer to the male.

"no, make it more precise, please. i wanna hear it word for word. spit it out, coward."

with every word, you plunged your finger into his chest, looking deep into his eyes. "you're set out to take my place for department editor, where you know i'm best at."

"and that department would be...?" he crossed his arms, looking down at you with scorn you wished you could slap off his face.

"the..." you gulp with his face all up in yours, eyes boring as he awaits your answer, no doubt losing confidence at your realisation.

"the world depart...ment? you love to travel, right?" you trail off, biting your lip in anxiety when you remember how he was on the plane. you don't exactly remember whether he was more excited or scared.

"wrong! try again."

"politics?" you propose.

haechan's face contorts into disbelief, with his mouth twisted with perplex and eyebrows furrowed. "me? politics?"

your mouth runs dry at the roadblock you've faced, and as that annoying, stupid smirk grows, your hatred for him increases by the charts.

"naming departments i'd rather die than join, running your mouth, accusing me of deleting your files..." haechan shakes his head dramatically, rolling his eyes and letting out a fat sigh.

"you think i wanna be stuck here with your infuriating ass? god, you're so entitled, aren't you? aren't you?!"

"talking like you own the place, talking like you're the only one in this world, talking like- mhfh-"

within three angry steps, you were across the room.

within three booming steps, your hands were on his face.

within three significant steps, you were kissing lee haechan.

"you never learn to shu..." with horror, you're brought back from the trance with widened eyes.

"oh, god, sorry. what. what the hell. what the fuck?" you whisper, pushing the boy away with both hands in a panic, trying to highlight your scorn for him by wiping your lips on your sleeve.

had you liked it?

the other scurried to the balcony in a frenzy while you collected yourself in the bathroom, although no amount of water could calm your nerves.

with shaky words in bed, you both agreed to never talk about it again.

[day 25]

"hey, i can see your damn annotations on my article, (y/n). will you stop it?" haechan whines, making you second guess if he was joking or not.

for the nth time that day, you roll your eyes and proceed to sip from your cup of gin tonic that haechan desperately wanted you to try. it was... a refreshing taste, but hell, you wouldn't drink this even if it was the last beverage on earth.

"i'm just giving my feedback, be thankful i didn't bring up that stupid kiss five days ago. bleugh."

haechan falls quiet at that, fingers lingering over the keyboard as he typed out some note with the speed of a sloth's.

"hey, call me donghyuck. that's my actual name," he mumbles, glancing at you through his bangs while he awaits your reply.

"donghyuck? is haechan an alias?"

the boy shrugs, "i don't know, maybe. my friends gave it to me when i was younger, and i just stuck with it."

"full sun? your friend gave it to you, sure." you grin with a gesture of your hand, almost spilling the gin in the clear glass before breaking into small laughter with the other.

[day 28]

"hey! hey, what the hell?" you whisper, feeling the boy huddle up to you in lightning speed.

"what is wrong with you?" you whisper-shout, nudging him off your body as his phone screen remains as the only thing illuminating his face.

"sorry, i- i was watching stranger things while i was shitting and after i cleaned up... i heard something and bolted out of there."

"so now you're butt naked? hyuck, ew!" you groan, thankful for the sheets that were covering your body and his junk. his reluctance to get off you didn't seem to bother you as much as earlier, but you still wished he wasn't literally naked against you.

"go put on your underwear, you big baby. i'll be here when you come out. no demogorgon is going to come out, for real."

"no no, i was watching season two and it was that big shadow thingy that freaked me out. can't you feel this poor boy shivering?" haechan sighed, eyes never leaving the corridor that led to the bathroom.

"i can, and i also can feel your dick. please get dressed, or you're sleeping on the floor," you mumble, pulling the sheets to cover your freezing body.

[day 31]

your face hits something soft, cuddling into it even further because of its warmth before you realise there was only one other thing that would be warm in the room.

haechan.

your breath shakes, and your eyes widen as you pull yourself away from his embrace. your subtle movement leaves him thrashing around, though, and his arms tighten around your figure slowly and endearingly.

gulping, you will your hands to stay in their place, opting to freeze to death although there are hints of heat crawling onto your face.

when you wake up, you find that his hand's in yours and maybe you were searching for one wrong thing. an anomaly, an exception. it fit in yours perfectly, however, his tanned skin glowing lightly under the rays of sun filtering through the curtains.

you hoped he didn't realise the small shift of your fingers as they enclosed around his hand.

[day 32]

"what are you doing out here?" haechan asked quietly, peeking around the sliding door before joining you on the chilly balcony. it wasn't much, but it was still different and refreshing from the old, stagnant aircon air that was blowing in the hotel room.

"can't sleep," you whisper. you had your arms around your figure cautiously, as if it could protect you from all the bad, evil and terror in the world. at this point, you weren't sure what was it that you were feeling, but it sure didn't involve entertaining haechan's teasing.

luckily, he bit his tongue from making the usual snarky remarks.

"it's two in the morning, what's up?"

you shake your head in reply, watching the empty streets as the last light in the apartment across you switches off. sure, at two in the morning, pavements were dusty clean, and the birds were sleeping, but there would always be younger boys smoking along the road, or a drunken group of friends laughing about a past memory.

now that the pandemic forced everyone into their homes, everything was pretty much dead. there wasn't that excitement you felt when you saw a late-night kiss shared between two lovers or the snug hug of a child to his father who was working overtime that day.

"nothing's up, hyuck, it's fine. you can get back to sleep if you want."

maybe today you two were the one causing the ruckus this time, though. haechan may have let his words slipped, and at that moment, you knew you regretted that bloom in your chest when his lips met yours.

"you're so hard to read, (y/n). i want you to be able to trust me, tell me what's going on."

"why do you wanna know anyway? so you can expose me of my bad habits and weak points?" you whisper, eyes trained on the flickering lamppost a few yards away.

"there you go again! again with the sabotage?" haechan scoffed, exiting the small space and stepping back into the room of mixed emotions.

"is this just about your feelings for me?"

haechan laughed, "my feelings? might i remind you that you were the one who kissed me full on the lips twelve days ago? what was that all about? i wanna talk about it, even though we said we wouldn't! i wanna talk about why you hate me so much. i wanna talk about why your emotions are so contradictive!"

your mouth hangs open as you sputter out a heated reply, but instead gets interrupted with a knock on the door.

"keep quiet, you damn teenagers! i don't need your petty fights at two in the morning!" with padded feet, the guest returns to his room and slams the door to emphasise his complaint. swallowing, your mind goes blank as it focuses only on one question.

"why do you want to know so much lee haechan? what are you gaining out of this? if it's not sabotaging, then what is it?!" you whisper, standing your ground as with the first argument.

your throat is clenched up, and your fists are balled up tightly with nails digging into your palm. your heartbeat races like a fast car and your breathing's laboured in the cold room. there's no movement for a second, though they feel like minutes on end as haechan struggles to answer your question.

"what is it, lee donghyuck?" you cry out again, the sparkle in your eyes shining brightly from the tears of your never-ending dispute. he wished it was from the moonlight, instead. he wished the two of you were laughing over the rim of wine glasses and sharing the mischievous glimmer of the moon in your eyes.

"it's nothing. don't mind it." the other turns to catch up on sleep, leaving you to bite your lip.

"now you're doing it, now you're the one doing it. just tell me, you dumbass!" you mumble, pulling on his pyjama sleeve and tugging you to him.

"i like you, okay! it's out there now, i like you a lot, but you make it feel like a crime to do it," haechan whispers, "whatever. fuck this."

"no- what- no, we'll talk this out." you propose, adjusting your grip on his wrist with the curl of your fingers.

the male shakes his head and snatches his arm back, "no, forget it, and i'd prefer if you left me alone, (y/n)."

even with the warmth of his body next to yours, your body felt frozen and stiff. even with the thick duvet cover over you, you felt out of place in the stale hotel room, with colour becoming black and white, they merge into grey as the moonlight shone without a care for your problems.

there's action on the balcony when your eyes flutter open in the morning, noticing the quiet way haechan observes those rushing to work as well as social distancing officers making their rounds.

his eyes look hopeful and youthful, different from the tired ones the night before, or rather, this morning. you hadn't forgotten the angry neighbour banging on the door, and you definitely hadn't forgotten about how much you've wounded haechan this morning.

with a soft knock, you let him know of your presence and you just miss the way his eyes soften at your bed hair and messy appearance. his gaze turns hard in a second as he turns back to the apartment across yours, the balcony door showing your reflection of how hesitant you were.

haechan wished he could take your hands in his and accept your apology in a heartbeat, but he stayed seated and waited for whatever you wanted to say.

"don't run off, please." there's a shameful hand on his shoulders, and he's dying to get up when he sees your downcast eyes in the reflection across the street.

"i was too caught up in getting department head that i... didn't consider other possibilities. even the possibility of you uhm... liking me. it's still a weird concept to me, especially with how much we bicker."

"i'm sorry i didn't stay to hear out your feelings and rather, i just talked over you instead. i'm not sure if you want to accept this or not, but i want to open up—about this, about your feelings and... i don't know how much i've masked my emotions, i just know that we need to communicate."

the doorbell interrupts your apology, but you internally thank the housekeeping for bringing breakfast for the two of you.

with silence over breakfast, you weren't sure how the other felt as he scoffed down the croissant and almost burned his tongue with the coffee he ordered.

[day 33]

the boy barely watches the television and instead, reads over the article you were working on. seeing as it was already there when he logged on, he skimmed through it out of curiosity, finding that you were rephrasing the messy typos and sentences frantically on your notes.

haechan never forgot the way you were typing away on the laptop, eyes reading and rereading the sentences to make sure they made sense, to make sure they were clear to the reader.

the argument had taken a toll on you, too. he sees it in the way your eyes sink when your words turn out choppy and lacking, he sees it in the way you lug your body to the bathroom after a late night, he sees it in the way you struggle to hold your smile while attending an interview.

'haechan. you confuse me. i'm not...' the note below it trails off, piquing his curiosity at what it had in store.

'haechan.' big and bold letters it wrote, with a few dozen question marks below it. your writing skills shine through even in an informal note about your self-proclaimed rival, each line prompting the other to read more.

'you confuse me. i'm not sure what you're at but, it doesn't seem natural for you to tag along with someone you hate, right? that's what i was thinking too.'

'jeez, i remember hating when suyeon told me you were coming along. i didn't believe her one bit until she showed me your plane ticket and the hotel rooms next to each other. god, and when i came here, it was a day of interviewing before the damn government decided to close flights and force us into a room together.'

'i heard that other people had to be separated. i didn't know why we were the unlucky two that had to be put in a room together. i wished we didn't, almost. of course, you annoyed me when we first moved in. hogging the tv to no end, leaving your dirty underwear everywhere, running your mouth just like at our workplace.'

'i couldn't take it, maybe. sure, my brother has similar antics, but there was just something about you that just set me off, you know? i wouldn't have thought it was the opposite, or at least, i think so.'

'i'm counting the days. day 17 and i'm not sure why i feel this bubbling feeling inside me. of course, there's anger—i'm sure it's there, but there's also this other thing i get whenever i look at you.'

'my heart clenches up, and my hands become clammy, but it couldn't be a crush, right? i would've wasted my breath shouting, and my strength whacking your shoulder.' that makes haechan chuckle and look over at you where the soft light dances over your face.

'and then i started imagining. how would your arms wrap around me? how would your infuriating laughter, which somehow turned out to be so contagious, feel in the crook of my neck? yikes, that was cheesy.'

'what would it feel like if we fell in love for one night? where would you bring me and what would we eat? would we make out in your car like unruly teenagers?'

'what would it be like to love you? it's dumb, isn't it? i don't know. i've liked this bickering thing we had going on, and it's amusing to see you one-up me. i'm not sure if i want that to change and i'm not sure if you want us to, either.'

'maybe i'm wrong, and i'm the only one in this thing. this is so stupid, writing while he's sitting next to me. i'll regret this, maybe. goodnight.'

haechan sighs, closing the device in thought, confused at the words he wasn't exactly supposed to read. had you done this on purpose? he was sharing the laptop with you...

the boy brushed it off, placing the laptop on the vanity before adjusting your side of the duvet, hoping he could find the right words. with hesitant steps, he keeps to his side of the bed, thinking, thinking, thinking.

when he couldn't no more, haechan fell into the spell of slumber in the comfortable hotel room.

[day 34]

"tea?" he asks from the bathroom as the door clicks behind you, returning from the short hotel walk with a new keychain hanging from your sling bag.

"yeah sure, thanks."

the water runs as he fills up the kettle as the constant whir of the aircon and the conversation on the television keeps you company in the vast quietness of the room.

you weren't sure if you should say anything, but when you saw the dishevelled appearance of your roommate, you knew you had to bring up the argument and apology.

"haechan, about our... feelings. do you want to talk about them?" you whispered, a reply reaching your ears in the form of his spoon against the porcelain mug.

haechan hands you the drink wordlessly, sitting on the chair at the vanity before sipping cautiously at the tea. there are unexchanged glances between the two of you before he sighs at your expectant hand tapping the sheets.

"i think it's about time we did," he mumbled, dragging the laptop off the wooden table with anxiety. the other opened it without saying anything, catching you by surprise when the mouse hovers over your note.

"hae- donghyuck! no! what the hell?"

he holds up a hand and clicks on it anyway, making your heart drop to your stomach as he turned the device towards you.

"read the bottom." haechan whispers as you pull the laptop closer to you, settling it on your lap as he observed your expressions carefully.

'i read it, i'm sorry.' you look at him and lift up a hand to prepare to whack him, a defeated sigh escaping you before you carried on.

'was it wrong to read it? of course, and i cannot apologise more for doing shit like that when we still have unsolved tension between us in this small ass room. it was incorrect, but.'

'do you feel the same as me? is bickering all we have to do? why can't we work anything out? they're the questions i keep asking myself after i read your letter.'

'i guess i was too caught up in the fight and not wanting to be the loser that i... can't deny that i've never thought about wanting to get to know you, even if you were that sought out to be my destined enemy.'

'when we fought earlier, you kissed me. i know we said not to mention it, but, uhm, it was good. i liked it. i'm not sure if the reason why you did it was because of the reason you mentioned in the note, but at the time, i assumed it was to shut me up. i thought something would happen after, though you pushed me away and apologised right away.'

'it was a far off dream that i had, but i think it was after i bandaged your foot. you said that you didn't know what was going on in my mind, and i told you.'

'it was like, i was granted an insight into an alternate world, another universe where you didn't feel the strain, where you legitimately assumed i was going for your position.'

'you scoffed when i confessed, right then and there, on day 9. i was counting, too, and it was a scary, confusing dream. i think that's why i held it off as long as i could until your words puzzled and angered me further because you just didn't get it.'

'you scoffed and told me to get lost, pushing on my shoulders where we fought on the balcony for everyone to see. you never spoke to me, you never mentioned my article nor the interviews. we never joked over wine, and we always kept to our side of the bed.'

'i was convinced that heaven wanted me to stay away from you and your heart. maybe it was broken too many times, and you had someone up there looking out for you.'

'i feel like i'm copying off the textbook of some greek mythology starter pack, but i'm for real! no kidding.' you smiled, looking at him with nervous eyes at the small joke he put in.

'i guess whoever put that dream in my sleep really wanted us not to be together because i think i would've told you i liked you on the spot itself. i let my conscious get the best of me.'

'i know this is a lazy way of conveying my feelings, and i wished i could do it with words, but i feel like you wouldn't believe me otherwise. i rushed it this morning when you went on your morning walk around the hotel and when you let me know of your stroll in a soft voice, i wanted nothing more than to get you in my arms as we wake up to the housekeeping service.'

'i didn't want any more tension between us, and i didn't want to be interrupted by your alarm while we avoid each other more. it hurts seeing you escape the room in haste. you said it was weird for me to tag along with someone i hate, too, and that someone was you. i guess you found out why.'

looking up, you found him right in front of you, mouth dry from his reply to your letter. with a gulp, you leaned forward to meet his lips halfway.

"i'm sorry to whoever's up there," he whispers, prompting a grin and a laugh out of you.

the laptop is forgotten on the bed as haechan situates himself over you, clutching your shoulder gently while his lips move quickly, fast to make up for lost time.

"wait wait, wait, you're not playing me, are you?" you mumble in return, reluctantly pulling away while witnessing the way his eyes soften at your guard still up. haechan shakes his head forlornly, tongue pressing up against the side of his mouth nervously.

"no, i'm not, (y/n)," he says quietly with as much sincerity he can muster, removing his hand from your shoulder with a forced smile.

"okay." there's a shakiness to your voice, but when you bring his lips back to yours, it gives you a rush of confidence. your skin is burning up, and your hands can't stop wandering as his lips capture yours, repeatedly moving against yours like a trance.

you grant haechan access to your mouth with a whimper, melting into his embrace as his arms wrap tighter around your figure. his eagerness lingers when he pushes forward, straddling your lap as his leg nudges the laptop.

"wait, hyuck, wait, the laptop!" you joke, placing the device on the floor before getting back into the kiss with just as much fervour. within a minute or so, the other breaks away to say the words you so hated to hear:

"we... we need to talk. we can't just kiss the fight off, although i very much like to," haechan murmurs the last part, making you stifle a smile.

you nod quickly, repeating the word "okay" like a robot. your hands naturally travel from his arms down to his fingers, and you clutch them like your life depended on it.

"we have... established, that i like you, correct?" haechan whispers, scooting closer as his tea-ridden breath surrounds you. from here, you could even smell the buttered croissant he ate this morning.

it made you smile, something simple as that.

"why- why are you laughing (y/n)?" he asks anxiously, eyes darting to find the reason why you found this so funny.

"no. no no no, i'm thinking of... the croissant you ate just now, and," you sigh, resting your head on his broad shoulder.

"i'm thinking of the way your eyes light up when you show me the articles you idolise so much, and i'm thinking of the way you cuddle up to me whenever we watch stranger things."

"i'm thinking of the way you thought i wouldn't give you a chance, even though i've been pondering on the same thing as you. i'm thinking of the things that make up lee haechan, lee donghyuck. yes, you like me, and yes i like you, but i guess i haven't told you the reason."

"i hated you, i really did. i found every reason to convince my mind to hate you. gaining trust, signing up for events you didn't know shit about, sucking up to the seniors, stealing my friends when they didn't know your personality. the personality i didn't even want to know because i was too busy in my little bubble."

"assuming you'd want to get department head was the cherry on top, because why else would you want to tag along? that was the factor that convinced me and confirmed my suspicions from day one."

you grunt in opposition, clearly not liking the truth that was spilling from your lips. haechan deserved to know, however. you kept your eyes trained on his lap where his hands were holding yours in support, crumbling from the blindness that caused your hatred.

"so from then, the plane ride, immigration, the cab to the interview place, the cab back, the hotel room, my hatred for you boiled over." you listed, voice breaking as you looked haechan in the eye.

"it was stupid of me to assume, to assume the worst of you when i didn't even know you. i wasn't even sure why i felt so bitter looking at you, but the way you acted, the way you whined, worked me up so much that i figured that was how you were."

"now when i'm sitting here with the curtains drawn, i can see why you're so attractable and easy to talk to and easy-going and bright that my friends keep talking to you."

"i can see why the seniors turn to you because you're reliable and hardworking without uttering a single word."

"i can see why you wanted to hop on this flight with me because you're always curious about the world and how you can expand your skill set."

and as you said word after word, haechan observes you with a soothing hand against your forearms. his eyes shine for a different reason, for the lost time he could've had if the two of you didn't have this massive barrier. a massive barrier that's been up for the longest time.

brick by brick, the wall is being torn down. as you hold haechan's face in the stillness of the room, you feel closer to him than you've ever felt and his tears match your frustrated ones.

choking on sobs, delayed apologies were all you could whisper.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry, really. we fought so bad that day, and i was so goddamn insensitive..." you sigh, swallowing a lump when his hand reached up to wipe the tears. with a blocked nose, you breathe shakily as housekeeping interrupts the moment.

you nod towards the door as he stood up slowly to reveal the same housekeeping girl. she cleaned up the bathroom and wardrobe quietly as the two of you stood awkwardly in the small space. she had left the sheets since everyone was practically stuck in, anyway.

haechan nudges you toward the door with a shove, shooting the same housekeeping girl a small smile and a bow as an apology to the previous run-in.

"he confessed his feelings?" she inquired softly, noticing the tear marks on your face.

you bit your lip, "yeah."

"that's good, he's finally not a coward." she laughs, folding the used towels and placing them with her.

you leaned against the door, asking for an explanation with your puzzled look.

"he was someone i liked, before. we had classes back in high school. it was just a dumb crush, honestly." the housekeeping girl shrugs, resting her head on her fist in thought.

"i think he liked me, and i did too, but we didn't do much except for exchange looks and flirt because both of us were just too scared." she shakes her head and adjusts the disinfectant spray bottle, fidgeting with the nozzle.

"i'm glad he had enough courage to admit his feelings."

nodding along to her statement, she bids you farewell as her figure fades with each step, leaving you with a sense of calmness to the end of this situation.

[day 38]

"is... is this okay?" haechan asks, arm hovering over your body while waiting for your confirmation. you smile and nod, sinking into his side as you venture in the third season of stranger things together.

"don't you think we should be working on our articles?" you whisper, looking up at him from where you were with raised eyebrows.

the boy opens and closes his mouth in thought, gesturing to the television with an exaggerated expression.

"stranger things, ma'am."

you click your tongue and sigh with a smile, turning back to the show as you try to relax for an online interview in a few hours.

[day 39]

"what do you say about my set-up?" haechan nudges you, proud of the hangout area he prepared on the balcony. although small, he had no trouble making it look comfortable.

with a smile, you pop open the wine to celebrate the last scheduled interview for the trip, clinking glasses with haechan in the setting sun.

the country you were supposed to return to was slowly opening up flights for those stranded overseas and as refreshing as a different environment was, you missed home and the warmness of it.

you missed the office and your desk. hell, you even missed the mediocre coffee from the pantry.

with the last of the wine finishing, haechan pours half into your glass and the other into his, clinking one last time before you one-shot the beverage.

the high of the alcohol is gradually brought down by the mellow atmosphere and colours of twilight. as pink and orange cross over on the horizon, haechan mumbles a low "c'mere" to you in the darkness.

you hum in response and get up from your seat, bringing a pillow with you as haechan shifts to make space. sinking naturally into his arms, you sigh while you try to contain a smile full of content.

"this is nice," you admit, the corners of your lips disobeying your command, prompting you to shoot him a smile. haechan nods against your hair, a comfortable arm around your waist while you trace the tan skin of his arm.

the other taps your waist repeatedly, turning in response as he whispers out a question that makes your heart melt.

"can i kiss you?" you grin, slipping a hand around his neck and pulling him in right away. haechan's caught by surprise, laughing into your lips and striving to savour the moment as much as he could.

a shout from across the hotel distracts you from the kiss. looking up, you realise it was the apartment resident opposite you shooting you a 'rock on' gesture.

"you guys are not fighting anymore! congrats!" you both stifle a snort as you wave back to the resident, sighing in relief when their balcony door slides shut.

"should we go inside, m'lady?" haechan giggles, replying in the form of a nod, cleaning up the area while you head in.

[day 41]

"i didn't think they'd be letting flights in so early," you mumble, folding your clothes neatly as your vision shifts to haechan... shoving his fair share of apparel into his luggage.

"donghyuck... what the hell?" you roll your eyes, shoving the boy softly as you took over the task at hand. switching personalities almost immediately, haechan fakes an interview segment with exaggerated tones.

"see, everyone, this is how you convince someone to do the work for you," the boy lays on the bed with a satisfied expression, "now i don't have to do anyth- ow!"

"if we ever live together, maybe i should punish you by doing the laundry and then folding it," you grunt, working at the speed faster than you expected while you fold shirt after shirt.

"are you proposing we move in together?" haechan peeks through an open eye, curiosity dripping from his tone. he tried to feign nonchalance but awaiting your answer felt like a weight on his heart.

your next words lifted that weight, a seemingly invisible force bringing his upper body off the bed as he stares at you in shock.

"maybe, not now but... in the future, maybe," you mumble the last part, focusing on the clothes to prevent the male from seeing the fluster on your face.

"for real?" haechan sits up, biting his lip to contain his excitement as your confirmation.

"we'll be all stupidly domestic and shit, and i'll say i love you five years from now before you go off for work if you want that and stuff," your voice goes lower and quieter, especially towards the end, biting off way more than you could chew.

"aw! i love you too!" haechan gushes, bringing you into an embrace as your hands go limp, scrambling to explain your emphasis on the 'future'.

"d-donghyuck, i meant the future, not now..." you manage to spit out, hoping you need not answer his queries any more. your mind blanks out at the current situation, wishing you hadn't said those dumb things.

he grins into your neck, "i know, i'm just answering for future me."

you groan and escape the hug with a roll of your eyes, "yuck, too cheesy!" the boy just lets out a laugh, watching the way you fold his clothes despite your initial annoyance.

[day 42]

suyeon switches between the two of you in disbelief, finger crooked at the ambiguity of "we like each other".

"wha-" suyeon doesn't get the chance to finish the sentence before you shoot her a thumbs up, grabbing haechan by the arm and your stuff with the other.

you were happy to leave the office after a quick debrief since you two had reported to the office right after arriving at the airport, relieved when you heard he'd spare a few more days for your articles to be cleaned up.

"so, (y/n), what would you like to do now?" haechan looks at you through the reflective material of the elevator, observing the nervous wringing of your fingers.

you're glad for the material protecting your face because there's a smile that you struggle to keep as his soft, gentle voice carries through the quiet space.

the anxiety ends when the lift sounds, prompting your eyes to trail down his arm. your hand moves on its own accord, grabbing his last finger with yours as you proceed into the lift sheepishly, not missing the way haechan's eyes show his bright smile behind the mask.

"maybe i'll get to know you more, lee donghyuck."

haechan lets out a gasp, "have you not learned about me enough? scandalous."

you feign a punch in his direction, the luggage beside you tripping over its wheels due to your swift movement. the only response you get is a giggle from the other as he tightens his pinky around yours, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek right above your face mask just as the elevator doors open.

"man, i really do want to punch you now," you mutter as you let haechan lead you, wanting nothing more than to rest in the arms of your enemy-turned-friend? enemy-turned-someoneyoulike?

you weren’t exactly sure.

he doesn't answer during the walk to the main road, nor the ride back to your home, the only constant thing being the way he admires your profile in the taxi, shrugging when you counter with a playful "what?".

"nothing," haechan grins.

[there are more days to come]

sure, day forty-one may not have been the day you fell in love with haechan, nor the day where he outwardly claims you as his lover.

but, taking it slow never hurt anyone, either.

you know it in the way he tells you he can't go in unless he's invited and you see it in the way he asks if he can switch the television on while you prepare some drinks.

like the hotel, you know it in the way he asks if he can kiss you and the way he deepens his kisses with caution.

you appreciate it in the way he quickly apologises for a personal question, while visibly relaxing as you brush it off with a smile.

with hours pass, day forty-two becomes day forty-three, and haechan remains as chivalrous as always.

days pass, and you submit your articles. weeks pass, and you get to know the boy more and more. months pass, and you feel his love in the way he plays with your fingers in the dark and pulls you close under the sheets.

even if you hadn't acknowledged the love between the two of you, that note you wrote half-drunk matched the way you felt now—with how your heart clenches up and with how your grin never leaves your face with haechan around.

there are more days to come with lee haechan, lee donghyuck, even if it meant getting stuck together in a hotel room with unsaid words.

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